the mystery of --

[like neon lights]

"I keep having this dream, Marian. It's so vivid... like I'm actually there. I've been having it since I was little, I think, because my mom wrote a lot of stuff in her diary about it." Pausing, Liz shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. The neck support was horrendous. "I told you about how I read all of her work after she passed, didn't I? There were three whole notebooks dedicated to these dreams that I don't even remember having --

Well, until last week. I think it was Tuesday. I dreamt that I was something royal or something, in a big fancy French dress from waaaaaaay back. Pre-revolutionary, I think." Liz had always had a soft spot for France and it's history. Why? She would never know, but she truly enjoyed studying it.

"Anyway, I was dancing with this tall man. Almost a head taller than me, I think, and he was very thin... I don't remember anything else about him. I don't know who he was, but he was speaking to me in French and I couldn't understand him at all. I wish I spoke French."

"Liz, it probably wasn't French at all. It was probably gibberish that sounded French..." Marian was tapping her pen against her lip after having scribbled something down on her pad of yellow legal looking paper.

"Probably... well, that's besides the point anyway. Jesus. Just listen, you're the most know-it-all therapist I've ever fuckin' met." Both of the girls dissolved into laughter before Marian composed herself.

"I should charge you for this."

"You should LISTEN. L-I-S-T-E-N."

"OKAY THEN TALK, JESUS!"

"ALL RIGHT. SO. We were dancing and he was talking to me and the entire room was filled with people and everything looked and felt so real, I didn't think I was dreaming. I still don't know. I mean, obviously I was, but... I can't explain it. It was amazing.

But that's not the end, so shut up. While we're dancing, everything around us turns black. I mean, pitch-freakin'-black. This guy, the tall man, pulls me in close and turns his back to something that I can't see but know I'm afraid of. Like he's protecting me, I guess. Out of nowhere, the lights are back on, but they aren't lights. It's the sun and we're standing on a platform and my beautiful dress is gone and I'm left in this tattered white nightgown looking thing, sobbing my eyes out. I don't know how or why, but I just knew that they had killed my tall man.

These guards, or whatever they were, with masks on their faces grab my arms as I'm wailing nonesense and force me to lie on my stomach on this thing that slides forward -- and right after the strap down my arms, I wake up.

It's the scariest fucking thing ever. What do you think it means?"

"Probably that you've been watching too many movies about Marie Antoinette."

[vintagerevolution]

?Je t'aime, ma beaut?.? Golden lights spun + spun as William and his lady waltzed around the dance floor. Her head against his chest, he leaned down to place the tiniest, tender kiss upon her hair. Hand in hand they twirled, laughing, smiling, starting into one another?s eyes as few lovers would ever be able to do. The world was theirs, the Lord + Lady, and nothing could stop them.

He had gone to fetch her a sparkling glass of champagne when he saw them. They were coming for him. For them. Of course, deep down, he always knew this would happen. Felt it in his very soul. But he had been so sure they could avoid it, outfox those that would do them harm.

Rushing back to her and scooping her up, he cradled her in his arms as if she was the most precious treasure in the world. And, truth be told, to him she was. Turning his back to their soon-to-be-attackers, he kissed her forehead and her eyes, brushed his mouth against her lips. ?I love you,? whispered in their native French, with all the emotion he could muster. And then, with desperation plain in his voice, ?<u>Run.</u>?

William pushed his love away, then, and drew his saber, turning to face his foes. Raising his sword to block a particularly hard swing at his head, he turned back just long enough to scream at the woman he would die to protect. ?RUN!?

Waking with a start, William Caine nearly tumbled out of his bed. Sheets twisted around his bare legs, chest heaving with labored breaths. He?d had the damn dream. Again.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, he sighed. It never seemed to end.

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[like neon lights]

Taken from LIVE PLAY!

Paris, France -- pre-Revolutionary. Their first life together... Lisbeth DeLancre, a lady-in-waiting to the beautiful Marie Antoinette stood patiently listening to the Queen babble on about her beloved cousin William.

"And he will make you such a fine husband." That was the part she must have missed, somewhere... earlier in the day or something like that. Husband?

Lisbeth was standing behind the Queen, scowling inwardly but smiling outwardly. She didn't want to meet this man, this stupid husband-to-be, this bastard that was supposed to take care of her for the rest of her life. Ugh. Well, he was somewhat handsome -- that was a plus, she supposed -- but his manners were simply atrocious. Marie giggled and swatted him playfully. "You naughty boy." Rolling her eyes, she stepped to the side and ushered Lisbeth forward. "William, I am so pleased to introduce you to your fiancee, Lisbeth DeLancre." Did they both just sputter and blanch? God, she'd never heard it put that way before! "A pleasure, I'm sure." Blandly, she courtseyed.

...Saywhatnow? He had smiled sheepishly at her playful admonishment, bowing before her guests... and nearly tripping himself over that word. "..I... she... we... I... cannot... but... how... FIANCE?!" Chocolate brown eyes were staring at his new wife to be, bewildered and shocked. This was certainly news to him! And what right did his cousin have to do this?! Queen or not, she couldn't just... well, he was a prince after all, and certainly she didn't expect... the girl didn't even look happy to see him! And Marie was telling him he had to MARRY he--- Oooh. Of course. This was another of Marie's practical jokes! That HAD to be it! Thought having suddenly dawned on him, he burst into hysterical laughter, having to support himself on bent knee. "Oh, ahaha, Marie, you're learning from me. You're such a funny little thing!" Chuckles. "Now, honestly, tell me why you have summoned me."

Perhaps the wincing Marie did might have given away the severity of the situation in the first place, but if he didn't get that, he might have learned it when nobody else was laughing. Lisbeth's jaw tightened and her lips pursed and she turned quickly on her heel to disappear into her favorite part of the gardens. At least the gardens didn't sell her into human slavery! Not that marrying a damned PRINCE was going to be slavery, but who gave anybody the right to decide that for her? So, off she stormed, though she knew she might live to regret that. It wasn't a very ladylike thing to do -- her manners were not that atrocious. But sometimes emotions couldn't be helped. "I think perhaps you should apologize, William." Marie offered, rather loudly, to snap him from his reverie.

"Oh, hell." For being born a Prince, he wasn't very good at it! Nodding to Marie, bowing to the other guests calmly, he was then lightly jogging towards the back of the woman, boots sinking lightly into the grass. "Mademoiselle!" He called after, trying to catch up to her and still retain his gentlemanly poise. Yes, he actually had it, it was just that sometimes he forgot to -use- it. "Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, please!" Long strides bringing him next to her, he gentle took her elbow to bring her to a halt. "I beg your forgiveness, truly I do." Looking helplessly towards his cousin. "I was... not told of this arrangement, it came as a bit of a shock. My reaction was not a reflection of your worth! You are truly, truly the beautiful lady my cousin has so often raved about to me." See! He could be Prince Charming when he wanted to be! "Forgive me, please." A low bow, and then he was actually down on one knee, wet grass me damned.

The very first thought that came into her mind was that maybe she should just smack the fucking shit out of him -- but how ladylike was that? Instead of pausing, which she did for about a second, she stuck her chin in the air (like the true princess she was) and stormed farther into the gardens. All she wanted was a little privacy, not a damned crowd watching them. He followed, apologizing up and down, until she was sure that they were out of earshot and then she wheeled around to get a good look on this husband sort. "Save your breath, please." Venom on her tongue, she gritted her teeth and stood perfectly still. "I wish not to hear anything you have to say -- I would not marry you, monsieur, were you the last prince on this Earth. Nor would I bother to marry any man that I do not love or even know. Leave me alone." Ohhh what a bitch.

...Okay. Well. That was unexpected. He was William Bordeaux! The son of Prince of France + the Prince of Spain! The favorite cousin of the Queen herself! Beautifully rugged, stunningly handsome, caught between being as common as a peasant and as perfectly charming as the royalty he was, women chased after him. He had never had to persue a femme he wanted to court - they dripped off of him. Much to his annoyance, usually. But that was not the point! "...You... I... but... we... Marie... how can you...." This was... this was.. inconcievable! As he was apologizing, Will had been distracted with out utterly beautiful and feminine she was. And now this?! How on earth could the wretched little tart refuse HIM?!

Lisbeth just watched him with disdain. She couldn't care less that he was stuttering all over himself, she really couldn't. "I know that I have to marry you, your heinous, and I will do so accordingly. But never expect that it will mean anything more than a piece of metal on my hand and a better name for my family. I would do anything for my mother and father, this included. Now I think it best to put on fake smiles and find Marie and announce ourselves to the court as engaged. I would like to get this over with as soon as humanly possible and then I can go about my business and you can go back to whatever little tart you have on the side." Shrewd, hm.

Taken aback, stunned, his ego reeling from the harsh blow, he narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders. Chin tilted upwards, like the proper Prince he was. Two could play this game. "Whatever you wish, my darling. But know this," voice dropped to low, dangerous tones as he took a dark step towards her. "Your family will get nothing. I'll see to that!" After all, he had control of their finances. And if he did not wish to share his wealth with her family, although it was a custom, he didn't have to! "So march your pretty little face back to my cousin, smile, pout, act pretty, and tell your parents that they'll be on the street the moment we recite our vows!" It was his turn to stalk off this time, huffily stomping over the wet grass, cursing under his breath in his mother's native Spanish. The NERVE of these status-hoppers!

Lisbeth's jaw dropped. "We do not need your wealth, thankyouverymuch! Perhaps you have not heard of my father, but I only need marry you to get our name up the social ladder, you pompous -- pompous -- ass!" That wasn't the first time she had sworn, but she was about thisclose to launching her shoe at the back of his Spanish speaking head which would have been a first. "I can't believe I have to marry someone so horrendous." Then started the tears and she was headed, blindly, through a path in the gardens still. "It isn't fair!" Yes, she was sobbing. Poor darling, she was only upset at the situation, not the Prince.

"I don't give a damn who your father is, you spoiled little brat!" He turned long enough to yell over his shoulder. Good lord, he hated the status-chasers. So arrogant, so boring, so unwilling to accept the hand fate had dealt them. Hell, if he had his way, he's be a commonner! But, oh, hell, she was blubbering now. Christ. "Ohwouldyoustopthatthey'rewatchingus!" Whispered harshly at her direction, hands waving towards her, trying to gentle her. Urgh, THIS was what he was going to be married to? He might as well dive into the first duel possible, and lose on purpose! Urgh, this was just impossible.

Lisbeth had to sniffle a little more before she could calm herself. But the calming came expertly -- she had practice in not being herself in front of many people and it was safe to say that William hadn't met the real her at all. So, tears still stinging her eyes, she threw on her most gorgeous fake smile and her fakest charm and when Marie introduced them to the court as the newly betrothed William Bordeaux and Lisbeth DeLancre she tried not to twitch but look as pleased as possible. Arm curling through his, she played the part of grateful woman and wife-to-be to an effing T. He could never complain that she was not proper enough or that she didn't have etiquette! "Thank you so much, Marie, I could never have asked for a better or more handsome man than this." She was such a polite little creature, quiet and unassuming by nature. Or by looks, was more like it. "We ought to have a ball!" Was Marie's reaction. "A celebration! I think we all should take a holiday to Versailles and celebrate! Maybe even have the wedding there, hm?" And Lisbeth had no choice but to nod and smile enthusiastically. Damnit.

[like neon lights]

Taken from LIVE PLAY also! [img]smile.gif[/img]


The Court had gone well, as far as royal eyes were concerned. The Queen was thrilled, obviously, as was Lisbeth's family. The husband and wife to be, however, were utterly miserable. They sat through dinner that night in a trance, putting on the show for the other diners, but barely sliding a glance at one another unless it was required. Days crept by at an agonizing pace, and suddenly it was a week later and the family were enjoying their proposed holiday at the Chateau in Versailes. Although had anyone asked Lisbeth + William if they were "enjoying" their time together, they would've walked away, shot full of holes by fiery glares. Of everything, the ball was the worst. Marie, deciding she no longer fancied the idea of a gala in Paris, spun the chataeu together in an amazing blur of gold + blue + champagne-colored lights. It was that very night that trouble began to brew. The "couple" had walked down the royal banaster together, arm in arm, as was expected, waves and blew kisses to those who looked upon them, twirled around the dance floor a few times. When they finally had a moment to catch their breath and get away from each other, they practically ran across the room. A young man - a Prince from Italy, no less - was badgering poor Lisbeth, attempting to gain her hand in marriage [he was a fast worker!] and roughly grabbing her arm, forcing her into a backroom, away from the crowds, when she refused him. Though no one else seemed to notice, William had, and he followed after with his hand on his saber. The damn Italian must've heard his footsteps, however, because the moment William pushed passed the door and stepped inside, he felt the cold, slick, hardness of metal slide through his flesh, his organs, through his... stomach.

They had been spending so much time together in the past week that Lisbeth was almost ready to twitch at the very sight of him. Seizure or something, it was ridiculous. But at the same time, there was something else at work... something she couldn't quite place. Even when they separated to opposite ends of the room that they were in, she was looking over her shoulder to make sure he was still in sight, ever-so-slyly.

When the Italian intercepted her, she couldn't see William anymore, and that fact made her slightly nervous. "I am already engaged, signore... I appreciate your-- please unhand me!" But she was being manhandled out of the main room and into somewhere that she didn't know. The Prince seemed furious that anyone would refuse him. She could see why, he was absolutely gorgeous -- but she was, indeed, engaged to William. Which, really, was no point at all. A prince was a prince, whether of Italy or not, so perhaps there was a bit more to their relationship? She didn't know. But when she tried to scream, a hand clamped over her mouth and before she knew what was going on, there was blood on a blade and William was bleeding massively.

"Oh my GOD!" The shrillness in her voice might have alerted the others, were they not so distracted. "What have you done?!"

Alarmed by all of this, the Italian fled. Just fled! As if nothing had happened, he stepped past William's body and back toward the ballroom area -- citing that an intruder of some sort had attacked the Prince and his betrothed while they tried to share a private moment together. Or some rubbish like that, and then he left the damned chateau. Coward! While the commotion built in the ballroom, Lisbeth was on her knees beside William, his head in her lap, her hand over the wound, trying to keep the blood in. "Oh God, William... oh God..." He was going to die here, wasn't he? He was going to die and she was never going to be married. "It isn't so bad, you'll be okay." Was reassurance working?

Surprise was etched across his suddenly ghost-white face, ebony eyes wide with shock. Gurgles escape his lips, soft gasps for air as she cradled his head in her hands. Back arching with strain for life, he gazed at her in a haze... almost lovingly. The past week had been... strange for him. He despised her, utterly and completely, despised their arrangement. And yet when he was not at her side, he was constantly searching the room for her. When she walked along side him, his arm was securely around her waist or looped in hers, making sure she did not trip. Even the families whispered amongst themselves, watching with glee the strange relationship being spawned. All seemed to notice - save Lisbeth + William themselves. Until now. Fearing death, knowing agony, a trembling hand reached up to gently caress her face. "Ma beaut?." Whispered sweetly. And then it was darkness, cold black, and world fading into nothingness around him.

Lisbeth was trembling. Was it shock? She attributed it to shock. She'd just never seen this much blood before -- it wasn't that she was concerned, was it? Couldn't be. Though the tears streaming down her face would indicate otherwise. "Will, stay with me..." Shuddering, she tried to wake him, tried to make up for all the harsh words she had said with sweet nothings and gentle kisses against his face. Featherlight, right until the King himself walked in and ordered her taken away. He said it was to save her the sight -- they didn't think William would make it, she could tell. "No! You can't!" Fighting to stay at his side, it was finally her mother that came to wrap a consoling arm around her shoulders and tell her everything would be okay, she had to let the physicians look at him now.

[like neon lights]

"I had another dream last night. About France, you know?" Liz was sprawled out on her best friend's sofa, staring at the television, waiting for Marian to gather the chili con queso and tortilla chips from the kitchen. This was their girl's night out, although lately that was every night. Neither one of them was tied down with a significant other nor were they in any hurry to be. But sometimes, all the time, an excuse to sit back and slack and eat junk food was a good thing.

"Really? You've been having them a lot lately. Are you repressing something?" Marian was a typical psychologist. She had a fundamental answer for everything. If you were highstrung, your parents were disciplinaries that scared you into behaving correctly. If you were mellow, your parents were more lax and friendly in their teaching style. She had theories about it all, and books to boot. At twenty-nine, it was a pretty amazing feat. Liz wasn't jealous, but she hadn't done anything nearly as exciting. Being a journalist didn't bring a lot of glory, just a lot of scorn.

"If I was repressing it I wouldn't be aware, would I?" Rolling her eyes, Liz sat up to clear a space for the food and Marian in front of the TV.

"Ugh -- just tell me what it was about." Shoving a chip in her mouth, Marian nudged her best friend expectantly.

"This time was different, it wasn't the one where I'm running... it was a lot less frantic. That guy and I, the tall one, were outside in the gardens. Or a park, or something, but I believe they called it the gardens in that time period -- okay, anyway. We were just strolling along, arm in arm, and everyone was stopping to talk to us. Everyone! I think they were congratulating us about something... something that he had done, because we were already married, I knew that... I don't remember what it was though. I don't know if I even knew. Anyway, we're walking and walking and then -- this is where it gets good -- he pulls me off past this little gazebo looking thing and we have the best sex of my entire life, right there in the leaves and all. I should say best sex of my dreams anyway. God, it was something else. I'd rather have that dream than the one where I'm running away and he's protecting me -- I wonder if there's something to it all."

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"...did you uh, eat something strange before bed or something? Maybe some shrooms?" Marian was just smirking, double dipping her chip much to Liz's amusement.

"No! Quit being jealous that I'm having dreams about hot men and awesome sex, Mar -- geez."

"Yeah, seriously. Give me whatever you ate last night before bed and I'll let you know how it turns out for me."

Both women quickly dissolved into laughter and for no reason in particular, a more somber note took hold of the room.

"I wonder if it means something... I wonder if maybe he's my soulmate. Something like that."

"OH MY GOD, we should go to a psychic -- I mean, not that I professionally condone that kind of shit, but honestly... wouldn't that be something else? We'd have to go to somebody good, not some circus freak. Of course, I can never let any of my patients know..."

"Nah. I'm sure I'll find out in due time."