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Post by Sir Percy on Sept 23, 2006 21:59:07 GMT -5
((*giggles* Check under the bed. Good luck. I shall see you later!))
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Post by Vianne Giry on Sept 24, 2006 2:09:47 GMT -5
((*comes home* Well that was a crap evening. Found socks, but got stood up by guy-friends who were supposed to meet us there, Friend J is out nearly thirty bucks for unused tickets and we spent over two hours waiting in the cold outside on the steps and went into Starbucks twice until it closed and we decided to go home and I DIDN'T GET TO SEE RUFUS SEWELL LOSE HIS SEXY, SEXY TEMPER, FUGDAMNIT!))
((Also am not sure what to do with Vianne right now. Somehow it's so much easier when she's angsting over something.))
*Vianne stood, her hands still in Percy's, her eyes beaming, but her lips unsmiling now, for as there is sadness too deep for tears, there is happiness too great for petty smiles. She tilted her head and lay her head on his shoulder with a small sigh, contented for the moment.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Sept 24, 2006 13:39:47 GMT -5
((OMG, you're right. It's much easier to be wangsty. All right, I'm bringing up the husband.))
Percy gently tilted her head up.
"You will forgive me for bringing this to bear against our happiness, but it must be dealt with."
"Your husband. What are we to do?"
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Post by Vianne Giry on Sept 24, 2006 13:51:24 GMT -5
*Vianne bit her lip.* "I know not. I shall go and speak to Madame Corveau tonight, perhaps, and see what is to be done..."
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Post by Sir Percy on Sept 25, 2006 15:15:23 GMT -5
((Sorry about yesterday! My computer went WHACKY on me!))
"I will come with you," he said calmly, his blue eyes sharper than ever. "Not for anything in the world would I see you harmed."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Sept 25, 2006 15:17:24 GMT -5
"If you wish," *she said.* "However, I trust nothing serious will happen."
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Post by Vianne Giry on Sept 30, 2006 17:42:50 GMT -5
((Why is the rest of the thread gone? ...))
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Post by Demiselle on Oct 1, 2006 17:42:13 GMT -5
((WHOA. WTF? I come home from Pride...oh Sueniverse, what has HAPPENED to you? This seems to be occuring all over the board))
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Post by Vianne Giry on Oct 1, 2006 17:55:16 GMT -5
((I remember this happening in the Infirmary, but I haven't seen it anywhere else, yet.))
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Post by Vianne Giry on Oct 20, 2006 15:52:24 GMT -5
*Vianne rose early, after she found herself unable to sleep a wink the night before her wedding. She donned a plain gown to make a final round of the Opera and to make sure nothing would go spectacularily wrong the moment she departed. At last returning to her room, she changed into the wedding gown that had hung like a pale silk and lace spectre in the darkness during the sleepless hours that had passed in aching slowness before dawn. She twisted her long dark hair into a simple chignon--as even the modest trimmings on her gown made her feel awkward and overdone--before settling the veil on her head and picking up her bouquet. With a last gaze in the long mirror, a lingering glance at the home of the past fifteen years, the walls now bare and her trunk packed and sent to Percy's estate already, she took a slow, deep breath and hastened down to where a waiting carriage would take her to her destiny at Percy's side.*
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 14, 2006 0:32:42 GMT -5
*Madame Giry returned to her bare room and quickly unpacked the small bag she'd brought with only a few essentials. She changed into her black practice skirt and put the room to some semblance of order, whisking the thin layer of dust from the surfaces and opening the window to allow cold, fresh air to brighten the room. She breathed deeply and sat on the chaise for a moment before she went to put on her dancing slippers. She removed her shoes and stockings and gasped with pain as she flexed her feet. The bout with the stream and rocks and the long walk had left them bruised and pale and stiff, but thank God no frostbite would take her toes, it seemed. She forced the slippers onto her feet without a sound, only fiercly biting her lower lip as she laced them up her ankles. She left the room and went to seek out her corps de ballet.*
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 14, 2006 23:23:41 GMT -5
*Madame Giry awoke early a few days later and rose quickly. She laced herself into her corset with a grimace. She had been pushing herself in her dancing the last few days, and her whole torso ached this morning, having been so long without it's usual routine. She'd also made herself sick with fear and anxiety over Percy, looking over her shoulder at every moment, terrified that today he might come to drag her back to the house and keep her under lock and key as was his right. Suppressing a shudder as she thought what he might do if he did not know his own strength, she dressed quickly and went to the privvy, feeling her terror manifesting itself in the form mof nausea, again.*
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 14, 2006 23:39:29 GMT -5
((Back from the Ballet Drills thread.))
*Sometime later, Madame Giry lay on her chaise longe in her grey corset, plain chemise and petticoats, having been examined by the doctor. Her hair had come undone from its thick and heavy braid and lay about her shoulders.* "Are you certain?" *she asked the doctor, who was packing away his black bag.* "Quite certain. Frankly, Madame...a woman of your age, with a daughter grown and two dozen young ladies in your charge for the past fifteen years--I am surprised that I was the one to tell you." "I...I have been distracted of late. The gala--I did not notice." "Your husband is away? Should he be notified? I have never met him--although I heard he was English. May I send for--" "No," *she said shortly.* "That will not be necessary, thank you. And I would appreciate your discretion on this matter. I have a corps de ballet to run, for a little while, at least. Please--you needn't say anything. I will feign a touch of fever if need be. I do not wish to be coddled by everyone in the opera--there will be time enough for that later, you understand." "Very well--although, a woman your age, it might be advisable to be careful..." "I will rest as much as I can, monsieur. Thank you," *she said, effectively ending the conversation. With a nod and a sigh, the doctor stood, took his bag and hat and left the room. To the crowd around the door in the hall he announced: "The lady has a touch of fever, nothing more serious than slight fatigue. Perhaps someone could bring her a cup of coffee later; and she is to rest for the remainder of the day. For now she ought to be sleeping." *Vianne heard the booming voice in the hallway outside the door, and when it and the chatter of ballet rats and the last few footsteps had faded away, she laid her head on her knees drawn up under her petticoats and wept as loudly as she dared. At last dry of tears to cry, she went to a locked drawer where she kept a pistol the Vicomte had left at the Opera long ago. To minimize the risk of injury and accidents, she had locked it away. Until now. Still gasping for breath through her sobs, she held the heavy pistol in her hand for a moment before the weight of her despair caused her to sink to the floor, the gun cradled in her lap. At last she pulled herself to her feet and went to the window, staring blankly out at the street, the pistol at her side. She placed it on the sill just long enough to take off her wedding ring and throw it into the gutter below before she took the gun in her hand once more and held it low, hidden in the folds of her petticoats as she became lost in thought for the moment.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Nov 14, 2006 23:51:42 GMT -5
Percy stopped at her door. He had thrown on clothing, and really had no idea if his waistcoat matched his breeches, or if his boots were shined. This was tantamount to ordinary people walking out naked.
He had ridden straight to Paris, and practically in the doors of the Opera itself. He had gone all over, until finally, he had come upon a young woman named Arielle, who had explained quite seriously that Madame Giry was ill, and that she was in her rooms.
Recognizing him, she had quickly shown him the way, and left him to his own devices.
And now, he was at her door.
God, grant me the mercy I do not deserve, he prayed before knocking on the aged wood.
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Post by Vianne Giry on Nov 14, 2006 23:54:25 GMT -5
*Vianne started at the sudden sound and turned her head towards the door only for a moment before turning back to face the street.* Some overly curious ballet rat...no doubt hoping to get a larger role by nursing the broken-down old ballet mistress. Well it won't work... *she thought sourly.* "I'm not to be disturbed..." *she called out in a voice roughened by her tears.*
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