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By V.K. Violette
WARNING: I dont own historical characters, and although I want to be, I am not George Sand. Everything in this story never happened. Also, this fic will contain love between individuals of the same gender. Just deal with it and move on.
A Sad Sort of Melancholy Melody
By: George Sand
--prologue--
Where should I start but here? I sit here alone, at Frederyks old piano which faces the window. I will not touch the keys and butcher their musicality with my non-ability to harmonize, or play music in general. Right now, there are tears runn

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Clothing is good. You can reuse it, or break it down and make something out of it. He knows another one like him who makes the most beautiful quilts. If you bring her the supplies and a nice meal, she'll make you a quilt too. You can use that every winter. It's going to be cold every winter. You'll need it. Aesthetics aren't important, but it's a nice change. Just because you're a monster in the woods eating people doesn't mean you can't have nice things.
Knick knacks can be useful. Tobacco is ever popular. Not many of his kind like it, but those that do suffer the same addiction as the humans. The

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The woman in gray laughed, before looking at her companion, a man dressed in extravagant clothing, "The more she talks the more I think you where right. She doesn't want to get out."
"I told you this was a waste of time." He shook his head, long braid shaking with him. "Let's just leave her and go."
"No!" She interjected quickly. "I'll listen. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."
"Really?" The woman asked, switching to German. "So, you'll listen to me, and you'll do whatever I, or my companion here, tell you to?"
"I hate when you switch to German." The man muttered, "You just do it because I can't understand you."
"If it gets me out of this tower, I will." The Countess responded.
The woman's smile grew a bit. "Good. We'll help you, but you'll be in my d

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"Only thirty?" She replied with a laugh. "I'm almost embarrassed."
The two spoke of the trial, and of many other things. The succubus, who gave the Countess the name Secunda to call her, was just as educated as her on several matters, such as politics, ancient literature, and philosophy.
"There are people who do e

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"Neon."
"Why?"
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"Yes."
Chin on wrist on chairback. "You are colorful."
"That's cheating." You blink slowly. "Elemental neon is not inherently colorful."
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Owl eyes give silent assent.
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"Yeah." I wouldn't have forgotten, not after the charts and scans you showed me. I only saw a mess of swirling colors like an end-of-the-day paint palette, but you saw sense in the chaos.
You ease off the truck and walk toward my white picket fence perch. "The wildflowers bloomed like all hell out by the lake." Resting your arms along the top beam, you gaze off into the distance for a minute longer before turning mischievous eyes my way. "Want to go see?"
I'

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The foundations of the decrepit building had been laid ages ago though the walls and ceiling had been burned down and rebuilt countless times since then. The current iteration of Warlock's Folly had been rebuilt only thirty years ago after burning to the foundation during a riot.
Nothing of the previous building had survived except a beat up old grand pi

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ii.
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iii.
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v.
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