** Could an undying love blossom in the ruins of a shattered world? **
And so the world of men was lost
and a new one, our world,
was born.
- Morrígan
Goddess of the Battle
of the Túatha Dé Danann -
4th cycle anno Bellum.
The Second World War...
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>>Clack, clack, clack ...<<
The heels of her pumps left a clicking sound on the light-colored marble and accompanied her every step. Inside the Palais Garnier, a realm of opulence and grandeur unfolded before them. The foyer, a vast expanse, was adorned with majestic marble columns, intricate ceiling decorations, and dazzling chandeliers. The air was alive with the flickering glow of thousands of candles, oil lamps, and the twinkling lights of the caged Pixies, transforming the night into a radiant day. A grand staircase, a testament to the building's magnificence, led to the various levels of the Palais.
In addition to the auditorium, the Palais Garnier had several other rooms, including reception halls, salons, and foyers, all of which were decorated with ornate details and luxurious furniture. But today, they were not here to be enchanted by music and song. Between the many visitors in their fine clothes, they discreetly made their way to the steps leading to the halls beneath the opera's splendor.
Myreille had traversed this path countless times before, but today was different. Her gaze fell upon her reflection in the polished marble, her scrutiny revealing a vision of elegance. A dark blue, floor-length evening dress, adorned with intricate embroidery, cascaded around her curvaceous form, accentuating her shapely silhouette with its voluminous skirt. With each step, the fabric swirled around her feet like a blooming flower at sunrise. The silver embroidery, pearls, and shiny appliqués shimmered like celestial bodies in the chandelier light, while the wide sleeves mirrored the length of her black gloves, reaching to her elbows.
Her silver hair was artfully arranged for the evening, with only a few waves cascading around her pale face. They formed a delicate, feminine frame, and a sparkling hairpin added an extra touch of radiance to her hairstyle. A charming fascinator, a small hat with a black lace veil, partially concealed her face, almost obscuring her vampiric features, were it not for the piercing brightness of her eyes that shone through. The Venetian-style eye mask, a delicate piece of fine porcelain adorned with a night sky pattern of silver stars, seemed almost unnecessary. Those familiar with her would recognize her despite this adornment. Even this seemingly frivolous accessory could not mask the identity of the regulars at the market. If she truly wished to remain incognito, she would have had to adopt a different guise and, most importantly, choose a different companion.
