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[stefan kapranos]

[/color][/b][/font] in the crisp, russet leaves floating like confetti in the light, teasing breeze. The afternoon sun was high in the cloudless sky, inviting out all manner of Parisians and tourists to bask in the comfortable weather before winter wrapped its icy fingers around the bustling city. It was a day anyone could appreciate, even someone as oblivious as Stefan Karpranos.

Well, he would be enjoying the day if it were not for the vicious toy poodle that some buffoon had neglected to leash nipping at the ragged bottoms of his jeans. “Dirty rat!” Stef yelped, jumping back with one foot stuck out in defence. The little mongrel grabbed onto the scuffed toe of his converse and hung on for dear life, his tiny little razor teeth trying to find it’s way to the young man’s toes. “What did I do to you? I like dogs!” He cried helplessly, shaking off the dog, all the while looking for the bastard of an owner. With a moment of pause, Stefan finally bent down and began to bark quite aggressively in the dog’s face. The poodle looked momentarily both shocked and horrified before it scampered away to prey on some new unsuspecting soul.

Stefan flicked off the dog as it fled the scene, completely oblivious to the stares he was receiving. He enjoyed stares, after all. It didn’t really matter under what circumstances. Nudging down his oversized sunglasses from atop his head with a finger, Stef meandered down the side streets of Paris with the confidence of a native until he came to a small hole-in-the-wall café that the tourist books would never mention, simply for it’s out of the way location. They served some badass coffee and croissants, though. It probably comes as no surprise to hear Stefan Kapranos is addicted to caffeine.

Tinkling chimes announced his arrival, though the place was small enough that it certainly didn’t require the alarm. About ten people could comfortably fit into the establishment, and right now the business was at its peak time of day. Of course, this was Stefan’s breakfast rather than lunch as he’d only rolled out of bed an hour and a half ago. Sending a grin to the pretty blonde behind the counter, Stefan made his order in his usual speedy French –a sugar laden coffee and a massive brownie rather than a croissant. Hands full, Stef clumsily threaded between the people queuing up and flopped down into an overstuffed chair.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the girl beside him. In fact, it was nearly impossible for Stefan to ignore any girl within a ten-foot radius. She in the chair beside him, long legs curled beneath her, her dark hair veiling the side of her face but doing nothing to detract from her looks. Food all but forgotten as he set it to a side table, Stefan leaned over the arm of his chair, peering over her arm at the book she read. “Are there any steamy scenes in that?”[/color] he asked, grey eyes dancing with mischief. “No story is complete without passion, n'est-ce pas?”[/color][/blockquote][/ul]

[adèle bouchard]

[/color][/i][/b] in deep golds and fiery reds finally casting an air of passion over the muted elegance of the city. Soft cashmere swaddled throats and hands; delicate rosiness blossoming upon cheeks as the winds shifted to cooler, more comfortable temperatures. Adèle had always associated this time of the year with the intrinsic quirkiness that she felt comfortable with. There was no rationale to what colors a tree would turn, the same leaf shades of green, russet, and ochre.

She had woken early – much to her roommate’s perpetual chagrin – and opened the pale linen curtains of their dorm windows to stare out at the vibrant lawn. Eager, she had forced the aged and unused glass panel open and breathed in the musty smell of autumn. “It’s cold,” came the complaint muffled within a pillow, ”close the window!” Sighing, Adèle had complied, using her slight weight to force the sliding glass back into place. Shaking her head, she twirled her long auburn hair into a knot at the top of her head and held it in place with her hands as she surveyed her unkempt side of the closet. It was as eclectic as her personality with no reason to how the clothing was arranged – the way she preferred it. Though her ensembles always seemed to work, they were usually the result of her pulling random articles of clothing on until she was tired of the layers.

Today was no exception. Clad in form-fitting denim and white tee, Adèle had tied a brightly colored silk scarf around her waist. A tweed blazer with the sleeves rolled up to expose the bright violet lining was the only means of warmth in her attire. Around her neck a silver chain tinkled as the pop tabs she had painted with nail polish clattered together. Each one had a story and at the moment was her prized possession. Her purple cowboy boots clomped easily through the dried leaves littering the ground. There was no destination in mind, she merely wanted to enjoy the glorious fall day for all it was worth. Life was meant to be savored and enjoyed like a rare vintage. Adèle aspired to experience every moment.

Laughing, her feet kicked up small piles of leaves, watching as they floated back to the ground in a solemn dance. Those passing her on the streets cast disdainful glares that never registered with the girl. Humming to herself she rounded a corner, happening upon a small, out of way café. This, she decided, was her destination. A smile lit her face as the bell overhead chimed her arrival. A soft jazz song she didn’t know played softly in the background, the baristas greeting local patrons and sliding them their orders without ever needing to ask. Had she any clue how she’d arrived her, Adèle would have made a note to return.

With a quick glance over the menu – and what other patrons were ordering – Adèle settled on a hot chocolate and cheese croissant. Her dark eyes scanned the seating area, searching out a good place to relax and absorb the quaint atmosphere. Finally settling on a plush chair near the unlit fireplace, she plopped her bag next to her and curled her legs beneath her. Even now she could hear her mother’s chastising voice about how a proper lady should sit while in public. Adèle had never considered herself ‘proper’ in any respect and had no desire to start now. Reaching into the bag she retrieved a schoolbook, her nose wrinkling with distaste as she absently thumbed through the pages to find where she had left off. It wasn’t far into the story and she was already behind where the rest of the class was, but was it really her fault that the book was one step before catatonia? Sighing, she forced herself to begin reading once more. It figured her teacher would select a book that there was no movie version of.

“Are there any steamy scenes in that? No story is complete without passion, n’est-ce pas?”

Chuckling, Adèle shook her head, closing the book with her thumb still holding her place. “I wish. This book needs CPR or—” her voice trailed off as she looked up at her savior from boredom. His blonde hair still fell in a disheveled mess across his forehead, gray eyes sparking with familiar amusement and mischief. But there was something else in them she didn’t recognize and despite the familiarity that coursed through her it was enough to cause her to doubt. It had been so long since she had last seen him, why should they find one another now? “Stefan Kapranos?” she whispered, her eyes bright with excitement. “Is that really you?”[/blockquote][/ul]