The Way Stained Glass Shatters

Sanctuary and Stained Glass

Viviette hadn't been back to Paris for nearly half a decade. Five long years touring Europe, being happy and joyous, making and leaving friends she knew she wasn't destined to keep to begin with. It was fun, yes, but fun was temporary. And she was tired of the temporary.

She loved traveling. Every night a new place to sleep, a new face to see, a story to tell. The towns in which she performed were never two alike. This made for vivid and wonderful memories. But Viviette was tired.

And she missed her home.

Nothing compared to the breath-taking views of Paris. The melody of bells that rang through-out the city was the only music the young girl would ever need. The chimes vibrated through her bones, chaining her to the city forever.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Viviette turned slightly to the man beside her. He did not look at her. His focus was instead on the window in front of them. The glass, stained with every color known to man, painting a picture, telling a story that one would not be able to tell with mere words.

"One can forget how the art of Notre Dame looks," Viviette responded, turning back to the window. "But you never forget how it feels."

"You're visiting?"

"Returning," She corrected. "Paris is my home."

The man looked at her now, examining her from behind his large, hooked nose. She did not look back.

"I do not know you," He said, his voice interrogative.

She opened her mouth to respond to the stranger, but as if on cue, the bells of Notre Dame rang out through the cathedral. Viviette took that as a sign to depart, smiling softly at the strange man before leaving him behind.

She pranced out the door and down the steps of the church, briskly dashing through crowds of people. The town was loud and bustling, full of the drunk and joyous. She was careful not to draw any attention to herself. Not yet, not now.

Paris had seemed to gain more in terms of population in the last five years. It was like the town had nearly tripled in size. Viviette wasn't sure how she felt about that. Especially now, as they all gathered in the square, waiting for some sort of performance.

"Viviette!" An older woman hissed as Viviette was pulled into a tent.

She landed on the ground, caught completely off guard.

"Delphine!" She hissed back, glaring up at the woman. "I was coming, there was no need to lay hands on me."

"Not quick enough girl!" Delphine stuck her head out of the curtains. "Did you see that crowd? Goodness, there's hundreds of them."

Viviette rolled her eyes and stood up. "My eyes are working fine, Delphine," She brushed herself off. "You're not the one performing. Why are you worried?"

"Dressed! Get dressed!"

The girl threw her hands up in surrender, allowing Delphine to scurry around her, dressing her as if she was a porcelain doll. The description wouldn't be far off.

Viviette was a small and dainty girl, with pale skin and a delicate figure. Her hair was long and full, a silver color that almost looked lilac if properly displayed in light. But her most noticeable feature was her eyes. Big and black, holding an innocence that was almost too pure to describe. Doe eyes, as Delphine called them.

She was a wonder, a beauty, but that's not why the people of Paris knew her.

"They're getting anxious out there," Delphine muttered as she laced up Viviette's corset.