Antoinette Gringoire
Stage Hand
Don't forget a sheltered rose needs a little room to bloom outside her bedroom
Posts: 3
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Post by Antoinette Gringoire on Feb 13, 2009 17:49:46 GMT -5
Antoinette bit her bottom lip until it turned a violent shade of red. She stood outside the grand opera house, but given the choice she’d happily and hurriedly return to Geneviève. She felt a pang of longing for the quirky old woman who was almost a mother to her. She looked around her; the citizens of Paris went about their daily business undisturbed by her. Many were fashionable and graceful; could they work at the opera house? Antoinette sighed. She felt lost and confused in this city; its towering pastel coloured apartments and its catacombs made up of corpses bellow its cobbled streets, its stylish boutiques and its famous brothels. It contrasted itself, changing from light to dark, rich and poor leaving Antoinette wearily and unsure of it. What she feared most of all was to fail Geneviève and returning before she even tried would defiantly make her look ungrateful. Antoinette curled a lock of hair as she looked up at the front door, catching a glimpse of the famed golden statue on its roof. She wanted to make Geneviève proud of her. It was now or never, she waited for a sign from fate that would tell her weather to enter or not...
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