BOUCHE PLEINE DE LYS —

HOW UNBEARABLE YOU ARE, ALL SWEET CHEEKED AND HONEY STEEPED —-

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“Lover.” Victor muses over the word just long enough to stare down the bottom of his glass and finish it one go. “Is that the word they’re using for it now?” He might have preferred courting, or even settled for suitor. Those, at least, left something more to the imagination. But if the court of public opinion has decided, he might as well embrace it. Sooner that than hear of the gossip first from his aunt. Christ, he’d need another drink if he was going to think of her this early in the evening. 

“Do a round with me?” By which, of course, Victor meant make a beeline for the bar, or perhaps a server, if there was one nearer. “I’m afraid if I stay unoccupied in one place for too long someone I know might gather the courage to come and speak to me.” He flashed her a crooked, almost-smile. “I’ll throw in a note or two on etiquette as we walk, out of gratitude.”

♠

“ Depends on who you’ve heard. Should it be something else? ” Aurélie tilts her head in mild curiosity. Whispered by wealthy guests, lover becomes scandalous. A step out of line. But to her, that is the most apt word—what else should you call the bond between two people, no matter how fickle? Lover says, something lies here. Suitor, meanwhile, is too rigid, belonging to a world dictated by who marries who, where each conversation is a game of chess. She considers, then, that Victor belongs to it, too.

“ With pleasure. We certainly can’t have that, can we? Let them stay cowards, ” she replies with a fleeting smile of her own. “ I won’t say no, but you’d be doing me a favor regardless. Now I won’t have to talk to—who was it again? Monsieur Chastain? A lawyer, I think—and pretend I care. ”

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A delicate hand grazes lightly across the diamonds at her throat, knowing all she would need to say is that she gifted it to their dear friend should Etienne ask. “If you win you can have this.” She tugged at the necklace lightly, a teasing grin on her lips. Jacques was not one to give in easily, a challenge presented for the game they both had to play. To Marie, it was ridiculous. More proof that Moulin Noir was doomed to become a shadow of what it once was. Of course, she wouldn’t say it to Aurélie yet. “And,” she added, eyes like bullets at her target. 

“A joy ride in the new car. Just for you.”

♠

“ You’re too generous. A joy ride, too? Chérie, that’s not even your car, ” teases Aurélie, laughter spilling from her lips. “ But of course, I can’t pass either up. Don’t regret it when I’m the one wearing those around my neck. ” She points to the diamonds before making her way over to their target, easing herself into the spot next to him. Such games add a lightness to the weight looming over them all—without an audience, what are they left with? The Noir cannot survive on passion alone. 

An exchange later, Aurélie returns with half a victory: the most expensive scotch rests in his glass, but persuading him to actually invest was still too lofty a goal. “ Your diamond necklace, if you please. ” She holds her hand out, palm up. “ Though your go might just get you a new outfit. ” 

location : Moulin Noir. time & date : 5:49 pm, December 13th, 1907 with: open to anyone

Arnaud had attended the event rather begrudgingly, most of his concerns that evening always rested on the thought of his beloved wife. Surely he had shared a small bit of excitement since the Noir had returned the show to their main headliner. He questioned little of her resurgence given that his thoughts had been occupied with the financial state of the Moulin and the bills that he was footing. 

These days his wallet felt emptier than ever - he had dipped slowly into his savings. Only the best of the best for Clemence. And thus, he had showed up to the event with old threads of a suit from two years past. He was too old to care that much for appearances. He had bigger things to consider. 

“The champagne’s on the pricier side,” he mused, his mind calculating the numbers already. 

♠

Aurélie’s no fool—she sees how easily the Moulin could crumble these days, how funds have been a fraction of what they used to earn before Annette fell. But perhaps it’s willful ignorance making her turn the other cheek and hold onto the belief that the club will return to its former glory. For if it doesn’t, where can she call home?

“ Then we must do our best to have our guests drink it by the bottle, ” Aurélie says blithely as she joins Arnaud. “ I wouldn’t worry so much—what’s done is done. Besides, I think they’re feeling rather generous tonight. And it’s more people than I’ve ever seen in weeks. ” 

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Victor most certainly has had too much to drink. An unwelcome surprise, made more so by the wealth of familiar faces mingling in the crowd. Despite himself, he takes another deep pull from his glass, nearly down to the dregs. It’s strange. The room has not begun to sway, nor has the pleasant buzz overtaken him, and he cannot yet feel the familiar flush down his neck. But it’s the only explanation he can find for how Aurélie manages to sneak up on him. At his elbow in the space between breaths, empty and there in the next. 

“You know, it’s quite rude to creep up on someone.” He casts a long glance towards the blonde, tipping his glass towards her and lingers there until, flustered, she dips back into the crowd. Satisfied, Victor swivels his attention to Aurélie properly. He can count on one hand the proper conversations they’ve had. He can’t say he’s upset to change that, either. “But I appreciate the concern. Would you believe me if I said this wasn’t the first evening I’ve heard speculation about my … performance? I’m starting to think they’re more concerned for her sake.”

♠

“ Pardon. ” She shrugs. If he hasn’t realized it already, he will swiftly come to learn she cares little for propriety. “ As it seems, my education was lacking in the etiquette department. ” Her voice carries the same arch tone with which she began, flippant in its delivery. Something about him makes her think she doesn’t have to pretend. “ You don’t suppose it’s too late to learn? You could teach me a thing or two. ” 

Her gaze follows his to the blonde, and she watches with detached amusement; how easily the the lady gives up, disappearing into a sea of silks without so much a fight. The show over, Aurélie, too, turns her full attention towards Victor. She can’t say Liyan has bad taste; not at all, in fact. “ But of course. The lover of my friend is my friend—well, that’s probably not how it goes, but close enough. ” She waves her hand vaguely, laughter escaping her. “ And I would. People love to talk. Give them a hint of something, and they’ll eat it up, spin something out of it...what have you. ”

on DECEMBER 3RD in the interim between performance closure and INVESTOR’S BALL commencement,HENRIETTE and AURÉLIE SUN create one of the many chrysalises of womanhood ╱ @dawnkissed

“come here, come here —” a beseeching to intimacy the moment they’re in arm’s reach, henriette’s hands extended like springtime flowers, reaching for the little sun as she returns from her performance. her palms land delicately on aurélie’s slim jaw, tilting it to observe the state of her sweat-dampened face before dabbing purposefully with a handkerchief. “not so bad, xiǎo xī. we’ll have you ready.”

always linked, always bonded, henriette’s arm falls to place itself around aurélie’s waist, a self-dyed red string that ensured they would stay together as the pair wove through the moulin noir’s crowded backstage. 

“how is a man ever allowed to arrange an occasion?” she laments dramatically as they make their way to the dressing room, carrying in her tone only half the self-awareness of a jest. “if geoffrey had any sense at all, he’d have dropped the curtains earlier. or at least pushed our numbers up.”

♠

as henriette reaches for her, aurélie wonders how long it’s been since she’s seen a crowd of this size. how long has it been since they’ve all basked in the adoring glow of a large audience clamoring for more? it’s truly amazing how one woman can change it all, the moulin noir at her fingertips with simply the promise of an appearance. 

“ i don’t think the stakes have ever been quite so high in some time, ” aurélie notes, henriette’s careful dabbing and soft touch unchanged from years ago, when aurélie was newly christened by the noir’s stage. as the world shifts, sisterhood remains permanent; just as the sun rises each day, so easily does aurélie slip into being doted on as xiǎo xī. 

“ because he thinks he can, ” she responds wryly, swinging the dressing room door open with ease. “ i do agree, though. but we’ve managed, yes? and now we get ready again, go back, and charm them all out of their francs. ”

location : Moulin Noir , la Sirene’s dressing room. time & date : 6:27 pm. December 13th, 1907. with : @dawnkissed​

The sound of tuning instruments in the background had, given the circumstances, really started to pound a headache or two in her head. She wasn’t really prone to migraines or fits of ill health, but the stress had begun to gnaw on her ever thinning nerves ; and, lately, the Moulin had been infested with stress inducting situations - first Annette … and now Annette again.

At least she wasn’t dead. - she thought, glum expression etched onto her face.

Sighing, la Sirene puts down her brush and adjusts the silver mirror, standing on the dressing table, turning it to catch the dim light in her room - a time has come for a truly painted smile to be applied on her face. She had to salute Geoffrey - and the rest of the staff - for coming up with this play ; with Annette returning to her full power and health, the Moulin Noir was destined to soar to epic heights as well. The golden scales dress she wore was a bit over the top, but the image of a Siren, of a slithery, scaly creature had to be upheld - and sighing once again, she dabbed a cosmetic brush over a pale powder, intended to sharpen and accentuate her features ; the golden glitter to follow the golden image.

and then ; a knock on the door and a soft “Come in” passed her lips. At this hour, Liyan knew it was either one of the performers, or the staff members, checking up to see if she will soon be ready.

The visage that peeks through the door is a welcome one and the Siren’s smile is now genuine. “Relie, come in! I need your help with a finishing touch. I need to put this golden powder on my hair, and I can’t do it alone.” She turned to her friend - her shared act - and her smile softened. “Is that your costume? It is enchanting.”

Aurélie should be overjoyed Annette has returned, that her friend has come back in one piece, recuperation in the Alps having done her well. And Aurélie is happy, of course. She wanted nothing than the safe return of Annette, but something about Noir’s returning diamond doesn’t feel quite right. Such a traumatic event would’ve changed anyone, yet this Annette feels like a glimmer of the girl she’d known—but what did that matter, in the grand scheme of things? Who’d care when the club’s star has returned, and with her, the renewal of the club, long overdue?

And so, like the other unwelcome thoughts flitting through her mind—what will I do when I’m thirty? Will I fade? I can’t, I can’t—she packs it away to be ruminated on another night, when her only friend is a bottle of cheap Bordeaux. 

Tonight, she is consumed only by performance: first, onstage as a nymph suspended by silk, and second, a jewel of the Noir descending upon the masses. Geoffrey had instilled just how important this ball was to secure investors’ pockets, and everyone’s smile is a weapon. 

“ God, what a night—and it’s barely even started, ” she laments as she enters Liyan’s dressing room. At her friend’s compliment, she does a small twirl, beaming smile on her lips. “ Only the best for tonight, as you know. And oh, Lili, you look stunning! ” She takes the powder in question and comes to stand behind the singer. “ You’ve outdone yourself, really. They won’t be able to keep their eyes off you. ”

location : Moulin Noir time & date: 11:50 pm, December 13, 1907 with: @dawnkissed​

Some things never changed, no matter where she danced. 

Madeleine’s feet ached as she stood looking around the faces that once more filled Le Moulin Noir, the music echoing throughout the building once more. Most faces she recognized- regulars who continued to show up even through the worst of the past weeks, patrons that oozed opulence and wealth happily loosening their coin purses and wallets once more, and the glittering stars that graced them with their presence. 

Something about walking amidst the crowds always made her stomach twist. Maybe it was the familiarity of it all. Change the costumes to hungry young scraps of girls in white fluffy skirts surrounded by suits and empty promises. She caught echoes of the past as she took a turn about the room. But now she was a different woman. Rather than seeing the sparkling masks of honey-lacquered words, she simply saw the truth. 

It was fine. She could wear a mask too.  She smoothed the blue-green watercolor of her skirt she wore and let her smile glint like starlight, like armor, and stifled a tired sigh. It puts bread on the table. It puts Henri in school soon. Madeleine repeated this thought over and over as she milled about and socialized… and then she saw it. 

While she wasn’t the best at reading faces and moods, she could tell when someone needed an escape. Aurelie, beautiful ray of light that she was, was surrounded by tailed suits of black and tiger smiles, basking in her glow. How long had she been stuck standing there? She weaved her way through the people and lightly touched the young woman’s arm as she joined the little group with a curtsy.

“I am so very sorry, Monsieurs, but I need to steal this angel from you for a moment. I hope you won’t mind?”

The young heir Alain is, by far, one of her favorite patrons, a loyal one who’d seen it through the difficult month. Still, it’d been a mistake letting him lead her towards his friends, a round of introductions made and drinks ordered. Here, a cousin, there, a classmate. All names she’d forget before the end of the night. But if it was a doll they wanted, a doll they would see; they did not really care for her, only for the taste of the impossible she could offer. Such goes the cycle—the guests want entertainment, she wants attention, and the Noir wants money. 

Who is at the mercy of who? 

Yet she is terribly fickle, and inevitably finds herself bored by this audience. Luckily, Madeleine comes to rescue, a deity of the sea come to life in her dress. Momentarily captivated, the group’s attention falls on the ballerina while Aurélie finally makes her escape.

“ They have no choice, ” she mutters before offering a final, brilliant smile, her voice honey-sweet. “ Au revoir, messieurs! Please, do enjoy the champagne. I hear it’s the very best. ” Linking her arm with Madeleine’s, she gives one last glance at the men and a wave of her fingers as they sweep away, pastel skirts fluttering. 

“ Truly, I think you’re the angel, ” she says once they’re out of earshot. “ I thought they’d be more interesting, but the only good thing about them are their wallets. And their faces, I suppose, but what use is that if there’s nothing else? ”

“ I’ll give you my new silk gloves if you can get Monsieur Périer to put the most expensive whiskey on his tab, ” Aurélie proposes from where they hold court at the bar, champagne coupes balanced delicately in hands. Several guests would be too easy, their accounts already promised to the pockets of the Moulin Noir, but Aurélie’s man of the hour holds steadfast to his wallet. Notoriously stingy and annoyingly uptight, Jacques Périer only shows to accompany his more generous friend—he’s the perfect target. “ And what will you wager if I can do it? ” 

Gleaming smile pulls across her lips as she makes an addendum: “ I’ll throw in that dress of mine you’ve been eyeing if you persuade him to make a donation. ”

Like many of the Noir’s performers, Aurélie shines in front of an audience, soaking up every drop of adoration. But the ballroom is a different stage altogether, the jewels of the Noir scattered amongst the wealthy clamoring for a second look, and one she cannot finesse nearly as well as a hoop dangling mid-air. She bites her tongue as she converses with patrons, attempting to adopt the sort of charming tone Marie would use and the dignified grace of Madeleine—it’s too important of a night to fuck up, the club hinging on the wallets of their esteemed guests.

Eventually, she gives up and retreats to the fringes. The night is still young, and she’s at least persuaded Louis or Lucas or Leo to buy several drinks. Good enough for now. 

As she idly watches the party, she catches sight of Victor surprisingly alone—he, she knows, will not be dull company. “ Shouldn’t you be​ entertaining someone? ” she asks archly, drifting over. “ Not that I blame you for escaping. I can see that woman there, ” with a touch of mischief in her smile, she points imperceptibly at a blonde looking their way, “ wondering, just how can I steal him from La Sirene? Oh, I wouldn’t want to deal with that. ”

Aurélie adores parties, but this is not a party. This is a spectacle, a hint of what’s to come, a promise for Noir’s diamond to glitter once again—and it’s boring. Playing the games of the rich grows quickly tiresome, and she can’t even drink herself drunk to find fun in it. ( That can wait until after the ball, when most of the investors and patrons have descended back into their gilded mansions and golden cages, their fill of scandal and shine satiated for another night. )

She does allow herself a little champagne, and with two glasses in hand, makes her way over to Dominique. Do they feel just as out of place, playing a part that doesn’t fit quite right? Yes, her gown is beautiful, and she can plaster on a smile just like the rest, but there’s something stifling about all the finery. “ Anyone here looking like your next muse, or is it all lacking inspiration? ”