France: 2140

[Natalie Burr]

Natalie Burr, daughter of the most esteemed man in France, sat alone in one of the lush gardens at the Tuileries. She'd managed to slip away from her assigned Paris Guardsmen, they'd been conversing about tennis when she'd departed.

They'd spent the day at the Louvre, where she'd been ogled by passersby. The two guardsmen, by the time they'd reach the doors were so thoroughly exhausted that she suggested that she try some place more secluded, as she'd already seen what she'd wanted to see: La Pyramide.

The guards agreed to her suggestion, though, firstly, they had no choice, and secondly they probably thought she was doing it for herself, and not them. They'd arrived at the Jardin des Tuileries not long ago, and she'd seated herself on a bench, whereas the conversation between the guards began. She then slipped away, taking a seat on a bench where she was now seated, pondering life, art and architecture.

[Anneliese Knopf]

It's a beautiful day, Anneliese Knopf mused as she strolled down the streets. Her heeled boots made neat, clicking sounds on the sun-baked pavement, and they also gave the five foot five woman three extra inches of height.

It made sense that upon such a lovely day, the diplomat would decide to visit the famed scenic hotspot of Paris, le Jardin des Tuileries. It was too bad, really, that Germany lacked the type of beauty and ... romanticism which were evident virtually everywhere in this country.

It was all to go, of course, sooner or later. And Anneliese was surprised to feel a pang of sadness, seulement un peu. The violent gust of wind that was whipping this ancient city into a frenzy was, in essense, the same one that had sprung Germany out of her reverie five years ago. When the Nazi parties had finally revived, the Knopfs had celebrated. Now German history was rewriting itself, verbatim. Censorship. Propaganda. The new head-of-state of Germany had even decided to restart the Deutsches Jungvolk.

It won't be long before the Tuileries' beloved garden is swamped and destroyed by campaigns and marches.

But for now, it was best to revel in as much of this wonderful place as possible. The blonde made her way towards a seemingly-empty bench, which was indeed not empty - its occupant was merely obscured by the corner of a hedge. It was only when she was a few feet away did she notice the young brunette perched there.

If Anneliesse had paid a visit to Adrien Burr, she might have had met his daughter, Natalie. But such as it was, today was only the diplomat's third day in France, and no appointments with Mr. Burr had been scheduled yet.

Anneliesse smiled at the stranger before her and extended a pale hand. Her fingers were extraordinarily long and slim - the fingers of a well-trained pianist.

"Hello. My name is Anneliesse Knopf, but you may call me Anneliesse. You are?" This greeting was a tad bit too formal, no doubt, but Anneliesse's parents had made sure to drill impeccable manners into their daughter from a very young age. And as the age-old adage went, old habits die hard.