The Frozen World

Un

"And so you'll talk, and talk, and talk until they've come to realise the aristocrats' plan to exploit the poor into subservience. Starve them, us, to death! The common people need not be tame if afraid, we must join forces and take Louis back to here, to our malaise-ridden Paris and allow his Highness to see other than polished silverware, lustrous floors and gilt-edged mirrors. Marie, you ask? I, my friends, am of the idea we should end her. 't is not our priority right now, however. Remember, the prices are still rising, our people are famished! We will not be complacent. Off you go now, like yesterday, and tomorrow. A revolt is imminent, please do take my word and don't be dissuaded by dejection as it'll only breed resignation and defeat. And we will not be defeated! Vive La France!"

Glasses clicked and Miles pulled at his shirt's collar, feeling hot in the clamped space. It was cheap wine but it seemed to do the trick and get people pumped up just fine. The speech was starting to get repetitive after a fortnight of walking around the city, from north to south and from east to west. On his foot there where blisters, as there were on everyone else's, he'd seen it, but far from complaining young and old alike took to see it a trophy. Someday...they'd say. Someday, and he looked back at Alexander, the man who had stopped him somewhere out in the streets at the beginning of the year, and talked his ear out expertly about everything wrong with the monarchy whilst practically dragging him into this same basement- only there were five other people. He'd seen his shirts getting ripped and his hair grow enough for him to knot a surprisingly fine blue tie around it. When asked if he'd turned to petty vandalism, reproach apparent, Alex had laughed and disclosed to him, via a whisper, 'there's much potential for disruption in the evening hours when the crème de la crème of affluent men idle around Paris, sick with ennui. Oh, mon ami, you don't want to know the things I hint at, how careless they become with their possessions and words!'

But, being someone with a great love for history, aside from a professor at the ever prestigious University of Paris, he did want to know everything and more there was to that cryptic yet so very charismatic character. As scared as he was of what he witnessed at times, all while his own well-to-do family was planning to flee France, he knew being around someone like Alex was a privilege not many could have and, even fewer, appreciate. To see history in the making! First hand! He'd long settled would do his best not to directly intervene, or report them, he'd be silent and watch it all unleash with a glint in his eye as he jotted it all down at night, a notebook kept for facts and informative descriptions about the social climate, another personal and full of anecdotes.

"Mon ami, are you ignoring me again?"

"My apologies, Alexander. Were you saying something?" Miles rubbed his eyes and tried to tell the darkness apart from the brunet now voicing out softer tones.

"I said you ought to rest as you look exhausted and, as your walking companion, I can't quite permit it. You may stay here if you wish."

"You are most kind," Miles' gaze flitted over Alex's fixed one, "but, as you're aware, I am fortunate enough to have a home."

The man took a step closer, their shoulders bumping together. "One you have never invited me to, aye."

"It's far too little," he clutched his sweaty hands, offering a weak smile, "too humble."

Alex gave a nod, slow, falling just short of a bow. "I understand..."

"...as I dearly hope you too understand how much I appreciate you, thereby annulling any reason for you to look so disquieted when I produce knifes from my pockets and hand them out or sharpen them. I can see you've got no business with them quite all right, mon ami. It'd be lunatic of me to have them coming anywhere near you. There's a reason I keep you close, after all. You surely don't believe me a man without a vision. "