• It has been mentioned that the building was flawless. It was. It has been mentioned also that Aline Gautier wouldn't care. She wouldn't. These items would be gladly omitted if it wasn't that Victoire did care. This Gautier had a love for details and a passion for beauty, spending most of her days in Paris attending operas and concerts. She loved these more than she loved her sister, but how she loved her sister!

    They spent the evenings together, doing whatever they fancied. Victoire would rather browse a nearby peddler's shoppe for foreign jewelry, while Aline favored her books. Books of every kind and every origin had graced the white palms of Aline Gautier, and their presence was not long forgotten. With all the books of France read and memorized, there was nothing for Aline to move on to. That is, with the exception of the occult.

    She turned to books from distant lands written by ancient people with distant minds. They told of wild fantasies, dreams, and nightmares; cities plagued with fire-breathing monsters and tales of the living dead. It's not hard to see why all these stories might have driven the girl crazy. The nearly did.

    For Aline Gautier, you see, was photosensitive; allergic to the sun. Her daylight hours were spent inside the confines of her own quarters, while her family was out living normally. She read the books by candlelight. There had been a time when she tore down every mirror in the room because of those books, and she probably never looked into one again.

    So Victoire had the responsibility of listening to her sister's crazy stories. By Aline, it was her job to nod every time Aline asked, "Don't you agree?" By her parents, it was her job to convince Aline that these stories were nonsense. This might have been a good theory as to why Victoire was sent to Jeannette's Academy with her sister, if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't, but that part of the story will be revealed later.


    "Welcome," he greeted them with a smile, "to Jeannette's Academy. We hope you'll be very happy here."

    He was a tall and slender thing. With pale yellow hair and dark blue eyes, he didn't look different from any other average boy. Oh, but the things Aline could have told you about his aura.

    He went on to give a fully rehearsed salutation to the two girls, that, needless to say, is too frivolous to mention for Aline Gautier.

    "Hunther," he beckoned harshly, "take Miss Victoire to her room on the third floor."

    Hunther was locked in an awkward stance, his lips parted and eyes squinted. A stupid stance, perhaps, for the well-built Hunther, but after an uneasy moment, he nodded and said:

    "Right away, Sir," and took Victoire's bags.

    Her hand slipped Aline's grip, and they exchanged nervous farewell glances until their sight of each other disappeared completely.

    "You, on the other hand," said the yellow-haired boy, "I think will be quite taken with the room we have prepared for you below ground."

    "Mm," Aline flashed a wry smile as she spoke, "In the dirt. A perfect place for someone like me, don't you think?"

    "Well, mademoiselle," his brow furrowed, "I'm sorry you feel that way about our labor to provide you a fine home."