!x! between Fionarro De La Belle and Amo La Corte<br/><br/>Post before this-<div style="margin:20px; margin-top:5px"><div class="quotetitle"><input class="button2 btnlite" onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = '';      this.innerText = ''; this.value = 'Hide'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerText = ''; this.value = 'Show'; }" style="text-align:center;width:100px;margin:0px;padding:0px;" type="button" value="Show"/></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">Paris, France- 1885. July 14th )<br/><br/>Gabriel Belle has hardly left his hotel room over the last few months of his son Fionarro departing. A lonely pit had manifested in his heart the day Lorea had died and nothing since has ever been able to fill it. A knock sounds at the door breaking the silence of the room and jerking Gabriel’s attention from the large window by his bed. “Come in.” The aging Belle calls out to the oak portal. The door knob slowly turns and in rolls John, sitting in the wheelchair he had become quite masterful with over the last 2 and a half decades. “Hey, uhm I noticed you have a letter today, first one you’ve received in a few months.” He states as he rolls to Gabriel’s bedside wearing a lovely brown suede coat. Rolling up the sleeves of his Chemise, he grabs the end of the envelope only to be stopped by Johns grip tightening. “I don’t understand why you insist on dressing up.. you don’t even go anywhere Gabriel.” The man in the suede coat states as he lets go of the letter. Gabriel walks across the room to a desk that had collected a modest dust blanket across the top. He opens one of the drawers and rummages through useless items before unveiling a letter opener collecting rust at the bottom. “I don’t leave for a good reason John.” Gabriel calls to his friend without turning around, sliding the blade of the letter opener across the top of the envelope. “What good is it to be blessed with an ability that allows me to not age when I haven’t anyone to share my life with huh?” John does not answer as his comrade as the aged but still young looking Belle unfolds the piece of paper. <br/><br/>	Gabriel already knew who had written it by the elegant seal over the front of the envelope but he can still feel the slight surprise well up at the sight of his father’s hand writing. <br/><br/>Dear Gabriel<br/>Despite how you have shamed the Belle family name I would like you to come by the Belle Castle in England for dinner one of these days, it’s been ages sine I’ve seen or heard from you Come to think of it last time you had written me was to ask my blessing to marry that woman.. Lorea. <br/><br/>Sincerely- Montigues De La Belle <br/><br/>Gabriel reads over the letter twice before rolling his eyes and setting the delicate fibers of the paper a blaze. “You know John, I’ve been going over the events of Loreas death for a long time, something felt off in the Bio energy around us before the train derailed.. like it was being tampered with. To all that know the truth about what we Belles can do… it is a known fact that our main ability is Bio Energy manipulation.” Gabriel turns around, his eyes gleaming with hatred before he continues, “I have been suspecting lately.. that there was something more malicious that day John..” John can only frown and shake his head, “Don’t do this to yourself Gabe.” He states as he begins to turn around, “Maybe you should go perform at the park like the old days, Paris could use a good splash of spice these days.” And with that, John exits the room and goes up the hall to return to his lobby. Gabriel walks over to his window and stares at the foot traffic below. He then directs his soft eyes to the waste coat hanging upon the oak wood rack in the corner of his room. A sigh escapes his lips as he moves to put it on…. Gabriel the Enchanter returning once more… Before leaving he sits down to write a letter to his son, Fionarro De La Belle. <br/><br/><br/><br/>Spezia Italy- 1885, July 14th <br/><br/>Fionarro wakes early morning as he had forgotten to close the drapes of his bedside window. Golden rays of morning sunshine wash over his eyelids that twitch a moment before opening. A yawn escapes him as he runs a pale hand through his jet black hair and attempts at getting out of bed without waking Sophie. “No.” The tired girl says, her light voice muffled by the pillow she buries her face in for relief from the sunlight. “I’ve got to work Sophie.” He states as he walks over the a leather chair, holding his chemise, slacks and a lovely waste coat given to him by his father ten years ago. “I’ll be back this evening doll, there is some money in the slacks by the bed if you ever want food.” He says before offering a charming smile and exiting the apartment complex to flee to the public park that people have been secretly waiting at to watch his incredible feats of… “Magic.”</div></div></div><br/><br/><br/>Arriving at the park, Fionarro glances around at the few pedestrians patrolling the scenic trails. He makes his way to the center of a lovely grass field containing a wide arrange of beautiful flowers. He removes the top hat from atop his head and places it in front of him before clapping his hands and glancing at the citizens of Spezia who are now staring at him, some with looks of confusion and other who were already familiar with the Belle's work with looks of excitement. Stooping over, Fionarro picks up a golden flower with ten petals before it suddenly catches fire in his hand. Soon the petals of the flower detach from their original owner and begin to circle around the crowd that was slowly glowing bigger. The petals do not deteriorate from the flames, in fact the seem even more healthy and alive. Suddenly, the small inferno covering each individual petal now changes colors to a bright blue tint, the petals now circling the audience faster and faster... making their way to the center of the field behind Fionarro ever so slowly. The wind picks up, some people become scared and leave, others throw money into the top hat.. shocked when they realize it hasn't a bottom... just a black abyss. The petals, now a few feet behind Fionarro and circling an area with a diameter of exactly ten inches before their bright blue flames increase until the meet in the center. Then turn the same intense gold as the petals themselves and with a small flash of bright yellow.. a large flower made of golden flames and resembling the one Fionarro had started out with rests behind the young Belle. The audience is absolutely captivated as the wondrous man raises his hand and snaps his fingers. The flower fluctuates a moment before exploding.. the force of the wind blowing Fionarros thick black hair forward before he.. and his audience is completely engulfed in the golden flames. a few cries of panic echo through the forested park before the flames vanish and to the shock of the audience.. everyone is unharmed! Roars of clapping sound from the captivated beings who then throw more money into the hat and eagerly await the next trick.