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Post by poetagringoir on Dec 2, 2010 23:39:56 GMT -5
He paced back and forth between two streets, not caring if a car hit him. He could not decide if he should visit her again, the woman from the house , she was making him feel a twinge of despair. If the mother found out what plans he had to dote his daughter and to show her a new leaf he would be dead.
Apart from that, there was also the tiny little problem that he was becoming depressed his bi polarity pills had gone missing and he had no money to fetch some. By the divine gods he was going mad. Stopping in front of a car, he did not move from the spot as he saw the driver halt and chuckled.
His question to live some more answered in the form of a test.
" OK lord you might indeed have some purpose for me yet" he yelled up at the sky as he started to walk towards the hotel side block , a chair beside the entrance and lied down as he covered his eyes and started to feel tears drench his face. Why were tears free falling from his eyes, did he have hidden emotions for the woman. He was now more concerned with the fact that he had almost died, but at the same time was laughing out loud at the face the driver had made.
But over all, what was a man without his moods. His plan for the girl Anne as she was called was pretty simple now, he just needed some advice to pursue or to halt that was the main point really.
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Post by JEHANNE MARIE D'ARC on Dec 3, 2010 0:28:13 GMT -5
"Thank you," Joan called as the latest in a long stream of people drifted by her cup, dropping money into it. Glancing down at it, she smiled. Almost enough to get some diner. Maybe if she skipped supper tonight she could have more for breakfast tomorrow. And if she skipped breakfast and supper for the next.....she counted on her fingers, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she thought. Her shoulders slumped. She'd have to skip too many meals to be able to afford even one night in a hotel. But she really wanted a bath. Or at least a shower. Diving in the fountains in Central Park was getting old. And dangerous, especially with winter coming on.
Lifting her gaze to the sky, Joan whispered, "Please. I am trying to do as you ask but I...I need help. I am so cold, and hungry, and...." Her voice faded as a soft light spilled over her. Three voices, two women and a man, spoke from the light.
"Gentle maiden," the first woman's voice said.
"Saint Margaret?" Joan whispered, crossing herself. "What must I do? Is it time now?"
"No, ma petite, not yet." Saint Catherine spoke now.
"But soon," Saint Michael added.
"In the meantime, go to that man." They spoke as one now and the light shifted, shining on a man not far up the street.
He was sprawled out near a chair and Joan could hear him crying from where she sat.
"Him?" she asked.
" Yes, maiden," her Voices replied. "You will help him and he will help you." The light and the Voices faded..
Joan nodded. Crossing herself, she got to her feet. Tucking her mug under her arm, she crossed the street and walked up to the man. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she cleared her throat. "Sir? Are you, are you alright?" She started to touch his shoulder then thought better of it and lowered her hand.
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Post by poetagringoir on Jan 2, 2011 2:47:53 GMT -5
Turning around, Pierre felt his heart begin to stop. A sigh escaped him as he cocked his head letting it sag for a few minutes before he hit his chest and coughed a little . “ By Jupiter’s beard. Elle est belle.” He told the girl and grabbed her chin as he raise her face to meet his eyes.
It was curious thing, he did not know what to feel for the woman but he knew something special had to be around her. She also seemed to be saintly, like Mary. But who was she that was his biggest question, but then again he might also seem like a stalker who could hurt her.
That was one thing, the other he was curious was why she was shy . She had no reason in the world to fear for her safety, he was actually noble and kind. Unlike some men, the swine , the vermin, why if he could he would show the men a thing or two even if he did not have any talent for fighting. “ What would be your name my fair one”
He asked bowing a little low, and wondering if he seemed odd or weird by acting so proper in the street. “ Please sit petite, sit.” He asked her and started to grab her hand and guide her towards the chair. The girl had to be comfortable after all, she was fine and poised and seemed so delicate or that might just have been another general idea he was getting of her.
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Post by JEHANNE MARIE D'ARC on Jan 2, 2011 22:12:20 GMT -5
"Merci," Joan stammered. "Tu est tres sympathetique." She had barely kept herself from flinching when the stranger grabbed her chin. Though she'd been frightened at first, she could tell that he didn't mean to harm her. At last her heartbeat returned to normal. He was odd, but not dangerous. Her Voices would not allow her to come to any harm. She was certain of that. They would protect her as they always had.
"i am called Joan," she replied, smiling. She sank into the chair, her grin growing wider. She liked this fellow immediately. Nodding at his bow, she was tempted to curtsy, but she was already sitting down. "Is something troubling you? You seemed upset earlier. I..." She bit her lip and looked down. "I heard you crying."
She did not wish to mention her Saints. Not yet anyway. She never knew how people would react to her heavenly visions. Most would probably think her mad. Somehow, she thought that this man might believe her, but she was not quite ready to risk that yet. "What is your name?
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Post by poetagringoir on Jan 7, 2011 19:00:13 GMT -5
When he heard the woman say Merci and that he was quite sympathetic, he grinned and started to sit down next to her and crossed his legs and relaxed. If he had to say she had a very beautiful french accent, something that was bringing him right back home. He had to say that the woman was delicate as well. But then what was her name, and would it suit the face of an angel. Breaking him away from his trance, he heard her say that her name was Joan. Her name suited her face indeed and he was liking her already.
But then hearing her ask about what was making him cry, he blushed a furious red and turned his head away. would he tell the woman about the girl he was having a crush on. Or could he tell her something else and divert the attention away from himself. " There is a girl , I like but shes to out of my league and I am worried that her rich family will find out " he confessed and hid his face with both his hands.
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Post by JEHANNE MARIE D'ARC on Jan 11, 2011 0:59:08 GMT -5
"Oh," Joan replied. She wasn't certain what to say, as she'd never been in a relationship herself. She chewed her lip and racked her brain, struggling to come up with the right words. he wanted--needed--to help this man. Her Voices had told her to.
"I don't think such things matter here," she said after a minute. "whether you're rich or not." She wasn't exactly sure why he thought the girl was 'out of his league,' but she guessed it had to do with money. "Besides, if she loves you and you love her, it shouldn't matter, right? You shouldn't let her family stand in the way." Joan bit her lip and looked away, wondering if she'd said too much.
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Post by poetagringoir on Jan 16, 2011 16:14:09 GMT -5
He sighed at the woman and bit his nails, " Even though the ladies mother could possibly be Lady Catherine De Bourgh .. " he said to the girl, and sighed. Yes he had been investigating the little trapped mouse for the few weeks that they had not seen each other.
But how was he going to tell the woman that he had indeed or was caring for her was out of his mind. " H mm yes well , things could matter less if there were no social classes would they not" he expressed and started to take out a ball from his jacket and started to press and release it in his hand.
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Post by JEHANNE MARIE D'ARC on Jan 20, 2011 0:01:58 GMT -5
"Are you alright?" She put a hand on her shoulder. "I do not know this Lady Catherine, but perhaps if you speak with her, she will give you permission?" She really had no idea what she was talking about, but she was running out of things to say. Glancing up at the sky, she hissed, "Help me." No bright light or heavenly Voices came to meet her.
Chewing her lip, she turned back to the man. "I am sorry, I did not catch your name. What is it?" While she waited for him to reply, she watched the cars going along the busy street. He was lucky he hadn't been hit, as upset as he was earlier. "Are you from France? I am. From Domremy. I...I miss it," she added quietly. "It is so noisy here. All the people." She shook her head. "I miss my family."
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Post by poetagringoir on Mar 11, 2011 0:22:37 GMT -5
He started to fidget as the woman told him that he should not worry. I mean had she really spoken words. Mon dieu he was loosing his mind again a mind which he carefully had reassembled just for her. But then when he turned around and asked his name, he smirked and bowed low. "The name my pretty madame is Louis Pierre Gringoir. Now then if I might know yours again, since I have asked and yet at the same time. Forgotten all together, what a clutz I am no madame. "he said laughing and started to sit down as she added quietly that she was from Domremy. He had visited with his parents that place. He had to say, he never liked it and found it quite boring but for a lady he would say it was pleasing. Patting her back, he leaned and started to wonder if her being touched bothered her. God she smelled nice, his mind was elsewhere now. Yet why did he want to kiss her as well. To many thoughts, to many emotions all flying at once how could he live like this. " I use to visit a lot with my parents Domremy.. It was their favorite spot. "he added and smirked. his hand gently crossing his fingers on her hair as he tried to pluck it. Change its shape, he found it amusing and hoped that the girl would laugh at his foolish behavior it was what he did best make people laugh.
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