Bigger Army Diplomacy

XV

We were dancing. That's the first thing I knew. But with who? I'm still not sure.

Another thing I noticed was my hands. They were cut up, and they looked like they were scratched with thorns or something of that variation, but they didn't have any blood on or near them, which I felt was strange.

Thirdly, I felt as though I was considerably taller than normal. Either that or the man in front of me was very short. Either or, though being taller than someone was comforting. So I assumed that.

And lastly, I noticed that I and the very random person in front of me were surrounded by fog. Which was also strange. But whatever. Nothing of matter.

I recognized the song we were dancing to, it was a song that Vichy liked to listen to. Dvořák, I suppose? Though I couldn't distinguish the song, it was familiar.

"Who are you?" I asked, which I thought was pretty reasonable, considering how the fog was covering his face and most importantly, his eyes.

"I am someone you know, yet you're too blind to see," and with a spin, everything turned black.

Avignon awoke in a cold sweat, clutching the blankets that confined her to her bed. She threw them off of her small frame, now feeling extremely hot, but then threw them back on as a sudden spot of cold hit her again. This went on for about three minutes before she calmed down and chilled out.

She was staying in an inn near the outskirts of the city, and while it wasn't the best part of town, it was still a decent place and had pretty good prices. Which she thought was a good thing. And they spoke French, which was a bonus, she supposed. At least communication wasn't much of a problem for her.

The room she was in was small, according to the landlord who rented the room to her.

"A small thing, that room," he said while giving her the key. "A minor mishap with the building. I think it'll fit a little pipsqueak like you." And then she went to go unpack her bag.

She didn't have much, just a spare change of dress, a slightly better change of dress, two books, and some toiletries. Simple, easy, just like her.

She put on a loose gown that frayed at the edges. It was a simple vanilla white, though over the months it had turned slightly yellow, it was still better than anything she had.

Avignon was told to wait for Vichy's spy to find her, then take her home, though she was beginning to lose faith in the man's will to bring the young girl home, for she was nothing but a simple servant, barely of age, and defiantly not worth his time. She wasn't anything special, like Paris, who with her tough as nails personality could frighten anyone back into their place, nor was she Versailles, who was said to have a very special relationship with the king. No, she was just Avignon. And Avignon was insignificant.

She set off to town with this in her mind. She planned to get some food with the meager amount of money that she had- work, she needed to find that, maybe as a shop cleaner or something of that source, because heaven knows that the amount that she had was less than satisfactory. (if you wanted exact measurements, I'm sorry, I don't speak French money or English money)

She saw a shop selling food at a cheap price, but there wasn't anyone in the shop, so she figured that it wasn't the safest place to buy stuff from. Yet, she was desperate, so she walked in.

Inside, it was warm from a small candle in the corner. That happened to also be the only light source, so there was light from the outside and the candle was all that emitted light, so the back of the store was particularly dark. The dark concealed two figures. One was a short, stout man with a potbelly and an apron, a luxury. And the other, a thin, tall woman wearing a nicer dress, probably from the nobility.

"Hello!" The shopkeeper said excitedly. "How do you do?"

"I'm well, thank you, and yourself?" Avignon blushed, for she had forgotten how the phrase 'how do you do' worked.

"Just jolly, thank you very much! Now, I suppose that you want to buy some food? How much do you 'ave?" He replied, getting down to business, like Avignon supposed was the best way to go.

She placed the money on the counter, which wasn't the healthiest thing to do, but she was not counting today. That was just a fact of life.

"Erm," the shopkeeper quickly counted for her. "That'll get you maybe two, three loaves of bread?"

"May I just take one?" She asked. Have to save money.

"That's alright!" The shopkeeper laughed as though one piece of bread was an inside joke that he was hoping the other would get. Avignon laughed out of confusion, hoping it would quell the man's hearty laughter.

"Avignon?" The tall woman finally spoke up, her heels clicking on the hard stone floor. "Avignon, is that you?"

Avignon turned around in surprise. She wasn't used to many people knowing her name, but she felt as though she knew this woman.

"It is you, Avignon! Now if you'll excuse us, we really must be going!" She said in a hurry, placing a few notes on the counter. "Thank you, sir, and goodbye!"