in our town of halloween (o)

[peru]

[atrb=border,0,true][th][atrb=width,390,true][bg=dddddd] [tr] everybody make a scene

It was getting dark and the thin, pale, sickle moon was already bright in the sky, but the streets were alive with the clamor of what seemed like all of France. It seemed France wished to celebrate Halloween a little earlier than usual; welcoming all with open arms and smiling faces. There were lanterns hung which shone almost as brightly as the street lights dotting every other block. And what seemed like millions of colorful stalls nestled amidst the many streamers and banners placed along the packed streets. Some had served the typical carnival fare mixed with some of the more sophisticated our d’oeuvres only France would consider a common treat, some sold little, cheap trinkets or other materialistic things, while others were rigged games where children and young couples crowded ‘round to throw balls, shoot ducks, and throw discs to win stuffed animals the size of their torso. Marco watched children giggle and shout with excited delight, running past him in costumes ranging from menacing to comical.

Marco had always wished to visit Paris, but now that he had, he was sure it was love. He wanted to move in with his new object of affection immediately. Perhaps he might have if he’d had the foresight to bid his family farewell and pack what he would have deemed necessary for his new life in France. On that thought, Marco stopped in his aimless tracks. He wished his family had come to visit Paris with him. Brazil might have liked to come, and Mexico perhaps. But in all of the whirr of excitement that came with a rare chance at leaving home, he never quite got around to asking about their opinions on the matter—he left them a note, though. It was too late to worry about that now, he conjectured with an ascertained nod. He would just have to find them a little souvenir to appease them when he returned. Paris was sure to have something pretty to bring a smile to their faces.

Tanned fingers curled around a brightly colored candied apple as he continued down the street, marveling at the sheer magnitude of it all. His sandals clicked quietly on the cobbled street and his eyes had been elsewhere in his attempt to absorb every single detail and commit it to memory. It had been a bad idea to take his eyes away from the path ahead of him with so many people nearby. Marco had veered slightly, or had attempted to, with the purpose of playing a game; no sooner had he lifted a single foot to turn that the poor boy had been barreled over by a squealing masked child and sent tumbling to the ground. His candied apple had slipped from his grip and flew off toward another carnival-goer, no doubt bound to stick to hair or clothes at worst and bean the person at best. With such a thing in mind, Marco continued to lie face down on the walk way, too embarrassed to speak.

His new love was a cruel, cruel mistress.[/justify][/blockquote][/td] [/tr][/table]

[france]

A FALLING STAR FELL FROM YOUR HEART
and landed in my eyes

The night was young, the air thrumming with life as people chattered and children laughed. Josephine was sure that the night was going to be a wonderful one. Her hair had been let loose from it's usual that bun for the night, and she'd been dragged into a stall by a group of children and sat down firmly. Of course, she couldn't leave, for the children soon resumed braiding her hair and entwining it with ribbons and streamers and various flowers; the braids and the twine were crooked, but she touched them fondly and looked at the children with a warm smile, bidding them good night while she absently picked at a ribbons and flowers.

Yes, Paris was alive that night. Josephine could not stop the smile that bled onto her lips at the thought, and she could not get rid of it, either. She loved that her people were so full of life, so vivacious in their need to celebrate; the lights, the music, the smell of foods drifting on the crisp October breeze. She loved all of it. Freeing a few strands of hair from a poorly braided flower, she pushed through the crowd, smiling and chatting occasionally with a person or a tourist, finding herself lost and immersed within the sights and smells of the celebration.

At least, for a little while.

She nearly tripped over someone who was laying face down on the sidewalk. She presumed him to be a drunk, but upon closer inspection found Peru. Well, this was strange. By now her hair had been freed of all ribbon-y tendrils and hung loosely around her face. She knelt beside Marco, nudging him with a slender hand. "Marco? Que faites-vous?" she questioned, curiously and with a bit of amusement on her features. "I realize that you want to experience Paris fully, but perhaps that is best done with your face off of the sidewalk, non?"

[peru]

[atrb=border,0,true][th][atrb=width,390,true][bg=dddddd] [tr] everybody make a scene

So much for just lying there.

For a moment or two, Marco had begun to clench his fingers into tight fists, raising an arm to strike the stone walkway beneath him before catching himself and letting the appendage drift back to the ground again. Everything felt ruined. His palms hurt from attempting to catch himself prior, his knees had barely avoid a bloody scrape; he felt rubbed raw and all in the wrong way. The one time he had the time and the money to visit France, he’d made a fool of himself. An utter fool of himself. Had he been any younger, any more histrionic, he might have remained there and thrown a tantrum as he had when he was a child demanding Mexico give him his things back.

Marco scowled at the tenebrous earth and had been prepared to shout bitterly at it to fully make a garish tourist of himself, if not for the hand placed on his shoulder. With a little bit of effort, he pushed himself up onto his knees and began to check himself for blood, all the while offer an embarrassed chuckle to Josephine’s question. “I-I know. I just sort of got tripped, si? The kids here are hard to see in the dark. Or maybe I am.” He piped up with a nervous grin as he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “No injuries or anything, but I lost my candied apple.” Well, Marco didn’t lose it so much as it happened to walk away on a young child’s cape. He sighed and rolled his shoulders a bit to relieve the tension building up in the muscles before glancing back to Josephine. She looked a little less like the pipe-smoking, airy sylph he had imagined, but he still felt obligated to offer her a hand when he had pushed himself back to his own feet. The ground might have been dirty, after all.

Feeling his honor somewhat restored now, Marco’s eyes had again wandered off to the various rides and stalls and he had unconsciously begun to move his feet toward one, pointing certain things out with one hand and gesturing Josephine along for the ride with another. “París es tan hermosa en la noche.” He whispered with a hint of heady admiration, eyes flitting to and fro to take the whole of the carnival in a second time.

Josephine was stuck with him for now. [/justify][/blockquote][/td] [/tr][/table]

[france]

A FALLING STAR FELL FROM YOUR HEART
and landed in my eyes

An amused sound pulled from Josephine's lips. It seemed that Marco had previously been intent on simply laying there for what might have been the remainder of his visit; and while his appearance in Paris was unexpected, it wasn't unwelcome. She was a social butterfly after all. She liked having people around her; it gave her a sense of completion, a sense of comfort. With masses of people she could get lost and be in a safe harbor where she had nothing to fear. Alone, she had to deal with everything that came at her.

Well, whatever he had been expected when he thought of her, Josephine was sure it was not the long-haired woman in jeans, boots and a long-sleeved shirt. Self-consciously she touched the ringlets of her hair; she preferred the skirts, the embedded dresses, the proper bun with the few ringlets hanging out that she normally wore as opposed to this casual wear, but she was, of course, fashionable and was wearing what any Frenchwoman would on a casual October day. She just wasn't dressed up for the event, as it were.

"So I noticed," she replied warmly, smoothing out the front of her shirt and shaking the hand he offered her. She didn't really know Marco -- as she'd never been married, had a relationship with, or colonized with him -- but he seemed like a nice enough boy, if not a little clumsy. From what she'd seen so far, anyway. She fell into step beside him with casual nonchalance, giving a pleased and flattered smile coming to her lips. "Merci!" she exclaimed. "It is lovely in the day, too, but I think that perhaps when I see it at night, it is most beautiful." She said this fondly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. Curiously, her pastel eyes flickered to Marco again. "May I ask why you are here? For the festivities, I assume?"

[peru]

[atrb=border,0,true][th][atrb=width,390,true][bg=dddddd] [tr] everybody make a scene

It was only out of politeness that Marco mimicked her amusement and allowed a chuckle to filter past his lips at his little faux pas. It wasn’t all that funny, in his opinion, but if she wanted to take it as such, he’d be a respectful guest and laugh along with her. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair to clear the dead leaves and pebbles from it all before giving a final shake not unlike a newly bathed dog to make sure he had gotten it all. After all, he was in the epitome of sophistication’s company; the least he could do was not look too disheveled so as to not seem pitiable.

“Just a visit. I’ve never been before, so I thought it’d be best to see a festive Paris, si?” He murmured after a moment, a finger pressed to the ridge of his chin as though he had forgotten something. Oh! Right, he had to find something to give Benito and Vanessa. Abruptly, he stopped in his meandering steps and about-faced to look directly at the woman beside him. “Regalos! Do you know where I can find nice gifts for mi familia…?” There was a bit of hesitation before the inquiring inflection of the question. Marco didn’t quite know her name, or didn’t recall it if he had learned it somewhere along the road. They weren’t exactly acquaintances and they didn’t have a past, but Marco couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed for not knowing it. Was it too laste to ask her about it? Would Josephine find it rude that she knew his name and yet he didn’t know hers? Probably. He would keep his mouth shut on that matter.

In what might have bid to disguise this little fact, he quickly followed up his question with a few pointing gestures at random trinkets and little quips on whether or not his family might have liked it. “Perhaps I’ll come visit it again, during the day, or at Christmas, it must be even prettier then.” Marco had begun to realize that Josephine, if nothing else, liked compliments. And in a way, he had already begun to slip then in every once and a while to secure her good graces before going quiet for a bit. He turned his attention to the Eiffel Tower, briefly caught up in how brightly it was lit.

All of these lights were beginning to make Marco wonder if the same could be done with the dim, starlit nights in Peru’s countryside. [/justify][/blockquote][/td] [/tr][/table]