<div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/1619036551368-png.80594/" title="1619036551368.png">
<img alt="1619036551368.png" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/1619036551368-png.80594/" data-url="" data-zoom-target="1" height="600" src="data:image/svg+xml;charset=utf-8,%3Csvg xmlns%3D'http%3A%2F%2Fwww.w3.org%2F2000%2Fsvg' width='472' height='600' viewBox%3D'0 0 472 600'%2F%3E" style="width: 285px" title="1619036551368.png" width="472"/>
<noscript><img alt="1619036551368.png" class="bbImage" data-url="" data-zoom-target="1" height="600" src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/1619036551368-png.80594/" style="width: 285px" title="1619036551368.png" width="472"/></noscript>
</div></div><div style="margin: auto; overflow: visible; max-width: 439px;background: #0000000; color: #000000;text-align: justify"><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><b>London, 1852</b><br/>
<br/>
People came and went from the Webb home frequently; visitors, house staff, tradesmen, craftsmen, the list went on. They were a respectable and well-to-do sort of family with enough money and connections to always have functions to attend or plan, or prepare for. The home was in a constant state of renovation just to have something new to show off when people visited. So it was not unusual for a few stray unfamiliar faces to pass by every now and again. Adelaide usually never paid it much attention, her mind always on other things- but he was different. His face was not entirely unfamiliar to her and he’d certainly captured her attention. <br/>
<br/>
She could swear she’d seen him before at another time and place but she could not pull it forward in her mind. Clearly, he was some kind of hired hand, not the usual sort of person she’d make a note of. Maybe he’d done work for them before? Perhaps he worked in town? She might have passed him then, they could have exchanged brief pleasantries and she simply just forgot it until now. Despite these trains of thought, he told her no. “Really?”  she felt sure he had to have been wrong, but she would not fight him on it now.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, there was a glint that came to her eyes at the sound of a whistled tune. Her lips twitched into a smile and she tilted her head as if trying to angle her ears better to hear it. Without really thinking about it she was humming her own like a reply to a conversation she didn’t know they were having yet. <br/>
<br/>
“Not at all.” She said to his request to sit. She shifted over in the grass as if she needed to make room when there was plenty of yard for him to claim for his own. She knew she should have told him no, someone would have something to say about it later. It was highly unusual, inappropriate even, but maybe that was what she liked about it most. She liked the ease at which he spoke, no formalities to drag them down. Made her feel more human and less like a doll.<br/>
<br/>
“ You’re here about the vanity aren’t you?” it dawned on her then as she twirled the stem of a clover between two fingers. She’d nearly forgotten about the piece of furniture she had commissioned to be made. “What is your name again, by the way?” <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<b>Paris, 1962</b><br/>
<br/>
She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish when she suggested they leave. Maybe she was in a hurry to prove herself right just to get it over with already. There was another part that had wanted to keep him at the bar as long as he’d let her, clouded in shadows and smoke just to keep the illusion intact every second more it could last. The more level-headed side of her had decided if it was going to break it was better to do it sooner rather than wait. Better to burn this out of her system before she got too consumed in imagined flames.<br/>
<br/>
She stood when he did but didn’t follow him at first. She had paused to wave down Henri, catching his attention from across the room. They waved hand gestures at one another. She mimed ones for a cello, phone, and clock. He replied with ones all his own, a language that took years to learn. They both nodded then she blew him a kiss. He laughed and turned back to his date and she did the same. <br/>
<br/>
She was holding her breath as they got to the threshold of the door out to the street. It always felt like switching worlds she thought, even more so now. Orpheus and Eurydice, stepping out of hell. She was still watching him closely for when she got out the door and looked back just in time to see the ghost leave. Even under street lamps and glittering lights that reflected off glistening streets, he still looked the same. Hell did not claim him and they both broke free. She felt dizzy and had to remind herself to breathe. <br/>
<br/>
“Ah.. Is that it?” She frowned, understanding the compliments now. She wanted to change the subject. She did not want to talk about her mentors, she never did. It was tiring being measured against the success of those she orbited. There was so much pressure for their light to rub off on her and yet next to them she’d always looked so dim. What a privileged complaint it was to have she realized and the frown deepened.<br/>
<br/>
An opportunity to switch gears came with the tell-tale click of a lighter being flicked open. She watched the flame light half his face and took the opportunity to step closer, close enough for the engraved letters to catch her eye <i>'DB</i>'.  Then she leaned in to steal the flame to light her own cigarette before he put it away. The millimeter of space left between their hands and bodies buzzed during the exchange. She had to pull away just to be able to think again. She inhaled long and deliberate just to slow herself down and feed the nicotine shakes. "Let's play a game where I guess your name since you clearly know mine already."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyebrow was raised as she breathed smoke into the air and started moving again taking the lead down the street. "Can't we do both?" The small apartment she could afford on her teaching assistant stipend was about four blocks away. There were wine bottles stashed in cupboards she could get out if they got that far.  It was at least a 10-minute walk, more if they didn't hurry. "David?" </span></div>