Title: Postage to Paris
Couple(s): Misty x Kiryu.
Warning(s): None, really.
Notes: Misty-centric piece. Enjoy.
I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
--Amy Lowell, "The Letter"
It had only been two months, and she was tired.
To go to Paris was the opportunity of a lifetime, even for someone of her stature. To spend six months in the city of love, not to mention, the fashion capital of the world, was not only a major boost to her career, but also a dream come true. Misty remembered as a little girl, rummaging through magazines and news articles of the wonderful city, cutting out pictures of the beautiful models and their dresses, swearing to herself silently that one day she would be one of them.
So naturally, when her agent informed her that she was being offered the opportunity of attending a photo shoot there, she was ecstatic. But now, she ached to return home; the city was everything she ever hoped it to be, but she soon came to discover that she was lonely. Normally, it was her late brother who would keep her company on these trips around the world. But with his death, she had no one.
Misty often tried to keep in contact with Aki Izayoi or Carley Nagisa, two of the the few people she considered to be her friends, with marginal success. Every so often, she would receive a nice e-mail from one of them, which always managed to brighten her day. Still, their low frequency was disheartening; she figured that they were in the mindset that she was too busy to deal with their e-mails, so she only received one every two or three weeks.
Then, she got a letter. And from Kiryu Kyosuke, of all people.
Misty was sure she had known Kiryu a lot better during her days as a Dark Signer, which now seemed nothing but a foggy memory to her (It had become apparent to the model that each person's memory of the time was affected differently; Kiryu, for example, remembered every single event and detail, while Carley wasn't even aware that she was ever a Dark Signer.) However, there was one thing Misty knew for sure: she was lucky enough to be granted forgiveness from Aki after the event, while Kiryu headed immediately westward to a place called 'Crashtown,' before he and Yusei could ever really have any closure.
Thus, the guilt-ridden young man began sending letters to Misty as a person who would share the burden of his sins, someone who would actually listen... and maybe, because he was lonely too.
She didn't really know how he managed to get her address, but then again, she didn't really mind. She loved his letters. Sure, the e-mails from Carley and Aki were nice, but a letter takes time and love (and money.) Additionally, they came every week, giving her something to look forward to, other than the glamorous parties and chaotic fashion shoots.
And once she received a letter, she was prompt in her response, and always paid extra to ensure that her letter would reach Kiryu the very day. This, she hoped, would encourage him to keep writing to her; after all, if the letters stopped coming, she wasn't really sure what she would do with herself.
Misty nibbled on her croissant, absentminded as she stared blankly into her vanity mirror. All around her, international models from all over the world primped themselves, wanting to look their absolute best for the photographer. Misty barely ever cast them a glance; she had tried to befriend some of them at the beginning, only discover that most were too vain and conceited for her to even carry out a decent conversation with. Even now, a look of disgust would cross their faces once they saw she was actually eating, to which Misty ignored. She was hungry, what else did they expect?
"Me pardonner mademoiselle, mais c'est le temps pour moi appliquer votre maquillage," said a short, but fair woman that approached Misty with her cosmetics set. The former Dark Signer seemed surprised at first, having been snapped out of her own little world. The fair woman tilted her head, her bright, blue eyes confused by Misty's distraught nature.
"Ah... Oui, aller de l'avant," replied Misty finally, her pale cheeks burnt with embarrassment. The fair woman nodded and immediately went to work, powdering the model's skin with a shade far too dark for her skin. Misty sighed, but didn't bother speaking up; unlike all of the other woman in the room, she didn't feel the need to look perfect. Perfection was unobtainable, so why bother? She had learned that from Kiryu himself, as stated in one of his many letters. It was funny, how he had managed to become such an influence over her; why, if he had asked her to join him in Crashtown, she would do it in a heartbeat.
Perhaps it was love. Perhaps it was obsession. She didn't really know.
The fair woman soon began to apply mascara to Misty's already long eyelashes when a tall, middle-aged man approached the model from behind, a letter clutched tightly in his hand. Misty saw him from his reflection in her mirror, his beady black eyes settled upon her. She felt her gut tighten nervously, but shooed the fair woman away, despite the fact that her make-up was nowhere near being done. Misty tightened her robe around her and stood to face the man, though her eyes remained locked on the envelope in his hand.
"J'ai une lettre pour vous, mademoiselle," he said snobbishly, shoving the letter in her hands before turning around quickly, muttering in an angry French accent about how he was not a 'lowly delivery boy.' Misty blinked and glanced down at the enveloped, immediately recognizing it as Kiryu's from the handwriting on the return address. Feeling her heart swell with excitement, she called out a quick "merci" to the man and sat down, tearing open the envelope.
Immediately, a picture fell out. Misty bent down and picked it up, smoothing out the wrinkles from the man's tight grip. The first thing she noticed, was Kiryu's smile; radiant, and warm. Her eyes then fell to the children at his side, a girl and a boy, obviously siblings, also smiling. Above the children's heads were the names 'Nico' and 'West.'
Misty ran her fingers over their faces, wondering how Kiryu had met them... and how they had made him so happy. She traced an invisible line over his criminal mark, noticing how handsome he was. His silvery hair was longer than she could vaguely remember, and he looked older, but handsome nonetheless.
By the time Misty had set the photograph aside and picked up his letter to read, the fair woman had returned to finish her make-up. As the model became engrossed in her reading, she learned that Yusei had sought out Kiryu in Crashtown to tie up loose ends - and in the process, had ended up going on adventure of sorts: joining up with a gang of thieves, being confined to slavery, escaping to liberate the town, reuniting with 'Team Satisfaction', as he called it...
Misty laughed to herself. It all seemed like some romantic wild west story, something she would read in a fairytale... She didn't doubt what he said what he was true, she somehow knew that he wouldn't lie... at least, not to her, or so she believed.
"Avez-vous un stylo?" asked Misty, glancing up at the fair woman. She blinked in surprise, brushing her blonde hair behind her ears.
"Que?" she asked.
"Avez-vous un stylo?" repeated Misty, this time sounding a little irritated. The fair woman's eyes widened, but she nodded, reaching into her purse and pulling out a black pen. The model accepted it gratefully and then reached into her own bag to retrieve her stationary. Immediately, she went to work on her reply.
Soon after she began to write, Misty became very much enchanted with the idea of one day actually meeting Kiryu, sometime after her time in Paris was up. She knew it would be a bit of a strange experience, since he remembered her more than she remembered him. Truthfully, the only part of Kiryu she knew was in writing; and yet, she loved him for what she knew.
The fair woman soon finished with Misty's make-up and then started right away on her hair, brushing through her long, black locks with the utmost care.
Misty occasionally wondered why he choose to write to her of all people, and why not Demark or Bommer. She didn't really know what Kiryu's and her relationship was like during their darker days, and had not really worked up the courage to ask. Were they enemies, or acquaintances? Were they friends, or lovers? She didn't have the slightest clue.
Perhaps they would discuss it, if they ever really did meet.
"Le photographe vous prévoit en deux minutes," said the fair woman, glancing down at her watch as she finished up on Misty's hair. The young woman sighed, and put to pen down, not wanting to be late, nor keep the photographer waiting.
"Merci, je partirai maintenant," she said, thanking the fair woman. Misty stood and removed her robe before leaving for the set, which ironically, followed an old western theme. It seemed, she would never be able to clear her mind of him; and she was perfectly content with that.
Comments: No, I'm not going to give you the translation of the French in English. It's called inferring from the text, thank you. But, for those of you who are French-speakers, feel free to correct me since the only romantic language I know is Spanish, not French. It was my father, who took French like 25 years ago, who helped me with this. So, I'm positive there are mistakes.