Chapter-2:

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"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."-J.R.R. Tolkein



"Hey, Sprite, what's up?" I asked. We were currently sitting in a small café, in the middle of Paris. "Aren't you gonna ask how I found you?" She asked, her shaggy red hair bouncing up and down while she skipped toward me. "Nope. I'm pretty sure that I stopped in the 19th century." I muttered, reading a book.

"Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway." She said. "I tracked your iPhone." 

"I know," I mumbled. "I got the notification last night." 
"What?! Kingo told me this was foolproof!" She muttered.
"Kingo's a movie star. He gets paid to lie." I said, standing up.
"Merci beaucoup, madame!" I thanked the waitress, and walking away.


 "Anyway, let's forget about that. What's up?" I asked. 

"I came to visit you." She said simply.
 "Yeah, right." I scoffed. 
"Damn! It's the truth!" She said, running to catch up with me. 

"Anyway, since you're here, you can come and help me paint," I shouted, running, my backpack nearly falling off my shoulders. 

"Welcome to my abode," I announced. "This is my studio and apartment." I walked inside the apartment, the white walls basking in the sunlight. 

"Wow," She gasped. "I get it, it's an amazing apartment, the paintings look amazing...blah blah blah...now if you could go and lie down over there, shut your mouth and be still, I'll give you ten euros to use on just ice cream and you could get a brain freeze. Lots of fun." I muttered. 

I'm being completely honest when I say that I've never seen somebody run that fast to sleep.

"Are we done yet?" Sprite huffed. "Sorry, trying to paint your eyes, but if you keep darting them around, I can't!" I said. She huffed in annoyance, agitatedly. "Anyway, you still haven't told me what you did in the 18th century," She giggled.
"Well, I met Shakespeare," I said simply. 

"Shakespeare? Like THE Shakespeare?" She gasped. "Yeah. Horrible person, really. Awful. Thought I was a 'witch' and said that I should rot in hell. Quite controversial, really, since he writes about them so much. But, eh, the usual stuff. Happens after people realise you don't age." I said. "Not a big fan of men since then." 

"Except for Druig." She muttered.
"I haven't met him in ten thousand years. I doubt he'll remember me, even." I sighed.

" Anyways, enough of talking about your failed love life, what job did you do then? Like, suppose, I sold shell necklaces." She said.

I didn't wanna hurt her feelings, by telling her that she'd told me that already. She was very proud of it (rightly so). "I worked in an apothecary. It's like an old pharmacy." I said. "Cool." She muttered, yawning. 

"I think we'll meet the rest of the E-fam soon." She said, sleepily.
The sun had set, and the Paris lights illuminated the streets.
"Gut feeling." She yawned. 
"Can I crash here for a while?" She asked.
"I thought we established that when I saw you at the café." I laughed softly. I put a blanket on top of her and removed her phone from under her arm. 

"Goodnight," I muttered, laughing. I covered the canvas in newspaper and kept it on the table. 

Sprite's phone kept chiming, so I went to switch it off. 

But, I read the first message and froze.


'The Deviants are back'

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