#bdrpduchess

@the-duchess-lablanc

Toulouse was heading to a part of the theatre that he had been avoiding the last few weeks, not that he would ever admit to avoiding it. 

It was simply that the set director and the costume director did not have to collaborate, even though Lou had made a point of doing it in years past. (Though, look how that had turned out for him. The last time he had done this, it had been Anita at the helm of costumes. Perhaps it was just another one of the many curses Swynlake had decided to lay upon him for whatever reason.) The irony went further, as it had been Duchess last year, who had kept him up to date with the goings on of the musical when he had been away, so that when he had come back, he’d been able to easily slide (bully) his way to his coveted position again. 

Thinking such things burned a hole through Lou, as if someone was pressing a cigarette to the muscle of his heart. And that was why Lou had been avoiding Duchess LaBlanc.

Thinking about her made him feel as if he had an open wound. It was a vulnerability that he did not wish to admit to, nor give too much power over him. Lou had plenty of things to worry about without adding his aunt to the list. She should be as good as dead to him. Lou had ripped people out of his heart for far less and had closed the wound quickly. Pulling Duchess out was proving much more difficult than he anticipated. So, he simply ignored it, as one ignored a throbbing sore when they had a fear of hospitals.

But Toulouse Bonfamille did not like to be afraid. He did not like to show fear nor admit to its existence. 

He don his courteous and gallant armor and treat his aunt as if she were merely a coworker. A coworker he did not like, but a coworker nonetheless. 

He would not give her a reason to ruin this for him. Lou needed this position. There was nothing else for him. No job. Not even a commission. His email had been filled with hate mail as soon as he had come out. He had taken his contact information off of his website. 

If he did not have the play, he did not know what he would do with himself. A dangerous thought for someone like him. 

Perhaps speaking with Duchess would be playing with fire, but Lou refused to compromise the integrity of the play due to his own personal--controversy. 

It was not hard to find his aunt, sitting at one of her sewing tables, working on a costume of some kind, if he were to assume. He did not get close enough to pinpoint what it was.

Arthur woke up with a jolt, which was relatively normal. What wasn’t normal was how his dream had been centered around the Titanic, instead of the middle ages or medieval times like he was accustomed to. It was...jarring. Everything seemed even more muddled...uncertain.

If he could have this incredibly realistic dream of Titanic, then he had to wonder a little whether all of this was just the power of an overly strong imagination. There certainly was no real reason for Arthur to have some affinity for medieval times. Not unless he was this King Arthur guy, and he already laughed at the absurdity of that.

But he spent his shift in a relative daze, until another officer finally spoke up and asked if his dream of Titanic was the cause. For some reason this experience was shared, and it made him immediately think of the woman who had...well he had felt it in the dream. The dream version of himself had adored her. So he asked around, until he was able to learn that this woman was Duchess La Blanc. 

With a little further nudging, he was able to find out that her home was in the woods. Arthur felt a little guilty using that knowledge for himself, but well...he told himself that it was all just to reassure himself...perhaps her as well. Even if he might be overthinking it. So he made his way over, still dressed in his work uniform as he knocked gently on the door. He put his hands behind his back and tried to make himself a little more casual in appearance, an awkward smile on his face as the door opened for him. “Hi. Miss La Blanc?”

@the-duchess-lablanc

It had been almost two years since Jack had been in the public eye and he was growing restless. Not that he would mention it to anyone, but he could feel it inside of himself, this growing melancholy. And melancholy could be quite poetic and awe-inspiring, if you wanted it to be. If you never suffered, how could you possibly play a character suffering?

Jack wasn’t playing anyone, these days. So all that melancholy just sat in his chest, getting thicker and thicker.

However, he had finally been struck by inspiration. It was thanks to the Town Board elections, actually. He had forgotten that the indomitable Duchess LaBlanc lived in this charming little town. Eager, he had phone her office and arranged a meeting as soon as she was free.

It was a few weeks after she had been elected, but Madame LaBlanc was a busy woman, so he did not mind. It gave him time to gather his notes and ideas.

Now, he was lead to her office, smiling widely as the woman came into view.

“Duchess, darling. What a small world! It has been too, too long.” 

@duchesslablanc

Perdita had thrown herself into her work. It was a good distraction from the hell that was the rest of her life. It was a good distraction from Paul (though, also, not at all, seeing as his name was one of the ones on her list, how had that happened? she couldn’t even really remember properly.) Also, now that Anita was dating Roger (which really, thank god, it had been long enough), but the fissure of their little group was more glaring than ever.

There were no double dates like Perdita used to tease Anita about. No movie nights with the four of them anymore. No outings to parks or Anita’s house up in the countryside.

They were broken and it was all Perdita’s fault. That was all she did was break things--she’d done the same with her real family as well as her found one. She just broke things into tiny little pieces, until they were too small to fit back together properly. It just left her at a baffled loss and wanting to run.

But, she couldn’t run--because she had her babies.

So, instead, she threw herself into anything to distract herself. Right now, that meant sitting on Duchess’ couch, her hair back in a smooth ponytail to keep it out of her face as she looked over the list in her lap. She’d handed Duchess a copy as well, so that the could both make notes. 

Marie was top of the page. Bonfamille. It was alphabetical.

“Well, of course you know Marie. I swear I didn’t know it was her at first. She just had a good walk--excellent taste. Though, if I’m honest, her height doesn’t do her any favours in the modeling world. And she might be a bit too--cute. Her face is a bit more round than the typical model, but I know that is not exactly what we are going for.” 

@the-duchess-lablanc

Right, Lady got one of the first spots for a fitting. There would be several, of course, before the final product was complete. She’d been through this rigmarole before. That didn’t make her any less nervous. 

Not only was she getting a costume edited and, perhaps, made by the Duchess LaBlanc, but she most certainly wasn’t in the best shape of her life. 

She was going to have to work on that. Up her meetings with Terra. Especially if she wanted to pass herself off as a boy. They would have to put her in the baggiest clothes. Ew. 

Still, she didn’t let her nerves show--much, when she knocked on the dressing room door that had been indicated in Duchess’ text.

“Heyyyy, giiiirl,” she said, trying to sound not nervous and definitely sounding nervous. “How are ya? How’s the babe?” 

@the-duchess-lablanc

It was late. Phoebus and Duchess lay in bed. Her hair spilled like moonlight over his shoulder. He could hear her quieting breaths in the quiet. Her hand was on his chest, he could feel her tracing nonsensical patterns. It was calm and it was good--and it was something Phoebus would miss.

He never missed things in these little towns. Moving from one to the next never bothered him. Phoebus had only lived in one place until he was fourteen and then he was traded from hand to hand to hand. He was used to a life on the road. But now, he felt tired of it. When he won the Tourney, he wanted to come home to someone. He wanted to have a life outside of slaying monsters.

And he wanted that life to be Duchess.

“Darling,” he murmured, so that she would look up at him, “I have something that I need to tell you.”