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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 1, 2008 1:54:37 GMT -5
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Colette halted, and with her the tapping of the heels of her walking boots on the highly polished floor of the Opera Populaire. She wore light green that day, a simple dress with a simple fold bustle. Her hair was up in an arrangement of twists on the back of her head, which was held aloft with the grace and nobility of those born to it. Despite her postural hauteur, she had a pleasant smile on her face as she took in the grandeur of the foyer with one sweep of her bright blue eyes. Her smile deepened as it dropped to the little girl who held tightly to her right hand with little gloved fingers. Marie was as well-dressed as her mother, though undeniably smaller. Her head had tilted back and back so that she might stare up at the painting on the vault of a ceiling. Her eyes shone with awe.
On their movement into their Paris home, many things had to be done to make the house ready for Marie. It had been in the Jondrette family before even the idea of Marie had been conceived, and the little girl in her short life had never before visited it. It was her first time in the city, and however large and grand her country seat had been, there was nothing like the Paris Opera to break her daughter in to its beauty. Anyhow, while rooms were being properly prepared, Colette thought that an excursion about the town would be a good thing to satisfy the restless curiosity of her daughter.
There were other truths, no doubt; the need to avoid the harrowed glances of her husband, and for fresh air. Rooms full of dust being aired made her lungs feel even worse than they usually did, and earlier in the morning she had nearly lost consciousness from lack of air and the pain. She pushed the thought from her mind. She was fine now.
Marie tugged on her gloved hand lightly, and Colette brought her meditative gaze back into focus on the little lady. "Mama." Was all that she could say, her eyes wide with wonder. Colette let a tinkling of a pleased laugh escape her, and nodded. "Yes, I know. It is quite beautiful."
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Jun 1, 2008 6:07:57 GMT -5
"Indeed it is, Madame." The male voice was cordial in nature, and Marius stood near the top of the stairs with his hands neatly folded behind his back, a smile upon his lips. He paused for a moment where he was as though to make sure that the woman did not percieve him as a threat to her or her child, but soon he began his way down the stairs towards the two of them. He gave a slight bow of his head in greeting. "My name is Marius Rousseau," he said in introduction, not knowing if she would recognize his name or not from previous performances, for he had no real idea who the woman was or if she had even been to any of the operas at the populaire. Nevertheless, she was someone to greet on behalf of everyone else. The twenty-four-year-old squatted down before the child, smiling at her, "And who is this?" he asked cheerfully, playfully poking the child's nose before glancing up at her mother with another smile and standing, backing away a couple paces for comfort's sake.
As he settled in his new position, he pondered finding a way to politely excuse himself from the woman even if he didn't truly know her or if she was going to be the annoying sort of woman. However, she had a child, and it seemed having a family usually tamed a woman--at least, in his experience. However, sometimes he wondered how many were actually pretending as Kate did in the way he viewed the ending of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. Then again, he didn't know many whose courtship was quite so strange as Kate and Petruchio's. That would be something to observe: a shrew and a gallant man--perhaps the shrew a bitter girl from the opera populaire and the man an idiotic soul from those who work backstage or even another dancer or singer. Their constant arguments would keep the place alive and the gossip abuzz. Women seemed to love scandal; everyone seemed to to some degree. And imagine the merriment at such a wedding celebration!
However, he brought his attention back almost as quickly and almost as soon as it had left. Maybe this woman wasn't so bad. She didn't seem a shrew by any definition of the word that he'd heard, and children always interested him. The idea of having one of his own at this moment (even should he be married) was a little terrifying, but that didn't mean he couldn't play with one of them, right? Part of him tried to imagine little girls as how his sister might have been, though he usually tried to suppress such foolish notions, chiding himself as he was somewhat doing now.
((Done! Sorry for taking so long, and it's not up to my usual standards, but I'm trying to get warmed up here, sorry. Feel free to beat me to a pulp, but do wait to mess with voodoo dolls until I'm up at my aunt and uncle's, eh? No need for a mess on the roads, lol. j/k))
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 9, 2008 1:15:49 GMT -5
Colette turned her attention a little sharply to the man at the top of the stairs, but in the next moment her demeanor had softened into a perfect picture of social grace. She had the type of smile that was sweetly mocking, like that of a happy old friend meeting once again with someone who they were not adverse to being playful with. She watched him descend the stairs, as sure of the way as the king of the Populaire. M. Rousseau... Oh. So that was why. Her eyes twinkled in recognition. She had never seen him in performance, as her time for the last few years had been spent tucked away into the country like an obedient spurned wife and her sweet, spurned child. A little flare lit within her, and it took the usual great amount of will to suppress it.
Even so, she was a woman of the quality, and it was in good taste to know the names of everyone who mattered. Artists, in these days, mattered. The Paris Opera, newly renovated, was extremely popular. As far as quality, she had heard, the performances were far below those of their competitors. The extravagance of the whole place was enough to draw crowds despite the failures of the cast. She had read that the leading male, M. Rousseau, was magnificent even if the chorus was lacking.
She watched as he knelt in front of dear Marie in a completely casual and friendly gesture. Marie glanced nervously at her mother, who gave an encouraging smile. Returning her bright blue gaze to that of the man, she dimpled into a smile and gave a wobbly little curtsy. Colette felt a great tenderness well up and warm her heart. It was a feeling that, since her daughter's birth, had become extremely familiar to her. Her own blue eyes lifted to the great singer, and her gloved hand lifted as social grace dictated with fingers delicately curves, so that he might kiss the air above her knuckles.
"Ah! Such a delight, to meet the great artiste so freshly arrived into Paris." She smiled nicely and then indicated her daughter, who had shrunken into her mother's skirts shyly. "The Lady Jondrette, my daughter. I myself am le Marquise de Jondrette; a humble admirer, monsieur." She curtsied lightly, and as she lifted from it her eyes flicked absently to the towering female statues behind him. She wondered if her husband's mistress had golden hair, and a tinge of sadness crept into her eyes.
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Jun 15, 2008 3:21:58 GMT -5
Marius lightly curled his fingers around her fingertips as he bent over slightly to kiss her knuckles, releasing her hand gently before resuming his normal posture. He smiled as she said it was a delight to meet him and he briefly glanced down as though in embarassment before back to the lady as she introduced first her daughter and then herself. He bowed in return when she curtsied, noticing the look in her eyes but he chose to say nothing. He did not know the woman, and it was none of his business why she had such a look. She was, naturally, entitled to her feelings as much as the next person, but it was up to her husband to console her, and hopefully he was the sort of man who would. If he had a beautiful wife and a shy but cute young daughter, he knew he would be, but that was him, and unfortunately not all men were like him.
Not all men lived up to societal standards. Not all men stayed true to wives. Not all men cared about their families. No, that would be in an ideal world, a world true to the moral standards of the Bible. This was a city filled with men and the fallicies that came with having mankind around. The heart of man is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked according to the prophet Jeremiah. But again, all this was just speculation, and considering that the Bible also said to love one's neighbor and definied love in I Corinthians 13 as so many things, including thinking no evil, rejoicing not in iniquity but instead in truth, hoping all things, and so much more, this sort of speculation was not befitting of the Biblical definition of love, so he should quit now.
He smiled softly at the woman, telling her, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame," he said, adding as he looked to the girl, "and Lady Jondrette." He smiled a little more brightly for the little girl in hopes of receiving a smile back before looking back to her mother. "Is there something I could help you with?" he inquired with mild curiosity. There were many reasons she could be here, but he wasn't going to speculate any of that right now. She would tell him if she deemed it any of his business, and if not, well, that was fine. He would simply direct her in the way she needed to go to find whomever she needed to help her, and all would be well.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 15, 2008 4:56:00 GMT -5
Colette turned her gaze abruptly back to M. Rousseau and smiled as he looked down upon her daughter. He seemed to be truly charmed by her, and Colette could not help but feel the familiar creep of pride along her flesh, tugging the corners of her mouth up into a true show of happiness. She positively glowed with the feeling. Marie stared up at Marius and then smiled shyly, tucking herself away behind her mother's skirt. She peeped out, though, still watching the tall man. Her little fingers curled into her mother's skirts as she continued to smile shyly up at him.
"Enchante!" She mumbled, imitating Colette's lofty manner of saying it. The loftiness was lost from the little munchkin hiding behind her mother. After saying the one word, as if she couldn't handle it anymore, she hid her face completely in the fabric of the dress. Colette chuckled and gave the tenor a customary apologetic smile, even though she didn't feel that she had to apologize for her daughter. It was such childish antics that dictated society to keep their children at home until they came of age. Colette would not have it. She was the subject of many whispers and scornful glances for her strange way of mothering. She had even fed Marie herself as a baby! It was unheard of. Yet, Colette wouldn't have it any other way.
"This is my first time seeing the lovely Opera, rebuilt! I should like to snag myself a tour guide." She said, her smile warmer and more ready now. It was easier to be fond of people when they were fond of her daughter. She quirked a brow at him. She had all but cornered him into giving them a tour--he had politely asked, and if he did not wish to be rude, he would give it himself. "I would be such an honour, Monsieur." She added coyly, hoping the ease the fact.
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Nov 10, 2008 5:26:42 GMT -5
Marius chuckled softly at the manner in which the young girl said, "Enchante!" before hiding her face completely in her mother's full skirt, shaking his head slightly as though to say to Mme. Jondrette that there was no need to apologize when she gave him the smile. He honestly didn't mind. Children weren't exactly something he was used to being around, but this one certainly wasn't rambunctious, and she seemed to be being well-raised. She would be a wonderful young lady one day and would make someone a good wife, if her mother was any example of what she could be like when she was older. He wondered, however, as Mme. Jondrette noted it was her first time in the rebuilt Opera and how she would appreciate a tour guide, how long it would be until the little girl would grow restless.
However, she had put him in a position where "yes" would be the only viable answer since he had no practice to go to and was not willing to lie. In truth, he didn't mind, but he couldn't help but smile knowingly at her coy comment. Politeness in society certainly could pack a meaning behind it besides politeness, and this was a shining example. "Of course, Madame. I have plenty of time, so how extensive would you like the tour?" In reality, aside from a few structural improvements and new attempts at architectural highlights, he wasn't entirely certain that there was that much of a difference, but time could fade one's memory just as frequencting the place could do the same at least by means of remembering or not remembering what was or wasn't new in a building.
"But would it perhaps be better to leave our little lady with one of the women here? Her little legs might grow tired. The Opera is quite expansive, Madame." Naturally, he was merely suggesting it. She could say yes or no, and he would listen either way. She knew her daughter better than he. She seemed shy, besides, so perhaps being away from her mother and left with complete strangers would only lead to fear and tears. No mother, he imagined, would wish for her daughter to cry. Of course, Marius only had memories of himself and his mother to go by, and they were all but faded. Perhaps personifying the Marquise and her daughter as people they were not was not smart, but he did like to imagine his mother would have been so very good with his departed sister.
((So, I know this is in the archives, but it wasn't locked, and I had muse. If Victoria'd like to continue it, would an admin mind moving it back to the...foyer, I believe it was, please? Thank you. Sorry for taking so terribly long, Victoria! Forgive me?))
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Nov 10, 2008 23:00:06 GMT -5
Colette nodded to him with a more sincere smile this time and stroked her daughter's hair with a manner of comforting that persuaded Marie to nearly completely dislodge herself from her mother's skirts. The little girl's eyes turned upward to M. Rousseau's face, made brave by the fact that he was smiling and his gaze was not on her any longer. Marie decided that he was handsome and giggled to herself at the revelation, for such decisions are so scandalous and fun for children to make. Colette spared her a brief glance as she spoke, and her customary smile grew, but she glanced back to his eyes for the sake of politeness. Often in the presence of her superiors (who were not many, it seemed, as most above her fortune and station were out of Paris at that time) she would minimize looking them directly in the eye, for she was aware that when she did so many were susceptible to becoming quite nervous. The knowledge made her proud, for you were certainly nothing if you could not make a grown man shiver with a glance.
"I am much obliged, Monsieur," She said, lifting her hand to tuck into his arm once he offered it, as was customary. "I would like to see the theatre, of course, and the new grand hall, as I hear that they are quite magnificent. Also, though you may think it odd, I have some interest in the living situation of those performers who choose to live within the opera house. There is a chapel, surely, for the devout? And the women's dormitories, I would like to see those too."
Nicolette stiffened at the mention of handing her daughter off to another woman, but her composure and smile remained perfectly intact. "Oh, no, Monsieur, she is a patient and well-behaved child," She asserted, her tone perhaps a little more firm than it should have been. She could not stand the thought of another woman crooning over her daughter as if she had the right to, especially one of inferior class. "You will enjoy seeing the Opera, will you not, Marie?" She asked, taking the hand of her child from her skirts and lodging it gently into her own. Marie nodded slowly, her face full of keen interest.
(My goodness, I had completely forgotten about this thread! I'd love to continue it. It is ironic that neither of them know the other's connection to Liana, whom is very important to the both of them. Also, feel free, onlookers, to enter. Including Liana! Oh, that would be hilarious.)
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Nov 26, 2008 18:11:32 GMT -5
Marius caught the change in the tone of the Marquise's voice and looked apologetically at her. "I did not mean to offend you. Of course, she is well-behaved. I won't mind showing the both of you around." He looked down at at the little girl and flashed her a smile before looking back at the Marquise. "Shall we?" he asked. Though she had his arm, he didn't wish to simply begin to walk without warning. It would be rude to jerk her arm. He set his hand over hers that held his arm before beginning to walk, careful not to go too fast since the little girl was with them, and he didn't wish to tire her. He decided it was easiest to show her first the theatre and then the grand hall, which was more than adequate for its purposes--showy and beautiful, almost perfectly representing both sexes and types of people who came here. He supposed that was the point.
He lead her up the foyer steps and up another flight, turning 'til they had reached the new theatre. It was, in his opinion, much nicer than the old one. The same general set-up was there, the same general colors, so it wasn't something that was exactly going to stand out in comparison. It was mainly the small updates to the stage and backstage as well as the dressing rooms that were associated with it that he liked, but of course, he never had to sit and watch a performance to have true opinions on how the seats were in comparison to the old ones or how the box seats fared in contrast. He had no clue, just that he was hopefully not going to have to worry about a chandelier cascading down at him and killing him because the cast had displeased the Opera Ghost.
Marius wasn't sure if the Ghost, the Phantom, was still around, nor did he care to find out. Then again, he would not be happy if he was told what to do by some faceless man who did not have the guts to tell them face to face what to do. That was ridiculous, and he would help should there be a way to gut him out of the place should there be reason to doubt he had left presented to him. His shenanigans was not what he wanted to have to worry about performance to performance. It would almost be enough to drive him from the populaire--almost, depending how bad he was and if he agreed. However, he wouldn't let him chase him out with that intent in the Phantom's mind. He'd rather die than be chased from what he loved by some...ghost with a punjab lasso.
He paused as they entered the theatre, allowing the Marquise to have her freedom to walk and explore should she wish to do so, and he had no doubt that she would. He would answer whatever questions she had for him, if he knew them, keep up conversation, but he was all for personal exploration to provide a personal experience to the place. Let one's own mind decide what's memorable and worth exploring, not someone else's.
((lol, indeed it would. He goes to take her to the dorms, and bam! Liana. But anyway, yes, onlookers, you are welcome, if you'd like.))
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