After many fail attempt of uploading this from Ted's internet, I finally got it! HAH! Take that TED!!! >8D
I'm going back to past tense, screw this!
The Bourreau and the Waltz Dancer
Chapter 2: The Waltz Dancer – Part 2
Ah! She must be—
The fascinating crowd overwhelmed my silent thought as they cheered. She bowed to the nobles once more as the king resumed his speech: “Our second guest prefers that her name not be mention, however, she is called ‘The Waltz Dancer’.”
The crowd clapped as I stared at her—dumbstruck. My eyes followed her every movement as she walked away from the center. The motions of her hands reminded me of one of my execution rounds. He did the same thing she was doing right now. I don't remember much; I saw the man touching the wooden rails of the stairs as he walked up, though it looked ridiculous with his hands tied behind his back. The man told me that he was—don't tell me she’s!
“No, that can’t be right,” I said and laughed to myself.
“Something’s wrong, Vincent?” Theodore asked me.
I shook my head, staring at the marble ground. I sighed and asked, “Why did you say that an executioner is an important role in France?”
He stared at me for a moment and replied, “Most people would deny being an executioner. It takes courage to do this in front of the selfish crowd.”
“Yeah, it does, but courage is not necessary.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Most executioners I know only do it for pleasure. They would miss on purpose, use less force and slowly torture their victim to death. They are nothing but animals.”
Theodore grinned at me and left his post. I frowned to myself and muttered, “I, too, am an animal.”
My eyes resumed its job and followed the Waltz Dancer. She waved her head around, as if looking, and touched the nearest walls as she walked outside. I got off the wall and followed her. I walked out to the porch, making no sounds. The light shadowed me over her, she should noticed by now. She must be—I must know. To test it, I lifted up my foot and stomped the ground. Startled, she immediately turned around and moved her arms, trying to get a feel for something. I knew it.
“You’re blind aren’t you?”
Putting her hands down, she smiled a smile of realization. “Yes, you’re that man from the night before right?”
“I am; how did you notice?”
“Your voice is a lot deeper than others.”
She walked towards me and stopped as soon as her hands touched my chest. She then moved from my chest to my face, feeling it. As her hand touched my hair, she said, “You… your hair is like a sunflower isn’t it?”
I stared at her, awkwardly, “A sunflower?”
“Your hair reminds me of when I use to have my sights of sunflowers.”
When she still have her sights?
She kept on touching my hair as she hummed a song I never heard of. Though I should let her, I was getting annoyed. I grabbed her hand off of my hair but using her other hand, she touched mine. Groaning, I gave myself a smack to the head. Guess I couldn’t make her stopped after all.
“Your hand... it has killed before.”
Surprised, I released her hand as she touched the palm of mine.
“They say that when you kill someone, the blood makes your hand rougher.” Her face turned to a frown. “But your hand is a lot rougher than others, how many have you kill?”
Stuttering, I replied, “T-too much to s-say.”
She looked at me with her white eyes; it showed no sign of a pupil. Her blank expression showed the sign of a weary soul. The Waltz Dancer suddenly changed her mind and asked, “What is your name?”
“Vincent Laroche,” I answered her blankly.
She just grinned at me and grasped my hand, waving it back and forth. I stood there, feeling gauche, not knowing what to do. Then, the king's words suddenly popped into my head: “Our second guest prefers that her name not be mention.”
“If I may.” I politely said.
She nodded, giving me permission.
“Tu t'appelle comment?” my voice tweaked as if I dared ask something that should not be mention.
She shook her head in motion for the moment; it was as if she didn't even listen.
“Je m'appelle Jade.”
Jade... it seemed to fit her perfectly. Although I was not expecting that she would say her name so easily. Thinking on what to say next, I kept opening my mouth, trying to say something only to reject its words. By the time I finally came up on what to say, my instinct automatically departed my hands from hers as Theodore walked out to the porch.
“It funny to see our two special guests together, hm?” He said and winked at me. I growled at him for interrupting. He deviously smiled at me and said, “By the way, shouldn't you be going by now Vincent? It's already thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes.”
Why do I need to go—the warrant's meeting—shoot! I said my goodbyes and left the ball in a hurry.
The night began to grow cold and weary as I was at half point to the Executioner’s Den; I stopped and thought for a second.
I’ve never read the note from the Sandman yet.
I reached for the Sandman’s note from his mane and began to read it: Axelle Eade—if you are reading this, then I have already completed my mission. Do not be aware of the messenger I sent you, if he decided to take on his job, then his is a worthy ally. Now, I must warn you, do not hesitate. Continue the plan as usual, but be careful, the guards are more aware of my presence. Proceed with cautions.
What is this plan they’re talking about? I sighed and flipped over the back and continued reading it: To the man who is in possession of this note—when the clock strikes thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes, walk around town and you will see a single lighted window. Knock on the door and answer, “je suis la pour vous”—I am here for you. She will let you in.
I looked around and saw nothing but dark windows; I proceeded around town in searched for the single lighted window. The night got even colder; I even saw my own breath. I’ll never find this place. I groaned and stopped to catch my breaths. Delightful smells caught my senses as I sniffed around for it. I turned behind me and there it was the single lighted window. It wasn’t there before. I shrugged and advanced to the house. Knocking on the door gave a silent wait.
The door opened and out came a brown-hair woman; there was a stripe of red on her front bang. She glared at me waited for an answer.
I gulped and said loudly, “Je suis la—”
She gripped the collar of my suit and threw me inside her house.
“Shush you idiot, they might hear us.”
Chapter 2 - Part 1
Chapter 3
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This is a non-exciting part of chapter 2 8D Woo!
It is call bangs? The front part of your hair.
