Fleur Du Champ; 23 years old and a duchess, not that she would care.

“You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me.”

Titanic

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Books; are life

The Upper Decks

As per usual the blonde was sitting on the upper decks, extremely close to the railways so she could feel the wind against her skirts. She could feel the salty air and the wonderful breeze that swept through her hair, causing the pins to loosen and soon fall out of her locks. Fleur was on a boat, for god’s sake why would she even bother with pinning her hair up? Yet, her parents had found that as a lady she was as good as forced to portrait herself as she would have done when still in England. She wanted to rid herself of the heavy skirts, run free and be as a child would be on the boat, yet here she was, sitting in a dress that she could hardly move in, her hair thankfully lose against her shoulders by then and a book in her hands.

Fleur always did seem to have a book in her hands, and when she finished one there was sure to be a next. A smile curled across her lips as the French girl read one line after the other. It seemed as though eternity was passing by and she was drowning in a world that was not her own, accompanied by the sounds of the waves crashing against the ship and the seagulls singing their cries across the skies. She could feel the sun dancing across her pale skin as her deep blue orbs seemed to move from one word to the next, attempting to memorize every part of the books beautiful complexion. She wanted to be a part of that world that seemed to be so far away, yet close enough to see.

Just moments later the girl felt something, no someone, collide with her. It brought Fleur to jump in surprise and her book had caught flight as it landed in the water. She immediately ran towards the railing watching as the book seemed to slowly dissolve into the waves that were long behind the boat. She could feel her smile slip from her grasp; instead the corners of her lips pointed down and her deep blue orbs seemed to be bound to disappointment. To say the least she was sad that one of her favorite books had been swallowed by the ocean, yet the worst part of it was that she would never come to find out if the couple would be happy or not.

Turning to the person that had accidently fallen against her she offered a slight, yet still very disappointed smile and added in a soft tone “Pardon monsieur…. I am very sorry, are you alright?” As much as Fleur attempted to be happy, she felt the words slip from her mouth as a certain numbness seemed to grasp hold of her body. She knew that her French accent was prominent, most of all when she attempted to speak English and soon averted her sky blue eyes to the ground. 

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