|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Oct 11, 2008 22:16:57 GMT -5
Fallen leaves, golden and broken on the ground, crunched beneath her boots in a steady rhythm of step, step and occasionally a bout of silence as she stopped to contemplate something that caught her eye or a particularly pleasing passage in her book. The hem of her skirt swayed, skimming, over the leaves with a faint swish, swish, and the the birds chirped as they fluttered their wings against the air and danced through the swaying leaves. The world was full of faint sounds that filled her with contentment. The thick page of her book scraped its edge as it was turned, and Delilah's commentary broke the silence--that is, of course, only to Gabrielle.
It is so lovely today. A contented sigh. I do think that Heathcliff is much too cruel, and Catherine too needy. I can tell that you feel the same. Gabrielle ignored the pleasant female voice in her head and continued to read. She was not on good terms with Delilah this week, having just had another argument about why the disembodied voice should leave her well alone. Oh, Rosie, please answer! I do not mean to offend you so, but I simply cannot leave! You are my only chance. Gabrielle stopped abruptly and narrowed her eyes into the distance. "Of what, exactly?" She nearly shouted it in her great ire, and the formerly quite calm birds scattered.
Feeling bad now for raising her voice, she paled, and tried the question again. "Your fatalistic and frustratingly vague explanations are hardly about to placate me, Ada," She said, quietly now. "I refuse to succumb to insanity. You are not real--ghosts do not exist," She said it without much conviction, for she half believed it. Delilah sighed. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, dear.
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Nov 14, 2008 22:58:10 GMT -5
Dorian awoke in a large bed next to a client from last night, a rather wealthy woman whose husband had left on a business trip. Yet it didn't matter as she complained there wasn't much she was missing, which made Dorian feel like the scum found in the alleys that never saw the light of day. He was a man that people fled to when their marriages weren't passionate, yet he had once longed for the sanctity of marriage... once upon a time. But nonetheless, Dorian grabbed the rags he called clothes off the floor and placed them over his thin frame, covering his shame from his still asleep customer.
He left the room and walked down the hall, where a maid stopped him and paid him his wage for the night of... well for lack of a better word... entertainment. Taking the money, Dorian avoided eye contact with the servants of the house until he reached the foyer and walked out the front doors. The mansion was very much by itself, no neighbors could see him leaving on a walk of pitiless shame. It was the story of his life, a story written in tears and blood.
Walking down the path toward Paris, he heard a noise, a soft little giggle that would make a priest think a cherub had fallen from the clouds of heaven. Dorian looked around and heard the giggle again, coming from no where once more. He called out to the giggle, in a voice that had been hardened by much alcohol and God-knows-what-else, asking it where it was and who it was. Then, out of the morning haze, he saw a little girl facing him on the road.
Angelique!
His thoughts raced as he rushed to what he thought was his daughter, trying to find out how she escaped her sitter in the small apartment in Paris. It was no matter, Angelique could have been in danger, but now she seemed to seek refuge in another mansion that resided on the road not too far away.
"Mon ange, no! Come back to me!" Dorian cried, fearing for his daughter.
Dorian rushed up the path, letting his clothes flap in the breeze the run created. The mansion sprung up more on the horizon and beautiful gardens could be seen decorating the property. Angelique had run up to the gates of the garden, looked back at her father and gave a chuckle as she ran inside the hedge-walled area. "Angelique, that's not our home!"
The man headed toward the gate and pushed it open before entering the garden. He searched for Angelique with the worried thoughts rushing through his brain, but he found he was very much by himself. Except for the fact a young woman was sitting in the garden with a book in her hands. Dorian panted from the run and he walked up to the woman, careful not to frighten her.
"Mademoiselle, have you seen my child run into here? Pardon me for intruding on your property, but I swore I saw her run in and I feared that she might do some damage."
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Nov 15, 2008 1:02:57 GMT -5
Lady Hargreaves jumped as a man broke suddenly into her quiet clearing, and the rose bushes shivered with the impact as if in indignation for his violation of their personal space. A gasp ripped from her throat at the sight of him, so haggard and much bigger than herself despite his obvious malnourishment. At first she merely stumbled backward, flustered, and stared with wide eyes. How very unexpected! It had been a long time since she had been alone with anyone but her brother and his chosen escorts, and she had never before been caught alone with a man of such an appearance. It was absolutely terrifying.
Yet despite his haggard appearance, there was genuine concern in his eye, and she felt instinctively that his excuse for entering her brother's lands was not false. She had never been one of those women gifted with powers of foresight or higher intuition, but still her notion calmed her enough to observe him in a more congenial light. "There has been no child here, sir, that passed this way, and no footsteps but yours. If you heard a voice..." She glanced away, suddenly gripped by fear of her secret. "I was reading some poetry which sounds better out loud. I am sorry if I misled--"
Rosie broke off as she took in the limpness of his clothes on his thin frame and the welts on his hands and face that could mean nothing but recent abuse. "Sir, I will send a maid discreetly to search the grounds. Will you come inside and eat?" She hardly knew where the offer had come from, but her heart was so full of pity and--was it guilt? She could not resist but to do her part in restoring the man. Louis would certainly never approve, nor would society, so she would have to sneak him in. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could snag some clothing from a male servant of the household and give it to him. Things inevitably went missing in a big house, so it might be missed, but she could order a replacement later and would not lessen the prosperity of one dependent on them. Oh... and a bath was definitely necessary.
"If your daughter is not found to dine with us, you may take parcels with you to bring to her," She appealed, chewing her bottom lip in apprehension. He frightened her. My, he does look dreadful. How old do you think he is? Thirty? mused Delilah in Gabrielle's head, her own voice filled with shock and pity.
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Nov 15, 2008 19:02:19 GMT -5
The young woman had stood up in shock when she faced him. Dorian had rarely saw himself in a mirror, not owning one himself and he only caught a few glimpses of himself in the glass objects of Le Maison Derriere, but had he really changed that much? Had his once handsome appearing become worn away and a new look had replaced it? To think, a woman had been afraid to look directly at him, when there was a time that he could have any woman he wanted without hesitation. That was long ago though, now it was a distant memory to him.
"There has been no child here, sir, that passed this way, and no footsteps but yours. If you heard a voice..." She glanced away, suddenly gripped by fear of her secret. "I was reading some poetry which sounds better out loud. I am sorry if I misled--"
Damn. If his daughter really wasn't there he was proving his coworkers right, that he really was insane and all because of the experiments. It was nonsense, the doctors would have told him if something had gone wrong and they all said it had went exactly as planned. It was probably all just a coincidence, a hallucination caused by hunger and thirst, two things that had always been pestering Dorian lately. Though he knew that Angelique was not on the grounds and safe in their apartment, he was about to apologize once more and leave.
"Sir, I will send a maid discreetly to search the grounds. Will you come inside and eat?"
Dorian paused for a moment, realizing that he could use this an advantage. Sure it was wrong to lie, but right now he wasn't the most righteous person in the first place. After all, he was a prostitute walking home from a client from the previous night. Lying about actually believing that his daughter was one the grounds wouldn't be as bad as that. What are you thinking, Dorian? Angelique is on the grounds, you saw and heard her giggling clear as day. Forget those idiots from the club, there is nothing wrong with you. You're better than you were before.
His mind had sent him this and he believed it. It wasn't a voice, never a voice, but it was a thought, a direct message from him mind he often got. It was like a Silent Voice of Reason, as he called it. Dorian thought what it said made sense and therefore believed it, after all, who else could he trust but him. Angelique was on the grounds, she might have just snuck under the poor girl's nose, she was a little child after all. He had seen her run in, she just had to be there.
"That would be wonderful, mademoiselle. I do hope that my little Angelique is on the grounds, otherwise, I'd feel like an intruder. But a meal would do me good and you're a kind soul to offer it to a stranger. There are few people like that in the world... I, for one, would know. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Dorian Villeneuve."
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Nov 19, 2008 2:02:53 GMT -5
She watched him thinking, pondering it over, perhaps questioning whether or not he could trust her intentions. A man such as himself might be apt to suspect she was luring him in to turn him over to the law for some reason or another, trespassing ranking highly among them. Finally, he accepted, and his words in doing so shocked her visibly. You know of the Villeneuve family? Inquired Delilah, intrigued. Gabrielle's eyes were very wide as she took in the appearance of the man. He looked very much like the head of that household, and the son, supposedly the only surviving heir; society had been told that the first son, Dorian Villeneuve, was dead. There had been some talk of a man claiming the same name who resembled the late golden boy closely if one cared to look, but the family had denounced any look-alike taking on the family name as an imposter. Perhaps this man was that imposter.
"A little charity will do us all some good. Please, come this way--and, forgive me, but quietly... solicitousness on my part is not openly accepted in such sudden circumstances," She said, feeling the need to apologise profusely for the necessity of sneaking him in and out of the house. It was hardly a dignified way of coming and going, after all. You should not sneak him in. Let him enter freely and take the consequences. Be noble!, Delilah admonished, and Gabrielle shivered at the idea of telling her brother that she had welcomed a vagabond stranger who was possibly also a conman into their home.
She led him through the garden and found herself hard-pressed not to rudely glance over her shoulder at him every few steps. Reaching the door used almost elusively by herself and the greenhouse staff, she poked her head in to check that it was clear and then beckoned him in as well. From there it was all a lot of rushing, occasional well-placed pauses around corners, and then a mad rush up a flight of stairs and down a hallway into her own parlour. She had a suite of room on this floor that were entirely hers, including her bedroom, a parlour, and a morning room in which she bathed and at times retreated to paint, embroider of read when it became too cold to be out in the garden. She pulled the apron that she tied around her front when painting from a little drawer from the morning room and then crossing to the adjoining parlour, laid it down over a chair in which he could sit to eat. With a gesture and hesitant smile she invited him to sit.
Now, how to get the food. It would require some cleverness on her part, surely, but she was up to the task. She signalled for him to wait and then going out into the hall, hailed a passing maid and told her to send a meal up to her room immediately. Waiting until another servant passed, she told him the same thing, and into the kitchens went each of those servants to make demands that would go unquestioned in the busy bustle of the Hargreaves kitchens. Dinner was a day-long preparation and consumed the attention of the kitchen staff from dawn to dusk.
She entered again into the parlour and sat down on a piano bench. "I apologise for the wait and for the subterfuge, Monsieur," She said timidly, unsure of what to say. "The meal will be here shortly."
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Nov 19, 2008 21:03:59 GMT -5
The young woman looked at him as if trying to place who he was, as if she knew him. If anything she was thrown off by the last name of Villeneuve, of course belonging to one of the well known families of Paris, and somehow this beggar had the same name. He ignored the look, knowing of what his parents spread about him since he began the newer career of prostitution, but it was their own fault for it! They had given him the choice of his daughter or his title. Would would dare chose the latter? A monster, they knew it and he knew it and they just let him leave, not daring to come after him and understand his situation. Dorian no longer cared, they were dead to him as he was to them.
"A little charity will do us all some good. Please, come this way--and, forgive me, but quietly... solicitousness on my part is not openly accepted in such sudden circumstances," she had told him and he understood. It would be improper for the young mam'selle to lead him in through the front doors, as if he were some Spanish Duke. He followed the woman through a more secretive entrance of the house and through a door that had gone rarely used by the members of the house.
Entering the house, Dorian looked around, at the lush carpet, the beautiful marble tiles on the floor, the oil paintings of the heads of the mansion, vibrant plants that decorated the rooms along with the elaborate and expensive furniture. All this was a reminder of his former life, a life that he did not wish to remember for it was all a facade, a lie told to his face. However, the more selfish part of him wanted all this once again. The lazy Saturdays spent lost in a novel as he sat on a comfortable chair in front of the large window of the library. That was just a dream though, a pitiful memory... and nothing more.
The woman led him into a private suite, most likely belonging to her, after a mad dash up the winding stairs. It was quite a beautiful little spot in the expansive mansion and its property, similar to his own private apartments in his parents' home, but very much different in many ways. There was soon a place for him to sit and Dorian sat down happily, wanting to get off his feet for a while. It was a rare moment where he was just sitting down, not running from one place the other, not moving around a stage or kneeling on a bed.
She announced she was going to attempt to get a meal in front of him. "Take your time, I'll eat anything right now," Dorian replied, bringing a hand to where his stomach was. Unfortunately, his hand was able to go a little farther than it would if he were fed more regularly. But she was off in a flash and he was left alone in the room, during which he gazed around at all the glimmer and glamour of the bourgeois society he had left. The woman soon returned to him and told him a meal would be there shortly.
"Thank you, mam'selle, you're too kind to do all this," Dorian said with a smile, not showing his now horrid teeth, but still with as much sincerity as possible. "My I ask of the name of the Good Samaritan?"
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Nov 26, 2008 19:37:58 GMT -5
If he was a con, then he was a very good one. He spoke very well for a man of his status, very much like a nobleman, and his manners also bespoke of a well-bred being. Was it possible that the family had lied? That this was truly the heir Villeneuve? Of course it is possible! cried Ada, and Rosie gulped. Realising the rudeness of her staring she glanced away quickly and instead eyed the clock on a small table nearby with feigned interest. When he spoke she jumped, and blushed at the embarrassment of her nervousness being so openly displayed. "This is the Hargreaves household, Monsieur," she answered absently, vaguely, without giving her own name. She hardly wanted this little escapade getting back to her.
Goodness, what if he stole something? While she was dashing, she had not looked back, and he could have done so already. This was not smart at all, not smart, terribly stupid, she should never have--a knock at a door down the hall, doubtlessly the door to her bedchamber. The food! Oh, well, no turning back now, right? She motioned quickly for him to remain where he was and tiptoed through the adjoining room into her bedchamber, where she grabbed up the novel lying on a chair near the door to be convincing, and opened the door. There stood the sour-faced maid of the upper story, the tray of food clutched in her hands. Lady Hargreaves took it with a shaky smile and waited until the woman was completely gone to close the door and make her way back into the parlour. Once there she moved the clock to the piano top and placed the tray on the now free little table, and dragged it in front of him. How awkward! She wrung her hands, gesturing to the tray and trying to smile graciously.
The meal was hot soup, bread, cheese, salads, and a tall, elegant glass of fresh milk. It smelled delicious. "My own meal will be here shortly. Please, do not hesitate to begin," she said quietly, and chastised herself for sounding so much like a frightened mouse.
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Nov 29, 2008 11:18:42 GMT -5
She had given the last name Hargreaves and that was all, obviously not wanting to give too much information to him. Sometimes Dorian had forgotten who he was now and what the world saw him as and he expected them to be more open with him. No longer was he the toast of the Paris salons, oh no, now he was a vagabond, a beggar, a prostitute above all. It wasn't something he needed to complain about, he no longer had control of his life, especially since his bastard of a father had claimed him dead!
But nonetheless, the name Hargreaves was familiar, after all they were a wealthy family and heard of around the city. He knew them most likely from overheard conversations of his mother or had seen them at one affair or another. But he did remember the children, Louis and Gabrielle, fellow offspring of the upper class. Louis had been protective and Gabrielle as he recalled and she had rarely left the house... so much like his situation long ago.
The food had arrived after a short time and the Lady Hargreaves went to go receive it for him. She carried in the tray and placed it before him, allowing the scents of the fresh food enter his nostrils. It was a meal of hot soup, bread, fresh cheese, a mixture of salad and--oh rhapsody!--wonderful, blessed milk, finally something that had not come to him in a bottle with a long neck!
She gave him permission to eat before her food arrived and, though it was against good manners, he ate. He did maintain his calm appearance while eating, not wanting to be seen as animalistic, in fact he had somehow formed his body in the way a Lord or Duke might have as they ate. The delicious tastes that had gone down his throat satisfied him immensely, the warm soup melting away the ice that ran through his veins.
"Mam'selle this food is delicious! Your cook's position is well deserved, I can tell from this food, I can," he said before drinking the milk. As he began to drink, the Lady walked out to answer her door, most likely being her food arriving. She returned to the parlor and took seat nearby to him. She was a kind soul, she didn't shudder at his appearance as so many had before her.
It had been so long since he had been treated as a gentlemen, he had been abused by the Master, he had been tormented by rowdy customers and he had been spoken ill of. Even though he may have been a whore, he was still a human being. Did they honestly think that he chose that life because he enjoyed it? Nonsense it all was, he did for one person and one person only and that was Angelique. Once Dorian reminded himself of Angelique, it made him feel guilty that she was not apart of this bountiful meal, though her sitter, Mme. Madeleine, gave her good meals at no charge.
He turned his attention away from the soup once he had finished it and went to the bread and cheese. "I don't think I've had a meal this good since the affair at the Gorbeau mansion, if my memory does me good it was the weekend before I left for the cottage with Antion..."
Dorian paused for a moment, his blood turning cold again. Antoinette! That monster of a woman, that evil Jezebel, that wicked and cursed female that he had once loved! She was the cause of his misery! She was the Delilah that had convinced him to throw his life away, she was the bitch that abandoned her daughter! Oh how he hated her, how he wanted her to die, how he wanted her to watch the pain and suffering of her flesh and blood! She was pure wickedness and she deserved the most cruelest form of punishment that could be offered.
"Forgive me, Lady Hargreaves, I shouldn't go on those small rants. It's very rude and disrespectful towards you who has been so good to a poor man."
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Aug 4, 2009 17:47:38 GMT -5
Her curiosity was now aroused beyond returning to where they had begun--simple kindness. She smiled at his compliments half-heartedly, observing his perfect posture and table manners. When it came to choosing which spoon or fork or knife should be used for what, he did not even hesitate. Like habit, it took no thought. She was becoming steadily more convinced that he was who he said he was, which would have huge implications. She could hardly reconcile the thought of the privileged, gilded Dorian Villeneuve with this handsome vagabond. He ate heartily, so it was clear that he had not had enough to eat in quite a while.
So that's the truth, then. I wonder what he did. Imagine what they would do if they knew about you? Said Ada, her words hardly a match for her soft, gentle tone. Gabrielle paled, but otherwise gave no outward impression of her displeasure.
"I don't think I've had a meal this good since the affair at the Gorbeau mansion, if my memory does me good it was the weekend before I left for the cottage with Antion..." She watched his face contort into ill-concealed anger and pain. So that is what he had done: he had fallen in love; there was hardly such a terrible crime as love in their strict, cold world of high society. And as for his memory of the cook's masterpieces at the Gorbeau's coming out ball for their second daughter, it only proved to her what she had already begun to conclude. This poor man was a fallen aristocrat.
She waved away his apologies, a look of compassion and worry crossing her features. "Tell me, Monsieur--Dorian--" She had said his Christian name in order to affirm that she believed him, but then blushed upon realising how intimate it had sounded. "How have you managed to make your way, with a young daughter in addition to everything else?"
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Aug 4, 2009 22:52:18 GMT -5
He was truly thankful for the meal, knowing he could have easily been tossed out without question or concern. But Dorian found it very peculiar how the woman he assumed was Gabrielle Hargreaves looked at him, as if she were contemplating something, but what it was he didn't know. Perhaps she was trying to figure out how he could logically be Dorian Villeneuve, son of one of the most wealthy families in Paris. It wasn't everyday someone arrived on your doorstep and claimed to be so (unless they had been insane...a theory that wouldn't be helping him exactly.)
The thought of being declared officially insane terrified him. He refused to accept it, he had one of the greatest minds in Paris, a mind that once entertained the educated men of Europe. No, it couldn't be, the doctors said everything was better than before, better than before...there was no mistake and if there was...well, Dorian didn't dare to think of that possibility. All he could do was devour the meal he ate, remembering those manners that had been carved into his mind. It had been amazing how it all came back to him, even with the clothes he was wearing, his hair, the way he carried himself. Truly remarkable how one never truly forgot.
There was something he liked about the Lady Hargreaves, a spark in her that made her stand out above other upper class women that he...well, not really knew, but had serviced. They had the look of death, but the look she gave was a look of innocence, of a frozen childhood. She had been like him, sheltered from the world and he could only hope that she wouldn't be as naive as he was. Sheltered didn't fair well in the world...a shame.
Her question had come out of nowhere, but the way she spoke and used his name meant that she believed who he was, despite his damned father's rumors. But it was a question he feared to answer, for how could he say that he had wounded up on the streets...an "escort" as well as performer on the burlesque stage. But it was the only way to gather two sous to rub together and call his own. It gave Angelique the best that a poor child could get, clothes that didn't have tears, but were nice enough anyway, toys that weren't broken...
"I...I...I began to work the streets...a night walker as well as a male burlesque performer at a club. No one would hire me...my father threatened to go after anyone who did, anyone who tried to help his disowned son and bastard granddaughter live. His power stops over the complete lower class, never stepping into their world. I understand why though...No one would go there at their own will. Lady Hargreaves, if I told you what I've seen, it would corrupt your innocent soul."
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Aug 5, 2009 0:30:57 GMT -5
Gabrielle fiddled with the hem of her dress, her eyes wide and unblinking upon him, pretence forgotten. It was enthralling, this man from her childhood showing up here in rags. She resolved then to procure for him some of her brother's clothing. They looked about the same size, though possibly M. Villeneuve was broader around the chest and shoulders than her brother. As she was contemplating this problem, pushing away some terrible comment on the part of Ada, he spoke. Her fidgeting froze, and she swallowed nervously.
"I began to work the streets...a night walker as well as a male burlesque performer at a club." She could see his embarrassment, and his anger. What his father had done was purely awful; and what Dorian had had to resort to was terrible, too. At the thought of that terrible profession, her cheeks heated up, and she squirmed uncomfortably despite her efforts to refrain from further fuelling his embarrassment and shame.
I didn't even know that there were men who did that--and women that purchase such a thing? They must be women of wealth. I might even know them. The thought shocked her. These women might have even known Dorian as a child. Bile rose in her throat.
Women like you, commented Ada quietly, and unable to take it, Gabrielle stood quickly with a gasp and circled to the back of her chair, digging her nails into the cushioned back. Her eyes fixed on his, so full of remorse and a thinly concealed horror.
"Lady Hargreaves, if I told you what I've seen, it would corrupt your innocent soul."
She shivered, but did not break her gaze. Ada chuckled softly within the confines of her mind. An innocent soul, she said, slowly. Is that what you have?
Partly because Ada's comments and the images and feelings that they were evoking were driving her momentarily insane and partly to try to allay the pain she saw in his eyes, Gabrielle burst out suddenly: "It is necessity. It is not something that you could help. There are things of which I am ashamed--but I cannot control them. You not are what you do. I am not what I think."
She began to pace, unsettled, her hands shaking. "D-Do you see?" Quickly, before he could respond, she waved her hands wildly, and said, "I will be back shortly. I am going have a bath drawn for you, and will bring out some of my brother's clothing." It was not a question. Without looking at him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she rushed from the room, taking time to lock the door on her way out so that no unsuspecting--or suspecting, for that matter--servant would be able to walk in upon him.
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Aug 5, 2009 1:06:43 GMT -5
The embarrassment...the degradation...it all made him sick to his stomach in between mouthfuls. This house had been a reminder of his home...the lovely furniture, the servants walking about with heads held high, the garden in back that rivaled Eden, it was all a painful reminder how far he fell. His clutch to the silverware was tight, enough to bend the strong metal and his blood ran hot as he remembered better times. Dorian tried to hold back though, he didn't want to look too barbaric in front of the higher class woman, he had lost most of his dignity but not his pride. Though the pride had worn very thing, almost completely transparent.
Then Gabrielle had told him that he wasn't what he did and she wasn't what she thought, that she had been ashamed of the things she'd done. This make Dorian curious, but he wasn't there to question her, he was there as a guest and it was rude to be curious around others offering their kindness. Speaking of which, his meal had been nearly complete, only needing to finish a few more bites that would probably keep him full for the rest of the day if not longer. Then before he could reply to her, she ran off, saying that she would run him a bath and fetch him some new clothes.
The door was locked clearly, which made Dorian a little tense, but then he realized that nothing too terrible could happen in that situation. He finished the last of his meal before getting up and walking around the room, being careful not to touch anything and getting it dirty. There was a lovely painting that caught his eye, a painting of a spring landscape that was bright and cheery...something that Dorian was not. As he looked at the painting he heard a giggling noise come from behind him, which made him stop in breathing. He turned around and saw himself at a young age, playing on the ground with a wooden train, his face full of life and full of joy.
The site made Dorian's eyes grow in want, in passion, wanting to grab the child and enter his body, to relive the past, a happier past unfortunately when he rushed towards it, all that happened was him falling on the ground making a loud thud. He looked up and around him, confused, but slightly remembering what just happened. A hallucination...yet again, the second time within one morning...had he really lost it? Was the era of logical thinking finally over?
Apparently it was...
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Aug 5, 2009 1:29:50 GMT -5
Gabrielle paced, frantic, moving quickly and as quietly as possible through the familiar halls of her ancestral home. She was puzzled. What was it that had, ultimately, brought such shame upon Dorian that he had been forced away by his own family? He had a child, that was certain. He had had an illicit affair with a lady--one of society, she presumed. It could be otherwise. Yet affairs and bastard children were hardly uncommon in the world of upper class men, and though a family would frown upon it and society might gossip for a while, it was always accepted. If such had happened to a female, it would have been different. But Dorian was a man, and therefore much more at leisure to make scandal. So what was it, ultimately? Was it the particular identity of the lady in question? Had he betrayed some sort of secret or created an unforgivable scandal that the family could not withstand?
It was several minutes later that Gabrielle re-entered the room, much more in control of her wits. Warm water had been filled in the tub, which resided only in the adjoining wash room, and the servants had departed. It had taken some very quiet and clever manoeuvring, but she had managed to extract an outfit from her brother's wardrobe and bring it back. Once again, she locked the door, and when she turned froze. She was shocked to see him on the floor; couldn't imagine what he was doing there.
"Monsieur," She said softly, coming to stand over him. "I have clothing, and the bath is filled. You may reach it through that door. Are you..." her voice trailed off, a look of questioning written across her features plainly. "Are you well?"
|
|
Dorian Villeneuve
Chorus Girl/Boy
Don't they know they're making love to one already dead!
Posts: 19
|
Post by Dorian Villeneuve on Aug 5, 2009 12:17:55 GMT -5
How did he get there? How did he wind up seeing things that weren't there in a mansion of a wealthy family? Why did he end up there? Surely there were people more deserving, certainly there were. Dorian had never done a wrong to anyone, never tried to hurt anyone and what did he get for it? A hell hole to live in, a daughter who deserved better and a dreamless life. He had been a dreamer all those years ago, but now...now there was nothing to dream about because there was no hope life in his life and without hope one cannot dream.
The door opened and then Dorian saw the Lady Hargreaves looking down upon him, confused as to what he was doing on the floor. He quickly got up and when she asked if he were well, he nodded simply. "Yes, I just tripped over my feet and fell. Clumsy me, I guess, but nothing broke because it so, consider ourselves lucky," he replied, not sure why he was tried to keep a civil mind, his mind clearly was not civil. "Do you come to tell me the bath was prepared?"
The thought of having a warm bath comforted him a little, only having cold sponge baths for the longest time, seeing as it was hard enough getting water, much less warm water. Plus where there was water, he had to make do with the small amount, usually bathing Angelique first so she could be fully clean and then himself, even though most of the time it wasn't enough for his entire body. But now he was getting a warm bath, which would wash all the filth that had collected upon him and give him a new and good scent.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Gabrielle Hargreaves on Aug 5, 2009 23:16:23 GMT -5
He lifted himself quickly from the floor, appearing hassled and confused. He said that he had fell, and for some reason the quite obvious and, for its own merit quite believable, explanation fell short. The man was full of mystery. In every instance, she found herself wondering how he had come from point A to point B, where she saw him now, confused and unsure of himself. Maybe he didn't understand it either.
She nodded, pushing off these doubts for another time. "Yes. Yes, indeed, the bath is ready. J-just through that door," she gestured to the door in question, "you shall have all of the privacy that you require. A towel can be found upon the side, so be sure not to knock it into the water. Take as long as you want, I will be outside by the door. Reading." Now, not knowing what else to say, she went to the door to the bath room and opened it, seating herself in a chair near it and lifting the novel she had left there before she did so.
|
|