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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 10, 2008 4:40:42 GMT -5
It seemed that every day she set foot on this holy yet forsaken place it was dreary out. The last time she had visited the dull grey cemetary was in the winter. It had been cold, covered in snow, and dead as the people in it. As her feet had hit the snow covered grounds Liana could not help but think that this dark depressing place was no decent ground for her mother to be burried in. After all, it was so unlike the woman who had been so full of beauty and love in life. She should be honored with similiar beauty in death. Even now, in the spring when all of life should be greeting the earth the cemetary in which her mother remained was not green. There was not a single flower, only yellowed grass, dirt, stones, and grey angels of cold and stoic features.
To Liana, the only bit of life in this place was the white rose she had come to put on her mother's grave and herself. The beating of her heart proved she was alive and well. And her heart should well beat loudly. Liana was after all alive, but only with fear in this cold place. After all, her father knew she was alive because of her occasional visits to pay respect to the mother she loved and knew so well. They two of them had been closer than any mother and daughter were that she knew of. Certaintly closer than a noblewoman and her daughter should be according to society. Indeed, they had been more like sisters than parent and child. For that reason she risked her freedom for a slight greeting. She wanted the dearest woman in the world to know her death had not been in vein.
With a slow motion, Liana finally reached the simple stone that marked her mother's grave. Her mother had been the last common mark on her father's name so it was no wonder he buried his wife so simply and quietly. It was too bad he had let her go the same way. Liana bent low to the ground and kissed the cold lifeless stone wishing that it would just rise up into human form and become her mother so her life of exile would just be a bit less lonely. Liana sighed and shook her head knowing it would not occur. Such things only happened in the fairytales in books or legends. It was not to be in real life. The only thing that could happen is what was: the rose Liana carried was placed with gentle love on the ground in front of the stone and the girl stood there staring.
She still felt slightly crazy after all this time looking down at that single white rose she had spent her small pension from the last performance on, talking to do the ground. Her mother was probably up in heaven. She probably knew all that Liana had gone through and all she was to go through in the future. She would not be suprised if her mother even was guiding her through it with the greatest of care. Her name may have changed after all but she was still the woman's daughter no matter the distance or time that passed when they were apart. Their spirits would always be together.
With a deep sigh, Liana gripped her locket and murmered quietly to the ground, trying to keep her voice soft, and her tears from over flowing as they always did when she visited. "I am alive and well mother. I am free as you wished it. Somehow I feel you know that, but I came to tell you once again none the less. Still, as I have fulfilled your wished mother I am unhappy. Every day I fear for my future. I feel I can talk to no one but you and I cannot risk this more often as much as I long to. I just feel lonely mother. Lonely and afraid. I suppose less so than if I stayed, but I wish you were here with me every day. Every day and with all my heart."
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 13, 2008 0:38:21 GMT -5
This place shivers with cold. A thin, pale hand lifted gracefully and stroked the stone arm of an angel, forever postured in immutable grief. She had half expected to feel goosebumps there, but the gray skin was as smooth as any well-bred woman's. Colette's eyes fell to her hand there, resting against the lifeless arm. Her own skin had an unnatural pallor, the kind that fashion named beautiful. She pulled her hand back as if scorched, knowing the truth behind that pallor; she was half-way to being as lifeless as that statue.
La Marquise moved on, her becoming gray riding habit swishing about her as she moved. A small silver cameo sparkled at her collar, and a line of tiny silver buttons closed the front of her coat. Her hair was up in a simple coif. She had removed her white riding gloves and folded them delicately into her pocket, where papers of great importance had recently crinkled as she rode alone to the cemetery. Those papers had already been divested to a man of business here, and had been run discreetly beneath the eyes of an assembled few alongside a few coins to ensure the maintenance of that necessary discretion. Now she was left to wander back toward the unlikely place that she had tied her mount, far from the place designated for that purpose.
She was without Marie, and it felt a little odd. Since the girl had been born, there had hardly been a moment when she was not within easy reach of her mother. The two were almost inseparable--almost. Certain forces of nature could not be resisted; the telltale ache in her chest was an ever present reminder. Colette paused as she heard a female voice, curiously quirking a brow. The speaker was near enough for Colette to make out every word, and the small speech hit a chord within her. Pivoting on the heel of her shining black riding boot, she turned and stepped around the large, crumbling statue that had concealed the girl from her.
"She is lucky to have such a devoted daughter, to be sure." She said, her gentle voice a husk of pained lungs and feminine grace. After a moment she added, "Cemeteries are lonely places." Her eyes swept over the face of the girl with well concealed shock. She knew this grave, of course. She had attended the funeral, along with a great many circles of society, however presumptuous their attendance had been. The taint of scandal had surrounded the elopement of M. Deloncre and his can-can bride, and time and a constantly growing fortune were the only things that had persuaded high society to push the incident from their minds. The bought titles and grand parties had pulled the family even further into their circles, but needless to say, the older nobility might smile dolefully upon new money but they would never be considered truly one of them. Colette's own father had been one of those, and Colette was only considered of the original nobility because of her maternal connections.
The whole of society had made a veritable show over grieving for Mme. Deloncre, but only few of them were aware of the warm and loving person that she had been. The daughter, Nicole, was only a year younger than Colette. She had been about to marry, it was said, before she had disappeared. Quite a scandal that had caused, despite the efforts of M. Deloncre to justify her being missing at such an inopportune time. Colette had been one of those girls commissioned to visit other females of her age and position, and that had occasionally meant finding herself the playmate of a shy and reluctant Nicole. This looked so much like her, although without the pruning and niceties of high society and a few years of aging, she could certainly be wrong. However, she knew it to be true. After all, here she was at Mme. Deloncre's grave with a little flower and a sentiment for her mother. Every word she had said had revealed her. Colette feigned ignorance, anyhow. She was a young woman too, and understood the need for freedom. So did she understand loneliness and helplessness. None of that showed in her face as she looked kindly on her old acquaintance of school years.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 13, 2008 13:50:26 GMT -5
Besides her room, besides her room and the rest of the house, Liana didn't remember much of society. There hadn't been much of it to remember considering by the time she ran away she had just barely been introduced properly. Of course there were the small dinner and garden parties other families threw. There were always the smaller balls appropriate for girls younger than courting age to go to. Besides, everyone knew such things were absolutely necesary if you ever wanted to be courted when you entered into society anyway. Her father had always made that very clear.
These circles for the most part had not been friendly. The girls included her because her familiy had money but there was always giggling while she danced or when she went off to meet someone or fetch a drink. She always knew they were talking about her shameful breeding. They all had been noble by blood; at least second generation on one side. Nicole remembered them to have been so beautiful too. Gorgous really. She had been jealous of quite a few's dark hair and the way it contrasted with their pale skin. And one, Colette, had the most shocking blue eyes, even brighter than her own.
The girls listened to Colette too. They were always quiet when she spoke despite the fact that Colette was only a second generation blood in the line of nobility. She was commanding and calm at all times. It was as if one had to respect her no matter how outragous her opinions were. Perhaps that was why Liana had gotten even half the attention she did back when she was Nicole Deloncre, because Colette had been slightly fond of her and protected her to some extent from the ridicule of the other girls. Liana had always been happy, really thankful for that. Colette had always made things bareable at the very least. Like her mother, the older girl was a beacon of light in an otherwise dismal and feircesome world.
Both those lights were long gone now. One was burried six feet beneath her, and the other, well, who knew whatever happened to Colette. She was sure the other woman would be happy as she had always been in her element in the social lifestyle. She had always been the darling of everyone. But now, she did not need Colette. She wished for her mother but there was really no need for her either. She truely just wished for someone new and trustworthy to confide in. Someone not related her her past in any way, but her prayer was to remain unanswered as of now as a pair of richly crafted riding boots came into her view and a woman's calm husky voice was carried to her by the wind.
The boots showed she was well off, well off enough to know who's plot this was. Well off enough to know that if a girl kneeled at this grave and said mother that she was the missing child of a rich and powerful man that could get her much in society. Well off to know who she was. Immediately Liana's blood froze in her veins and her eyes grew wide. Had her time finally come? Was her masquerade finished? Would she be forced to once again return to her guilded cage and never again see her mother? She could run again of course. She could run without a word to this woman but to where and how? They knew about her relation to the gypsies. She didn't have the money to leave Paris. All Liana could do is try to shut her horrified mouth that had dropped open and try not to fall over as she jumped up in suprise and dipped into a quick respectful curtsy of a clumbsy poor girl rather than the perfected movement that she had been taught.
It was simple. Her only option was to once again lie and decieve and then leave Paris as soon as she had the money, or find somewhere else to work. Perhaps that Moulin as her mother had? It would be shameful of course but she would rather give her consent to be in such a place than to be sold and without pay or consideration as she would if she were to be caught. But that would only be if the woman truely discovered her. Perhaps she would go unnoticed. There were stories easily believed that could be told. So, with her eyes meek and lowered and only a slight quiver of fear and shock in her voice despite her best tries at keeping calm a story was quickly woven in her head and spilled. "It can be Madame. Forgive my speaking I was not aware anyone else was here today. And my impetuousness for that matter. This great woman was not truely my mother. I...I only knew her. She treated me as a daughter for I was the playmate of her own and my own mother served her well before her death."
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 15, 2008 2:10:35 GMT -5
Colette watched with cool composure as Nicole jumped from kneeling on the ground as if caught in the act of a crime. She smiled her slight, teasing smile. It was the smile that had made her famous once in the ballrooms of Parisian society, and won her many adoring suiters. She had snagged the one that all of the matchmaking mamas were drooling over: the handsome, charming, rich and titled son of the Marquis Jondrette. Now that man was dead, and she herself, Nicolette Jondrette, was the Marquise. It had not been the type of 'snag' that most young girls dreamed about. She had met the young man, marveled at his intelligence and bantered with him, admired his handsome face and form; yet it was more their fathers that struck the deal. In complete honesty, Colette had been quite happy with the arrangement. As for him...
Colette's eyes glimmered dangerously for a moment and a distant thought, then softened dolefully upon Nicole in sympathy. Clever little story. It even succeeded in planted a tiny seed of doubt into her decisive recognition, but the seed was small. She was sure that there were no dreamy, far-away looks quite like that one. Her eyes swept her face, affirming her suspicions. It was Nicole. She had called her 'ma petit double' once, for the little doe-eyed girl quite charmed her, and 'Nicole' was a shorter 'Nicolette' after all. They did not look alike, really, both beautiful in their own, very different ways. Had it been the marriage that had persuaded poor Nicole to run away? Had her father actually banned her? Terrible man, he. Nicolette had never liked him, too closed-minded and short tempered.
"Oh? I don't recall seeing you. You must have been very sad when the young Mlle. Deloncre disappeared. I certainly was." Her eyes glimmered knowingly, despite her efforts to play along. "We were friends. I'd even go far as to say that... she told me some of her closer secrets." Her eyes drifted away from the statue that she had been closely inspecting as she spoke and focused intensely upon the poor flustered girl in front of her, as if the blue gaze could seep into those secrets now. She broke the intensity of her gaze and dropped her own slight, refined curtsy. "Enchante. I am Nicolette, la Marquise de Jondrette. Your name?" A thin dark brow arched in questioning, but her face was soft and kind.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 15, 2008 2:53:37 GMT -5
The rich woman before her was known before she even gave her name. It had been the smile that the woman offered that exposed her. That smile was the same her elder protector in the social events had given. It was the same charming enigmatic smile that had calmed the ridicule and made Liana smile just a bit brighter or speak even maybe once or twice in their little salons that her father had so encouraged her to attend as any well off girl of noble blood might despite her questionable heritage.
She had loved that girl as if she were an elder sister but she could not imagine going back just for her companionship. Especially not seeing her now. There was something wrong that Nicole could see even through the thick lashes that covered her downcast eyes. Colette was paler. Her voice was harsher than it used to be. Her figure was still there, still quite attractive as it always had been but she seemed slightly heavier, perhaps because she had a little child herself now. And what of her husband. She had been engaged to be married when Nicole had run. The wedding had been set and she had even been invited. How she wished she could have seen it, but the timing would have been too close. She would have been too well watched after that event.
It was almost the same now. She wished so badly she could embrace her friend and confess everything. She wished she could tell her to come see her at the opera house. It would be innocent enough for her to take interest in the performers as that had always been fashionable. But then would she talk? Would she slip and have her return to her fianee who she was sure was still hunting? Would a clue dropped from her friend's lips betray her and have her in her father's talons once more? No, she could not tell despite the fact that she yearned too. The secret had been eating her alive for so long after all. She needed someone...
But her safety. The safety of those around her kept the lies on Liana's lips, even to her closest friend. Liana forced a small nervous smile and flitted her eyes upward quickly before dipping another purposefully awkward curtsy as she was "introduced." It did not seem so much an introduction as a reintroduction as Colette seemed to know without a doubt who she was. And yet, her friend kept up the masquerade...A blush rose to her cheeks at this. That she had even thought for a moment she could fool her adopted elder sister and dearest friend. "I was kept out of sight when the house had guests. I was dismissed when my young mistress disappeared. I worry about her even now....My name though Madame is Liana Marceau. An honor Madame, to make your aquaintance."
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 15, 2008 4:37:04 GMT -5
Colette watched Nicole squirm beneath her gaze, and was sure that she understood that her old friend had recognized her. Even so, the pretense remained a guard. She watched her for several moments in silence, without wariness. Her gaze was both scrutinizing and welcoming, as if silently questioning her friend: Why? What had happened to her, that would prompt her to leave a life of privilege? Her mother had died. It was certain that the passing of Mme. Deloncre was a factor, for not only was the event momentous, but timed just before the disappearance. Did it have to do with her mother's death? Or the marriage? Both? Colette's sharp mind reeled over the facts, and her blue eyes trains upon 'Liana' spoke volumes.
"Charmed, Mademoiselle Marceau. Liana--it is a lovely name, quite unique. Is there any reason that it was chosen for you?" She asked, indicating that she asked after her parents' choosing. However, between the two of him, it was obvious that she asked for a different reason. Liana. She would miss being able to call her Nicole, her little counterpart.
Memories flashed before her eyes, fond ones, when her entire life stretched out in front of her into old age. Nicole had been the shy, modest and soft-spoken girl that Colette could not be if she tried. They were so different, and yet just having the honest soul there had been like a breath of fresh air among the chattering little demons they were forced to coerce with.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 19, 2008 15:34:15 GMT -5
She was found out. She was found out and trapped. It was unbearable to lie to Nicolette like this! She had been her best friend, her protector, her confidant, her comforter. Nicolette had been the only good thing left in that world after her mother had died. She had been the one sincere person at the funeral who truely was sad at her mother's passing and who had truely tried her best to give comofort and consolation where all others had merely patted her shoulder and said the trite i'm sorrys as society demanded of them. Everyone else had merely been just another body in line, but Nicolette, she tried. She had stayed long after everyone had left. She helped her stop crying and put on a face for the crowd. She had been there. Nicolette had always been there and now, she could not tell her anything.
It was clear that she knew. Her blue eyes stole into Liana's soul knowing who she really was. It was impossible to hide it. She could see their friendship playing in Nicolette's eyes. She desperately wanted to tell her the truth as she never could after the night of her mother's murder. She wanted so badly to tell her everything to ask her what had happened to her and what she had missed. She wanted all of that, but to do so would put them both in danger. What if someone saw after all? What if someone else recognized her? What if someone overheard? Nicolette would not make her go back unless she had changed greatly, but there were other forces that could not be controlled.
There had to be a way. There had to be! Liana bit her lip for a minute, trying to figure out a way to answer to show that she understood and wanted to talk. Maybe a way to tell her whole story without actually telling her story. Liana looked up a her friend with a fierce concentration in her eyes and answered without smiling praying she would understand. If she didn't she could think of no other safe way to explain. "My mother chose the name for me. She had always been fond of it but my father perferred Nicole. They never really got along." The rest of the story would have to come later. She couldn't exactly bring up in polite conversation that her father had pushed her mother down the stairs and thereby caused her death. She couldn't say in light conversation that her father abused her once her mother died, or that she was scared and unhappy with the man that had been chosen for her to be given in marriage. Those things would have to come later....somehow. s
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 20, 2008 23:57:47 GMT -5
Colette lifted her chin a bit, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. Her eyes swept over Liana once again, taking in every minute detail. The worn fabric, the tatters, the holes and the smudges of dirt. The instinct that she had was of concern; she wanted to take Liana to the house and fit her in some better clothing. Yet she knew that the rips and tears were as much a part of the costume as the new name, if not more. They were a shoddy sort of guard, but a guard none the less. If she was free to be here, after all, they must have worked so far. Nicole had a reason for running. Liana had a reason for staying hidden.
She watched inner struggles play quickly across her friend's face. It was a difficult meeting for them both, but probably worse for Nicole. Something terrible had happened to her, and yet it was unsafe to confide in anyone, even one of her closest childhood friends. Colette wished that she knew what had driven her away from her former life. As she stared, Colette became aware of the concentration and deliberation in Liana's eyes. Although she remained the outward appearance of complete calm and even a touch of boredom, her eyes were kind and her mind was kept sharp. She was sure that something very important was about to be said.
What came out was: "My mother chose the name for me. She had always been fond of it but my father preferred Nicole. They never really got along." Colette was not sure what to get out of that. She picked every bit of it apart and analyzed them separately, her clever mind whirring away to solve the puzzle. She had chosen the name to honor her mother. No surprise there, for she had been very close to the woman. She had been a wonderful person, and Colette had admired and even loved her quite a bit herself. Yet was there deeper meaning? Her mother was truly alive? No. Colette had kissed that cold cheek reverently, and had spent a good amount of time staring at the pretty face in death with unabated grief. Had she left because of her mother, though?
Colette had found no solid answers in the first bit. She moved on, pondering over the rest of the statement. The choosing of the name indicated that M. Deloncre was forceful and uncaring for his wife's preferences or feelings. That was nothing new, to Colette or the rest of society. Although the man had made a good show of being the generous and well-off man about town in public, Colette had witnessed some very terrible bouts of angry abuse. They were few and far between, but deeply disturbing. It would be no surprise if those violent interludes had been a usual occurrence. They didn't get along, hm... that was obvious. They did not agree, either, upon her name or upon her... ah! Or upon her marriage! Perhaps there was something dangerous or wrong about the groom in question. The marriage talks had been going on just about the time that Mme. Deloncre met her end.
Colette paled a bit in horror. Poor Nicole!...er, Liana. Her eyes conveyed a great deal of sympathy and surprise, but her face was composed.
"Oh, parents. Mine never got along much, either," She said idly, as if the subject did not interest her. Her gaze was understanding, however. The comment had been meant as a means of comfort through sorority. Her mother had been greatly wronged, as well. A lump formed in her throat as she remembered that she herself was being wronged by her husband. "Do you know the place of the Daae tomb, girl?" She asked suddenly, arching a brow regally. She had masterfully affected the demeanor of a high born lady speaking down to a commoner.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 21, 2008 6:24:19 GMT -5
There had to be a way to tell her the whole story. There had to be. Her friend was smart. She knew Nicolette was smart. Out of the two of them she had always been the most witty and certaintly the fastest at all the puzzles and games they had played together. Her mind had been sharper than most people's, not just the lady's but the men's too. She had always envied her friend for that. She just hopes she still had those wits. She wished she had more of them so she could figure out a way to tell her and to keep her safe if that was even possible.
She owed it to her friend to tell her. The two of them had been so close. Most people, unless they knew better, could have sworn that they were sisters the way they acted. Nicolette had always been there, Nicole had always been at her side. Now they were like strangers. She knew that Colette recognized her by her gaze. She knew that she wasn't upset with her as Liana had feared for so long. She knew that her friend was straining to understand what would have prompted her to go and the best Liana could come up with was the bit about her mother and father not getting along over a name.
She felt so stupid! There had to be something better to say! There had to be something she could do! At least Colette was trying to figure it out. She knew that her dear friend knew of her family troubles from when she had visited unannounced on occasion. She could see the wheels turning and turning. And she could see hints of the answer forming on her friend's face but it obviously wasn't there as the woman asked to be shown to the Daae tomb. She was trying to extend the conversation. She was trying to find out the answer! At least that was Liana's dearest wish.
With a small smile and a curt not Liana started walking to the large tomb of the diva's father. "Not many people go there. The place is feared at the opera house. Many say that our diva became touched by evil spirits after she visited her own father's tomb. It is just a rumor of course. Silly things, even though fathers can leave marks on you..." There. She had given her another clue. It had been a more direct clue. Certaintly more direct. She still had a few scars to prove how straight forward her hint had been. Of course, they were no where that anyone could see. No where that anyone would see. Her father would not want to have damaged his precious merchandise after all until after the sale was made. It would be bad for buisness.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 26, 2008 1:00:54 GMT -5
Colette watched as the concentration on Liana's face became more deliberate, the strain more evident. As Nicole spoke, Colette had the idea that every word was being chosen carefully. Her heart had taken on the same sharp ache that occupied her lungs constantly, and she knew that it was because of the small, oh-so-innocent smile that 'Liana' had sent her way. She remembered that smile on the face of a tiny little girl, thankful and more honestly grateful for Nicolette's company that anyone had ever been. She listened hard, keeping her expression smooth and even idle.
She wanted so much to understand. At first she had felt very worried, for it was possible that Nicole had been kidnapped. No bodies were found, and no clues or secret letters came her way. For a time she had thought that her friend had eloped, and that was why M. Deloncre was covering up the ordeal. That theory had made her feel hurt and betrayed, and in her anger she had forced the thought of Nicole from her mind. It didn't last. She trusted that her friend would have contacted her. She had relapsed into worry.
Now those long years of wondering and worrying were over, and the hurt part of her wanted to know why Nicole could not have come to her. She was sure that it had to do with the abuse of either her fiance or father, for the nobility seemed to be what she had escaped. At this thought, Colette's eyes swept disdainfully over Liana's common dress in disbelief and disgust.
The two walked through the yard, fog swirling in melancholy circles about the faces of blind angels. They finally reached the foot of the Daae tomb, and without pause, Colette proceeded to climb the steps and open the gate, stepping into the catacomb. She edged around the sarcophagus and into the dark far corner, not glancing back. The way that she had moved had offered no room for questioning. She wanted Liana to follow her into the dank space, where they could whisper unheard.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 26, 2008 13:40:57 GMT -5
She could not stay any longer. The longer she stayed the more dangerous it was. if Nicolette could find her here so could anyone else. It wouldn't be hard. It would have been so easy for her father to find her here, or her fiancee. She knew they were both looking. Sebastian had always been goal oriented. He always wanted something and did anything to get it. She knew from listening to the gossip that he was still on the market. She knew that if he wished he could have married long after she had fled. She knew all of this and she knew that he was hunting her from just that and nothing else. The fact needed not to be stated to her. She knwe they were both hunting her. That is why she never came here.
Now here she was. The one time she had ever taken a risk with her identity and she had been caught in the act by one of the few people she was protecting. She had not made contact with her friend for not only her safety but that of her friend and her future. To mix her up in all of this would have been scandelous and she had worked so hard to secure her place. She had been engaged and everything. It had all been too perfect and then to involve her in this would have been to shatter it all. Maybe even more if her father did not keep his temper and Bastian had been furious enough. Who knew? She did not want to find out.
Perhaps that was why the worry was growing. It was well past evident at this point that Liana was well worried. She seemed to glance around the cemetary with growing fear every moment. The angels all had eyes and ears and any minute one would come alive and fly off to avenge her father in her disappearance. He would spring out if she stayed any longer. Either that or worse. Sebastian could come for her. God help her then for no one else could. That man had a stench of evil on him like no other. He lived to humilate her, to torture her, to keep her like some poor abused pet. She had escaped that. She only could imagine in her worst nightmares what it would be like if she returned.
A shudder of terror and paranoia ran down Liana's spine as, despite her better opinions on what she she do and how she should run and keep both of them safe, she followed her dearest friend into the dark corner behind the eerie Daae tomb. She knew this was a bad place to talk. It was a bad place for anything. Phantoms and demons lived here she was sure of it. Living in the opera house for as long as she had she had heard all the stories. While she did not believe in ghosts. She knew that evil was here and right now, the evil she feared was the last thing she needed manifest itself in such a place.
There would be no getting out of this. Nicolette was worried and determined as she had always been. She could not do anything to hurt her friend like this. She could not involve her when the stakes were growing higher every day. Her father almost caught her once and had hurt many people in the process. Nicole would not let that happen again. But she could not just run and dismiss her friend again without seeming cruel. And so it was, with a heavy sigh and lowered eyes Nicole shook her head. "Believe me Nicolette. You are and have always been my dearest friend but if I would have told you, if I tell you, there is a great deal of danger to both of us involved."
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 26, 2008 20:20:45 GMT -5
The mark of a father. It clicked into her mind. Of course that was it. Deloncre had abused her, perhaps even been involved in the death of his wife. A motherly vengeance welled up in her chest and she felt as would Athena after the abuse of a beloved lady. She felt an urge to take up a giant stone sword as was commonly held by that fierce lady of myth and strike down upon the head of that terrible man. She didn't. She listened intently to the fearful mutters of her friend and held down the sharp burn in her lungs until she had heard the whole. Then her red handkerchief was out and to her mouth, and she was bent over the cold coffin heaving coughs that sent blood into the tactfully colored cloth in her pale hand. When she had finished she took a few gasping breaths and composed herself, neatly folding the cloth away into the pocket of her jacket.
Liana was right. They could not stay here long. Colette had to say what needed to be said, ask what needed to be asked, and quickly. She reached out her hand and delicately took Liana's, her eyes burning with urgency. "My daughter is named Marie. She is your goddaughter." She paused briefly to let this new information settle in, and then continued to whisper low. "My husband is Jean Jondrette. He will attend the masquerade ball at the Populaire," She pulled a small portrait in a golden oval frame from her small breast pocket and showed it to Liana. "If you hear anything... interesting from him please pass the information to me, somehow. I trust you. You can find me at the Jondrette household on the Rue d'Orsel."
She hesitated, loath to go, but then breathed, "Stay safe." She pressed Liana's hand gently and then swept from the tomb, casually walking toward the gatepost where she had tied her horse.
She had come here to go about the business of arranging funeral and grave site arrangements. Along the way she had found hope.She knew that Nicole--no, Liana--would be able to find her if she needed to. For her sake, Colette would keep an eye on M. Deloncre and M. Dumont.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 28, 2008 23:12:52 GMT -5
Had she understood? Was that why she was quiet for this moment? Had she finally understood the carefully chosen words. Did her dearest friend finally hear her story from behind her simple and easy words? God she hoped so! It was such a burden on her to carry it from place to place, from home to home without a hope of ever having anyone to think of her. She hated not knowing what was going on with her father. She hated not knowing how much he knew this time and where and when he was going to hunt for her next. That didn't even count Sebastien. Perhaps Nicolette knew. Then again, even if her dear friend did, they were probably still monitoring her. After all these years she would not disallow that possibility. There could even be spies in the house.
A deep sigh was taken. God she just wanted to speak freely for once in her life! She wanted to tell everything from her mother's death forward. She wanted Nicolette to know of where she had been, what she had learned and done. She yearned to hear of her friend's life. How marriage was, if she had any children, and how she was faring in the world that Nicole had left behind to become what...who she was now. Liana wanted to know so badly but not even here, not even in a tomb were they safe. But the questions burned none the less and she wanted them answered.
As it is with such things though, only a few were answered but more were raised first. There was something wrong with Nicolette. She seemed far to comfortable in a cemetary. She was so pale. And now the coughing, and why a red hankerchief? Liana's brow clenched slightly in worry for her friend's heath. Why had she been here to begin with? Had someone in her family died, or was she looking here for something, or someone else? But, constrained both by the fleeting time they had here and the need for silence Liana could not ask these things, only listen as some answers replaced her questions with new ones.
Listening to Nicolette speak, Liana almost wished she was still Nicole and still in the guilded and caged world of her childhood. She could see herself sitting in Nicolette's parlor with her godchild on her lap. She would watch the girl play, perhaps even with a child of her own while she and Nicolette sat and sipped tea in the parlor. She knew she would have not been happy with her husband. Perhaps she would have been hurt, but she would have that, and none of this stress. But the decision was made and she was better off with it all being this way. Not even Nicolette after all seemed happy with her life from the short phrases uttered. It sounded like her daughter was her one comfort and treasure in the world and that her husband had strayed for one of the hussies of the Populaire.
It seemed a shame and a waste really. The picture in the portrait seemed so lovely and kind. She had hoped the best for her friend but it seemed her prayers were not answered with the exception of Marie. God how she wanted to see the girl. She was bound to her despite the fact that she had not been there for the birth or the wedding. She wished with the deepest earnest that she could have been there. She would have loved to see her goddaughter. She still did. Perhaps she could from a distance if her mother were to take her to the Populaire, perhaps it could still be arranged.
But, alas, now was not the time for such things. A curt nod and a tight grip that showed just how much they wished they could stay was all that could be spared. Liana had to force down tears as they made their parting and she was given information about the house. Liana opened her mouth for a moment, knowing she should say nothing and contact her secretly, but as she watched Nicolette walk out she could not help herself from running after her and quietly whispering in urgancy. "Please, I am at the Populiare. I...I would very much like to see you again, and Marie. She should know her Godmother even if she cannot truely know me."
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jul 2, 2008 2:27:58 GMT -5
Colette kept up her quick gate as if nothing of note had been uttered, but a small smile graced her lips. The Populaire? A singer, no doubt, for Nicole had such a lovely voice and quite enjoyed singing. She had not heard the name Liana, which meant that she was not a cast member of any high ranking. That was a wise decision. Colette had no doubt that if ambition backed her, Liana could rise quickly in the ranks of the Opera.
A sudden great sympathy weighed upon her. Liana could never be known by the world, or rest easy even in private. At least, not while her father or fiance lived. How could she marry? How could she ever trust anyone? Would children of hers be safe if their mother were caught? What of a husband? Staying in Paris, how long could the farce continue before discovery was imminent? A shiver ran down her spine. Men and their abuses! It made her sick to her stomach, and she already had the bodily punishment of her lungs to harry her.
Was there a way that she could contrive to have M. Deloncre killed? She had had it done at least a few times before--competition for Jean's hand, a nun opposing her release, a tenant of the village who had raped a maid in her household, among others. She certainly would not hesitate to arrange the death of this man in particular, though her own hesitation was hardly the issue. She knew him to be a shrewd man who would not be easily felled. She could do it herself. It wasn't as if she had imprisonment or shame to worry about, and her soul was quite spoiled as it was. Yet she couldn't do that. Not really. He had associates and dependents who would not hesitate to exact revenge on her offspring. It might even put Liana in more danger. She would look into finding a skilled professional to do the job. Quick and without suspicion.
She turned her head very slightly in Liana's direction as she reached her horse and began to untie him. She gave her a slight, friendly smile, and whispered, "Opera, chapel, eight in the evening."
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jul 2, 2008 3:23:24 GMT -5
This was a blessing. It was a blessing beyond her wildest dreams. Just this morning she was lonely. She had not wished for her old life. she had not even wished for a man or romance. All she had wanted this morning was some remenant of friendship. She had just wanted a friend. She had wanted someone like Nicolette again. She wanted a confidant, a dear friend, and just some shread of companionship. She had prayed so long for these things. She had prayed to God and whatever angels and saints she could. They had failed her as of yet and so she had come to her mother. Her dearest patron and only friend though her heart was not beating.
Well, her prayers had been answered by her mother once again. Her debt to the woman, even as she lay cold and rotting in the ground would never fade it seemed. First, her life bought her time. Then her money had bought her freedom as well as he connections with the gypsies. Now, somehow, someway she had managed to bring her a friend and an aide. Perhaps she would not have to leave Paris. Perhaps she would be safe under Colette's watchful gaze, and if not, well, at least maybe she would recieve aide out of this place. It would be helpful and comforting. Comforting above all. And to find out she was a godmother!
Colette's smile warmed her heart and gave her hope as did her fleeting words of chapel, eight in the evening. Eight in the evening she would be able to embrace her friend and her goddaughter without pretense. Eight in the evening and she would be able to speak with freedom, quietly, but better than not at all. Eight in the evening and perhaps life would be more bareable than it had been at eight in the morning. Liana returned the familiar smile and curstied shakily, as if she had never learned how. "My lady."
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