• The building was flawless. Every stone, every marble, every stained-glass window set to perfect alignment with another. Candles, and oh, the candles. There were bunches and bunches at every corner, every wall, every window, every door, and every tile of every ceiling. There was enough beauty in the manor to fill pages and pages with it's grandeur, but this story is about Aline Gautier, and she wouldn't dare touch on such frivolous matters.

    Yes, Aline and Victoire Gautier. Parisians they were, and they loved every detail of that thronged and lavish city. Though they did not live the life of lower class (where in Paris, you're lucky if your meal for they day is the sweat of your neighbor), and reveled in their parents bountiful riches. Gowns were worn and disposed of after one use, manors were bought as dust collectors, and their leftover food was too much for even the family dog.

    However, this is not the story of the Gautier's extravagant life in Paris; this is the story of Aline and Victoire's journey out of it.