|
|
Post by Madeleine Fontaine on Nov 5, 2012 17:47:51 GMT -5
Madeleine Fontaine was lounging around her room in the manor, thoroughly bored. She hadn't been in the manor more than a week, and already she found it was not much to her liking. Lenoir, the first person she had met in the place, had told her about the manor and had informed her that she was not allowed to leave. Madeleine, of course, was not quick to believe it, but a short trip to the village had convinced her that she did not want to leave the manor even if she could. The people there wore strange clothes and stared at her fancy garments like she was some sort of an alien. No, she didn't like it there at all. She found it more beneficial to stay in and try to figure out her situation from there. Of course, she was not easy. She hadn't met anyone else since her first run in with Lenoir, and Lenoir himself didn't seem to have much useful information.
Consequently, she had spent much of her time in the area of the manor that seemed to be made up for her. Lenoir had told her that it belonged to her and this had been confirmed by her discovery of many objects that had her initials on them in the few rooms. The rooms were beautifully elegant, matching her style perfectly, and the closet was filled with some of the most gorgeous dresses that she had ever seen. Her initial discovery of the room had left her deliriously happy and excited about the room, until she had remembered that she was a prisoner in the manor, no matter how nice the place seemed to be. So, she had spent close to a week holed up in the room, trying to decide her best plan of attack. She needed information, that much was true. She needed to know why she was here and how she was going to get out.
So, after a week of lounging about, she finally got up. She sifted through her closet and found a dress that she found quite to her liking. It was light blue, with long sleeves and light pink trim on the edge of the sleeves, the bodice and the edges of the skirts, which swooped over one another attractively. The bustle was large, but small enough that it could pass for everyday dress. It was fancy, but not too overbearing. Perfect. She put it on, after all of her undergarments and picked out a small, light blue hat that complimented the dress. She perched it atop a complex bun that she fixed in her hair and declared herself fit to be seen. With all this done, she let herself out of her room and began to wander, looking to find someone who could be of some use.
For a good while, she could find no one at all, nothing that might help her with finding out more about where she was. By some strange coincidence (for she certainly had no clue about where she was going), she happened to stumble upon the room that she had woken up in, the one with the terribly out of tune piano. She slid into the room and onto the piano bench, plucking a few notes out. Strangely, the piano seemed to have been tuned since her last encounter with it. So there was some life in the manor...To test its tuning, she began to tease out Moonlight Sonata from the keys.
|
|
|
|
Post by Philippe Maurice de Chagny on Nov 7, 2012 23:00:50 GMT -5
Philippe had found his room easily enough. Raoul hadn't been lying about there being a place for him at the manor, though he wished he was unwelcome. The sense of permanence might go away... When he found his things in the suite just down the hall from his brother's, he felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was as if the house made an invitation for him to stay forever, even though his brother had hopes that they'd leave one day for London. The point was that neither of them were home, in the time they were supposed to be in. He felt... trapped.
After changing his clothes and resting a good while, Philippe left the room and thought he might ask Raoul to show him around. However, his sibling didn't seem to be in. Disappointed, he didn't have a reason to turn back now, so he decided to show himself around. He had always had an excellent sense of direction, and he thought that with enough patience he could find his way back to his rooms. He set off down the hall in the direction he remembered led out to the main corridor.
His brother had told him the general direction of the kitchen, and he was hungry. But the halls weren't looking as he remembered them... so by now he assumed he was lost. It was like the turns and twists were changing on him, and he couldn't remember which way he came from. Didn't this place have some sort of map or guide?
A few more feet and a turn later he began to hear piano music. It drifted about his ears from the room to his right. Curious, he thought he might knock, but that would disrupt the player's melody. He recognized the song as the Moonlight Sonata.
Perhaps the pianist could help him find his way to some civilization? he wondered. Slowly, quietly, ever so gently he turned the door handle and entered the room.
Sitting at the instrument was a lady, dressed in blue and soft pink in the fashion of his day. He moved closer with a smile. Softly, he addressed her with caution. "You play beautifully, mademoiselle."
|
|
|
|
Post by Madeleine Fontaine on Nov 8, 2012 21:15:47 GMT -5
Madeleine didn't even miss a note when the man spoke. Having lived under her father's thumb for all of those years, she had learned how to detect when someone was entering the room, and she had sensed this man quite clearly. She merely smiled a little and finished off the last bit of music before speaking softly, "It's rather impolite to sneak up on a lady like that, don't you think?"
The slight smirk that was playing at her lips as she turned around revealed that she was teasing, but there was always a calculating nature to her eyes that hinted she was not. Indeed, even now, she was on her guard, assessing this new person, trying to discern what sort of a threat me might be, whether he was friend or foe. It was the kind of mask she was used to wearing, being a French aristocrat, the kind that made it easy to fool others without being fooled oneself. But really, no one was every fooled. The entire air of the upper class world in Paris reeked with a sense that nothing was real and no one ever said exactly what they meant.
But that was the world Madeleine had grown up in and it was the way she was programed. This man, however, impressed her in that he seemed to be of the elite as well, judging by his dress. In fact, Madeleine almost imagined that she recognized him...
|
|
|
|
Post by Philippe Maurice de Chagny on Jan 1, 2013 19:52:10 GMT -5
When the lady turned around, Philippe suddenly had an inkling of recognition in his eyes. She seemed just like every painted aristocratic lady of his day, but she had the kind of face that would make it hard for any man to forget.
He laughed a bit awkwardly, but stepped forward a little. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Forgive my intruding, but I merely love to hear a piano being played, especially so skillfully. It reminds me of my mother..." The Comte raised his eyebrows at the memory, but blinked it away and smiled. He bowed a little, his cane extending out with a flourish of his hand.
"Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Philippe Maurice, le Comte de Chagny." At least this young woman was dressed properly, and so he assumed his greeting for her would be appropriate. He wasn't sure what to make of the women in town!
"Forgive me, but... Have we met before? I know I have seen your face at around Paris..."
((I'm assuming Madeleine is from the same world as Philippe, though it says in her application that she was at the Opera Garnier. Phil is the Philippe from the ALW version, so his Opera house would be the Populaire, but maybe he's just very similar to his Leroux counterpart and she has a very similar doppleganger in the ALW world. xD))
|
|
|
|
Post by Madeleine Fontaine on Feb 19, 2013 10:19:37 GMT -5
His name was what tipped her off. She, of course, remembered the De Chagny's from her days at the opera house. She could remember him specifically, following around a few of the ballet girls in hopes of wooing them. His brother, of course, had always been quite focused on Christine Daae, She had left the Opera Garnier before the whole business with Miss Daae's kidnapping had been fully resolved, but she could still remember the two brothers who had always been up in the box to watch the performances, "Of course I recognize you, monsieur...From the opera house in Paris. I doubt you remember me, I was only a chorus girl, after all."
She was certainly very excited to discover someone who shared her upper class status in Paris. He was the first person she had met that she felt comfortable speaking to, and this showed as she stood, a demure smile on her face as she held out her hand for the man to kiss, "Madeleine Fontaine, monsieur."
|
|
|
|
Post by Philippe Maurice de Chagny on Apr 6, 2013 16:43:33 GMT -5
Philippe was pleased to know that the woman recognized him, which made their meeting so much easier. It was nice to not have to explain who he was, since everyone he'd met previously seemed only to know of him vaguely by his more... colorful brother. He had his own reputation to uphold...
He smiled and took the lady's hand, kissing it graciously-- and gratefully, as it was a gesture he was used to. "I can't say I recognize your first name, Mademoiselle Fontaine, but I remember something of your last name. Is your father the same man who has some social circles in common with me? I'm surprised he never spoke of you." Of course he didn't realize exactly who her father was, but he always tried to make connections with people some way or another.
Letting go of her hand, he continued, "I do recognize your face... I never cared much for the leading ladies anyway in an opera. The chorus always has the best parts." He smiled. He suddenly realized he might be flirting with her... Strange of him, as he never flirted. It was nice to see the silk of a nice gown, the curl in a ladies hair and her snow white skin...
An image flashed through his mind: Aleta. She was the complete opposite of this dainty, cultivated woman before him. Aleta was wild, with olive skin and luscious, free hair. She sometimes wore the clothes of a man, but he never cared about that... She was just so wonderful... Lord, what has become of him? He always used to say he would never enjoy the company of a painted lady, and here he was, comparing her to the bohemian woman that scorned him!
|
|
|
|
Post by Madeleine Fontaine on Apr 13, 2013 13:34:45 GMT -5
She naturally gave a bit of a curtsey as he kissed her hand, her eyes on him. Her demure smile quickly vanished when he mentioned her father and she faltered a bit in rising, her discomfort evident. The mask was quickly replaced however, and she nodded a little as she rose to her (admittedly not very impressive) full height, "You are correct...I am the heir to his fortune. He had a habit of keeping his little treasure locked away from the 'evils of men', I'm not surprised he never said a word of me to you."
Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, but the truth was far more sinister. She dared to give a larger smile at his next words, though her teeth still did not show, "Thank you, monsieur...I must disagree with you, I would have much preferred to have a lead. But, mademoiselle Carlotta and Christine had better luck than I."
There was no small amount of bitterness in her voice as she spoke, crossing slowly away from the man. Her silk rustled quietly around her legs as she walked, a delicious sound that she relished, and her neck curved at a pretty angle, her brown curls falling just so on her slightly exposed shoulders. It was no small wonder that her beauty had been the toast of many men in France, that her father had been so...protective of her. But her mask was so thick as to allow such objectification of her beauty- they could never know the hate in her head for them or her manipulative ways.
She turned a little, back to face him, "I do apologize...Old wounds do run deeply." She brushed a stray hair from her face, looking at him, "Your brother was at the Opera often as well, was he not? I do remember him, I think..."
|
|
