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Post by Notre Dame on Nov 3, 2008 23:04:10 GMT -5
It was a wide, hollow cavern. Water trickled gently down some of the walls, covering them like sheets of glass that caught the flames of candles and reflected them like burnt-out stars. Silk and cotton and canvas were pinned up and hung from the ceiling, discolored from the water and time. In some places the water over the walls was replaced by smooth pale marble, in others with shards of stained glass, and in others with even unbroken stones like pebbles from the sea. The marble clung to the walls haphazardly but descended to cover the entire floor of the cavern.
Shafts of light littered the cavern here and there, catching dust motes in little glints. A careful observer would have been curious as to their origins; even more curious would be their reaction if told there weren't any. Candles were scattered here and there, mostly unlit. Occasionally a glint of gold or silver could be seen, alone and vulnerable somewhere on the great stretch of the marble floor or half-buried in piles of dead leaves, pressed flowers, and books.
Also somewhere on the great stretch of cold marble there was a girl. She sat enveloped in yellowing lace and folds of silk, her hair loose and tumbling, her wrists where they emerged from the sleeves of the dress wraith-thin and her skin the color of milk. Her eyes were wide, dreamy, and, today, a shock of chrome.
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 3, 2008 23:20:09 GMT -5
*The click of boots echoed throughout the hall along with the swish of a long coat as the Marquis walked through the cavern. It wasn't the first time he'd been to see the grand Lady of Paris (though she wasn't all that grand, and was hardly a lady.)
He came from time to time, bringing trinkets and gifts of pretty things, in order to earn her favor, and because he liked her company. Not many knew the way to Notre Dame's hall, but the Marquis de Carabas made it his business to know everything.*
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Post by Notre Dame on Nov 3, 2008 23:30:39 GMT -5
Notre Dame's face tilted towards the ceiling as the sharp click of boots rang out against the floor. Then her face creased in a spastic, lovely smile, and she flowed to her feet like a snake with legs. There was absolutely no rustling of cloth.
"You!" she said, with a delighted little laugh, "You are four minutes earlier than I expected you. Why did you come?"
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 3, 2008 23:42:10 GMT -5
"I've brought you something, my lady," *he said, bowing with a flourish.* "It is always a great pleasure to see your smiling face and when I saw these, I must say that my first thought was of you."
*From one of many pockets, he produced a delicate crystal goblet, wrapped in paper to protect it.*
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Post by Notre Dame on Nov 3, 2008 23:48:20 GMT -5
Notre Dame flowed forward to take the gift, her dry fingers briefly brushing the Marquis's.
"You are a liar," she said. "But a charming one." Reverently, she smoothed her fingers over the paper, her blunt fingernails creasing it in half, then in half again, smaller and smaller until it slipped from sight into one of her sleeves. She traced a circle on the lip of the goblet. "It is so pretty."
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 4, 2008 22:49:43 GMT -5
*He grinned like a cat himself.*
"I'm glad you like it, my lady."
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Post by Notre Dame on Nov 5, 2008 17:47:06 GMT -5
Notre Dame turned her back on him, tracing her legs in wide arcs in front of her like a dancer as she glided off. The line of her back was straight and strong, at odds with the fragile slender thing that had been on the floor when the Marquis had entered. Either it was an illusion, or she'd forgotten herself.
Very carefully, she laid the goblet down in a puddle of light, where the glass shone and sparkled like the dust motes around it. She turned her head suddenly without straightening, her hair slipping off her back, fixing the Marquis with a narrow-eyed look of concentration.
"Where's your little child?"
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 5, 2008 21:30:57 GMT -5
*He watched her, her fluid grace surprising and intriguing no matter how many times he visited her.*
"Child?" *He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what she meant. He'd never brought anyone else to her hall.* "Do you mean the cat?"
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Post by Armand on Nov 5, 2008 21:45:10 GMT -5
"Yes. Your sensible cat with the rusty purr." She came back towards him, hands twined behind her back. Her eyes flickered over his coat. "There." She pointed a slim finger.
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 5, 2008 21:52:44 GMT -5
*Laughing, he opened the pocket she indicated and scooped out a little ball of black fur that looked most annoyed to have been interrupted from its nap in the warm cozy darkness of the Marquis' pocket.*
"There you are, my lady."
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kitteh
- In the Duggins -
Posts: 55
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Post by kitteh on Nov 5, 2008 22:17:30 GMT -5
Notre Dame scratched the little cat's head with an expression of chilly concentration until the general atmostphere faded from an irritated tension to warm waves of contentment. Placing her lips to the kitteh's ear, Notre Dame whispered something. The waves stopped immediately.
"There, there," she said vaguely, placing a finger on the kitten's nose. It yawned, and then scampered off to explore when she placed it on the ground.
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 5, 2008 22:53:09 GMT -5
"You certainly have a way with animals," *he said, following the tiny cat with his eyes to make sure it didn't wander off too far.*
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Post by Notre Dame on Nov 5, 2008 23:14:02 GMT -5
"The rats do like me, and the little crawling insects."
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Post by Marquis de Carabas on Nov 5, 2008 23:21:00 GMT -5
"I must say that I'm not at all surprised."
*He didn't say it like an insult; only an admission of fact. He had nothing at all against rats or insects.*
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Post by Notre Dame on Nov 5, 2008 23:26:01 GMT -5
"Oh-hhh?" She twirled, flinging her arms out wide. "What kind of animals choose you, Mr. Carabas, besides your furry child?"
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