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Dec. 24th, 2004 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leplusbeauThe front door bursts open and the bar is filled with the drunken renditions La Marseillaise, Les Anges dans nos campagnes, and Nouvelle agreáble all jumbled together in joyous celebration.
--Aux armes citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons!
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillon--
Fleur slips through the door and slams it behind her, but not before a blonde bludle of little sister scampers in after her. Gabrielle is frumpled, graceless ball of lace, velvet, and loose blonde hair. Fleur is grinning from ear to ear. Her face is flush. And she is dripping in diamonds from the tips of her ears to hand beaded train on her frost gown.
She is ridicioulously happy.
The little girl chatters excitedly as Fleur makes her way over to the christmas tree and begins dropping down presents.
In a simple velvet case with a white lily tied around it with ribbon. Inside is platinum ring with a solitary pear diamond setting. The encryption along the inside reads “toujours, ma cheri”.
The tag attached to the lily reads “Do not open until I return. Always, your Fleur.”
“So this is your home?”
“Was, my little rose. Was.” Fleur digs into her bottomless purse, her arm disappearing up to her elbow in her search.
Wrapped in very very shiny paper and sparkley tissue paper, there is a stylish purple dress with tasteful dangling bits and a neckline that plunges to her navel. Yes, it is fashionable and tasteful. Just think about it. And a floppy purple hat that has nothing to do with the outfit.
“To my Death. May I only see you in The Bar. Your Fleur.”
Gabrielle snorts delicately. “Is.”
“Was!”
“You pretend. It will distract you when I go through your closest.”
It is a large paper wrapped painting that somehow fit in Fleur’s purse through the power of magic. The painting is half of Death’s face imposed beside a profile of turtle!Raph in a negative space. It is also very tasteful and breathtaking. It feels like Fleur.
“To Raph. Poke this open with your shiny, and I will kill you with a paintbrush. Your Fleur.”
“Was, and you are too young to go through my closest. You will be shocked and traumatized, and Maman will kill me when you die of heart failure.”
“I’ve seen your bondage things. They are very shiny. Can I play with them?”
“NO!”
In her shock, she drops her purse. A simply wrapped gift for her secret santa and an aged book fall out. She absently drops her secret santa gift under the tree as she stares at the book. She takes a deep breath before she picks it up. Gabrielle watches her and licks her lips. She much rather her sister kept that one. She liked to lock herself up in her room with that book. Fleur comes to a decision as she teases her fingers across the dog-eared pages. She drops it under the tree.
It is an original print of Shelley. The first page has been ripped out, but the imprint of a long letter can be seen on the next page. There is written:
“Because you were the fool I loved. May you have good use of it.”
Mother Delacour appears in the doorway, drunk and just as beautiful as her daughter. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. “Bergers, pour qui cette fête~ Quel est l'objet de tous ces chants? Vite ! Vite ! Le vin--ooh! Your bar~! It is not so shiny as I thought. Oh, look, little young things! ‘ello, little young things--"
Fleur grabs her sister’s hand and drags her to the door. “Gabrielle has been going through my closest! We must punish her!”
“Oh, did she find your leather harness? I’ve been looking for that--"
“Maman!”
Gabrielle and Mother Delacour cackle together as they pull Fleur back through the front door and back to Paris.
“Satan retenait dans les fers
Les peuples de tout l'univers
Mais cette nuit, Satan s'enfuit
Devant cet enfant adorable—“
And the door slams shut.
--Aux armes citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons!
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillon--
Fleur slips through the door and slams it behind her, but not before a blonde bludle of little sister scampers in after her. Gabrielle is frumpled, graceless ball of lace, velvet, and loose blonde hair. Fleur is grinning from ear to ear. Her face is flush. And she is dripping in diamonds from the tips of her ears to hand beaded train on her frost gown.
She is ridicioulously happy.
The little girl chatters excitedly as Fleur makes her way over to the christmas tree and begins dropping down presents.
In a simple velvet case with a white lily tied around it with ribbon. Inside is platinum ring with a solitary pear diamond setting. The encryption along the inside reads “toujours, ma cheri”.
The tag attached to the lily reads “Do not open until I return. Always, your Fleur.”
“So this is your home?”
“Was, my little rose. Was.” Fleur digs into her bottomless purse, her arm disappearing up to her elbow in her search.
Wrapped in very very shiny paper and sparkley tissue paper, there is a stylish purple dress with tasteful dangling bits and a neckline that plunges to her navel. Yes, it is fashionable and tasteful. Just think about it. And a floppy purple hat that has nothing to do with the outfit.
“To my Death. May I only see you in The Bar. Your Fleur.”
Gabrielle snorts delicately. “Is.”
“Was!”
“You pretend. It will distract you when I go through your closest.”
It is a large paper wrapped painting that somehow fit in Fleur’s purse through the power of magic. The painting is half of Death’s face imposed beside a profile of turtle!Raph in a negative space. It is also very tasteful and breathtaking. It feels like Fleur.
“To Raph. Poke this open with your shiny, and I will kill you with a paintbrush. Your Fleur.”
“Was, and you are too young to go through my closest. You will be shocked and traumatized, and Maman will kill me when you die of heart failure.”
“I’ve seen your bondage things. They are very shiny. Can I play with them?”
“NO!”
In her shock, she drops her purse. A simply wrapped gift for her secret santa and an aged book fall out. She absently drops her secret santa gift under the tree as she stares at the book. She takes a deep breath before she picks it up. Gabrielle watches her and licks her lips. She much rather her sister kept that one. She liked to lock herself up in her room with that book. Fleur comes to a decision as she teases her fingers across the dog-eared pages. She drops it under the tree.
It is an original print of Shelley. The first page has been ripped out, but the imprint of a long letter can be seen on the next page. There is written:
“Because you were the fool I loved. May you have good use of it.”
Mother Delacour appears in the doorway, drunk and just as beautiful as her daughter. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. “Bergers, pour qui cette fête~ Quel est l'objet de tous ces chants? Vite ! Vite ! Le vin--ooh! Your bar~! It is not so shiny as I thought. Oh, look, little young things! ‘ello, little young things--"
Fleur grabs her sister’s hand and drags her to the door. “Gabrielle has been going through my closest! We must punish her!”
“Oh, did she find your leather harness? I’ve been looking for that--"
“Maman!”
Gabrielle and Mother Delacour cackle together as they pull Fleur back through the front door and back to Paris.
“Satan retenait dans les fers
Les peuples de tout l'univers
Mais cette nuit, Satan s'enfuit
Devant cet enfant adorable—“
And the door slams shut.
