The Blue Danube [OLD]

- 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔶 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱. ﾐ

╲⠀╲⠀╲ ╲
⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★

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( a/n sorry if my french is a little shit btw i used google translate for some of it, if anyone who reads this speaks french feel free to lmk what i got wrong in this hlfhdkjf ALSO i couldnt find any way to convert 1800s euro currency to current day to figure anything out so i just used pounds instead sorry) 

november 1859

Wind howled strangely in John's ears, pealing through the streets and causing his clothes to be swept up pathetically in its clutches. In order to keep his top hat from flying off, he clutched onto it with a gloved hand as he went, turning back to wave to his carriage driver as he slowly pulled out of the street, leaving the prince alone on the footpath - he rummaged through his pocket and revealed a piece of paper, opening it up to reveal an address; "Onze Rue Clairaut", he muttered under his breath before scanning his surroundings. Yes, he was in fact where he was supposed to be, thank Christ. Clutching onto the paper as if it was his last life support, he trekked up the front steps of the flat and knocked firmly on the burgundy door, keeping his hands behind his back to hide the way he was fidgeting.

Being in Paris again was a little strange. The people, the buildings, the shops.. everything about it was so different, foreign - obviously - but also inspiring, feeling as if he could write a thousand stories and paint a thousand pictures in the beautiful city. The people were so much more open to newer ideas and things of that sort than in London or Liverpool and it was so refreshing to John, making his trips there all the more enjoyable and it being so much easier to make actual friends. He figured he should pay a visit to his friend Jacques before he went back home.

He almost jumped in shock when the door opened, revealing a petite middle-aged lady that he recognised as the landlady he'd met the last time he was in Paris, adorned in a puffy cotton dress, sallow blonde hair done up in a large bun; she beamed when she spotted it was him and moved aside to let him in.

"Mr. Lennon! Bonjour, entrez, entrez!"
[Hello, come in, come in!]

"Merci, Mrs Cartier. Vous êtes belle." He bowed his head as he slipped past her with a warm smile, gazing around at the house with wonder in his eyes, shutting the door after him. He was glad he kept his French up to scratch.
[Thank you. You look beautiful.]

"Oh, arrête ça toi!" She whacked him lightly on the arm with a giggle before leading him further into the house. "Je viens de faire bouillir du thé. Vous voulez un peu?"
[Oh, stop that, you!] [I just boiled some tea. Want a little?]