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Paris. Joelle would have loved it here, but she insisted Naf be the one to go. Naf didn't have to wear orthopedic braces, so she didn't have to worry (mostly) about anyone thinking she was hiding illegal substances inside anything. Besides, it was too bad about the cathedral fire this week, at the one Joelle had always wanted to see. [/div]
"The Beauty and the Beast windows." Joelle had sighed. "You won't get to go inside, but I'm pretty sure they're visible from the outside. But I had wanted to see them up close, that's all."
"The what?" Naf raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry, old movie reference. I was six when it came out. The colors in the stained glass in that movie are all there. They're really called the Rose Windows."
"You'll miss seeing the tower, though, too. And smelling all those different kinds of flowers in the spring air."
"Tell it hello for me. Really, I want you to go."
"Your French is better."
"Point taken. But I'll teach you enough."
And that was how Nafretiri had ended up in one of the most beautiful cities in the world by herself. She had spent most of the morning looking in shop windows, although she blanched a little at the cost of things she could never have afforded, much less been brave enough to wear. As in real life, it was still awkward seeing couples enjoying themselves, but thankfully, no one had done more than kiss in public here, although it was still enough to make Nafretiri jealous at seeing the passion in some people's faces displayed so blatantly.
She sighed at the still potent memory of the Sed festival, but then blocked it out of her head as the intoxicating smell of fresh-baked baguettes wafted towards her from an outdoor cafe. What was that thing Joelle had said she should try?
"Un pain au chocolat et un bouteille de Perrier, s'il vous plait," she ordered in fairly understandable French. Not that chocolate bread and French spring water really needed any translation. Yum! What was that stuff Joelle was obsessed with? Nutella. That stuff was definitely an upgrade from her usual real-life desserts. She hoped this would be just as delicious, if not more so.
Conveniently, the place she'd located wasn't too far from the tower Joelle had told her about. She could see it in the distance. Actually, Naf wasn't sure it was anything to write home about, but supposedly it was supposed to be spectacular lit up at night, if Naf could stay awake- and outside alone- that long. She took a deep breath of the sweet spring air and sat down at a table for two to wait for her food. This whole city wasn't meant to be alone in, apparently, or was it just that the restaurant had wanted to be able to seat an even number of people?
Maybe both.
Naf understood Joelle had physical difficulties, but had she been crazy to pass up this trip? Who would have wanted to go on vacation in a place like this without at least a friend to site see with?
Speaking of site seeing, what a sight to see so many attractive men in one place!
Well, a girl could dream, even if she knew better than to think she could just magically find the love of her life.So she dreamed, as well as people-watching, while she waited to eat. The flower-scented breeze caressed her lush hair, and she closed her eyes for a minute just to savor the feeling of being here. When she opened them, her water and bread had been delivered, the bread still steaming a little from being in the hot oven where it had come from.
"Le pain est chaud." the server warned Nafretiri before moving on to her next table.
The bread is hot.
Even so, she risked a small bite when it had cooled only slightly. It was soft, warm on her tongue, and tasted of the creamiest butter she had ever had, besides having a liberal filling of chocolate. "Mmm..." her eyes closed in unadulterated bliss.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Paris. Joelle would have loved it here, but she insisted Naf be the one to go. Naf didn't have to wear orthopedic braces, so she didn't have to worry (mostly) about anyone thinking she was hiding illegal substances inside anything. Besides, it was too bad about the cathedral fire this week, at the one Joelle had always wanted to see. [/div]
"The Beauty and the Beast windows." Joelle had sighed. "You won't get to go inside, but I'm pretty sure they're visible from the outside. But I had wanted to see them up close, that's all."
"The what?" Naf raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry, old movie reference. I was six when it came out. The colors in the stained glass in that movie are all there. They're really called the Rose Windows."
"You'll miss seeing the tower, though, too. And smelling all those different kinds of flowers in the spring air."
"Tell it hello for me. Really, I want you to go."
"Your French is better."
"Point taken. But I'll teach you enough."
And that was how Nafretiri had ended up in one of the most beautiful cities in the world by herself. She had spent most of the morning looking in shop windows, although she blanched a little at the cost of things she could never have afforded, much less been brave enough to wear. As in real life, it was still awkward seeing couples enjoying themselves, but thankfully, no one had done more than kiss in public here, although it was still enough to make Nafretiri jealous at seeing the passion in some people's faces displayed so blatantly.
She sighed at the still potent memory of the Sed festival, but then blocked it out of her head as the intoxicating smell of fresh-baked baguettes wafted towards her from an outdoor cafe. What was that thing Joelle had said she should try?
"Un pain au chocolat et un bouteille de Perrier, s'il vous plait," she ordered in fairly understandable French. Not that chocolate bread and French spring water really needed any translation. Yum! What was that stuff Joelle was obsessed with? Nutella. That stuff was definitely an upgrade from her usual real-life desserts. She hoped this would be just as delicious, if not more so.
Conveniently, the place she'd located wasn't too far from the tower Joelle had told her about. She could see it in the distance. Actually, Naf wasn't sure it was anything to write home about, but supposedly it was supposed to be spectacular lit up at night, if Naf could stay awake- and outside alone- that long. She took a deep breath of the sweet spring air and sat down at a table for two to wait for her food. This whole city wasn't meant to be alone in, apparently, or was it just that the restaurant had wanted to be able to seat an even number of people?
Maybe both.
Naf understood Joelle had physical difficulties, but had she been crazy to pass up this trip? Who would have wanted to go on vacation in a place like this without at least a friend to site see with?
Speaking of site seeing, what a sight to see so many attractive men in one place!
Well, a girl could dream, even if she knew better than to think she could just magically find the love of her life.So she dreamed, as well as people-watching, while she waited to eat. The flower-scented breeze caressed her lush hair, and she closed her eyes for a minute just to savor the feeling of being here. When she opened them, her water and bread had been delivered, the bread still steaming a little from being in the hot oven where it had come from.
"Le pain est chaud." the server warned Nafretiri before moving on to her next table.
The bread is hot.
Even so, she risked a small bite when it had cooled only slightly. It was soft, warm on her tongue, and tasted of the creamiest butter she had ever had, besides having a liberal filling of chocolate. "Mmm..." her eyes closed in unadulterated bliss.
Paris. Joelle would have loved it here, but she insisted Naf be the one to go. Naf didn't have to wear orthopedic braces, so she didn't have to worry (mostly) about anyone thinking she was hiding illegal substances inside anything. Besides, it was too bad about the cathedral fire this week, at the one Joelle had always wanted to see. [/div]
"The Beauty and the Beast windows." Joelle had sighed. "You won't get to go inside, but I'm pretty sure they're visible from the outside. But I had wanted to see them up close, that's all."
"The what?" Naf raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry, old movie reference. I was six when it came out. The colors in the stained glass in that movie are all there. They're really called the Rose Windows."
"You'll miss seeing the tower, though, too. And smelling all those different kinds of flowers in the spring air."
"Tell it hello for me. Really, I want you to go."
"Your French is better."
"Point taken. But I'll teach you enough."
And that was how Nafretiri had ended up in one of the most beautiful cities in the world by herself. She had spent most of the morning looking in shop windows, although she blanched a little at the cost of things she could never have afforded, much less been brave enough to wear. As in real life, it was still awkward seeing couples enjoying themselves, but thankfully, no one had done more than kiss in public here, although it was still enough to make Nafretiri jealous at seeing the passion in some people's faces displayed so blatantly.
She sighed at the still potent memory of the Sed festival, but then blocked it out of her head as the intoxicating smell of fresh-baked baguettes wafted towards her from an outdoor cafe. What was that thing Joelle had said she should try?
"Un pain au chocolat et un bouteille de Perrier, s'il vous plait," she ordered in fairly understandable French. Not that chocolate bread and French spring water really needed any translation. Yum! What was that stuff Joelle was obsessed with? Nutella. That stuff was definitely an upgrade from her usual real-life desserts. She hoped this would be just as delicious, if not more so.
Conveniently, the place she'd located wasn't too far from the tower Joelle had told her about. She could see it in the distance. Actually, Naf wasn't sure it was anything to write home about, but supposedly it was supposed to be spectacular lit up at night, if Naf could stay awake- and outside alone- that long. She took a deep breath of the sweet spring air and sat down at a table for two to wait for her food. This whole city wasn't meant to be alone in, apparently, or was it just that the restaurant had wanted to be able to seat an even number of people?
Maybe both.
Naf understood Joelle had physical difficulties, but had she been crazy to pass up this trip? Who would have wanted to go on vacation in a place like this without at least a friend to site see with?
Speaking of site seeing, what a sight to see so many attractive men in one place!
Well, a girl could dream, even if she knew better than to think she could just magically find the love of her life.So she dreamed, as well as people-watching, while she waited to eat. The flower-scented breeze caressed her lush hair, and she closed her eyes for a minute just to savor the feeling of being here. When she opened them, her water and bread had been delivered, the bread still steaming a little from being in the hot oven where it had come from.
"Le pain est chaud." the server warned Nafretiri before moving on to her next table.
The bread is hot.
Even so, she risked a small bite when it had cooled only slightly. It was soft, warm on her tongue, and tasted of the creamiest butter she had ever had, besides having a liberal filling of chocolate. "Mmm..." her eyes closed in unadulterated bliss.
Paris was Mihail's city.
It had only been a couple of days since his flight to Paris had landed, and he was already fully immersing himself in the French culture, although the majority of his 'immersion' seemed to revolve around Rue Saint Honoré and the darling hotel he'd picked out. Nethis would have killed him if she had discovered how much the hotel - the suite - was costing, although her youngest brother had hidden the bill amongst the family business expenses, hoping that some low-ranking scapegoat employee might take the blame instead. (Not that the man was entirely heartless, he only imagined it was easier for some unknown to suffer his sister's wrath over himself). Still, this was Mihail's birthday treat for himself, and he saw no reason to waste it with a cheap hotel and such touristic activities that he might not entirely enjoy when there was so much shopping to get done.
Today's adventure had a reasonably similar itinerary to the rest of them. Mihail had spent most of his morning flitting between his favourite stores, feeling especially pretty after his visit to the hotel spa the previous evening; nails painted a deep crimson shade to match his lips and hair slicked back neatly. The weather had undoubtedly proved brighter and sunnier in Paris than what he was generally used to at this time of year in New York, so he had dressed lightly, a black chiffon-fringed jacket over a similarly coloured mesh shirt that suited the weather better than its dark hues might have implied. Stygian shades had always suited the man's pale skin better, and he seldom tended to shy away from those colours which complimented his pallid tones.
When somehow even the prospect of being surrounded by as many shoes as he could ever want to buy was beginning to grow dull, and the Thanasi was starting to feel hungry, rarely though he might usually eat, he had disappeared from Christian Louboutin wearing a brand new pair of patent leather Chelsea boots, and directed himself towards where he was sure he had seen an adorable little cafe earlier. All this luxury shopping had left Mihail carrying far more bags than he exactly wanted - for a split second he had regretted requesting that Leonard stay back at the hotel that morning to take care of Draco - and he was thankful that the cafe was not too far.
"Bonjour!" he greeted the room in general as he strode up to the counter, dropping his bags to the ground beside him momentarily so that he might view the menu with more ease. Mihail was relatively proficient in the French language, if solely because he refused to look like a fool in public, but he was not quite fantastic, and he could understand the listing without much struggle. "Un verre de...Château Margaux, s'il vous plaît. Et un croissant." It seemed a reasonable order, although some might have considered it a bit odd for the middle of the day. He couldn't resist a glass of wine.
Order placed, Mihail turned away to find himself a seat, though it appeared most of the tables had already been occupied by couples, leaving him with few options. It was no bother. He had always considered himself charismatic enough, and, gathering his bags once again, moved towards the only table which seemed to have at least one spare seat. Its occupant appeared familiar, though distantly so, but he smiled as though he hadn't momentarily forgotten her as he racked his brains for the name that was in there somewhere, setting the shopping beside the spare seat. "Long time no see, hm?"
It was a valid opener, designed to buy him some time to remember her name fully as he took the seat opposite the girl without waiting for her response as to whether or not he could, in fact, take the chair.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Paris was Mihail's city.
It had only been a couple of days since his flight to Paris had landed, and he was already fully immersing himself in the French culture, although the majority of his 'immersion' seemed to revolve around Rue Saint Honoré and the darling hotel he'd picked out. Nethis would have killed him if she had discovered how much the hotel - the suite - was costing, although her youngest brother had hidden the bill amongst the family business expenses, hoping that some low-ranking scapegoat employee might take the blame instead. (Not that the man was entirely heartless, he only imagined it was easier for some unknown to suffer his sister's wrath over himself). Still, this was Mihail's birthday treat for himself, and he saw no reason to waste it with a cheap hotel and such touristic activities that he might not entirely enjoy when there was so much shopping to get done.
Today's adventure had a reasonably similar itinerary to the rest of them. Mihail had spent most of his morning flitting between his favourite stores, feeling especially pretty after his visit to the hotel spa the previous evening; nails painted a deep crimson shade to match his lips and hair slicked back neatly. The weather had undoubtedly proved brighter and sunnier in Paris than what he was generally used to at this time of year in New York, so he had dressed lightly, a black chiffon-fringed jacket over a similarly coloured mesh shirt that suited the weather better than its dark hues might have implied. Stygian shades had always suited the man's pale skin better, and he seldom tended to shy away from those colours which complimented his pallid tones.
When somehow even the prospect of being surrounded by as many shoes as he could ever want to buy was beginning to grow dull, and the Thanasi was starting to feel hungry, rarely though he might usually eat, he had disappeared from Christian Louboutin wearing a brand new pair of patent leather Chelsea boots, and directed himself towards where he was sure he had seen an adorable little cafe earlier. All this luxury shopping had left Mihail carrying far more bags than he exactly wanted - for a split second he had regretted requesting that Leonard stay back at the hotel that morning to take care of Draco - and he was thankful that the cafe was not too far.
"Bonjour!" he greeted the room in general as he strode up to the counter, dropping his bags to the ground beside him momentarily so that he might view the menu with more ease. Mihail was relatively proficient in the French language, if solely because he refused to look like a fool in public, but he was not quite fantastic, and he could understand the listing without much struggle. "Un verre de...Château Margaux, s'il vous plaît. Et un croissant." It seemed a reasonable order, although some might have considered it a bit odd for the middle of the day. He couldn't resist a glass of wine.
Order placed, Mihail turned away to find himself a seat, though it appeared most of the tables had already been occupied by couples, leaving him with few options. It was no bother. He had always considered himself charismatic enough, and, gathering his bags once again, moved towards the only table which seemed to have at least one spare seat. Its occupant appeared familiar, though distantly so, but he smiled as though he hadn't momentarily forgotten her as he racked his brains for the name that was in there somewhere, setting the shopping beside the spare seat. "Long time no see, hm?"
It was a valid opener, designed to buy him some time to remember her name fully as he took the seat opposite the girl without waiting for her response as to whether or not he could, in fact, take the chair.
Paris was Mihail's city.
It had only been a couple of days since his flight to Paris had landed, and he was already fully immersing himself in the French culture, although the majority of his 'immersion' seemed to revolve around Rue Saint Honoré and the darling hotel he'd picked out. Nethis would have killed him if she had discovered how much the hotel - the suite - was costing, although her youngest brother had hidden the bill amongst the family business expenses, hoping that some low-ranking scapegoat employee might take the blame instead. (Not that the man was entirely heartless, he only imagined it was easier for some unknown to suffer his sister's wrath over himself). Still, this was Mihail's birthday treat for himself, and he saw no reason to waste it with a cheap hotel and such touristic activities that he might not entirely enjoy when there was so much shopping to get done.
Today's adventure had a reasonably similar itinerary to the rest of them. Mihail had spent most of his morning flitting between his favourite stores, feeling especially pretty after his visit to the hotel spa the previous evening; nails painted a deep crimson shade to match his lips and hair slicked back neatly. The weather had undoubtedly proved brighter and sunnier in Paris than what he was generally used to at this time of year in New York, so he had dressed lightly, a black chiffon-fringed jacket over a similarly coloured mesh shirt that suited the weather better than its dark hues might have implied. Stygian shades had always suited the man's pale skin better, and he seldom tended to shy away from those colours which complimented his pallid tones.
When somehow even the prospect of being surrounded by as many shoes as he could ever want to buy was beginning to grow dull, and the Thanasi was starting to feel hungry, rarely though he might usually eat, he had disappeared from Christian Louboutin wearing a brand new pair of patent leather Chelsea boots, and directed himself towards where he was sure he had seen an adorable little cafe earlier. All this luxury shopping had left Mihail carrying far more bags than he exactly wanted - for a split second he had regretted requesting that Leonard stay back at the hotel that morning to take care of Draco - and he was thankful that the cafe was not too far.
"Bonjour!" he greeted the room in general as he strode up to the counter, dropping his bags to the ground beside him momentarily so that he might view the menu with more ease. Mihail was relatively proficient in the French language, if solely because he refused to look like a fool in public, but he was not quite fantastic, and he could understand the listing without much struggle. "Un verre de...Château Margaux, s'il vous plaît. Et un croissant." It seemed a reasonable order, although some might have considered it a bit odd for the middle of the day. He couldn't resist a glass of wine.
Order placed, Mihail turned away to find himself a seat, though it appeared most of the tables had already been occupied by couples, leaving him with few options. It was no bother. He had always considered himself charismatic enough, and, gathering his bags once again, moved towards the only table which seemed to have at least one spare seat. Its occupant appeared familiar, though distantly so, but he smiled as though he hadn't momentarily forgotten her as he racked his brains for the name that was in there somewhere, setting the shopping beside the spare seat. "Long time no see, hm?"
It was a valid opener, designed to buy him some time to remember her name fully as he took the seat opposite the girl without waiting for her response as to whether or not he could, in fact, take the chair.
As someone rather suddenly-at least to her- took the seat next to her, Nafretiri's breath caught in her throat. In the first place, and most importantly, ever since the rape, she hated being snuck up on. And in the second place, it was quite rude!
She breathed a little easier when she looked at him more closely, however. "Hello. I don't remember your name at the moment, but didn't we meet in the philosophy club at school a few times? I enjoy philosophy a lot, but I couldn't take a double major as I don't have enough time for that at the moment."
She would always remember his dark hair, nearly as plentiful as her own, and seemingly almost always mussed to perfection, not to mention his perfect skin that she wanted to touch nearly every time she had seen it to see if it were as soft as it looked. So why couldn't she remember his name so easily? She grit her teeth in frustration. Something Greek... right?
"I major in chemistry at Columbia University. My name is Rivkah, but I go by Nafretiri. And I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name to save my life! I do remember a conversation we had about our mothers, though."
She had been having a particularly rough day that day, as something she had been working on had set off an explosion in the lab. Luckily, it was a small one, but even so, she'd been quite shaken and wondering if she was cut out for chemistry after all. According to her interests, she could have easily been a boy, though her long hair, lean legs, and small but firm breasts begged to differ. And maybe that was the problem. Her mother had wanted a son to continue her husband's line, at the least, even though as far as Narfretiri could tell, she'd never heen exactly sure how her mother actually felt about her father. She did suspect that her mother had been expected to marry someone well-off enough to supposedly care for her properly, but that was all.
Whatever the case, she remembered talking about it to him before the club meeting. She had never been sure exactly why shchose him to talk to; maybe she'd been desperate in those first weeks of school, as she hadn't really made a lot of friends then, and for that matter, didn't really have that many now. She only knew that at the time she was wondering if she was really cut out for her dream career, and had wanted to make her mother proud somehow, if only posthumously. If she couldn't quite think of being a boy, she could at least choose a career and do well at it, though she'd always loved both mixing things and solving math problems.
But now his skin and hair were mesmerizing her again, and if she weren't careful, she'd get lost in him. It wasn't necessarily that she fell in love with every young man she came across, but she did check them out, because perhaps someday, she wanted it. Not only for her daughter's sake, but so Nafretiri herself wouldn't become a bitter old hag one day, always remembering a sorrow she'd never quite been able to shake, plus always having the feeling that she'd missed out on something wonderful between men and women.
That's enough! she scolded herself. You're in freaking Paris for crying out loud! This is no time to be thinking of...
And yet she had thought of it, a little, if for no other reason than that going abroad alone made her aware that perhaps she wouldn't be safe from such things here, either.
"So, um, how is your trip so far? Any favorite parts yet? What have you been up to since we saw each other last?"
Those were simple enough questions, right? But at least it was a start.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As someone rather suddenly-at least to her- took the seat next to her, Nafretiri's breath caught in her throat. In the first place, and most importantly, ever since the rape, she hated being snuck up on. And in the second place, it was quite rude!
She breathed a little easier when she looked at him more closely, however. "Hello. I don't remember your name at the moment, but didn't we meet in the philosophy club at school a few times? I enjoy philosophy a lot, but I couldn't take a double major as I don't have enough time for that at the moment."
She would always remember his dark hair, nearly as plentiful as her own, and seemingly almost always mussed to perfection, not to mention his perfect skin that she wanted to touch nearly every time she had seen it to see if it were as soft as it looked. So why couldn't she remember his name so easily? She grit her teeth in frustration. Something Greek... right?
"I major in chemistry at Columbia University. My name is Rivkah, but I go by Nafretiri. And I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name to save my life! I do remember a conversation we had about our mothers, though."
She had been having a particularly rough day that day, as something she had been working on had set off an explosion in the lab. Luckily, it was a small one, but even so, she'd been quite shaken and wondering if she was cut out for chemistry after all. According to her interests, she could have easily been a boy, though her long hair, lean legs, and small but firm breasts begged to differ. And maybe that was the problem. Her mother had wanted a son to continue her husband's line, at the least, even though as far as Narfretiri could tell, she'd never heen exactly sure how her mother actually felt about her father. She did suspect that her mother had been expected to marry someone well-off enough to supposedly care for her properly, but that was all.
Whatever the case, she remembered talking about it to him before the club meeting. She had never been sure exactly why shchose him to talk to; maybe she'd been desperate in those first weeks of school, as she hadn't really made a lot of friends then, and for that matter, didn't really have that many now. She only knew that at the time she was wondering if she was really cut out for her dream career, and had wanted to make her mother proud somehow, if only posthumously. If she couldn't quite think of being a boy, she could at least choose a career and do well at it, though she'd always loved both mixing things and solving math problems.
But now his skin and hair were mesmerizing her again, and if she weren't careful, she'd get lost in him. It wasn't necessarily that she fell in love with every young man she came across, but she did check them out, because perhaps someday, she wanted it. Not only for her daughter's sake, but so Nafretiri herself wouldn't become a bitter old hag one day, always remembering a sorrow she'd never quite been able to shake, plus always having the feeling that she'd missed out on something wonderful between men and women.
That's enough! she scolded herself. You're in freaking Paris for crying out loud! This is no time to be thinking of...
And yet she had thought of it, a little, if for no other reason than that going abroad alone made her aware that perhaps she wouldn't be safe from such things here, either.
"So, um, how is your trip so far? Any favorite parts yet? What have you been up to since we saw each other last?"
Those were simple enough questions, right? But at least it was a start.
As someone rather suddenly-at least to her- took the seat next to her, Nafretiri's breath caught in her throat. In the first place, and most importantly, ever since the rape, she hated being snuck up on. And in the second place, it was quite rude!
She breathed a little easier when she looked at him more closely, however. "Hello. I don't remember your name at the moment, but didn't we meet in the philosophy club at school a few times? I enjoy philosophy a lot, but I couldn't take a double major as I don't have enough time for that at the moment."
She would always remember his dark hair, nearly as plentiful as her own, and seemingly almost always mussed to perfection, not to mention his perfect skin that she wanted to touch nearly every time she had seen it to see if it were as soft as it looked. So why couldn't she remember his name so easily? She grit her teeth in frustration. Something Greek... right?
"I major in chemistry at Columbia University. My name is Rivkah, but I go by Nafretiri. And I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name to save my life! I do remember a conversation we had about our mothers, though."
She had been having a particularly rough day that day, as something she had been working on had set off an explosion in the lab. Luckily, it was a small one, but even so, she'd been quite shaken and wondering if she was cut out for chemistry after all. According to her interests, she could have easily been a boy, though her long hair, lean legs, and small but firm breasts begged to differ. And maybe that was the problem. Her mother had wanted a son to continue her husband's line, at the least, even though as far as Narfretiri could tell, she'd never heen exactly sure how her mother actually felt about her father. She did suspect that her mother had been expected to marry someone well-off enough to supposedly care for her properly, but that was all.
Whatever the case, she remembered talking about it to him before the club meeting. She had never been sure exactly why shchose him to talk to; maybe she'd been desperate in those first weeks of school, as she hadn't really made a lot of friends then, and for that matter, didn't really have that many now. She only knew that at the time she was wondering if she was really cut out for her dream career, and had wanted to make her mother proud somehow, if only posthumously. If she couldn't quite think of being a boy, she could at least choose a career and do well at it, though she'd always loved both mixing things and solving math problems.
But now his skin and hair were mesmerizing her again, and if she weren't careful, she'd get lost in him. It wasn't necessarily that she fell in love with every young man she came across, but she did check them out, because perhaps someday, she wanted it. Not only for her daughter's sake, but so Nafretiri herself wouldn't become a bitter old hag one day, always remembering a sorrow she'd never quite been able to shake, plus always having the feeling that she'd missed out on something wonderful between men and women.
That's enough! she scolded herself. You're in freaking Paris for crying out loud! This is no time to be thinking of...
And yet she had thought of it, a little, if for no other reason than that going abroad alone made her aware that perhaps she wouldn't be safe from such things here, either.
"So, um, how is your trip so far? Any favorite parts yet? What have you been up to since we saw each other last?"
Those were simple enough questions, right? But at least it was a start.
Philosophy Society. It had been just under two years since Mihail had left Columbia University, but his memory did not fail him so that he could not recall the evenings spent at the university with a particular fondness that did not extend to much else. She must have been younger than he as, from her tone, she still appeared to be a student at the university, but their difference in age did not matter as he almost immediately recognised her entirely from the name. Nafretiri. Though her name had slipped his mind, Mihail would never have forgotten the girl outright. It was a rare occasion that he would share a tale of his mother with another, so touchy was he on the subject.
"Mihail Thanasi," he replied, extending a hand clad in silver snake-shaped rings that matched the tattoo on his wrist which peeked out from under his jacket sleeve and the viper which awaited him back in his hotel room. "I remember you."
There was a brief and naturally awkward silence, Mihail drumming his fingers on the tabletop as he watched the waiter bring over the glass of wine and the croissant he'd ordered. He had never been overly keen on sugary foods, and though many had told him that he would be better off ordering a chocolate-themed pastry for the taste, the man had ignored them and instead opted for the similar yet blander croissant and his habitual glass of wine which he was more often than not judged for consuming at such early hours of the day. "Merci, gorgeous," he thanked him, though he was not quite the sort that Mihail would have welcomed to his bed, the compliment only being a typical addition to his speech patterns. "Et si vous ne me dérangerait pas apporter la bouteille? Ce serait fantastique." A whole bottle was easier than ordering each glass individually.
Swirling the red liquid in its glass, he thought back to the last time the pair of them had met. The exact date did not come to mind, but he imagined it would have been towards the end of his time at Columbia University, and hence imagined the question Nafretiri intended for him referred to his time post-graduation. It had been an interesting couple of years, for lack of a better descriptive word. Mihail had certainly done plenty.
"After university? I lost my boyfriend and, like, I took a year off to process that, travelled around the States. A week in every state but, urgh, I took an extra week in Florida for my birthday, and it was amaze." The Sunshine State had been more than worth the additional week, and Mihail was more than glad he had taken the time, especially now that he had actual 'work' to concern himself with and could not consider that same luxury of time off whenever he desired it. "But Paris? It's delightful. I've bought so many shoes; it's so much more fun buying Louboutins in Paris over New York. This is, like, the best trip I've ever taken." Likely, it would have been even more delightful had he paused to take in the sights of the city rather than just shopping, but Mihail was hardly bothered by that.
He took a long drink from his glass, still not having tasted his pastry. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, eyes scanning over Nafretiri as though to see if he could recall anything else about her as he tucked some of his bags under the table between them for better safekeeping. "But, like, it's been the best, legit. What's with you?" A thought struck him suddenly, sudden as it might have been, and he perked up somewhat further at the suggestion. "Oh my god. You should come by my hotel, and we can, like, catch up properly, maybe go to the spa, get some proper food, whatever."
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Philosophy Society. It had been just under two years since Mihail had left Columbia University, but his memory did not fail him so that he could not recall the evenings spent at the university with a particular fondness that did not extend to much else. She must have been younger than he as, from her tone, she still appeared to be a student at the university, but their difference in age did not matter as he almost immediately recognised her entirely from the name. Nafretiri. Though her name had slipped his mind, Mihail would never have forgotten the girl outright. It was a rare occasion that he would share a tale of his mother with another, so touchy was he on the subject.
"Mihail Thanasi," he replied, extending a hand clad in silver snake-shaped rings that matched the tattoo on his wrist which peeked out from under his jacket sleeve and the viper which awaited him back in his hotel room. "I remember you."
There was a brief and naturally awkward silence, Mihail drumming his fingers on the tabletop as he watched the waiter bring over the glass of wine and the croissant he'd ordered. He had never been overly keen on sugary foods, and though many had told him that he would be better off ordering a chocolate-themed pastry for the taste, the man had ignored them and instead opted for the similar yet blander croissant and his habitual glass of wine which he was more often than not judged for consuming at such early hours of the day. "Merci, gorgeous," he thanked him, though he was not quite the sort that Mihail would have welcomed to his bed, the compliment only being a typical addition to his speech patterns. "Et si vous ne me dérangerait pas apporter la bouteille? Ce serait fantastique." A whole bottle was easier than ordering each glass individually.
Swirling the red liquid in its glass, he thought back to the last time the pair of them had met. The exact date did not come to mind, but he imagined it would have been towards the end of his time at Columbia University, and hence imagined the question Nafretiri intended for him referred to his time post-graduation. It had been an interesting couple of years, for lack of a better descriptive word. Mihail had certainly done plenty.
"After university? I lost my boyfriend and, like, I took a year off to process that, travelled around the States. A week in every state but, urgh, I took an extra week in Florida for my birthday, and it was amaze." The Sunshine State had been more than worth the additional week, and Mihail was more than glad he had taken the time, especially now that he had actual 'work' to concern himself with and could not consider that same luxury of time off whenever he desired it. "But Paris? It's delightful. I've bought so many shoes; it's so much more fun buying Louboutins in Paris over New York. This is, like, the best trip I've ever taken." Likely, it would have been even more delightful had he paused to take in the sights of the city rather than just shopping, but Mihail was hardly bothered by that.
He took a long drink from his glass, still not having tasted his pastry. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, eyes scanning over Nafretiri as though to see if he could recall anything else about her as he tucked some of his bags under the table between them for better safekeeping. "But, like, it's been the best, legit. What's with you?" A thought struck him suddenly, sudden as it might have been, and he perked up somewhat further at the suggestion. "Oh my god. You should come by my hotel, and we can, like, catch up properly, maybe go to the spa, get some proper food, whatever."
Philosophy Society. It had been just under two years since Mihail had left Columbia University, but his memory did not fail him so that he could not recall the evenings spent at the university with a particular fondness that did not extend to much else. She must have been younger than he as, from her tone, she still appeared to be a student at the university, but their difference in age did not matter as he almost immediately recognised her entirely from the name. Nafretiri. Though her name had slipped his mind, Mihail would never have forgotten the girl outright. It was a rare occasion that he would share a tale of his mother with another, so touchy was he on the subject.
"Mihail Thanasi," he replied, extending a hand clad in silver snake-shaped rings that matched the tattoo on his wrist which peeked out from under his jacket sleeve and the viper which awaited him back in his hotel room. "I remember you."
There was a brief and naturally awkward silence, Mihail drumming his fingers on the tabletop as he watched the waiter bring over the glass of wine and the croissant he'd ordered. He had never been overly keen on sugary foods, and though many had told him that he would be better off ordering a chocolate-themed pastry for the taste, the man had ignored them and instead opted for the similar yet blander croissant and his habitual glass of wine which he was more often than not judged for consuming at such early hours of the day. "Merci, gorgeous," he thanked him, though he was not quite the sort that Mihail would have welcomed to his bed, the compliment only being a typical addition to his speech patterns. "Et si vous ne me dérangerait pas apporter la bouteille? Ce serait fantastique." A whole bottle was easier than ordering each glass individually.
Swirling the red liquid in its glass, he thought back to the last time the pair of them had met. The exact date did not come to mind, but he imagined it would have been towards the end of his time at Columbia University, and hence imagined the question Nafretiri intended for him referred to his time post-graduation. It had been an interesting couple of years, for lack of a better descriptive word. Mihail had certainly done plenty.
"After university? I lost my boyfriend and, like, I took a year off to process that, travelled around the States. A week in every state but, urgh, I took an extra week in Florida for my birthday, and it was amaze." The Sunshine State had been more than worth the additional week, and Mihail was more than glad he had taken the time, especially now that he had actual 'work' to concern himself with and could not consider that same luxury of time off whenever he desired it. "But Paris? It's delightful. I've bought so many shoes; it's so much more fun buying Louboutins in Paris over New York. This is, like, the best trip I've ever taken." Likely, it would have been even more delightful had he paused to take in the sights of the city rather than just shopping, but Mihail was hardly bothered by that.
He took a long drink from his glass, still not having tasted his pastry. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, eyes scanning over Nafretiri as though to see if he could recall anything else about her as he tucked some of his bags under the table between them for better safekeeping. "But, like, it's been the best, legit. What's with you?" A thought struck him suddenly, sudden as it might have been, and he perked up somewhat further at the suggestion. "Oh my god. You should come by my hotel, and we can, like, catch up properly, maybe go to the spa, get some proper food, whatever."
She smiled in relief, though honestly, his snake rings had always frightened her a little. But as she shook his hand, a strange kind of peace stole over her. At least for now, she wasn't alone anymore in a strange city.
"I miss the philosophy society," she admitted. "But someday, when Aneksi's a little older. I promised myself I'd go back to get a doctorate in that, too. I don't know how I'll manage it with working, too, but somehow, I will. It's not like I've got much else to occupy my time."
She wasn't speaking of being a mother. She loved her daughter and always would, but in a way, it was because of her daughter- or more precisely, because of how she was conceived- that Nafretiri worried. With most of her friends married with lives and families of their own, and some of them not willing to include them in their circle, her life had always been a little empty from a very young age, starting with being labeled one of the 'smart kids' at school. After that, she'd miraculously gotten into one of the top private schools in the country, with a focus on STEM subjects. But even that hadn't been enough to make her mother proud of her, and she had died shortly before Aneksi was conceived, by the much older son of the president of her school's board, no less.
Even from a young age, she had been a pretty child and then grown even more stunning- in some people's eyes- as a teenager. And because of it, she'd learned that supposedly. men only wanted one thing.
But why was she bothering herself with those thoughts now? Time to focus. This was one of her few friends in front of her, after all.
He ordered a bottle of wine, and she wondered if he intended to share it or not.
"I'm sorry. You must have loved each other, it sounds like. And yeah, Paris is amazing. I enjoy looking at the shoes too, but only looking. I mean, moms don't wear shoes like that, you know? But there was this one pair of boots...never mind though, my father would probably kill me. He'd likely say they look like..."
Hooker shoes.
She knew he wouldn't have meant it, that it was probably something all fathers were programmed to say, but sometimes, in spite of his acceptance of her fairly new religion, she wished he weren't so.. so... traditional. At least in the type of clothes he thought she should wear. After all, why did it matter, when for all her trying to forget it, she might as well have been a hooker to those who frequented the temple her father attended?
"Never mind. Anyway, I'm glad not to be alone in a strange city anymore. It's more fun to travel with somebody else." And it was safer too, but she didn't need to say that. "And yeah, we totally should catch up, properly. Chemistry is going well. Or at least it was until the day before I left- this time it wasn't me, though, but my lab partner who caused the explosion. Who knew those ingredients made Greek fire? Not even me."
Greek fire.... Speaking of, Mihail was Greek, right?
Stop. Staring. At. Him. We're friends, no matter how nice his skin is, and... hey, did he just say the spa? Now I know how he stays so immaculate, I think.
The warning in her thoughts did no good, and she didn't really have much else to report.
"Aneksi turned two in July. I turned nineteen in September. Still not old enough to drink back home- except at Passover Seder, which I still go to- but don't tell anyone I drink."
Sometimes, between the stresses of her chemistry major and her often melancholy thoughts, she needed drinks more often than once a year. As Aristotle had said, "Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all."
That quote had struck her right to the core the first time she heard it. And it still did.
"Um, yeah, let's go to the hotel. Which one is it? And what should we get?" She wasn't that hungry anymore after that heavenly chocolate bread, but if she ate some more, maybe it would keep him from noticing she was out of her element in the worst way and more relieved to see him than she let on.
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She smiled in relief, though honestly, his snake rings had always frightened her a little. But as she shook his hand, a strange kind of peace stole over her. At least for now, she wasn't alone anymore in a strange city.
"I miss the philosophy society," she admitted. "But someday, when Aneksi's a little older. I promised myself I'd go back to get a doctorate in that, too. I don't know how I'll manage it with working, too, but somehow, I will. It's not like I've got much else to occupy my time."
She wasn't speaking of being a mother. She loved her daughter and always would, but in a way, it was because of her daughter- or more precisely, because of how she was conceived- that Nafretiri worried. With most of her friends married with lives and families of their own, and some of them not willing to include them in their circle, her life had always been a little empty from a very young age, starting with being labeled one of the 'smart kids' at school. After that, she'd miraculously gotten into one of the top private schools in the country, with a focus on STEM subjects. But even that hadn't been enough to make her mother proud of her, and she had died shortly before Aneksi was conceived, by the much older son of the president of her school's board, no less.
Even from a young age, she had been a pretty child and then grown even more stunning- in some people's eyes- as a teenager. And because of it, she'd learned that supposedly. men only wanted one thing.
But why was she bothering herself with those thoughts now? Time to focus. This was one of her few friends in front of her, after all.
He ordered a bottle of wine, and she wondered if he intended to share it or not.
"I'm sorry. You must have loved each other, it sounds like. And yeah, Paris is amazing. I enjoy looking at the shoes too, but only looking. I mean, moms don't wear shoes like that, you know? But there was this one pair of boots...never mind though, my father would probably kill me. He'd likely say they look like..."
Hooker shoes.
She knew he wouldn't have meant it, that it was probably something all fathers were programmed to say, but sometimes, in spite of his acceptance of her fairly new religion, she wished he weren't so.. so... traditional. At least in the type of clothes he thought she should wear. After all, why did it matter, when for all her trying to forget it, she might as well have been a hooker to those who frequented the temple her father attended?
"Never mind. Anyway, I'm glad not to be alone in a strange city anymore. It's more fun to travel with somebody else." And it was safer too, but she didn't need to say that. "And yeah, we totally should catch up, properly. Chemistry is going well. Or at least it was until the day before I left- this time it wasn't me, though, but my lab partner who caused the explosion. Who knew those ingredients made Greek fire? Not even me."
Greek fire.... Speaking of, Mihail was Greek, right?
Stop. Staring. At. Him. We're friends, no matter how nice his skin is, and... hey, did he just say the spa? Now I know how he stays so immaculate, I think.
The warning in her thoughts did no good, and she didn't really have much else to report.
"Aneksi turned two in July. I turned nineteen in September. Still not old enough to drink back home- except at Passover Seder, which I still go to- but don't tell anyone I drink."
Sometimes, between the stresses of her chemistry major and her often melancholy thoughts, she needed drinks more often than once a year. As Aristotle had said, "Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all."
That quote had struck her right to the core the first time she heard it. And it still did.
"Um, yeah, let's go to the hotel. Which one is it? And what should we get?" She wasn't that hungry anymore after that heavenly chocolate bread, but if she ate some more, maybe it would keep him from noticing she was out of her element in the worst way and more relieved to see him than she let on.
She smiled in relief, though honestly, his snake rings had always frightened her a little. But as she shook his hand, a strange kind of peace stole over her. At least for now, she wasn't alone anymore in a strange city.
"I miss the philosophy society," she admitted. "But someday, when Aneksi's a little older. I promised myself I'd go back to get a doctorate in that, too. I don't know how I'll manage it with working, too, but somehow, I will. It's not like I've got much else to occupy my time."
She wasn't speaking of being a mother. She loved her daughter and always would, but in a way, it was because of her daughter- or more precisely, because of how she was conceived- that Nafretiri worried. With most of her friends married with lives and families of their own, and some of them not willing to include them in their circle, her life had always been a little empty from a very young age, starting with being labeled one of the 'smart kids' at school. After that, she'd miraculously gotten into one of the top private schools in the country, with a focus on STEM subjects. But even that hadn't been enough to make her mother proud of her, and she had died shortly before Aneksi was conceived, by the much older son of the president of her school's board, no less.
Even from a young age, she had been a pretty child and then grown even more stunning- in some people's eyes- as a teenager. And because of it, she'd learned that supposedly. men only wanted one thing.
But why was she bothering herself with those thoughts now? Time to focus. This was one of her few friends in front of her, after all.
He ordered a bottle of wine, and she wondered if he intended to share it or not.
"I'm sorry. You must have loved each other, it sounds like. And yeah, Paris is amazing. I enjoy looking at the shoes too, but only looking. I mean, moms don't wear shoes like that, you know? But there was this one pair of boots...never mind though, my father would probably kill me. He'd likely say they look like..."
Hooker shoes.
She knew he wouldn't have meant it, that it was probably something all fathers were programmed to say, but sometimes, in spite of his acceptance of her fairly new religion, she wished he weren't so.. so... traditional. At least in the type of clothes he thought she should wear. After all, why did it matter, when for all her trying to forget it, she might as well have been a hooker to those who frequented the temple her father attended?
"Never mind. Anyway, I'm glad not to be alone in a strange city anymore. It's more fun to travel with somebody else." And it was safer too, but she didn't need to say that. "And yeah, we totally should catch up, properly. Chemistry is going well. Or at least it was until the day before I left- this time it wasn't me, though, but my lab partner who caused the explosion. Who knew those ingredients made Greek fire? Not even me."
Greek fire.... Speaking of, Mihail was Greek, right?
Stop. Staring. At. Him. We're friends, no matter how nice his skin is, and... hey, did he just say the spa? Now I know how he stays so immaculate, I think.
The warning in her thoughts did no good, and she didn't really have much else to report.
"Aneksi turned two in July. I turned nineteen in September. Still not old enough to drink back home- except at Passover Seder, which I still go to- but don't tell anyone I drink."
Sometimes, between the stresses of her chemistry major and her often melancholy thoughts, she needed drinks more often than once a year. As Aristotle had said, "Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all."
That quote had struck her right to the core the first time she heard it. And it still did.
"Um, yeah, let's go to the hotel. Which one is it? And what should we get?" She wasn't that hungry anymore after that heavenly chocolate bread, but if she ate some more, maybe it would keep him from noticing she was out of her element in the worst way and more relieved to see him than she let on.
It was pleasant to spend time with someone who did not appear to think Mihail's upset over his partner's death had been unreasonable. Allegedly, the pair of them had not been dating so long that the way the man had reacted was appropriate, and certainly not so for a member of his family. Only his youngest sister had really comforted him as much as he had desired, the others acting almost as though the depression that had overcome the man when he had heard the news of Tryphon's death was nothing short of unreasonable. Nafretiri did not seem quite so unkind, and he offered her a bright smile of appreciation that was almost foreign on his face. At least she did not hesitate to move the conversation onwards, preventing him from becoming too upset by the topic at hand.
Please. Mihail had been wearing this same brand of shoes for plenty of years, and he had often been told that they were less than appropriate for him, for a man. They were too elaborate with their bright red soles and sharp style, and he would never be taken seriously so long as he chose to wear them in public. He had not cared then, and he did not care now. If Mihail wished to wear shoes that most deemed too feminine, then he could do so without issue.
"Mothers can wear whichever shoes you wish. I loathe this idea of which fashion is acceptable for which demographic must be decided by some outside authority. Father does not like my shoes. Mother would not have liked my shoes. But I adore them, and only I have the right to control my own fashion. If you desire them so, I suggest you march straight back to that store and purchase whichever pair took your fancy, else you'll regret the decision for the rest of your life." Mihail knew he had plenty of remorse in his life, and there were plenty of things he wished he could have done before his mother had died that he had been too afraid to do at such a young age and so hated as he had been. "I shall take you myself if I have to."
However concerned Mihail might have been for the oppression she appeared to be suffering when it came to her wardrobe, Nafretiri was not wrong in saying that she was glad to have somebody else to travel with. It was part of the reason why the youngest Thanasi was not taking this trip alone, and had instead opted to bring along his beloved pet and that assistant he had grown to trust after a full year of travel. Still, the pair of them became dull after a while with no other interactions, and this sudden run-in had brought a sunnier look to his face than he ever typically wore.
"So what if you're not old enough to drink back home?" he shrugged, conveniently timing the words as the waiter returned with the bottle he had ordered. "You're in Paris. France! If you're not planning to taste the wines here then, hell, I don't know what you're doing with yourself." He would have poured them each a glass right then and there and demanded a toast for her to down the drink had she not agreed to his suggestion they return to the hotel, and a new fire appeared in his eyes.
Standing from his seat again - honestly, the servers at this cafe must have thought the man was insane with how often he had jumped around at this point - Mihail slapped a few bills on the table to cover the cost of his half-eaten meal, then turned to offer Nafretiri a hand. "Oh my gosh, so, like, don't tell Nethis but I booked a suite at this super cute hotel, Le Meurice. I mean, it's totally expensive, but I figured, it was my birthday, so I get to be a princess for the trip, right?" He shrugged as though in answer to his own question, picking up the as yet unopened bottle of wine he'd been brought and depositing it in one of his other shopping bags to carry with him. "We can share this or whatever. We can get a couples thing at the spa! The treatment looks gorgeous but, urgh, I need someone to go with, and I can't take my assistant."
As for a proper meal...he hadn't exactly considered much when making the suggestion. It wasn't exactly easy when you rarely ate. "I'm sure we can get something at the hotel restaurant. Like, anything you want." Hm. This hadn't really been where Mihail had expected his plans for the day to take him but, well, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to spend the rest of the day with someone he already knew. Who knew where this new adventure would take them?
"It's only a couple of minutes away, we can walk," he informed his newfound companion, winking over his shoulder at that one cute waiter by means of farewell before he started to walk down the street, momentarily checking to ensure that Nafretiri was in fact following after him. "You'll totally love it as much as I do."
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Check out their information page here.
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It was pleasant to spend time with someone who did not appear to think Mihail's upset over his partner's death had been unreasonable. Allegedly, the pair of them had not been dating so long that the way the man had reacted was appropriate, and certainly not so for a member of his family. Only his youngest sister had really comforted him as much as he had desired, the others acting almost as though the depression that had overcome the man when he had heard the news of Tryphon's death was nothing short of unreasonable. Nafretiri did not seem quite so unkind, and he offered her a bright smile of appreciation that was almost foreign on his face. At least she did not hesitate to move the conversation onwards, preventing him from becoming too upset by the topic at hand.
Please. Mihail had been wearing this same brand of shoes for plenty of years, and he had often been told that they were less than appropriate for him, for a man. They were too elaborate with their bright red soles and sharp style, and he would never be taken seriously so long as he chose to wear them in public. He had not cared then, and he did not care now. If Mihail wished to wear shoes that most deemed too feminine, then he could do so without issue.
"Mothers can wear whichever shoes you wish. I loathe this idea of which fashion is acceptable for which demographic must be decided by some outside authority. Father does not like my shoes. Mother would not have liked my shoes. But I adore them, and only I have the right to control my own fashion. If you desire them so, I suggest you march straight back to that store and purchase whichever pair took your fancy, else you'll regret the decision for the rest of your life." Mihail knew he had plenty of remorse in his life, and there were plenty of things he wished he could have done before his mother had died that he had been too afraid to do at such a young age and so hated as he had been. "I shall take you myself if I have to."
However concerned Mihail might have been for the oppression she appeared to be suffering when it came to her wardrobe, Nafretiri was not wrong in saying that she was glad to have somebody else to travel with. It was part of the reason why the youngest Thanasi was not taking this trip alone, and had instead opted to bring along his beloved pet and that assistant he had grown to trust after a full year of travel. Still, the pair of them became dull after a while with no other interactions, and this sudden run-in had brought a sunnier look to his face than he ever typically wore.
"So what if you're not old enough to drink back home?" he shrugged, conveniently timing the words as the waiter returned with the bottle he had ordered. "You're in Paris. France! If you're not planning to taste the wines here then, hell, I don't know what you're doing with yourself." He would have poured them each a glass right then and there and demanded a toast for her to down the drink had she not agreed to his suggestion they return to the hotel, and a new fire appeared in his eyes.
Standing from his seat again - honestly, the servers at this cafe must have thought the man was insane with how often he had jumped around at this point - Mihail slapped a few bills on the table to cover the cost of his half-eaten meal, then turned to offer Nafretiri a hand. "Oh my gosh, so, like, don't tell Nethis but I booked a suite at this super cute hotel, Le Meurice. I mean, it's totally expensive, but I figured, it was my birthday, so I get to be a princess for the trip, right?" He shrugged as though in answer to his own question, picking up the as yet unopened bottle of wine he'd been brought and depositing it in one of his other shopping bags to carry with him. "We can share this or whatever. We can get a couples thing at the spa! The treatment looks gorgeous but, urgh, I need someone to go with, and I can't take my assistant."
As for a proper meal...he hadn't exactly considered much when making the suggestion. It wasn't exactly easy when you rarely ate. "I'm sure we can get something at the hotel restaurant. Like, anything you want." Hm. This hadn't really been where Mihail had expected his plans for the day to take him but, well, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to spend the rest of the day with someone he already knew. Who knew where this new adventure would take them?
"It's only a couple of minutes away, we can walk," he informed his newfound companion, winking over his shoulder at that one cute waiter by means of farewell before he started to walk down the street, momentarily checking to ensure that Nafretiri was in fact following after him. "You'll totally love it as much as I do."
It was pleasant to spend time with someone who did not appear to think Mihail's upset over his partner's death had been unreasonable. Allegedly, the pair of them had not been dating so long that the way the man had reacted was appropriate, and certainly not so for a member of his family. Only his youngest sister had really comforted him as much as he had desired, the others acting almost as though the depression that had overcome the man when he had heard the news of Tryphon's death was nothing short of unreasonable. Nafretiri did not seem quite so unkind, and he offered her a bright smile of appreciation that was almost foreign on his face. At least she did not hesitate to move the conversation onwards, preventing him from becoming too upset by the topic at hand.
Please. Mihail had been wearing this same brand of shoes for plenty of years, and he had often been told that they were less than appropriate for him, for a man. They were too elaborate with their bright red soles and sharp style, and he would never be taken seriously so long as he chose to wear them in public. He had not cared then, and he did not care now. If Mihail wished to wear shoes that most deemed too feminine, then he could do so without issue.
"Mothers can wear whichever shoes you wish. I loathe this idea of which fashion is acceptable for which demographic must be decided by some outside authority. Father does not like my shoes. Mother would not have liked my shoes. But I adore them, and only I have the right to control my own fashion. If you desire them so, I suggest you march straight back to that store and purchase whichever pair took your fancy, else you'll regret the decision for the rest of your life." Mihail knew he had plenty of remorse in his life, and there were plenty of things he wished he could have done before his mother had died that he had been too afraid to do at such a young age and so hated as he had been. "I shall take you myself if I have to."
However concerned Mihail might have been for the oppression she appeared to be suffering when it came to her wardrobe, Nafretiri was not wrong in saying that she was glad to have somebody else to travel with. It was part of the reason why the youngest Thanasi was not taking this trip alone, and had instead opted to bring along his beloved pet and that assistant he had grown to trust after a full year of travel. Still, the pair of them became dull after a while with no other interactions, and this sudden run-in had brought a sunnier look to his face than he ever typically wore.
"So what if you're not old enough to drink back home?" he shrugged, conveniently timing the words as the waiter returned with the bottle he had ordered. "You're in Paris. France! If you're not planning to taste the wines here then, hell, I don't know what you're doing with yourself." He would have poured them each a glass right then and there and demanded a toast for her to down the drink had she not agreed to his suggestion they return to the hotel, and a new fire appeared in his eyes.
Standing from his seat again - honestly, the servers at this cafe must have thought the man was insane with how often he had jumped around at this point - Mihail slapped a few bills on the table to cover the cost of his half-eaten meal, then turned to offer Nafretiri a hand. "Oh my gosh, so, like, don't tell Nethis but I booked a suite at this super cute hotel, Le Meurice. I mean, it's totally expensive, but I figured, it was my birthday, so I get to be a princess for the trip, right?" He shrugged as though in answer to his own question, picking up the as yet unopened bottle of wine he'd been brought and depositing it in one of his other shopping bags to carry with him. "We can share this or whatever. We can get a couples thing at the spa! The treatment looks gorgeous but, urgh, I need someone to go with, and I can't take my assistant."
As for a proper meal...he hadn't exactly considered much when making the suggestion. It wasn't exactly easy when you rarely ate. "I'm sure we can get something at the hotel restaurant. Like, anything you want." Hm. This hadn't really been where Mihail had expected his plans for the day to take him but, well, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to spend the rest of the day with someone he already knew. Who knew where this new adventure would take them?
"It's only a couple of minutes away, we can walk," he informed his newfound companion, winking over his shoulder at that one cute waiter by means of farewell before he started to walk down the street, momentarily checking to ensure that Nafretiri was in fact following after him. "You'll totally love it as much as I do."
Nafretiri laughed and grinned. He sure knew how to have a good time, it seemed. And although she might have to tell him the cause of her unease- just so she felt safe, in a foreign country- she was ready to join him. “Sure! If the spa is anything like I’ve heard- you know, things like Dead Sea salts and stuff- well, that’s one of the things I miss about Israel, actually. The salt from the Dead Sea- even though I can’t remember actually bathing there- is like nothing else. And if the…you know, the actual food…although I could eat baguettes all day and be happy…” she half-joked.“…Is as good as what I just had, then any restaurant we choose will be spectacular!”
At his comment about mothers being able to wear whatever shoes they wanted, Nafretiri smiled, though it wasn't an altogether happy one. Maybe, just for now, just since they kind of knew each other and since she would be hanging around him for the moment being, he ought to know a little more about her- about why she was so scared. And pensive. And worried about what other people thought. She wouldn't want to scare him off, of course, but she'd tell him little enough, directly. Maybe he'd even kind of figure it out if she used a little philosophy. A certain question had stuck out in her mind when they discussed it in the club. In some way, it had helped her understand why she was looked at the way she was by some people.
"You're right," she said softly, as if she were afraid someone else might overhear them. She was somehow always afraid of that, too....
"Why should I care what people think of me- even very religious ones who might be offended? If all it takes is a pair of shoes to make people think one...has a certain profession..." She let her voice trail off.
Despite how confident she wantedto feel by thinking about getting those shoes, Nafretiri blushed. Maybe the burning red of her cheeks would be enough for him to follow her line of thought. She wouldn't want to cry in front of him either, though, no matter how good it would have felt at that moment to have a friendly hug. Crying- even when one had a good reason to do so, like a loss of some sort- was embarrassing. Especially if you didn't know someone well, or hadn't seen them in years.
Yeah, between blushing and crying, Nafretiri definitely preferred her blazing face.
She coughed, and then cleared her throat, lowering her head in her embarrassment. "Um...the question about whether or not the tree makes a sound if someone doesn't hear it fall? It does. It's just that sometimes the tree is the only one who knows about the sound." And she might as well have been in a forest at night- she couldn’t be sure who had really done it- maybe he’d only looked like someone she recognized as the son of the president of the school board. (OOC: Not knowing how to edit old posts, this was the closest I could get to acknowledging that Badru’s eventual player might have their own AU idea.)
Well, her father also knew why she'd named her daughter Aneksi, though they called her Liat when they went to Temple. (She hadn’t known the name Liat existed until after her daughter was born and had been going to find another Hebrew name to go with the English one, even if it were unrelated. as was common, so finding the name Aneksi had actually come before Nafretiri’s conversion to paganism. )But still, she hadn't had the courage to tell anyone outside of her family, even after two years. And even that had been difficult, and one of the times she had wished she had had a living mother. But she said no more aloud just then than what she already had. That was all she felt she could say until they got to the hotel, but maybe it would be all she needed to. He hadn't said so many words, either. If they had understood about each other's mothers, maybe, two years later, they would understand each other now. She might explain the part about Aneksi's name, why she'd chosen an Egyptian one quite apart from her interests, but he'd probably understand about the shoes, and her relief at seeing him, she thought. And the best part was that it seemed to her that neither of them needed the other one to fix anything. Not that the things either of them had lost could be brought back. But Nafretiri didn't even need someone to think they could try. Right now, any sort of...trying to find love...was something she wasn't sure was in her cards. Ever. And even if it were- and she hoped that it would be, for Aneksi’s sake as well as her own- it wouldn't be with him. She could admire his looks, of course. Nothing wrong with that. But if two people happened to have two different sexual preferences- as seemed to be the case here- nothing would change it. She wasn't entirely sure she had ever cared what the sexual preferences of her friends were anyway. Friendship could develop into love for some people, but maybe it wouldn’t happen that way for her.
Sometimes, even for friends, knowing someone understood the cause of your pain was enough. It didn't always need to be fixed, or even for people to think it couldbe. As she passed by the tower, following him to the hotel, she did wonder if Mihail had in fact planned to be in Paris with his partner. But only because the image she kept seeing in her brain of the tower all lit up really did seem kind of romantic if she thought about seeing it with someone else. Then again...didn't light mean healing sometimes, too? It sounded like the type of metaphor she'd seen in her English Lit book.
"City of Lights..." she breathed.”Huh."
She wondered if Mihail had had the same thought, somehow.
"I think that’s part of why Joelle wanted me to go alone- to see if I could relax a little, you know? Spread my wings again? Find myself- what there is left of me?” She looked at him questioningly, hoping he would understand what she meant. You had to make a new person from what was left of the old you, along with some new things, after great losses. She thought Mihail was clearly suffering one as well, even if of a different kind.
“Don’t let me drink too awfully much,” she warned. “I-I mean, I don’t want to drink so much it actually makes me more depressed, you know?” Then she smiled, a real one this time, if still tentative.
“Joelle did tell me this place was supposed to be amazing all lit up at night. What do you think? Can we stay awake that long?"
If she had said any more out loud, she worried that it would have sounded stupid. It was just that there weren't that many ways to correctly say, I'd like to go outside at night, and yes, I know this isn't a date, and that you like guys. Having someone with me would probably help me relax, but you don't have to feel like you need to take me either, even as my friend. I don't need to be fixed.
Speaking of, what was this whole notion of being fixed? It wasn't like the loss hadn't happened if you forgot about the pain. Time didn't go backwards like that.
But it did keep going forward. And in that, there might be a strange sort of comfort, even if it seemed to be moving forward more slowly for her at times than for everyone else.
“You know what else? I think I would like those boots. Thanks for the encouragement. I think… if I hadn’t been raised Jewish, and before…what happened, they’d have been the kind of thing I’d have been brave enough to get long before now.” Could those shoes now serve as a symbol of the kind of freedom she wanted, whenever her soul finally began to heal? She wondered what religion he had been raised in, if any. In a way, it was funny that they’d become friends at all, and that she had a tendency- whether she liked it or not- to tell this friend from philosophy club her deepest secrets on rough days. Considering his snake rings- she thought they, in particular, somehow made him look fierce, even though snakes were a symbol in Egypt, too- and the fact that he was a man, it was funny that she felt so comfortable around him, despite that he had never quite seemed like most men she’d met.
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Nafretiri laughed and grinned. He sure knew how to have a good time, it seemed. And although she might have to tell him the cause of her unease- just so she felt safe, in a foreign country- she was ready to join him. “Sure! If the spa is anything like I’ve heard- you know, things like Dead Sea salts and stuff- well, that’s one of the things I miss about Israel, actually. The salt from the Dead Sea- even though I can’t remember actually bathing there- is like nothing else. And if the…you know, the actual food…although I could eat baguettes all day and be happy…” she half-joked.“…Is as good as what I just had, then any restaurant we choose will be spectacular!”
At his comment about mothers being able to wear whatever shoes they wanted, Nafretiri smiled, though it wasn't an altogether happy one. Maybe, just for now, just since they kind of knew each other and since she would be hanging around him for the moment being, he ought to know a little more about her- about why she was so scared. And pensive. And worried about what other people thought. She wouldn't want to scare him off, of course, but she'd tell him little enough, directly. Maybe he'd even kind of figure it out if she used a little philosophy. A certain question had stuck out in her mind when they discussed it in the club. In some way, it had helped her understand why she was looked at the way she was by some people.
"You're right," she said softly, as if she were afraid someone else might overhear them. She was somehow always afraid of that, too....
"Why should I care what people think of me- even very religious ones who might be offended? If all it takes is a pair of shoes to make people think one...has a certain profession..." She let her voice trail off.
Despite how confident she wantedto feel by thinking about getting those shoes, Nafretiri blushed. Maybe the burning red of her cheeks would be enough for him to follow her line of thought. She wouldn't want to cry in front of him either, though, no matter how good it would have felt at that moment to have a friendly hug. Crying- even when one had a good reason to do so, like a loss of some sort- was embarrassing. Especially if you didn't know someone well, or hadn't seen them in years.
Yeah, between blushing and crying, Nafretiri definitely preferred her blazing face.
She coughed, and then cleared her throat, lowering her head in her embarrassment. "Um...the question about whether or not the tree makes a sound if someone doesn't hear it fall? It does. It's just that sometimes the tree is the only one who knows about the sound." And she might as well have been in a forest at night- she couldn’t be sure who had really done it- maybe he’d only looked like someone she recognized as the son of the president of the school board. (OOC: Not knowing how to edit old posts, this was the closest I could get to acknowledging that Badru’s eventual player might have their own AU idea.)
Well, her father also knew why she'd named her daughter Aneksi, though they called her Liat when they went to Temple. (She hadn’t known the name Liat existed until after her daughter was born and had been going to find another Hebrew name to go with the English one, even if it were unrelated. as was common, so finding the name Aneksi had actually come before Nafretiri’s conversion to paganism. )But still, she hadn't had the courage to tell anyone outside of her family, even after two years. And even that had been difficult, and one of the times she had wished she had had a living mother. But she said no more aloud just then than what she already had. That was all she felt she could say until they got to the hotel, but maybe it would be all she needed to. He hadn't said so many words, either. If they had understood about each other's mothers, maybe, two years later, they would understand each other now. She might explain the part about Aneksi's name, why she'd chosen an Egyptian one quite apart from her interests, but he'd probably understand about the shoes, and her relief at seeing him, she thought. And the best part was that it seemed to her that neither of them needed the other one to fix anything. Not that the things either of them had lost could be brought back. But Nafretiri didn't even need someone to think they could try. Right now, any sort of...trying to find love...was something she wasn't sure was in her cards. Ever. And even if it were- and she hoped that it would be, for Aneksi’s sake as well as her own- it wouldn't be with him. She could admire his looks, of course. Nothing wrong with that. But if two people happened to have two different sexual preferences- as seemed to be the case here- nothing would change it. She wasn't entirely sure she had ever cared what the sexual preferences of her friends were anyway. Friendship could develop into love for some people, but maybe it wouldn’t happen that way for her.
Sometimes, even for friends, knowing someone understood the cause of your pain was enough. It didn't always need to be fixed, or even for people to think it couldbe. As she passed by the tower, following him to the hotel, she did wonder if Mihail had in fact planned to be in Paris with his partner. But only because the image she kept seeing in her brain of the tower all lit up really did seem kind of romantic if she thought about seeing it with someone else. Then again...didn't light mean healing sometimes, too? It sounded like the type of metaphor she'd seen in her English Lit book.
"City of Lights..." she breathed.”Huh."
She wondered if Mihail had had the same thought, somehow.
"I think that’s part of why Joelle wanted me to go alone- to see if I could relax a little, you know? Spread my wings again? Find myself- what there is left of me?” She looked at him questioningly, hoping he would understand what she meant. You had to make a new person from what was left of the old you, along with some new things, after great losses. She thought Mihail was clearly suffering one as well, even if of a different kind.
“Don’t let me drink too awfully much,” she warned. “I-I mean, I don’t want to drink so much it actually makes me more depressed, you know?” Then she smiled, a real one this time, if still tentative.
“Joelle did tell me this place was supposed to be amazing all lit up at night. What do you think? Can we stay awake that long?"
If she had said any more out loud, she worried that it would have sounded stupid. It was just that there weren't that many ways to correctly say, I'd like to go outside at night, and yes, I know this isn't a date, and that you like guys. Having someone with me would probably help me relax, but you don't have to feel like you need to take me either, even as my friend. I don't need to be fixed.
Speaking of, what was this whole notion of being fixed? It wasn't like the loss hadn't happened if you forgot about the pain. Time didn't go backwards like that.
But it did keep going forward. And in that, there might be a strange sort of comfort, even if it seemed to be moving forward more slowly for her at times than for everyone else.
“You know what else? I think I would like those boots. Thanks for the encouragement. I think… if I hadn’t been raised Jewish, and before…what happened, they’d have been the kind of thing I’d have been brave enough to get long before now.” Could those shoes now serve as a symbol of the kind of freedom she wanted, whenever her soul finally began to heal? She wondered what religion he had been raised in, if any. In a way, it was funny that they’d become friends at all, and that she had a tendency- whether she liked it or not- to tell this friend from philosophy club her deepest secrets on rough days. Considering his snake rings- she thought they, in particular, somehow made him look fierce, even though snakes were a symbol in Egypt, too- and the fact that he was a man, it was funny that she felt so comfortable around him, despite that he had never quite seemed like most men she’d met.
Nafretiri laughed and grinned. He sure knew how to have a good time, it seemed. And although she might have to tell him the cause of her unease- just so she felt safe, in a foreign country- she was ready to join him. “Sure! If the spa is anything like I’ve heard- you know, things like Dead Sea salts and stuff- well, that’s one of the things I miss about Israel, actually. The salt from the Dead Sea- even though I can’t remember actually bathing there- is like nothing else. And if the…you know, the actual food…although I could eat baguettes all day and be happy…” she half-joked.“…Is as good as what I just had, then any restaurant we choose will be spectacular!”
At his comment about mothers being able to wear whatever shoes they wanted, Nafretiri smiled, though it wasn't an altogether happy one. Maybe, just for now, just since they kind of knew each other and since she would be hanging around him for the moment being, he ought to know a little more about her- about why she was so scared. And pensive. And worried about what other people thought. She wouldn't want to scare him off, of course, but she'd tell him little enough, directly. Maybe he'd even kind of figure it out if she used a little philosophy. A certain question had stuck out in her mind when they discussed it in the club. In some way, it had helped her understand why she was looked at the way she was by some people.
"You're right," she said softly, as if she were afraid someone else might overhear them. She was somehow always afraid of that, too....
"Why should I care what people think of me- even very religious ones who might be offended? If all it takes is a pair of shoes to make people think one...has a certain profession..." She let her voice trail off.
Despite how confident she wantedto feel by thinking about getting those shoes, Nafretiri blushed. Maybe the burning red of her cheeks would be enough for him to follow her line of thought. She wouldn't want to cry in front of him either, though, no matter how good it would have felt at that moment to have a friendly hug. Crying- even when one had a good reason to do so, like a loss of some sort- was embarrassing. Especially if you didn't know someone well, or hadn't seen them in years.
Yeah, between blushing and crying, Nafretiri definitely preferred her blazing face.
She coughed, and then cleared her throat, lowering her head in her embarrassment. "Um...the question about whether or not the tree makes a sound if someone doesn't hear it fall? It does. It's just that sometimes the tree is the only one who knows about the sound." And she might as well have been in a forest at night- she couldn’t be sure who had really done it- maybe he’d only looked like someone she recognized as the son of the president of the school board. (OOC: Not knowing how to edit old posts, this was the closest I could get to acknowledging that Badru’s eventual player might have their own AU idea.)
Well, her father also knew why she'd named her daughter Aneksi, though they called her Liat when they went to Temple. (She hadn’t known the name Liat existed until after her daughter was born and had been going to find another Hebrew name to go with the English one, even if it were unrelated. as was common, so finding the name Aneksi had actually come before Nafretiri’s conversion to paganism. )But still, she hadn't had the courage to tell anyone outside of her family, even after two years. And even that had been difficult, and one of the times she had wished she had had a living mother. But she said no more aloud just then than what she already had. That was all she felt she could say until they got to the hotel, but maybe it would be all she needed to. He hadn't said so many words, either. If they had understood about each other's mothers, maybe, two years later, they would understand each other now. She might explain the part about Aneksi's name, why she'd chosen an Egyptian one quite apart from her interests, but he'd probably understand about the shoes, and her relief at seeing him, she thought. And the best part was that it seemed to her that neither of them needed the other one to fix anything. Not that the things either of them had lost could be brought back. But Nafretiri didn't even need someone to think they could try. Right now, any sort of...trying to find love...was something she wasn't sure was in her cards. Ever. And even if it were- and she hoped that it would be, for Aneksi’s sake as well as her own- it wouldn't be with him. She could admire his looks, of course. Nothing wrong with that. But if two people happened to have two different sexual preferences- as seemed to be the case here- nothing would change it. She wasn't entirely sure she had ever cared what the sexual preferences of her friends were anyway. Friendship could develop into love for some people, but maybe it wouldn’t happen that way for her.
Sometimes, even for friends, knowing someone understood the cause of your pain was enough. It didn't always need to be fixed, or even for people to think it couldbe. As she passed by the tower, following him to the hotel, she did wonder if Mihail had in fact planned to be in Paris with his partner. But only because the image she kept seeing in her brain of the tower all lit up really did seem kind of romantic if she thought about seeing it with someone else. Then again...didn't light mean healing sometimes, too? It sounded like the type of metaphor she'd seen in her English Lit book.
"City of Lights..." she breathed.”Huh."
She wondered if Mihail had had the same thought, somehow.
"I think that’s part of why Joelle wanted me to go alone- to see if I could relax a little, you know? Spread my wings again? Find myself- what there is left of me?” She looked at him questioningly, hoping he would understand what she meant. You had to make a new person from what was left of the old you, along with some new things, after great losses. She thought Mihail was clearly suffering one as well, even if of a different kind.
“Don’t let me drink too awfully much,” she warned. “I-I mean, I don’t want to drink so much it actually makes me more depressed, you know?” Then she smiled, a real one this time, if still tentative.
“Joelle did tell me this place was supposed to be amazing all lit up at night. What do you think? Can we stay awake that long?"
If she had said any more out loud, she worried that it would have sounded stupid. It was just that there weren't that many ways to correctly say, I'd like to go outside at night, and yes, I know this isn't a date, and that you like guys. Having someone with me would probably help me relax, but you don't have to feel like you need to take me either, even as my friend. I don't need to be fixed.
Speaking of, what was this whole notion of being fixed? It wasn't like the loss hadn't happened if you forgot about the pain. Time didn't go backwards like that.
But it did keep going forward. And in that, there might be a strange sort of comfort, even if it seemed to be moving forward more slowly for her at times than for everyone else.
“You know what else? I think I would like those boots. Thanks for the encouragement. I think… if I hadn’t been raised Jewish, and before…what happened, they’d have been the kind of thing I’d have been brave enough to get long before now.” Could those shoes now serve as a symbol of the kind of freedom she wanted, whenever her soul finally began to heal? She wondered what religion he had been raised in, if any. In a way, it was funny that they’d become friends at all, and that she had a tendency- whether she liked it or not- to tell this friend from philosophy club her deepest secrets on rough days. Considering his snake rings- she thought they, in particular, somehow made him look fierce, even though snakes were a symbol in Egypt, too- and the fact that he was a man, it was funny that she felt so comfortable around him, despite that he had never quite seemed like most men she’d met.
"They have this, like, adorable treatment for two with a massage and a facial and then champagne teatime at the restaurant," Mihail explained, tone implying this wasn't the first time he'd acquainted himself with the hotel's leisure amenities. While he hadn't had the chance to test out any of the spa's couples treatments, he had scoured their menu, and the rest of the treatments he had tried had proved the hotel's brilliance in all those matters. "It's probably better than the Dead Sea or whatever. They have years of professional treatment experience, and I can't imagine they would ever want to serve anything subpar." The food at the hotel, too, was spectacular, and even though he adored any opportunity to go out and partake in all that Paris had to offer, on those occasions that he had dragged someone back to his room for the night, the room service had been as delightful as expected. Quality was worth the high price tag, in his opinion.
They had left the café and begun walking down the street by then, in the direction of the hotel. As Mihail had said, it wasn't all that far, but provided ample opportunity for conversation, and he swung his shopping bags in one hand as he listened to Nafretiri speak, thoughtful. Religion, he supposed, was a conventional deterrent to most things, but he had never believed one should allow such uncertain matters to rule their life, and his personal philosophy was that, whether or not others liked his actions, if he did then they were acceptable. People were not stuck on this planet long enough to waste their time panicking about such nonsense.
For a second, he paused in his walking, facing his companion with a serious expression. She was blushing - her face the same colour as the soles of those shoes - and he almost frowned. It was a silly thing to worry about. "Fashion is for anyone who wills it, and if others see fault in it that does not exist, then that is their problem. It is not yours, and you have no need to change yourself to suit them. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly to this argument, they make other kinds of shoes there. I do not care for their heels as much as I do their loafers. You can buy whatever you wish, but you should climb out of that mental cage you have built yourself and realise that fact."
Mihail was not typically in the habit of solving the problems of others, however, and even the small outburst felt too humanitarian for him. He fell back into his regular pace, that slightly quirked walk with one hip ever-canting forwards, trying to regain the apathetic calmness of his usual expression. For a moment, he thought perhaps the conversation was prepared to move onto less philosophical matters, and it was almost the case when she spoke again. Finding oneself was half the cause of his own trip, though he had merged the intent with entertainment, as he always did when matters seemed too dull to handle on their own.
Still, he smiled once more, nodding in agreement with her words. "We all want to find ourselves, and it's not easy but, like, you're young. We're both young. There's time. And, like, maybe you don't wanna drink, but I certainly do so that bottle's not going to waste." He could handle himself with a bit (or a lot) of alcohol in his system, and Nafretiri's reluctance only meant there was more for him, something with which Mihail was not planning to argue.
As they reached the hotel - they hadn't been far at all - glancing in the direction of the river even though it was obscured. Despite traditionally having proved to be an early riser, Mihail had always been a night owl as well, and though her words implied otherwise, if Nafretiri could make it into even the first few hours of the night, he saw no reason why they should miss the sight of Paris in the lights. "I am certain," he answered, passing his bags to the doorman and waving for the girl to follow him into the entrance hall of the hotel. "If you want the boots, then we can go and get them together. I should like a part in helping you realise that dream. But first...I want that little catch-up."
Pausing in his conversation with his friend so that he could grab his key from the front desk, Mihail flashed the concierge a bright smile, starting almost immediately towards the elevators. "Come up with me first, hm? We can have that wine, and I can make an appointment at the spa."
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"They have this, like, adorable treatment for two with a massage and a facial and then champagne teatime at the restaurant," Mihail explained, tone implying this wasn't the first time he'd acquainted himself with the hotel's leisure amenities. While he hadn't had the chance to test out any of the spa's couples treatments, he had scoured their menu, and the rest of the treatments he had tried had proved the hotel's brilliance in all those matters. "It's probably better than the Dead Sea or whatever. They have years of professional treatment experience, and I can't imagine they would ever want to serve anything subpar." The food at the hotel, too, was spectacular, and even though he adored any opportunity to go out and partake in all that Paris had to offer, on those occasions that he had dragged someone back to his room for the night, the room service had been as delightful as expected. Quality was worth the high price tag, in his opinion.
They had left the café and begun walking down the street by then, in the direction of the hotel. As Mihail had said, it wasn't all that far, but provided ample opportunity for conversation, and he swung his shopping bags in one hand as he listened to Nafretiri speak, thoughtful. Religion, he supposed, was a conventional deterrent to most things, but he had never believed one should allow such uncertain matters to rule their life, and his personal philosophy was that, whether or not others liked his actions, if he did then they were acceptable. People were not stuck on this planet long enough to waste their time panicking about such nonsense.
For a second, he paused in his walking, facing his companion with a serious expression. She was blushing - her face the same colour as the soles of those shoes - and he almost frowned. It was a silly thing to worry about. "Fashion is for anyone who wills it, and if others see fault in it that does not exist, then that is their problem. It is not yours, and you have no need to change yourself to suit them. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly to this argument, they make other kinds of shoes there. I do not care for their heels as much as I do their loafers. You can buy whatever you wish, but you should climb out of that mental cage you have built yourself and realise that fact."
Mihail was not typically in the habit of solving the problems of others, however, and even the small outburst felt too humanitarian for him. He fell back into his regular pace, that slightly quirked walk with one hip ever-canting forwards, trying to regain the apathetic calmness of his usual expression. For a moment, he thought perhaps the conversation was prepared to move onto less philosophical matters, and it was almost the case when she spoke again. Finding oneself was half the cause of his own trip, though he had merged the intent with entertainment, as he always did when matters seemed too dull to handle on their own.
Still, he smiled once more, nodding in agreement with her words. "We all want to find ourselves, and it's not easy but, like, you're young. We're both young. There's time. And, like, maybe you don't wanna drink, but I certainly do so that bottle's not going to waste." He could handle himself with a bit (or a lot) of alcohol in his system, and Nafretiri's reluctance only meant there was more for him, something with which Mihail was not planning to argue.
As they reached the hotel - they hadn't been far at all - glancing in the direction of the river even though it was obscured. Despite traditionally having proved to be an early riser, Mihail had always been a night owl as well, and though her words implied otherwise, if Nafretiri could make it into even the first few hours of the night, he saw no reason why they should miss the sight of Paris in the lights. "I am certain," he answered, passing his bags to the doorman and waving for the girl to follow him into the entrance hall of the hotel. "If you want the boots, then we can go and get them together. I should like a part in helping you realise that dream. But first...I want that little catch-up."
Pausing in his conversation with his friend so that he could grab his key from the front desk, Mihail flashed the concierge a bright smile, starting almost immediately towards the elevators. "Come up with me first, hm? We can have that wine, and I can make an appointment at the spa."
"They have this, like, adorable treatment for two with a massage and a facial and then champagne teatime at the restaurant," Mihail explained, tone implying this wasn't the first time he'd acquainted himself with the hotel's leisure amenities. While he hadn't had the chance to test out any of the spa's couples treatments, he had scoured their menu, and the rest of the treatments he had tried had proved the hotel's brilliance in all those matters. "It's probably better than the Dead Sea or whatever. They have years of professional treatment experience, and I can't imagine they would ever want to serve anything subpar." The food at the hotel, too, was spectacular, and even though he adored any opportunity to go out and partake in all that Paris had to offer, on those occasions that he had dragged someone back to his room for the night, the room service had been as delightful as expected. Quality was worth the high price tag, in his opinion.
They had left the café and begun walking down the street by then, in the direction of the hotel. As Mihail had said, it wasn't all that far, but provided ample opportunity for conversation, and he swung his shopping bags in one hand as he listened to Nafretiri speak, thoughtful. Religion, he supposed, was a conventional deterrent to most things, but he had never believed one should allow such uncertain matters to rule their life, and his personal philosophy was that, whether or not others liked his actions, if he did then they were acceptable. People were not stuck on this planet long enough to waste their time panicking about such nonsense.
For a second, he paused in his walking, facing his companion with a serious expression. She was blushing - her face the same colour as the soles of those shoes - and he almost frowned. It was a silly thing to worry about. "Fashion is for anyone who wills it, and if others see fault in it that does not exist, then that is their problem. It is not yours, and you have no need to change yourself to suit them. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly to this argument, they make other kinds of shoes there. I do not care for their heels as much as I do their loafers. You can buy whatever you wish, but you should climb out of that mental cage you have built yourself and realise that fact."
Mihail was not typically in the habit of solving the problems of others, however, and even the small outburst felt too humanitarian for him. He fell back into his regular pace, that slightly quirked walk with one hip ever-canting forwards, trying to regain the apathetic calmness of his usual expression. For a moment, he thought perhaps the conversation was prepared to move onto less philosophical matters, and it was almost the case when she spoke again. Finding oneself was half the cause of his own trip, though he had merged the intent with entertainment, as he always did when matters seemed too dull to handle on their own.
Still, he smiled once more, nodding in agreement with her words. "We all want to find ourselves, and it's not easy but, like, you're young. We're both young. There's time. And, like, maybe you don't wanna drink, but I certainly do so that bottle's not going to waste." He could handle himself with a bit (or a lot) of alcohol in his system, and Nafretiri's reluctance only meant there was more for him, something with which Mihail was not planning to argue.
As they reached the hotel - they hadn't been far at all - glancing in the direction of the river even though it was obscured. Despite traditionally having proved to be an early riser, Mihail had always been a night owl as well, and though her words implied otherwise, if Nafretiri could make it into even the first few hours of the night, he saw no reason why they should miss the sight of Paris in the lights. "I am certain," he answered, passing his bags to the doorman and waving for the girl to follow him into the entrance hall of the hotel. "If you want the boots, then we can go and get them together. I should like a part in helping you realise that dream. But first...I want that little catch-up."
Pausing in his conversation with his friend so that he could grab his key from the front desk, Mihail flashed the concierge a bright smile, starting almost immediately towards the elevators. "Come up with me first, hm? We can have that wine, and I can make an appointment at the spa."