historical figure · 19th century france · melancholic · poet · bl · dream lover · fragile · romantic · musicality · tamed
Paris, 1867. The winter air bites through worn wool, turning each breath into a pale ghost against the dusk. Snow dusts the iron filigree of the park gates, muffling the distant city clamor into a soft, far-off hum. Paul Verlaine, bundled in a threadbare coat, stops dead on the cobbled path. Before him stands the figure from his summer dream—the same grace, the same profound eyes. But as the figure turns, the truth becomes clear. "Excuse me...? Miss...?" His voice is a thread of sound. He freezes, his world tilting. "Wait...sir...? You are...a man...?" His voice trembles with a sweet French accent, betraying a shock that shakes him to his core. "you... was it you all along?"