#bakerslament

❝ oh! just trouble sleeping, is all.. ❞

bird couldn't exactly explain that she had woken up in an alleyway - traveled back in time again while asleep at her desk. the theater's busy season had kicked up and between cups of coffee and endless swarms of patrons she had been exhausted.

at the very least, she had awoken in suitable clothes for when and where she had appeared.

She was late in leaving the Opera that evening, having shown her dresser where a rip in her costume for Act 3 was in the lining of her skirt. Christine wasn't expected to accompany the dresser to the wardrobe department, but she hadn't visited in quite some time and was eager to greet whoever remained that evening. She'd spent many a happy hour looking in on the goldsmiths, plasterers, and seamstresses of the Opera through the years; the various roles that went into putting on a production fascinated her.

Her reason for visiting was twofold, as she wished to catch up with the seamstresses, but she also wished to avoid any male attention from subscribers that might've tried for an audience with her after the performance was over. The Angel had made his distaste for male attention known, and Christine didn't want to upset him now.

One of the remaining concierges saw to finding a carriage for her, leaving her to linger outside upon the steps of the Garnier. Bundled in her thick cloak, scarf, and muff, Christine doubted anyone would recognize her as the same woman who'd left her very soul upon the stage that evening. Each night she felt as if she gave every bit of herself to the audience and yet, somehow, she managed to do the same the next night. The music both invigorated and drained her, having caught her so tightly in its grip that she barely recognized herself from the girl she'd been three months prior.

@bakerslament

The statement hangs over him like wisps of smoke from a cigarette. He's facing the display of pastries, an awkward position, he feels, now that the conversation has shifted from speaking of his godmother's liking for this bakery to... well, to anything other than that. He didn't want to come out today; the weather's overcast, the change in air pressure causing his bad leg to ache.

@bakerslament (thank you!)

The cold had a way of seeping into one's bones. Even when she made it back home, Fantine could never shift the cold.

She greeted it now as an old friend. Longed for the way it numbed her physical sensations in the same way brandy numbed her emotions.

So far, she despised London. Despised the way her tongue tripped over the language that didn't fit well in her mouth. Hated the way that she thought fleeing France would give her and Cosette a fresh start.

Eventually her blue eyes track over to the other. Having a friend. Fantine had never truly had such a privilege. If anything, those she couldn't quite recall the names of in Paris had damaged her perception of friendship forever.

Friends didn't exist.

@bakerslament (thank you!)

Meg's fingers delicately tapped the end of her cigarette, eyes scanning across the stranger's face as she took another drag from her cigarette. It was clear the woman wasn't from around here, both in accent and appearance. Like most getting off at Ellis Island, their stories were largely unpleasant. Fleeing poverty, persecution, infamy. Most, not all, chasing that American Dream.

"Well, madame, welcome to America."

She offered her cigarette case towards the woman, her back was slumped against the wall as she leaned against it, observing passerbys with casual interest.

meme || @bakerslament

A hand touches against the shawl that hides those forever scars that will always be a reminder of those nights of terror. The Count had made certain that Lucy would never, ever forget him or what he had done to her.

meme || @bakerslament

They had once called her "The Bloofer Lady" - the beautiful lady in child speak -- when she'd first risen from the grave. It had been a few years since those first months, but Lucy had learned the ways of this new life on her own. She'd kept mostly hidden until she felt safe to know that no one would ever recognize her in the London streets she once walked daily.