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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Sept 20, 2008 20:46:56 GMT -5
(I play La Muta, so I'm going to post for her on this account as well)
Nicolette knew that she and her daughter were making the girl nervous, but did not cease to stare or tell Marie to quit her playful familiarity. Colette sat perched delicately on a bench in the music room, where she and Marie could always be found. The Italian seamstress had arrived late, which irked Colette and diminished her generous whims. Marie had expressed a wish to be Juliette for the masked ball that would be held at the manor the following week, and thus Colette had sought out and commissioned the Opera Populaire costumer herself to produce an exact replica of the party dress that the Viscountess Chagny would wear during the coming Opera -- in a child's size, of course. Colette watched every stitch that was made by the mute woman carefully, making sure that nothing but perfection was being done. She was paying considerably for a seamstress of such low notoriety. So far, each stitch was beautifully in place, and Colette was satisfied.
Colombina was nearly shaking in her boots. The noble lady looked as if she could drink her blood. Furthermore, although it warmed her heart, she was distracted by the child weaving her hands through Colombina's long black locks and giggling. She did not completely understand what was being said, but she had gathered that her hair must be let down for the girl to play with and that it had something to do with the fact that young Lady Jondrette had hair much like hers. Colombina gulped as she pricked her finger, trying to hide the fact while not getting blood on the dress. A moment of silence passed before the Marquise said coldly, "Wipe your finger, ragazza."
Colombina quickly complied and went back to work, blushing furiously. Maledizione! The woman had good eyes.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Sept 21, 2008 16:37:51 GMT -5
Angel used to try and visit his sister and niece at least twice every week when Jean was away, to keep them company and make sure everything was all right. However when his brother-in-law had returned from Japan his visited less often. Particularly because it wasn’t respectful to the head of the house to invade his home and take up time with a family he hasn’t seen in two years, and particularly because Angel never really liked Jean in the first place.
However Angel was informed that he wouldn’t be there today so he decided there was a long over due visit to be paid. Entering the Jondrette Manor he didn’t even need to think twice about where they might be. He would have betted away his entire knowledge of poisons that they we’re in the music room. Without knocking he swung the door open disturbing the room that was previously quite silent except for Marie’s tiny giggles.
His eyes swept the room seeing Colette in her usual place, a seamstress, and Marie playing with the womans hair. Angel stared at the hunched over sewer for a moment thinking he recognized her. Oh well just any old seamstress probably. He smiled toward his sister and niece, “Missed me any?” he asked playfully wondering what his sister’s reaction to his abrupt unannounced entrance, probably with some motherly scowling expression. Though Colette may be five years his junior she was certainly more mature than him.
Easily closing the distance between him and his niece in a few short strides he swept the little girl up in his arms, only glancing at the top of the head of the other woman. So familiar, but he couldn’t see her face because of the splayed hair around it. Angel turned his attentions back to Marie, “How is my favorite girl doing? Behaving for you’re a mother I hope.” He raised a questioning eyebrow before slipping a soft candy into the little girls hand.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Sept 21, 2008 18:27:19 GMT -5
Nicolette heard a very familiar sound--a certain confident stride on the persian rugs that lined the hallway--and barely had time enough to comprehend the meaning before the door burst open and her brother entered. Despite the entirely unannounced and inconvenient state of his visit, she felt a rush of sudden relief. It was always a comfort to have Angel around; she felt younger and perhaps even protected in his presence, despite that he could at times act like a man half his age. She smiled in return, her chiding look softened considerably, and stood. Marie looked up and squealed in delight, holding her arms up in an instinctual pose of readiness for being picked and spun about as her uncle tended to prefer. "Oncle!" She cried, wrapping her little arms around his neck as she was lifted.
Colombina gasped and pricked herself much more harshly this time, falling back timidly as the girl and dress that had held her attention for the last half-hour was lifted away from her. A painfully familiar voice boomed through the room. She wanted to crawl under the piano lid and strangle herself with the strings. Standing for respect, she curtsied far too deeply--again--for someone of his status, and stayed there, her head bowed with her hair around her face.
Nicolette walked to her brother and daughter, touching then both affectionately on the shoulder. "Of course!" She chuckled, clicking her tongue. She added playfully, in a low murmer, "Somehow, we always do." Her smile widened and then died as she caught sight of the seamstress trying to make a quick exit. "Soggiorno, per favore. Lei non è finito." She quipped, turning a stern eye to La Muta, who looked up with wide, desperate eyes. As always, she looked much like a shocked deer. She bit her bottom lip and pouted, dropping her eyes to the floor and curtsying in compliance. It was so awkward for her to be in the room with il principe, as she had come to think of him, in such a strange turn of events. She was more than ever aware of her very low class and common attire, her lack of education, her lack of a voice... she gulped and finally raised to eyes to his face, gesturing him to let Marie down so she might continue.
Nicolette arched a brow and said informatively to Angel, "The girl is a mute. I think that she wants to commence with her work," as she herself gestured from Marie to the floor.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Sept 29, 2008 17:43:31 GMT -5
“Somehow! Can’t imagine why.” He said with his infamous mischievous smile. If there was one thing that Angel treasured more than his collection of questionable liquids was the acceptance of his sister and niece. They were the only ones in the family that didn’t whisper behind his back; he supposed it was because of his hobby, and Colette was the only one that really interacted with him during their mother’s illness. He never really knew why it was so taboo to be around him when he was younger, but it didn’t matter as long as his sister on his side.
Angel still hadn’t paid any attention to the girl on floor bowing in a familiar low bow. In fact he was just planning on continuing a little conversation with Marie, and the seamstress could just adjust to it. That was however until his sister started speaking in Italian to the girl. A seamstress with black wild hair that was Italian…Colombina? How likely could it be? Very likely actually. Glancing over Marie’s head his eyes instantly locked with those wide brown eyes. A small involuntary smile traced his lips at the sight of the mute costumer.
He had thought of her a few times since their meeting on the roof. Whenever he passed the costume closest, or saw the dancers wearing the skirts she had been stitching, and even the few times he let his mind wander the small expressive face would fade into his thoughts. Coarse he didn’t think much of it, an unmarried man to think of an unmarried; he guessed, woman was quit normal. Still he had never really given much thought about one unless he was doing one of his games like with that Celeste girl.
Angel took in the features that in the darkness on the roof he couldn’t see before like the oval shape of her face and the delicate lines of it. His eyes, as subtly as they could, traveled the curve of her nose to the curve of her pink lips. Angel had been so wrapped up in the study of her face that he hadn’t averted his eyes until Colette told him to put Marie down.
“Oh! Sorry wasn’t paying any attention!” After gently placing Marie on the floor he ran a hand through his hair making it a tad disarrayed. Tearing his eyes from Colombina he looked at Colette and nodded, “Yes, I met her once at the Populaire.” was all he said before placing a hand on her shoulder. It felt smaller and frail under his large hand, which made him worried. “You doing alright sister?” He asked concerned that the situation if her and Jean was affecting her health; since he didn’t know about her illness.
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Oct 6, 2008 21:11:45 GMT -5
Colette watched her brother's gaze fall upon the open face of the Italienne and how his whole expression grew slack with the distraction. She scowled in disapproval, not liking it one bit; the revelation that they had met before, met, fuelled her worry. She arched a brow meaningfully at him once Marie was on the floor and he faced her, but was distracted from her ire by his expression of concern. Did he suspect that she was ill? No. Heart-broken. He had heard about Jean, no doubt. She forced a smile and nodded, tipping her head toward her daughter and the seamstress to suggest that they keep details out of it.
Colombina froze as his eyes swept over her face. Her heart pounded furiously. Somehow, thinking about him so much had made this moment momentous. It almost seemed as if he had been a dream, and now waltzed out of it and stared her in the face. She wanted to turn and run from him, to never see him again, to live somehow a normal life despite her infirmity; she had accepted the proposal of Jean-Baptiste Voler, the son of a Parisian fish-monger. It was hardly a cause of great celebration and obviously a fortunate turn of events--she didn't want any cause to regret her choice. As he turned away she bent quickly to tend to the young lady, who once again began to twine her little hands into La Muta's hair and talk to her. "Juliette came from Italy, so would she really look like you, and not the Viscountess?" She was saying, but Colombina really couldn't pay much attention. She was watching her pins, and his too-shiny shoes.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Oct 17, 2008 0:23:41 GMT -5
Angel nodded understanding that she wouldn’t want Marie to over hear them talking about her father. Not that he knew if the girl even liked the man. He hadn’t seen any redeemable trait in Jean, but Marie was a child that could easily love someone she hardly knew. That was obvious with the way she took to such familiarity with Colombina. Not that there’d be any reason not to take to her. His eyes darted back to Colette after they had slightly went back to the direction of the seamstress. He could tell that she wasn’t to pleased with his wandering eyes. It was a wonder that she wasn’t used to them by now.
Giving his most sheepish and innocent grin Angel ran his hand through his hair again making it so mussed that it would be hard to believe he had even done anything to it that morning. He motioned that they should sit down now. Lowering himself on a couch opposite the bench Colette was sitting in earlier he mouthed the words, “Later?” Subtlety wasn’t something Angel was good at, neither was controlling his temper so if this was something that needed to be spoken about vaguely and quietly than they should definitely wait until things could be rash and possibly yelled.
At the chance to have a reason to look in the direction of Colombina, Angel was quick to answer Marie’s question. “Probably, but the opera house doesn’t care much about authentic looks.” Yes it was short but he wasn’t sure what else to say something a two year old would comprehend and without getting another scowl from his sister. “So does Juliette have a Romeo for the ball? Or do you plan on meeting him across the crowded room?” He asked Marie teasingly.
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Oct 26, 2008 22:00:39 GMT -5
Colette smirked slightly at her brother's characteristic sheepish grin, and she felt a little happier having seen it. She did not like his notorious flirtatiousness, though perhaps it was forgiveable given his bachelor state. Still, he was well into an age in which he should be taking a wife and settling down. She had once hoped for a romance between he and Nicole, so that she and Nicole could truly be sisters, but now... actually, perhaps that was a possibility. If she could free Nicole--no, Liana--then she would have her birthright and thus be a more than suitable contender for future mistress of the Marcellinus title and fortune. If she lived to see the day, it would please her immensely. Meanwhile, if he could only keep his attentions away from the working class...
Nodding slightly at his less-than-discreet mouthing of words, she turned her attention back to Marie, and nodded happily at the question. Recently, she had been assisting her daughter in studying Italy and the Renaissance. Angel's gaze wandered back in the direction of the two, but this time Colette was convinced that it was due to her daughter. Marie was happily contemplating whether or not she should ask if Lucien was going to ball, and thus might not mind playing her Romeo for the night, but then remembered her place and his and reconsidered. She shook her head, and touched Colombina's hair again.
Colombina smiled slightly, trying to swallow down her nervousness. Truth be told, she absolutely adored the feeling of someone gently playing with her hair. She had many siblings, and of all of them she had the second softest hair; the others with coarser locks liked to play with, braid and stroke her hair when her prettier sister, La Bellezza, was not available. Once when she was twelve years old the most handsome of the young men in the gipsy camp had stroked her hair, too, and she had found it a most romantic and pleasurable experience. Certainly he had not felt as she did, but she would forever remember that as one of the most sensual experiences of her life. It would probably remain so. Jean-Baptiste, he fiancé, seemed not to desire her at all; rather, he laughed at her antics, liked that she could not speak, and saw her professional skill as beneficial for their financial future. Oh, how boring a union! She hated to think that, but it was true. She was tugged out of her reverie by Marie's soft voice.
"Do you have a Romeo, Juliette?" She asked, and Colombina raised her face to look up into the blue of Marie's. She smiled and thought about how to answer, but Colette spoke first. "She does. She is engaged to be married to M. Voler--do you remember Jean-Baptiste, Marie?" The little girl's face lit up, while La Muta frowned. How in the world did the Marquise know...? Marie giggled, rhyming "Poisson Garçon!" as she remembered him. "The fish-monger's son, princesse. You must remember that he does not like that name," Corrected her mother, and Marie sobered, nodding seriously. She had forgotten. Colombina sighed airily, and Colette eyed her. "I am assuming that you accepted--I made the suggestion, after all."
La Muta's heart sank. Oh. So it wasn't even because of her? She had thought... oh, well. She nodded slowly and went back to stitching, hurrying now. She seldom ever hurried through her work, but felt tears brimming and wished for nothing more than to be out of here and somewhere dark, warm and quiet to mourn the loss of her self-esteem.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Dec 20, 2008 3:17:11 GMT -5
Angel smiled down at his little niece when she shook her head. As knowledgeable as little Marie was for a girl her age he doubted that a two year old could have a true fancy for someone. It was still quit adorable though to think of the little princesse dancing with her prince at the ball. It probably wouldn’t be surprising though to the people that knew the infamous Marcellinus’. She is partly one after all, and anyone that has a drop of Marcellinus blood in them would never have a problem with finding suitors. “I’m sure you’ll find one easily enough.” He said with a wink at her.
Coarse Marie will probably not even have to worry about finding one when she gets old enough. Most likely she’d be able to get any guy she’d want and her mother would make sure to get the perfect match. Colette wasn’t precisely a matchmaker…more like an advisor on who someone should marry. Usually he disagreed with her couplings, and he highly disagreed with this newest one! His charming smile quickly faded to one of disbelief. For some reason he did not like this at all.
Certainly Colombina wouldn’t agree to a random marriage proposal that was set up by some random person that wasn’t even your main employer! That would just be ridiculous! Angel glanced over at the Colombina who solemnly shook her head. The knuckles on his clenched hands turned white. It was infuriating to him to think that the wide-eyed girl belonged to some fish-monger’s son! His little skittish dear…his little dove.
“You really shouldn’t mess around with other peoples personal affairs sister.” His voice and face was as cool as he could make it. He was even able to manage a smile in angry disbelief. “Leave match making to the ones that get paid for it.” It sounded playful, but it almost crossed over into a tone of announce. That was his doe eyed mute, he saw her first.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Dec 21, 2008 21:46:04 GMT -5
“I’m sure you’ll find one easily enough.” Said Marie's uncle, and she giggled at his wink. She had been hearing that often, and as any child would, had begun to take it to heart. She had met very few young men, and befriended less, but she knew what kind of man she would marry. She knew, for certain, that she would, because her mother had told her so. Everyone told her so: that she would marry a rich, titled man, and have children with him, and everyone would love her and talk about her. Like her Mama, and her Mama's mama. Marie was lost in thought, and did not see the ever-present smile on her uncle's face fade. Colette, however, did, and she didn't like it at all. She watched his fists clench, though his face remained impassive; it was a Marcellinus skill. She had never been able to keep her fists unclenched while under duress, either.
“You really shouldn’t mess around with other peoples personal affairs sister. Leave match making to the ones that get paid for it.” A smile, playful words, but she pursed her lips at him in a threatening way. Oh, no, such affairs were not for people of their status and character. It wasn't as if he could marry the chit, and the mute was a sweet girl as far as she saw, and did not deserve to be toyed with in such a way. Hopefully nothing had come of that possessiveness yet, and it could be stopped before it got out of hand.
"Oh, Angel, it isn't as if I demanded she marry the boy! It is a good proposition. You see, he does not wish the continue after his father, and she is a disabled young woman in a foreign country, all alone--it would be a good thing for both of them. They knew each other, were friends," Actually, Colette had no knowledge of that, but she hoped it were so. "And I would never think to force a marriage upon anyone. I hope you understood that?" Her eyes were on the mute now, who simply could not meet her gaze. Colombina nodded, for it was true. She hadn't known that the suggestion had been made at all! She just hoped that her fiancé was forced into it, and at least liked her a little, or what she could bring to his life. Marrying someone because they were told they had to do so didn't sound very nice.
"So you do not love him?" Marie had finally tuned in, and she sounded horrified. Colombina lifted her face to gaze into the lovely blue eyes of the child, and smiled. Colette was not sure if she speak up before Colombina revealed such a ghastly truth, but decided against it. Marie needed to start learning more about the realities of the world, as she would very soon begin facing them. Colombina shook her head, but reached up and stroked some hair from the girl's face. Colette stiffened, Marie frowned, and then Marie turned to her mother: "Do you love Papa?"
Colette was glad that she could answer honestly. "Yes, mon princesse. Very much." Marie turned back to Colombina, a bit less perturbed, and asked, "You do not love someone else, do you?" Colombina's eyes shot up to Marie's, to Colette's, to Angel's--her heart sank into her chest and she barely heard Colette say stiffly, "That is good enough. Partire." La Muta leaped up, happily rushing out the door. She bumped into a maid in the hall, who cursed, but continued to go.
Marie pouted at her mother. "We were going to be friends, Mama," She said, and Colette smiled. "Remember your station," She warned, but her eyes were on her brother.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Aug 5, 2009 23:19:03 GMT -5
Angel saw the purse of his younger sister’s lips and his features quickly turned to indifference. Obliviously what he said had upset her, or was it the underlying feeling behind them. He had never been as good at hiding anger as the rest of his family was, and Nicolette being the highly perceptive woman she was and the person that knew him the most was probably looking past his false smile. Not that the Marcellinus characteristic clenched hands was a give away. He stayed perfectly still not letting his eyes wander from Nicolette’s, this time he was able to grab a hold of blank composed mask that everyone in the family was trained to have. Sometimes he’d forget it’s in his hand or completely dropped it, but he had a firm hold of it now. Because Angel, also knowing his sibling well, knew that Nicolette was nearly enraged by him.
“Of coarse, dear sister. I’m sorry for conceiving such a notion.” he said giving a small apologetic smile. If he didn’t absolutely adore his little sister it would have been a very political answer and he would have given a generic smile, one that the mysterious family all had. It was genuine though, as much as he couldn’t comprehend why she was so upset, he couldn’t stand it if she was mad at him. The atmosphere seemed to suddenly become very heavy. Marie’s voice though was able to chime in it though and he couldn’t help but smile a little more at her complete innocence.
Angel crossed his leg over his knee and rested his chin in his hand as he pretended to be interested in the inanimate objects in the room. He tried to stay out of the conversation so not to bury himself further in the ground. "So you do not love him?" he glanced at Colombina and his distant expression didn’t change but a small twitch of the corner of his mouth. "Do you love Papa?" a grimace "Yes, mon princesse. Very much." a disgusted furrowing of the brow, Jean didn’t deserve his sister not after what he did. "You do not love someone else, do you?" Another glance at the mute that he seemed to all of a sudden covet. Colette dismissed her though before she answered. As much as he wanted to know answer though it was probably for the best. Angel turned his head looking at Colette with his still half interested look, "Remember your station," a penitent smile was all he could give.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Aug 7, 2009 15:33:58 GMT -5
Nicolette watched her brother shut down, and felt a twinge of guilt. The corners of her disapproving frown twitched as if to show it; her conviction wavered. Of course, her conviction would never waver in regards to protecting the innocent from the charms of her brother; yet she could not remain angry with him for long. Her face softened, and she sighed. It was a sad day when her brother, so open and congenial with her, had to place that familiar mask over his face to block her prying eyes. She was peevish, she reasoned, because she was not well. As such, she must mind herself, and not jump to conclusions so rapidly.
"Marie, darling--will you find Mme. Ditté and be sure that the young lady receives her payment? Then you may have a sweetmeat, if you like," She said, and Marie jumped up, endeavouring to look stately as she exited the room, a smile on her face. Colette waited patiently, listening, and then finally after some time went to the door and closed it. She leaned against it, worn, feeling her disease eat away like prerequisite worms at her still barely life-containing body.
"You have doubtless heard about the apartment. About the mistress. Do you know many details? Who she is, where she came from?" She paused, took a shuddering breath for lack of oxygen, though it came out sounding like a battle with tears. "She is from Japan. He says that he loves her. He has been with her the two long years he was away, while I was with Marie--while... She carried his child. The child perished in her womb, but it was clear that he wanted it, and that he intended to stay with her. He told me," She laughed bitterly, a sharp, angry laugh akin to a yelp of pain. "He told me that he did not regard it as infidelity, because he had never truly loved me."
She rushed then, silent tears on her cheeks, to her brother, wrapping her arms around him and leaning into his shirt to stifle her sobs. She would be damned if any other person yet living ever bore witness to her tears. "He has ensconced himself--with his mistress--at the outskirts of the city. They have an apartment. He has shamed me so! All of Paris knows!"
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Aug 8, 2009 22:44:35 GMT -5
A smile broke out as he watched Marie leave the room trying to be proper in her childish glee. In general Angel wasn’t to keen on children, but he found his little niece the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Marie remind him of Colette when she was that age. It made him wonder how much like her mother Marie might turn out to be. Colette being the only one that raised the girl he hoped that she’d be exactly like her. A strong woman with opinions and ambition but kind and understanding to those close to her. Angel knew of no better role model then his sister.
The room was quiet as Angel waited for Colette to speak first, not sure if he was going to be further scolded. He silently watched as she went to close the door and lean against. The gesture of leaning against the door alerted him that now was the time she was going to speak about it. That was exactly how he had expected she’d look. Yes, he had heard about the apartment and Japanese mistress, he heard about nearly everywhere he went. He had hoped that the good for nothing gossipers had had at least some sort of decency to shut up if they were around Colette. He knew that she probably knew a lot more than he did, but it infuriated him hearing about it over and over again and he couldn’t imagine how she must have felt if she had.
He sat there silent letting Colette spill everything out. With each new bit a information told his own anger grew. Jean was a despicable man that didn’t deserve wipe the dirt off of Colette’s shoes and was unworthy of Marie’s affection. At the beginning Angel had had a bad feeling about the man, the bad feeling had turned into a strong dislike for leaving his pregnant sister for two years, and now it was pure hatred. “Colette?” He softly said at her biting laugh. He was quickly on his feet to embrace his grief-stricken upset sister. Angel was flooded with mixed feeling of rage at Jean and pity for Colette. Letting her sob , who knew how long and much she had been holding in, he rubbed her upper back trying to console her. “Why grant him that? You have nothing to be shameful of. He’s the one that should be to ashamed to show himself in public.”
Angel gently lead Colette to sit down in the chair he was previously occupying and knelt down beside it. “So what if they all know? It’s none of Paris’ damn business anyways!” he bit out his last statement with a raised voice. He seriously didn’t give a rats ass about what all of Paris’ opinion was about this, or any other matter. He just wished they’d shut their mouths. Heaving a sigh patted her knee, “I…I know how you must be feeling…but is he really worth shedding tears over? Did you really know him enough to have such strong feelings?”
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Aug 9, 2009 2:52:59 GMT -5
Colette wept in the comfort of her brothers' embrace for several minutes, letting his questions go unanswered. They required thought-- even though she knew the answers, in her heart, such inquiries deserved logic in response, even if such pondering was lost entirely to sentiment. No, he was not worth shedding tears over; but yes, there was reason enough to be attached. Perhaps she had not known him long, but it had certainly been enough, and she was his wife! For goodness' sake, he had married her. She had kissed him at the alter, given him her virginity, bore and reared his child, forsaken the Marcellinus name of which she was so proud to instead carry his. For, even the most detestable of husbands are still husbands. And she had had such girlish dreams set upon him.
"I married the man. I carried out every duty of a wife, beyond, even! I am a famously accomplished woman; they call me a credit to him. And we were both so young when we married--of course, of course I loved him! Immediately, I loved him tenderly." She turned her face to lay her cheek against her brother's shoulder, staring off at the wall. "You have had your escapades into romance, Angel. Have you not ever met someone that so filled your heart with their sweetness that you felt that they could never bring you harm? That you could without scruple or affectation, entrust them with your heart and it would be safe? Jean was such a person, and handsome, too, which is no small thing to a young girl."
She pulled away slowly, her hands still on his upper arms, and smiling wanly into his face. She brushed one hand over the side of his face gently, then tried vainly to smooth his hair--he was always mussing it.
"That is all that there is to say on that, then. I have other things to tell you, but I fear I must delude the impact or else it may overwhelm you." She moved to a chair opposite the one in front of which he stood, and lowered herself into it gracefully, trying not to reveal how dizzy quick movement made her. Once seated, she sent him a playfully sly little grin.
"So tell me. What sort of poison are you hauling around in your cane these days, brother? The Foam of Cerberus?" She asked, referring to aconitine, which was attributed in mythology to Hecate, who supposedly made it from the mouth-foam of the three-headed dog who guarded the underworld.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Aug 11, 2009 22:24:04 GMT -5
Indeed they had been young, and still were. Angel would sometimes forget that his sister was just out of her teen years. In fact he more often then not viewed her as an older sister. He supposed it was because she was a much more mature and responsible woman that the other ones her age. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she’d have girlish dreams about a man. She seemed like such a calculating person that he’d figured she married Jean because it was a perfect chance to better her standing. Now he could tell that she truly did love that man, for whatever reason.
Angel rested his chin on the top of Colette’s head as she continued on. His brow furrowed however when she asked about, as she put it, his ‘escapades into romance’. It Angel wasn’t know for his hobby he was known his flirtatious nature. He supposed he got it from his father. Angel did try to charm every woman he had met, no matter their station in life, he saw nothing wrong in it. What was wrong in trying to make women smile, light-hearted, and given special attention? But it was nothing more then that. “Have you not ever met someone that so filled your heart with their sweetness that you felt that they could never bring you harm? That you could without scruple or affectation, entrust them with your heart and it would be safe?” Angel thought of the few girls he had actually courted; Vicountess Joelle Blanchard, Countess Therese Lambert, and Countess Clarisse Arceneau. Joelle turned out to be dim witted, Therese and him fought constantly, and Clarisse was sweet enough but it seemed a Marquis was sweeter on her.
Colombina dared to enter his thoughts at that time. The feelings he felt when he’d just get a glimpse of her at the Opera House or even think about her was different from the other girls. He would smile without consciously knowing of it and a warmth in the pit of his stomach. Yes, he was sure that she’d never hurt him and he could give her his heart and it would be in the safest place it could be. But he knew that she’d never be burdened to that task. She was to be married to a fish monger, and even if she wasn’t it still wouldn’t matter. He was a nobleman and had to marry a noblewomen, “No.” This obsessive infatuation with the mute was a waste of time and unfortunately placed affection.
Angel returned the weak smile and a small chuckle at her attempt to tame his hair. The rebellious curls slowly rose back to their perfectly misplaced spot. He let out a slow sigh glad to be off both pervious topics. “I have other things to tell you, but I fear I must delude the impact or else it may overwhelm you." Angel’s brow quirked curiously at that statement. Something more overwhelming that what they were just talking about? His curiosity grew more at her smile. What poison was he carrying around? A devilish smirk appeared. “Almost, carbolic acid. Though I do believe I have a bottle of two who aconitine locked away at home. Why?”
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Aug 28, 2009 2:47:14 GMT -5
Nicolette's discerning eyes narrowed upon her brother's curls as they crept back into their perpetual dishevelment, despite her efforts. She chose to ignore it. Perhaps he did not look exactly as a gentleman should because of those rebellious curls--more like a member of the wanton rich after a long night of revelry--but he was still quite handsome as he was.
She smiled indulgently thinking about it. Her handsome big brother. Although she did not always show it, she was intensely proud of him. Both of them were notorious in their own ways: Colette for her salons, being suspected of murder, the scandals of her husband and father; and Angel for his rakish flirtations, the hearts he had inadvertently broken, his immense fortune and prowess, and his suspicious mastery of the art of poison. The two of them together made up the remainder of one of the most famous, and dangerous, families in France. Colette couldn't help but feel pride in that, in some barely acknowledged, twisted fashion.
Angel understood her vague reference without a moment's hesitation where others less knowledgeable would have stumbled and faltered. Colette took his response in stride, but a small frown of thought wrinkled her brow and she tilted her head to the side, her gaze sliding away into the middle distance off to the side of him. "Carbolic Acid," She repeated, drawing it out. "Effective, but slow and painful. I regard it as rather cruel--and its symptoms are suspicious. Don't you think that it is slightly..." She hesitated, looking for the word. "...Medieval?"
She would not answer his question as to why she had inquired, dancing around the subject. Somehow, an idea had begun to take root within her mind; a very dangerous, very unladilike thought, but one that most married women of her station entertained at one time or another (or so she suspected). The difference was, such a dangerous thought in the head of this lady could render itself much more of a threat.
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