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| Re-Introduction; Frenchy McFrencherton | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 11 2010, 08:24 PM (187 Views) | |
| Judith Willoughby | Dec 11 2010, 08:24 PM Post #1 |
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Judith took a breath in, breathing as deep as she dared, given the constricting corset she wore at the moment. Catherine had her own duties to attend this evening, despite the fact that this was Judith's first official reintroduction to court. There had already been a number of unmemorable presences that had introduced themselves and carried on once more. A few eyes drifted towards her now and then. They all knew well enough who she was. She was the Countess Catherine Dudley's cousin. She was a formerly betrothed woman, experienced in tiptoeing around a manor in which a man was head of. She was experienced in the art of being a wife and yet completely inexperienced when it came to courting once again. She had fallen into a dependency with Thomas and she had been far too secure at his side. She knew it now and felt the lack of his presence like a knife in her heart most days. The pain she had felt following the immediate death of her betrothed had been nearly unbearable for the longest of times. Her state of mourning hadn't lasted nearly as long as it should have as far as she was concerned. But tonight she was light of heart and clear of mind. She was beginning, slowly, to come to terms with the fact that Thomas would have wanted her to be able to adjust and move past her hurt. She had come to terms with the fact that he was gone and she would have to adjust before she was swept away with the tide of life. It had been nearly unthinkable to the petite brunette a short while ago. But she was coming to her senses now. She stood off to the side, speaking with a few of the other eligible ladies at court at the moment. They all talked amongst one another with ease and grace. Judith truly felt like an outsider, but she wouldn't make herself any less welcome in the moment. She smiled and laughed as any lady would at the conversation. She was polite and charming when she could manage it, but most of the time, she preferred to keep to herself and simply force herself not to be swept away by everything that was happening. She had been too long gone from court to feel comfortable just slipping back into the lifestyle. The gown of lavender and black that she wore felt too heavy for her, despite the fact that she was used to wearing such garments. It felt constricting in its own way. The dainty mask she held in her hand against her face, exposing only the lower half of her pale features and those bright blue eyes that she was so famous for felt like a deception in its own way, which was utterly absurd, all things considered. The ladies around her went suddenly still and silent. Judith glanced at them curiously for a moment before she finally turned to look over her shoulder. It was then that she realized the group of ladies were being approached by a man. Calmly, Judith stepped out of the way and back to allow the man through, not even beginning to realize that the man was coming straight for their group. Not even realizing that he might potentially seek an audience with her. |
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| Francois Spencer | Dec 11 2010, 08:57 PM Post #2 |
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Those blue eyes. Francis had seen them only for a second before they had disappeared, into a mask of anonymity that fuelled the mystery of such nights. Francis himself was wearing a white mask, ornate but not gaudy, picked out with a silver lining. His hair was curled neatly behind his ear, although its misbehaviour resulted in a rather boyish look of loose curls under the black and gold plumed feather cap. Through the slits of his mask, his warm brown eyes searched for the girl with the striking blue eyes, looking for the mask that was hers, the mask that revealed more than it hid. There were so many people among the throngs, too many for Francis to navigate as he gently pushed his way through the large crowd, looking here and there, ignoring the giggles of the girls as he fought his way. To Francis, women were wonderful. Women were brilliantly beautiful in every respect. He admired the female form as much as he did the men’s, and was continuously searching for the ideal. As an aesthete and a lover, he could not help but look for tidbits of perfection, caramel hair here, sensuous lips there, Francis thought his mission as an aesthete was to create perfection, and have them all in the most intimate way. He did not pause. He could not pause. Not even with women who openly called out for his attention. Francis would play the pretty boy, the Prince of Youth, and stay, talking for them, commenting on some lady’s new lover, before he would disappear into the crowd again, looking for that one pale girl with the blue eyes. Of course, Francis, in his infinite pride, did not ask who she might be, or who may know this girl. He cultivated the image of the essential playboy. A playboy who thought pretty women were one and the same. It was his safety net, so that no women wanted to go too close to his heart. Francis was afraid of love because he had seen the consequences. Those women that had loved him in Italy, he had spurned. He had lost his innocence to the famous courtesan of Pisa, and she had taught him that she could not love. Nor could Francis. Nor did Francis want to. Wanting to claim those eyes for the night, Francis didn’t think any further than his immediate pleasure. He could not be bothered with the consequences because they were far too ahead for them. He lived for the moment in the purest sense, each action done for the simple fact that they pleased him at the moment. Perhaps the next day, he could consider, but the next year, the next decade? All of that was lost to Francis’s sensibilities. It was then that he saw it, as he contemplated his Italian courtesan. He remembered those eyes as he did before, catching a glimpse of them just before she turned away. He walked towards this lady with a mission in his mind, an enigmatic smile fixed onto his face. If he was in a masquerade, he might as well play the part. The ladies around him all fell silent as he walked through, perhaps waiting for him, baiting him, to ask them, to give his attention to them. Normally he would have, and perhaps could have, persuaded them to share his bed, together, at the same time. Today, however, the effects of wine and a search for the Platonic ideal was his goal, and he was too close to it to fail. ”My lady,” Approaching lady, he smiled and bowed, ”Forgive my interruption, but if you will, may I have this next dance?” |
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| Judith Willoughby | Dec 11 2010, 09:18 PM Post #3 |
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Judith watched, applying just the right amount of a coy smile and a tilt of her head to appear curious, but not overly so as the man approached. He was still quite young, from what she could gather, but he carried himself with confidence and he approached the group in such a way that suggested that he knew precisely what he was looking for. It was remarkable how she had been prepped and primed for the event ahead, days in advance and yet nothing had allowed the experience to come more naturally than throwing her headfirst into the event. She found that her body, more or less, conformed to the situation, shifting and moving all on its own. She didn't need to think about the actions. Apparently, the actions had been laced right into the very essence of her being. It didn't, however, stop the faint blush that crept up her neck and into her cheeks as she watched him approach. Good grief, she wasn't even sure if the man was coming for her! Certainly not! It was only her first event back at Court. She was fairly certain that it would have taken longer than this for a man to take interest in her in any capacity. There were certainly a wake of whispers and gossip following along behind him as he made his way towards her general direction. The man clearly had a reputation and yet Judith couldn't quite put a name to that confident swagger and dusting of deep, brown hair. She was certainly curious though. When she realized that he was coming straight for her, she had the urge to widen her eyes a little, but resisted from it wholly. She held herself poised and in check, back straight and shoulders pushed back a degree, showing off her fine posture. He stopped right in front of her and she blinked those big, blue eyes up at him. As if she wasn't nervous enough as it was, she had to catch the eyes of an exceptionally good looking young man. ”My lady,” The smile he gave was easy, even as he dipped down into a bow, honoring her. Her smile in return was genuine, the first true smile she'd felt since having arrived all those days ago. She gave a slight curtsy in return and then straightened up. ”Forgive my interruption, but if you will, may I have this next dance?” She was silent for a moment before her body acted of its own. She held her hand out for him to take, a small, coy smile playing across her lips as she took a tentative step towards him. "There was no interruption to beg forgiveness for, My Lord. I'd be more than honored to accept your dance." She replied. Her heart was beating just a little more wildly in the moment. There were those around them who all but stared at the pair while others did their best to try and appear as if they were ignoring them altogether. Judith Willoughby was indeed at court once more. |
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| Francois Spencer | Dec 16 2010, 11:15 PM Post #4 |
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With a charismatic smile, unabashedly charming, he took her hand, slowly bringing it up to his mouth and brushed his lips ever so gently on it, almost not touching, just the barest of a caress. It was that moment that their eyes met and Francis held hers trapped within his, those icy blue eyes of her buried in the warm brown eyes of his. Although everything else was hidden behind the deceptive screen of anonymity, their eyes still conveyed through simple contact. There was a moment’s pause, where everything around them stood still for a second. All motion, sound, background, was erased, that single fragile illusion. Then it shattered, and everything was as it was again, as it was supposed to be, and Francis held onto the girl’s hand as he led her onto the dance floor, movements slow and elegant. Moving into position, claiming the centre of the dance, so that everyone would see them, Francis chose his spot well. All others were merely fluttering moths to the fire in the centre, the core of the dance that held the backbone of the entire structure. That was where Francis placed himself and his new partner, a strategic position. All eyes would be on Francis and Judith tonight. Attention was just the purest form of flattery to Francis and above all he enjoyed idolatry. The commotion that usually occurred before the commencement of a new dance rattled on around them, with people moving on and off the floor, choosing dance partners. The cacophony of background noise, with the breathing anticipation for the music that was to come was all the more thrilling. Nobody knew who the other was, in their various costumes, fooling everyone and themselves in a parade of paper faces. ”I am glad, then, my lady.” He said in little more than a whisper, a staged whisper designed to pierce through the utter chaos of voices around them. The smile he gave turned slightly darker, as if they both shared some horribly delicious secret that no one was to know, as if he himself was telling the most dreadful of them himself. ”I shall claim you for this dance.” Finally, the music started, and Francis made the first move. Taking the lively steps of the galliard, he stepped forward, his hand on hers, close enough to almost kiss her, before stepping back again. ”Shall we keep our identities a secret…?” He asked, voice a low throaty whisper ”…for now” He couldn’t help but add, his smile indicating that later on, perhaps they would strip away the facades of court. It was so easy to get lost in endless pageantry. It was far easier to hide one’s identity behind it. |
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| Judith Willoughby | Dec 17 2010, 04:56 PM Post #5 |
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Judith watched him intently as he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. She blushed a degree, but it would go unnoticed by a combination of both her mask and the dim lighting in the room. Her eyes locked on his for a moment and it certainly wasn't lost on her. She found herself swallowing, but it wasn't because she was afraid. It was simply because she wasn't sure she wanted to go through with this dance. She wasn't sure why an edge of apprehension raced through her body in the moment and she couldn't quite understand whether she enjoyed or hated it. Everything just seemed to melt together into one moment between them and she was fairly sure that that was precisely what the man had intended. And then, before she could think more upon it, they were in motion. He lead her to the dance floor slowly with ease and grace. His steps purposeful and yet graceful all at once. She had to wonder how much practice this man had because she was fairly certain that her actions were much less fluid and at ease. But rather than moving the both of them to a discrete corner of the room to dance amongst the others, he lead her straight to the center of the dance floor. Not that she minded. Judith was skilled enough when it came to the arts of dance and song, but it was curious that he had chose the center of the room rather than somewhere a little more private. Intimate even. ”I am glad, then, my lady.” She tilted her head up a degree to look up at him. ”I shall claim you for this dance.” "You already have, Milord." She murmured as she continued to watch him a moment. It was hard not to, given the charisma and grace of ease that he seemed to slip into. She was fairly certain he was more graceful than she was in any event. There was a bustle of people moving around them in the moment, but for all she cared, they could have been alone in the moment. There was something warm and intimate about his words though they truly weren't... yet. She didn't have the time to dwell on it as the music started up once more, though and he took his steps towards her with a hand on hers. He was close enough that she could feel the brush of his breath against her cheek. "Shall we keep our identities a secret... for now?"[/b] He asked her. She pulled back from him in the dance, enough to cast him an unsure look in the moment. She understood the intent behind the words well enough, but that made her wonder what kind of a man this was. He knew not who she was. He knew not whether she was an available woman for certain, though it was fairly easy to assume as much, given the fact that she had been off to the side of the room with a group of available ladies and hadn't shown up on the arm of a man to begin with. However, there was one thing that Judith treasured above all else, and that was her capability of remaining virtuous. She was twenty-two and had been saving herself for her husband. The husband that she had never wed. But still, she couldn't discredit him. Not so early in her days at Court. So she planted a practiced smile on her lips. "Surely you mistake me for another woman, Milord. I wasn't aware, however, that my costume portrayed the perfect image of the harlot this evening. Surely I'll have to speak to my cousin about the arrangements and choose something more appropriate next time around." She said, the smile never leaving her lips to take the sting out of the words. |
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| Francois Spencer | Jan 13 2011, 09:25 PM Post #6 |
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Whether it was the simply being French that made him elegant in dance and slight in body, or the fact that he was raised there to run amok in the forests and then given an Italian education in which he saw the height of the Renaissance at work, Francis couldn’t tell. Nor did he really care. Whatever factor that graced him with his form and elegance, Francis was thankful for, and never gave it much further thought. Perhaps it was God. For certain the theologians that he studied with would say so, but Francis had never felt the vocational calling towards God like the others. He had never been pulled towards servitude of God. Rather, God had been thrust upon him. Francis saw only one master so far. Himself. Aware that the masked lady was watching him, Francis’s smile widened. He revelled in wickedness, and passed into it some sort of intimacy between he and his dark haired lady that perpetuated itself. The people around them seemed to realize they were intruding, so they spun further and further away from them. It was a sort of madness that Francis loved. Moving in and out of the dance, Francis kept his eyes on the flickering emotions of the lady. She seemed to flicker between playfulness and uncertainly, and looked all the more fetching for it. Through the slits of his mask, he studied her movements, and felt the rustle of her skirts on his shin. It was a soft caress, almost unwittingly sensual, and Francis couldn’t help but feel the quick shot of desire course through him. He desired nobody particularly but female company (and sometimes male). Francis guarded his heart with iron. Nobody was allowed to penetrate into it to take his heart. He was afraid of it, so deathly afraid, that he maintained a façade of carelessness, this easy grace that he carried like a feline. The lady was intuitive, Francis smiled at that. She knew what he wanted, even though she didn’t seem to be married, but Francis was not going to give in that easy. ”Ah, my lady you misunderstand.” He took another step forward, hand out, in the meticulous designs of the song. ”I only implied that we should reveal ourselves to each other, perhaps later in the evening, when such festivities are coming to a close.” He kept the sensuousness out of his voice, now replaced with a playfulness that only carried the hint of seduction coiled behind its pretty childishness. Admiring, rather than daunted by, her ability to perceive intention, Francis felt the chase perhaps all the more exhilarating than the catch. He never enjoyed too easy a victory for long, the taste of heroics soon past for another conquest. He stared into her striking blue eyes, unabashed, and met them with the warmth of his brown, those friendly almond shapes that told of its heritage and its experiences. ”I should like to know who I dance with, especially now, when it is so difficult to find good dancers at court.” Very well aware, and yet ignoring, the fact that they had taken centre stage, Francis rather liked the attention it brought him. |
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10:54 AM Jul 11