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Snippet #1310007

located in Paris, London, a part of Every Day Without You, one of the many universes on RPG.

Paris, London

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Elena opened her eyes to the deserted pillow next to her on the crisp, clear November morning. The sun shown in her eyes, and she blinked a few times. She sat up, looked around, and let out a deep sigh. He was still gone, still searching for Jaque. "How much longer…" She whispered to herself. Her english accent was beautiful; it was the perfect touch to her voice. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and set her feet onto the wooden floor of their bedroom. She picked up a picture of her and Josef, looking at it for awhile and setting it back on the bed-side table. She rose from the bed, pulling up the sheets and comforter, making sure it was ready and made. She only got to see Josef twice a week; usually around 2-3AM, but she always hoped.

She opened her dresser and pulled out a pair of light-wash skinny jeans-for she was only twenty-four and still wore what fit her best. She pulled them on, throwing her shorts to the side, and walking into the closet part of the room. She fished through a few shirts and removed a black tanktop, pulling it on and a white and black striped cardigan. She only buttoned two buttons at the bottom. She slid her feet into two warm, fuzzy black slippers and walked into the bathroom. She threw some water on her face and put a bobby-pin into her hair, as her natural blonde curls fell perfectly around her face. She put on foundation to match her light skin-tone, and some concealer. She lined her eyes lightly and put on mascara, putting light pink lipgloss onto her lips.

She walked into the kitchen, and began preparing coffee and eggs. She pulled the coffee out of the machine and mixed in half&half. She took a big sip and set it down, putting the eggs onto a plate and eating those slowly and loaded the dishes back into the washer. She took another sip of her coffee and brought her coffee into the room with the piano with her. She set it on the table by the piano and sat down, looking at the music she'd been writing. She longed for every day to spend with him - every long day she had to wait for him. Ever since he'd been gone so much, she'd never ever talked half as much as she did. Every word she spoke was through the music she wrote; beautiful, incredible music she'd never played for anybody but herself. She always prepared for him to come home; and when he did, it was only for about three to four hours. Out where he was, he risked being shot, stabbed, captured, anything terrible she could imagine. She wanted to know how much longer she had to wait.

Elena's fingers hit the piano keys lightly. The music was beautiful.