𝓔n𝓸𝓵𝓪 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓼~ 𝓗𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓮𝓽𝓱

Chapter 12

(Oops! Hope you enjoy it, this is going to be a three-part series btw (the first one was chap 11) , hope you enjoy! Make sure to comment and vote! I would love to hear your thoughts)

Florence POV, Paris...

The train ride took three hours and I was in Paris the day after the entire debacle with Sherlock, during that time I've written a letter to Enola to tell her that her position is compromised and that she has to go into hiding, and of course my own recent whereabouts.

I hop off the train and walk out of the station, ah Paris.

The beautiful stone buildings line the thoroughfare as the delicious smells from a nearby bakery engulfs the avenue.

Paris is a liberated place, with huge art, music, and fashion culture, meaning I can wear pants again, yay! Huge nightlife, which is fun to explore, and of course the industrial district in the fifteenth arrondissement, the place I call home here in France.

I walk up to the halfway abandoned old factory and open up my workshop, basically untouched since the last time I was here, the day I heard about Eudoria. I also live here, I have a crappy mattress pushed into the back corner and a crazy amount of books surrounding it.

Otherwise than that it's just a lot of old projects of mine and an absurd amount of tools on tables, it was loft-like, and of course my roommate who doesn't pay rent lives up on top, I mean he also waters my plants.

For the next week I flush out some old projects just to see if I can get one of them working, spending time with some old friends, and of course, spending time going to parties.

I was working on one of my old projects when I hear my roommate, Aristide, stirring upstairs. I actually met him six years ago when I first came to the city, I was here, of course, working as an apprentice, he was outside sleeping.

I thought it was rather obscure, turns out he was kicked out of his old place for falling in love with another man. This is bullshit of course because people can love anything or anyone. And we've been friends ever since.

"Mmmmmm," someone mumbles,

"Aristide?" I call out his name, "you there?" I ask, I walk up the stairs. The loft was trashed, full of empty bottles of liquor and scraps of paper. I look on his bed, he's half-naked wearing a women's skirt. I tap his shoulders,

"Evil woman do not wake me..." he mumbles in his sleep,

"It's two pm, and I need to get wasted real fast." He grumbles out of bed, and walks over to his calendar,

"What day is it?" He grumbles,

"June 7th." I respond,

"Ah, party at some Chateau if we leave now we can get there on time." He says,

"Alright," I say, taking off my ankle-length leather coat.

"But the dressing code is rather lenient," he says,

"Last question; are people going to be naked?" I ask,

"Probably," he says,

"Great! Also you're wearing my skirt" I say. I get ready, which is very easy to do. I just get into some men's boxers and wear a tank top with my combat boots. Aristide yells down, "Valentin is here with the carriage, you ready?" He asks. Valentin is our friend who accordingly started a cult, wait, no, a spiritual collective, he likes to call it so now he lives in a chateau.

"Yup," I mumble, I grab my bag which is basically a book, a flask, and some cigarettes, and walk outside.

Valentin is in a steel black carriage holding a bottle of champagne,