DATE: July 2nd 1920 TIME: 10:30 pm PLACE: Club Entre Nous
@dinameijer
The full moon comes and goes without incident. Incident beyond the norm, anyway, what with the inevitably sprouting wings and arguably archaic rituals. But such has always been the way of life, and causes little disruption nowadays other than Evanna’s one night absence from the stage. This evening carries on as usual, though, and La Dame Blanche ascends to the familiar stage of Club Entre Nous to smatterings of applause and whistles from regulars. All of which is greeted by a simple nod and, perhaps, a wink of one green eye, but it’s there and gone in a flash, the musician simply settling into her set without any grand introductions. It isn’t until after the second song that she pauses for brief conversation with the audience, her voice low and smoky and inevitably accented. The accent gets mixed reviews occasionally, but the other things seem to satisfy, and she’s here to give the people what they want. For the most part, anyway. Satisfied they are not, however, when La Dame Blanche halts suddenly in the middle of a song, the color draining from her face. But how can she help it? It’s not every night that a ghost stares back at you from the audience. A ghost you’d ended things on awful terms with, both of you near starving, saying things that no family and certainly no siblings should ever say to each other. “Oh, Seona...”
It’s a heckle that finally breaks her from her trance, some demand to get on with it already, but Evanna can’t seem to find it in her. Clearing her throat, she steps away from the microphone. Part of her wants to retreat, to recede into her dressing room and be done for the evening. But another part, the fiercer part, wants the truth. And so she makes a pit stop before going backstage, taking the girl’s arm with what she hopes is some gentleness. It isn’t until they’re away from prying eyes (for the most part, anyway, as coworkers peer around pillars) that Evanna blinks hard and starts stating her own truths: “You aren’t Seona.” That much is made clear now in this new light. After a muttered curse in Divi, La Dame Blanche presses her crimson red lips into a tight line then tries again, locking gazes with the girl. If inquiry won’t work, persuasion might. “Who are you, then? Did she send you my way to taunt me?”
