Who: Fancy, OPEN
What: Random (or not so much?) meeting
Where: Streets of Paris
When: April 4 1941, late morning
Who: Victoire, OPEN
What: She needs to get out more.
Where: Jardin des Tuileries
When: April 5, 1941, late afternoon
The rain never bothered Victoire, even when she had her hair all done up going to the opera with Yuri, even when it nearly ruined her gold silk gown. Rain was a good time for love-making, staying in bed naked all day laying next to the person you love most in the world, smoking cigarettes and drinking wine, playing piano wrapped in a bed sheet. No, the rain never bothered her.
Which was why she was sitting in le Jardin de Tuileries even though it was raining -- well, it wasn't really raining. More misting, a steady hazy mist that was so unnoticable that you didn't even know you were wet until your hair was soaked and your clothes stuck on your body like a second skin. No, Victoire sat on a bench under a tree in the vacant park, smoking a cigarette. Her blue knee-length dress stuck to her skinny legs, soaking. It sounded funny, even to herself, but sitting in the rain made her feel clean. This was what she needed, especially since she had started working again. Sex for money felt like betrayal, and it was more than she could bear to think about. It made her feel filthy and no amount of hot showers could fix that (if she could get hot water in the first place), but sitting in the rain felt different. If Yuri was dead, if he was really gone, then Victoire had no doubt he was in heaven and then it was he sending her the rain. To comfort her. To tell her it was alright.
Victoire was torn away from her thoughts by a figure heading up the path toward her. She couldn't make out who it was or even if he was wearing a German uniform or civilian clothes. She clutched the small purse next to her. Inside, along with her papers, was a small pistol, Yuri's old one, and she knew how to use it if she had to.
Who: Anton ot whomever
Where: Streets of Paris
When: April 04, 1941 - mid afternoon
What: Being a big tourist! And speaking poor French...
Finally! A day off, all to himself, where he could leave the confines of the barracks and the company of his fellow soldiers and wander Paris. They'd been issued some guidebooks to help them around the city, and he really should have brought his with him - but he'd left it behind in his excitement to get out. But how hard could it be to find the wonders of the city? Anton picked a destination that shouldn't be too difficult- he'd go see the famous Eiffel tower. How hard could it be to find a giant iron tower - visible from the skyline? But soon he lost his direction on the streets, and he felt as though the tower was further in the distance instead of closer - so he wasn't doing such a great job.
Feeling somewhat self-conscious about his German army uniform (he was only a private though! Hopefully that wouldn't be too intimidating...) he stopped a passerby, and took out the phrase book he kept in his pocket. His French was dreadful, but he tried, sounding each word out carefully from the printed text in the book.
"Ex-cuse, please. Where is tower of Eiffel?"