[Memory] What: Memory Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing it. Warning, this memory contains: Happiness, period dress, and a nice buzz.
Your head is full of bubbles, golden ones that taste of fine champagne, and everything has a pretty glow. The party hovers between a thick Turkish carpet and a low townhouse ceiling. All most navigate around furniture made to impress a line of kings that wears bows on their shoes. The taste of delicate baked sweets is on your tongue, and lace tickles your throat and wrists.
You're thinking in French, matching names to faces as they float past you in a chattering whirl of many languages: Prussian, Germanic, Dutch, English--and so much French that the romance language, with its Latin curls and extravagant vowels, flows out and around like the free-flowing champagne. People are speaking of the rivalry between Gluck and Piccinni, and whether the newest opera, which you have yet to see, will decide the matter. A woman with a fabulous perfumed decolletage is insisting that Orfeo ed Euridice will never have a rival, and her conversation companion, a broad-faced man with powdered hair, is gesticulating madly and insisting it was a fraud. He almost hits the wig off a duchess' daughter, who has a tiny miniature sailing boat riding through her exquisite blonde curls, and you imagine catching it in your hand as you smile at her through the press of poets, musicians, and their rich benefactors.
You are hailed on all sides with wide smiles and glittering glasses. A sense of belonging, of carefree confidence in your command of the room, bears you aloft. Happiness is a pure, single note in the center of your chest. It has no rival.