Thunder in the sky. This time, it isn't the endless bombardments washing over Paris ever since the plague arrived. It's the most colourful lights, flashing and sparkling, and finally, the darkness that had enveloped France for months is hunted out.
And yet,- despite it all, the lights, the cheers, the music, she is the only object of your interest. She always is. And you fear she will always be.
Gun clutched in hand tightly, you stare across the liberated plaza, watching Camille admire what you're supposed to admire too.
Everybody stares at what would be the last fireworks for the next coming months. Because after all, the war is far from being over.
𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥. Camille was so much more beautiful than any coloured sky would ever be. Her dress uniform is patterned with blood, evidence of her accomplished deed. She had revenged all those she had lost. Her home was back in her people's hands. And her face is eased with a sense of peace, in a way you had never seen,- but had always wished for.
You had known her forever. Even back before she lost everything. You knew her husband well. Her son. People that were now gone. Her parents. Most her closest friends. And ever since she had failed to protect what she loved most, regret and pain had etched her features into an everlasting scowl, a wall of stone too high and far for anyone to reach past.
You were all she had left now. As much as the members of the SOE tried to welcome her into their circle, it was always she herself who shut herself off. She's the leader of the Maquis-, loved and admired by all and still, she keeps a professional distance towards everyone.
Excluding you. But you're a complete different part of her messed up life.
Swept in the lights of liberty, the golden glow frames her entire being. A bittersweet well of pride squeezes your chest. Her dark eyes shimmer and glitter like the richest of oceans in the falling evening sun.
