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Post by Philippe de Chagny on Mar 13, 2008 4:59:00 GMT -5
And when I held her hand, I held the world around...
As the carriage pulled up to Philippe’s Paris townhouse, only one thought possessed the Comte: Raoul absolutely could not stay. Though, he was certain that if he explained the situation to his brother, Raoul would of course concede and leave for the night. Or at least Philippe hoped that would happen. Momentarily pushing those thoughts away, Philippe opened the carriage door and helped Céline to the ground. “Please excuse me if the manor is in any way unkempt,” he confided. “You see, when the servants are away, Raoul and I occasionally do not know what to do with ourselves.” Now that Céline had been warned, Philippe produced the key to his manor and opened the door.
Scarcely had the Philippe closed the door behind them when a figure not unlike that of Philippe, only younger, exited the sitting room and caught sight of the Comte. Dropping Céline’s hand, Philippe smiled warmly at Raoul and crossed to him.. The young man was acting as if his brother and guardian had been missing for days as opposed to only a few hours, but Philippe allowed his brother the brief moment of melodrama.
“’Lippe! I missed you!” Raoul exclaimed. “I wondered where you had gone. You were so late at the opera I thought—” The young man faltered for a second when he noticed the prima ballerina standing in their foyer. “Oh, forgive me, Mademoiselle Sorelli! How are you?” Philippe and his younger brother exchanged rather knowing glances and, color rising in the youth’s face, Raoul quickly resumed his story, with a slightly different ending. “As I was saying, you were so late at the opera…I thought I might as well go to the club for the night.” Raoul quickly glanced at Philippe to gage his brother’s approval and, after receiving a small nod from Philippe, Raoul continued. “Till tomorrow.” He said to his brother, and then turned to Céline, fighting another blush. “Mademoiselle, it is always very good to see you.” With that, Raoul gathered his things as quickly as possible and was out the door with as little fuss as he could manage.
After Raoul left, Philippe couldn’t help but grin at his little brother’s behavior. Getting Raoul out of the house was not as difficult as he thought it would be. Yet, before his beloved could say anything about him forcing Raoul to leave, Philippe spoke up. “You know that if Raoul ever wanted to be alone with a young lady I would give them their privacy. But, he has never asked, so I seem to be the only one taking advantage of our agreement. However, I daresay my little brother has seen more of the opera house than I have recently. He has grown quite fond of one of your ballerinas, a Mademoiselle Daae, but I am unaware if the girl returns his affections.” Wrapping an arm around Sorelli’s shoulders, the nobleman smiled at her and continued. “Nevertheless, this restores my faith in my little brother.” He kissed her unabashedly in the middle of his foyer, a move that he never would have attempted had his servants been present. There was something rather exciting about it. “Perhaps Raoul is a Chagny after all.” Two brothers falling for two ballerinas. Love was indeed a strange thing.
It was almost strange how large the manor seemed with all of the servants gone; it was no wonder that Philippe asked Raoul to stay with him while on shore leave. The mansion was too large for one man, its opulent beauty and exquisite elegance more befitting a museum than a home. “Mmm, darling, I am being a horrible host. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.” With that, the nobleman disappeared to his pantry, re appearing a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Settling down next to her, Philippe poured them both rather generous servings of wine, offering her one while drinking deeply from the other. “That’s better, don’t you think?” He said, removing his jacket and taking another sip from the glass. Philippe de Chagny was a man who held his liquor well, but Céline’s presence was far more intoxicating than any wine.
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La Sorelli
New Member
Prima Ballerina
So she dances...
Posts: 13
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Post by La Sorelli on Mar 29, 2008 16:32:04 GMT -5
Despite being a frequent visitor of the de Chagny's, Céline was still unaccustomed to the opulence of their "townhouse." As small in comparison to their home in Brussels, this manor was enough of a château to stop her in her tracks almost every time. This time, she avoided staring directly at it while being handed down from the carriage, faking a coughing fit when she couldn't hide her wide eyes. She almost didn't catch his statement, but her false coughs quickly dissolved into amused laughter as she turned her raised eyebrows on him. "No matter the state of disarray," she reminded him, "it is always worse by the time I leave. And as for not kowing what to do with yourself..." Craftily, she left the sentence at that. Despite the suggestiveness of her words, she delivered it completely unfazed, stepping through the door and focusing her mind against unseemly gaping.
The sudden appearance of the younger de Chagny brought a grin to Sorelli's countenance. It was always nice to see him, even if just to embarrass him and have him leave. Although she knew his attention was not on her answer, she did so anyways, pleasantly and blandly replying, "Bonsoir, monsieur. I trust I find you well." As she had expected, he continued as if she had not said a word, his eyes on Philippe. Fighting laughter at the faint coloration staining Raoul's face, she swept him an elegant curtsy and a "And also you, monsieur."
Her dialogue with the boy (she always thought of him as such, even though their years were not quite so different) was usually limited to a few polite sentences here and there. It was Philippe, after all, that she was interested in, and Raoul usually found some reason to depart swiftly if he ever found the two together. And, of course, he always seemed embarrassed to come across her. He was innocent and naive, she gathered, and nearly hero-worshiped his brother. Raoul was a semi-frequent topic of discussion between herself and le Comte.
Her surprise at the news of Raoul's preference for the young Daaé was stayed by a kiss, one she welcomed despite her curious questions. After their lips had parted, her mind was still awhirl, perhaps as intoxicated by him as he seemed to be with her. And so she could not seem to put words together quickly enough to phrase a coherent sentence, let alone voice the thoughts spinning away within her inquisitive mind. After several moments, Philippe apparently lost in thought, Céline managed to collect herself enough to say, "Raoul--and Christine Daaé? Curious...the girl is...pretty, yes, but there is something..." Her inability to say what, exactly, that something was forced her to trail off rather abruptly, brow furrowed with thought.
She continued to muse as she settled deep into the comfortable cushions of the couch, far more elegant and prim than she would ever allow in a home of her own. Staring around herself at the mountains of brocaded pillows, Céline grinned to herself and promptly tossed many of them high into the air, to land several feet away, rejected. The result was a thoroughly unorganized room and an extremely comfortable nest. Nothing in the de Chagny's house was exempt from her, and if she wished to scatter pillows and cushions across the floor, she would.
Philippe's return jarred her mind back to the strange couple of le Vicomte and the little Swedish girl. Accepting the wine, she began, "How did Daaé and Raoul ever meet? She's very shy...withdrawn. She rarely speaks to anyone at all. I don't see why she is even employed at the opera, seeing as how she has no desire to dance--very obvious, that--and sings like a crow."
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Post by Philippe de Chagny on Mar 30, 2008 3:33:44 GMT -5
Raoul often came up in Philippe and Céline’s conversations, if only because, like any parent or pseudo-parent, Raoul was frequently on le Comte’s mind. Still, Philippe remarked to himself as he took another sip of wine, Céline seemed particularly eager to talk about Raoul tonight, and it probably wasn’t because she was romantically interested in a younger de Chagny. No, he reasoned, it was no doubt because Raoul’s possible relationship with the young ballerina was of particular interest to her. After all, it was a fresh bit of gossip that she didn’t seem to be aware of. Also, he thought that perhaps any story about a relationship between a nobleman and an opera performer was relevant to them.
In an effort to make himself more comfortable, Philippe loosened his tie and unfastened the first button on his shirt. The Comte was willing to bet that a buttoned collar was far more uncomfortable than the corsets that the women complained so much about. But, he was in no state of mind to enter into that kind of argument with Céline, and so he merely sipped his wine and bridged the gap between them by wrapping an arm around her. At Céline’s question, Philippe set his wine down on a nearby table and paused for a moment to think over what he was going to say. “Raoul met her so long ago that I had forgotten all about her until he brought it up recently.” Oh, but he couldn’t leave it merely at that. Céline knew almost everything about the de Chagny family, and like every story he told her, Philippe would tell her everything he knew about it. “They first met when they were children. You know that when my father died, I became le Comte and Raoul’s guardian. Taking care of Raoul wasn’t very difficult at first, but that was when I had my sisters to help. They both got married and suddenly the thought of learning to be a Comte and learning to be a parent terrified me. We were living in Chagny, and I had to travel to Paris for the summer, so I arranged that an aunt of ours would take care of him over the summer at her house in Perros. I know not what happened there, but when I came back Raoul was just raving about this Christine Daae that he met in Perros. He even said that he wanted to marry her when he got older. I thought that Raoul had forgotten about her—he was only ten, after all—but he recognized her almost instantly at the opera.” Philippe didn’t understand how Raoul could focus on such an uninspiring dancer as Daae when Céline was on the stage, but that was a different matter.
“I believe he’s spoken to her, and he appears to be just as smitten with her as he was eleven years ago, but he won’t tell me if she returns his sentiments.” Judging by Raoul’s occasional sadness whenever he got back from visiting the opera house, Philippe wondered if Daae was in fact seeing someone else. Of course, he’d never bring that up to his dear brother. “Even though he has a history with her, Raoul could maybe do better if he was after a ballerina. Of course,” Philippe grinned, kissing her neck, “He couldn’t do better than me.”
Inhaling her perfume, Philippe let his eyes wander about, settling on the pile of pillows on the floor. Chuckling softly, le Comte fought to keep from choking on his wine and instead confronted the prima ballerina. “What are those doing there, darling?” He asked, feigning disbelief, even though he had told her years ago that the townhouse was as good as hers. “You are a saucy one, indeed. I would never do such a thing. I have some maids who would chastise me horribly. However, I did tell you to make yourself comfortable.” Taking another sip, Philippe regarded the pillows thoughtfully and continued. “They do look rather comfortable though, if ever you get tired of sitting…” He supposed it was his turn to be suggestive.
There was a momentary lull in the conversation, filled by Philippe draining his glass of wine and kissing her again. “Have you made any other changes in decoration around here that I don’t know about, my love? I won’t blame you if you have. After all, you have a right to do what you please, since the townhouse might as well be yours.” Another kiss. Then another one. Quite suddenly, before Philippe had a chance to think about what he was going to say, he unconsciously voiced his thoughts before anyone could stop him.
“Maybe it won’t be long before the townhouse is legally yours, darling…” A sober Philippe might have taken it back, but the current Philippe just let his quiet question hang in the air.
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La Sorelli
New Member
Prima Ballerina
So she dances...
Posts: 13
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Post by La Sorelli on May 6, 2008 22:45:54 GMT -5
Céline's interest in her lover's younger sibling was normally a mild curiosity. However, her interest in a member of her corps piqued her attention. And she had a disappointing lack of knowledge of the Swedish child newest to the opera. Whether she may be tart or ingénue, the prima resolved to discover. Céline swirled the wine around in her glass, thoughts etched onto her furrowed brow. The power she held over the opera cast was about to be utilized--the prima ballerina felt it a duty to protect the innocent Raoul from potentially pulverizing greed of a crafty ballet rat. Inelegantly but smoothly, she tipped the wineglass into her mouth, the copious amount of alcohol vanished in an instant.
Sorelli's tolerance for alcohol was infamous but admired. Men offering to buy her a drunk found their cash depleted and their victim still smilingly sober, if a little pink in the cheek--it was a talent that was very useful for a woman falsely considered a harlot. But being with Philippe, she let her defenses drop and the warmth of the wine--and his presence--muddle her mind. But not enough for her sense to dull. And certainly not enough to let him get away with that.
Swiftly her mood changed. She had been learning against Philippe lazily; now she was leaning back, facing him, still comfortably situated against the cushions but her demeanor frosty, lips pressed together in a pale line. The thoughts speeding through her mind were too risky to voice, for they would open a conversation that a sober Céline could not have. The townhouse, hers...married--Philippe, the eligible Comte, hers. What she wouldn't give--!
Another glass of wine traveled into her system, and one more was raised to her lips but unconsumed. Sorelli's keen eyes, edged with the brightness of alcohol, studied her companion carefully. It had been an intoxicated comment, she knew, but one that was not frequently mention--for good reason. Both knew that an official marriage would be impossible and crippling. His title made sure of it. And yet, she could not stop herself from considering it. He could drop his title (preposterous), and they would run away and be happy, finally, together (highly unlikely). Perhaps it was the alcohol in her blood affecting her mind--for another glass had gone the way of the first two, and this wine was strong, especially when she hadn't eaten all day--but she found herself moving back towards Philippe, purring a response that would not have come from a sober Sorelli.
"How long, then, must I wait for what is already mine? You know, love," sje was hardly murmuring by now, leaning over him, brushing her lips and against his lips, then cheek, then near his ear, "I'm not nearly patient enough." She could feel him turning to kiss her, and allowed him a short one, pulling away too early to continue, "And what's wrong with this chaise? It serves our purpose just as well as those pillows would...perhaps better." Céline lowered herself down for another kiss, ridding him of the rest of his buttons and almost hoping, in the desperate, jealous part of her mind, that this was not the end of the marriage conversation.[
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