The Queen's Curls

-1893- Return

The door to her shop opens very slowly, as if the person opening the door is afraid of making noise. Luckily for them, the door was silent.

As the person closes the door, the parlour woman chuckles. "Did you think I wouldn't hear you?"

The man in the doorway jumps and whirls around, facing the parlour woman. As soon as he sees her, he grins. "You truly are a woman of your word."

The parlour woman mirrors the man's grin. "Welcome back, Charles."

The parlour woman walks around the counter and stands in front of him. She pokes his chin and says, "Is that stubble in your face?"

Charles laughs a laugh full of joy and old memories. "I thought I'd change things up a bit for today. Do you like it?"

The parlour woman smirks. "I think it looks sexy."

Charles first seems taken aback by the woman's comment, but a flirtatious smirk soon finds its way on his lips. "I knew you'd like it."

The parlour woman looks down at the man's belt and notices that The Mercenary is still safe and intact. "Have you used her yet?" The woman gestures to the gun.

The man nods. "Once. I ended up doing what you said. I shot the eighth man in the leg and the face."

The woman lets out a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding. "That's good to hear. Now come. We have a lot to catch up on."

x x x

"Then I had to walk back to the parlour with a stab wound in my leg and a bruised lung." The woman lets out a dramatic sigh. "The soldier was very helpful though. She wrapped up all of my wounds and even got the right bottle from the cabinet."

Charles takes a sip of his wine and chuckles. "I wish I could have seen you fight. It probably would have been quite the spectacle."

The parlour woman shrugs. "I must admit, I was rather sloppy. That was my first time fighting in 150 years."

Astonishment flashes across Charles' face before it is soon replaced by comprehension. "I sometimes forget that you're a time traveler."

The parlour woman pokes him in the cheek. "You must have a terrible memory."

Charles looks the parlour woman in the eyes. "I remembered you."

The parlour woman smiles and scoots closer to him. She then leans her head into the spot between his shoulder and his armpit. "You got me there."

Charles wraps his arm around the parlour woman's waist and smiles. If only this moment would last forever.

x x x

The parlour woman had Charles on the ground for the eighth time in a row, and was sitting on him, pinning him on the floor with her weight.

Charles laughs. "You're better than I thought you would be. Especially without your blades."

The parlour woman leans down so the two of them are eye to eye. "Are you questioning my abilities, Mister Rutherford-Williams?"

He smiles. "No ma'am. I'm just honored that I get to spar with the infamous Karma."

The parlour woman rolls off him and stands, her breath slightly heavier than normal. "This is actually the first time I've ever sparred against someone and having my opponent last longer than a minute."

"Really?" Charles exclaims, almost as excited as a child on Christmas Day. "Does that mean I'm the first one?"

Rolling her eyes, the parlour woman helps him up. "Yes, love. You're the first one."

He pumps a fist in the air and cheers. "Yes! Finally! My training has paid off!"

The parlour woman cocks her head. "What training?"

Charles smiles, his pride almost radiating from him. "I was a military general back in '88, and I was only eighteen!"

The parlour woman's brows fly up. "That's astonishing. I don't think I've heard of a General Rutherford-Williams."

Charles looks away and scratches his neck. "That's because I didn't go by that name. I went by Elbis."

"As in General Elbis?" Charles nods. "But isn't Elbis the name of a demon of despair?"

He nods again and says, "That was the name of the demon that was possessing me when we first met."

The parlour woman nods. "That's what I thought, because a man as wonderful and charming as you could never be the ruthless, merciless, despair-bringing General Elbis."

Charles raises a brow at the woman and takes a step towards her. "You think I'm charming?"

The parlour woman rolls her eyes, but smiles. "You're missing the point, Charles. That demon was inside of you for how long? Since you became a General?"

Charles takes a deep breath and nods. "I'd assume so. Most of the time, I couldn't even remember what had happened the night before. It was a strange time for me. Most of the memories that I have from back then are either blurry, or are so chopped up that they're almost indecipherable."

The parlour woman turns her body to face Charles and looks directly in his eyes. "If I were to say that I can restore those memories, would you want them?"

"I--" Charles starts, but he stops himself. Does he really want to remember what it was like to be a ruthless general? Does he really want to remember how many lives were lost just because of the demon possessing him? Seeming to find his voice again, Charles says, "No, I don't think I would want to see those memories."

The parlour woman offers a small smile. "I don't think I would want to either."

Charles sighs, but smiles. "Are you up for one more round?"

x x x

The two walk out the front door but stop just out of the threshold. The parlour woman faces Charles with a smile.

Charles' expression is similar, but accented with a tinge of worry. "Will I be seeing you again soon?"

The parlour woman nods. "I'll be in the fifth store on the left in the eastern square in four months tomorrow."

Charles smiles. "I'll see you then, Karma."

The woman kisses Charles, pulling away very slowly. "Goodbye, Charles Rutherford-Williams, and may the wisps of time-"

The sound of a bullet going through bone stops the parlour woman mid-sentence, and the smell of fresh blood makes her stomach turn. Not a moment later, Charles' lifeless body falls to the ground at her feet, blood rapidly coating his thick hair.

A scream escapes her throat as she wrenches The Mercenary from Charles' belt and fires in the direction that the bullet came from. She hears a cry of pain come from the same direction, but she doesn't run there just yet. The parlour woman closes her eyes and waits for the breeze to stop flowing and the children to stop laughing and the birds to stop chirping.

She had stopped the flow of time, but not for long. The parlour woman kneels down next to Charles' body and whispers, "May the wisps of time be kind on you on your journey through the stars." She then closes his eyes, and stands.

She was going to avenge his death, whether the gods of time liked it or not.