Gretel (no_breadcrumbs) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2017-11-05 21:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | hansel & gretel: gretel, supernatural: sam winchester |
Who: Jehan Frollo and Philippe De Chagny (Gretel and Sam Winchester)
What: Alternate realities collide- kinda.
Where: The University Library
When: Midday, Saturday
Rating: Low/medium ish
Despite being a prominent face within the University, popular with students and (soe) professors alike, Jehan was not typically one to confine herself to the library. She didn’t particularly like studying- it was boring, and often took far more physical and mental effort than she felt it worth. Why bother? Especially when her professors rarely cared about any actual work she put into her education. She was there because of the patronage of her esteemed brother, who had brought the place of learning both esteem and money for long enough that the younger Frollo’s misadventures often got a pass. She felt she provided the school a different service, anyway; she brought it some much needed life.
Alas, even the Life of the party occasionally found herself coerced into spending some time in the library, but only to ‘supervise’ the friend who’d lost a bet the evening before, and now owed her a properly addressed paper on…. something Jehan couldn’t care less about.
So there she sat amid the looming, heavy shelves of books and oil lanterns, on the edge of a reading table with one boot on the floor and the other hooked on the edge of her colleague’s chair- a flask of whiskey to her lips, just enough to put humor in the irony of her being at the library in the first place, watching someone else do work for her. She laughed just a little too loud at his grumbling- a common trait she was well known for, however it garnered a little more attention here, where Quiet was King.
Philippe was by no means the life and soul of any party, he attended plenty as was expected of someone of his station, but he never over indulged. To that end, after the Newcliffe’s party and a night at the opera, Philippe felt it was time to balance the scales. His brothers education required his attention. Raoul was distracted lately, that much was plain, but Philippe could not allow that to derail him completely. He came to the library in search of books to take back for his brother.
He was not unaccustomed to the students of the University, having been one himself some time ago, he knew the temptation to embrace the freedom higher learning afforded rather than applying oneself, but he had been younger then and he knew now the importance of an education over having too good of a time. He couldn't exactly begrudge them it though.
He heard now however the sound of revelry far too exuberant to normally be found in such a learned establishment. Rounding some shelves he came upon quite the scene of relaxation, at least on the young woman's part. He cleared his throat. “A little silence, s’il vous plait, this is a library is it not?” He said plainly before going back to browsing the shelves.
Phillipe’s request for silence resulted in just that, but only briefly, and the Jehan’s attention swung from her flask to the interrupter of her perfectly-timed joke. A few seconds, at best, while she sized him up- all quaffed, with velvet and silver buttons looking very much like a peacock that’d never set wing outside the gates of Louis’s palace in his life- something stirred deep in her chest, something as confusing as it was potent- and she was fairly certain it wasn’t the whiskey.
Whatever it was, she was not letting him walk away like that was that.
“Is it?” she chirped at him through a grin that was all teeth and mischief, then turned her sights down to her comrade, who was smirking similarly. “Now- I could’ve sworn this was his majesty's parlor. Or perhaps the deck of a pirate ship?”
The nature of her comment - the teasing tone of her voice - stilled his movements, and not because it irked him. He too felt a trace of something that was there for a second that he couldn't quite hold onto. A familiarity perhaps. “Come now, which is it you think?” He retorted as he turned to face her and her colleague again. “Your decorum may be acceptable on the deck of a pirate ship, but arguably not in his majesty's parlor, therefor I would still not be remiss in my request for silence.”
That he returned for a taste of more only brightened Jehan’s grin at least two shades, looking quite proud of herself.
“Now that is where I beg to differ,” she retorted brightly, a breathy laugh wrapped around her voice as she screwed the cap onto her flask and tucked it into her breast pocket. Pushing off the edge of the table, her boots echoed lightly on the ancient wood, completely complementary to the saunter she employed in his direction. “I’ve always imagined the king’s parlor to be the very seat of debauchery. Wine-drenched orgies… godless blasphemy…” Her steps slowed the smaller the space between them, heavy in the hip, and rolling in time with each image she concocted, hoping to put every detail behind his eyes. “...sordid games of chess- you know the sort, I’m certain.”
“A sure sign that you have never been there.” He replied. But her words certainly painted a picture, and if she was trying to garner a reaction from him she would not leave empty handed - there was a noticeable flush to his cheeks despite his calm demeanour and rigid posture. “You speak too freely, mademoiselle, particularly to a gentleman you do not know.”
The images that lingered behind his eyes were not merely the ones she concocted but the very roll of her hips as she had crossed the room, a detail he fought to banish but found difficult to shake. “It is hardly proper for a woman of learning to speak in such a manner.”
Jehan wasn’t just aiming for a reaction, she was watching for one, and despite his feathers not being shaken or ruffled- yet- they were starting to turn color. As far as she was concerned, that was plenty reward.
But no one ever accused Jehan of being happy with just a little of what she wanted.
“Observe, comrade-” With her smile pulling more into one freckled cheek than the other, Jehan briefly glanced back to her friend, sharing a conversation with him about their new guest, as if the velveted Gentleman were a specimen in a jar, being studied. “Yet another unfortunate member of the elite… born with a silver spoon in place of a sense of humor.”
Her attention did not slide from the top-hatted man for long; why his presence brought something distinctly extra to her senses, she had absolutely no idea, but he was under her skin; she wasn’t sure she liked that. She wasn’t sure she didn’t, for that matter. Either way, she was bound and determined to return the favor, and with that blush, she knew she had.
“A woman of learning, I am- a student of human nature, especially. The likes of which often drives men and women to shivering under their frock coats and garters...“ She may have been exaggerating for the sake of a reaction, but Jehan wasn’t exactly lying. The extremes of society intrigued her- fascinated her the way opium fascinated her blood. Everything was exciting, or ridiculous, if you had the right mindset, and Jehan went out of her way to experience as much of it as possible.
To her, that made her a scholar.
“Tell me, monsieur…” she murmured, leaning just a little closer; she could see the flecks of green in his eyes, and for some reason wanted to make them brighter- by any means possible. “-what makes you shiver?”
Philippe held his position admirably, the merest intake of breath the only sign that she was getting to him. Her close proximity, closer than he would normally permit for a woman he did not know, both rattled and intrigued him in almost equal measure. God help him he actually wanted to answer her. But propriety won out. “That is not something I should wish to discuss.” He said simply, though those hazel green eyes betrayed his true feelings on the matter with the flash she had been seeking.
“Oh of course it’s not something you should wish to discuss...” Jehan beamed brightly, elated at the reaction in more ways than she clearly understood. She loved getting a rise out of people- either they loved her, or were afraid of her… sometimes both, which was the best in her opinion- but getting out out of this particular tall drink of water felt especially satisfying. And troubling- but she did well to ignore that part.
“...but you do anyway.” She finished her statement with a chuckle and a wink some could interpret as malicious. This time, it was simply intense interest. “I’m more than happy to help you along.”
Her obvious elation, seemingly at nothing more than succeeding in getting under his skin, gave him a similar thrill somewhere in his chest. Philippe couldn't fathom where it had come from or why he should feel it at all. This sort of forward behaviour was considered crass and was not something he engaged in - even during the odd dalliance with a willing ballerina or two from the opera house. Nor was it something he would expect to encounter from a female student. But from this woman, this scholar of human nature, he found it intriguing and amusing - not a proper reaction at all and one quite at odds with his usual behaviour.
The struggle was almost visible in his eyes - the inexplicable desire to continue this inappropriate exchange matched against his sense of propriety and his fine upstanding moral character. Pursuing this was almost certainly not a good idea and would definitely not be a good example to set for his brother. And with that sense of duty in mind a calm descended on him.
“Perhaps in another time and place, mademoiselle. But currently it is neither my desire nor my intention.” He bowed his head at her respectfully, his eyes trained on hers with a thinly veiled intensity and a small smile tugged at his lips, maybe with a barely detectable hint of the mischief she had greeted him with earlier.
Jehan’s smirk deepened, whether at the continued resistance or the lingering compulsion to be the better man, she wasn’t sure, but she obviously enjoyed both. For their own reasons.
“Indeed,” she chirped a short laugh, like the first one that drew his attention, it was unabashedly loud. “I suspect sooner than later- every sordid discussion you’ve ever wanted so badly to have, raging through your mind as soon as you lay that pretty head down for the night- with my face behind your eyes.” Her smirk softened, only briefly, as something difficult to explain passed through her own mind before she banished it, and her expression turned into something a little more maniacal.
“Off you go, then-” she directed, before the odd discomfort in her chest became any stronger. “Before all this higher learning drains your head and leaves you faint on the floor.”
My but she did know how to paint a vivid picture. Philippe had been all but certain of his resolve mere moments ago and here she was weakening it again with suggestive comments like that. “Perhaps then I ought to have a name to go with it? being that it's to feature so heavily in my thoughts later.” He couldn't say whether he genuinely wanted to know or if he simply didn't want to cease the conversation that he had already insisted on putting a stop to. It also meant he could find her again should his resolve crumble all together. But that thought barely even registered.
“As you say, mademoiselle, I shall find my books and take my leave.”
Something in her smile changed; the shift was subtle, but clear- at least for a few fractions of a moment; it became less predatory and gleeful, and became something softer. Just for a second.
“Jehan Frollo,” she answered, right after the hard hedonism returned to her eyes- pleased with the outcome of the conversation as much as the promise that it would continue.
Philippe tilted his head to one side and frowned slightly in contemplation. The shift was noted and the look on her face tugged at that familiarity again. Then as quickly as it had come over her it was gone and with the utterance of her name it gave him something else to think on. He was surprised to realise she was related to the Archdeacon of the Cathedral, a learned and pious man and most certainly he would not approve of the way in which she conducted herself, particularly throughout today's exchange. Philippe was even more surprised to find that this information did nothing to discourage his own inappropriate behaviour. “Philippe de Chagny.” He said in reference to himself.
Jehan notched up an eyebrow, tugging with it the same corner of her mouth when he so freely gave her his name. She thought there was a hint of recognition when she gave him her own, but that was natural. If someone didn’t know her, they most certainly knew the man who shared her last name, seated at the highest position in the local diocese- to whom Jehan could rarely do wrong.
“Go find your books, Philippe de Chagny-” Jehan goaded with a certain hint of malign glee, now with his name rolling off her tongue in a way she intended to stick. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Philippe thought nothing of giving his name, he had done nothing wrong, save perhaps an unsavoury thought or two in a moment of near weakness - nothing that anyone could know of. It was only polite, after all, when someone gives you their name you return the courtesy.
His gaze lingered a little too long on her lips as they formed his name, almost swaying him one last time from his righteousness. His mouth twitched briefly into a smile, only fleeting before it was gone again. “Regrettably, I can provide no more sport for you than I have already. If it please you I will be on my way.”
Right before the Count took his leave, Jehan gave him a nod, but it tipped more to a side angle than straight forward agreement- just to add a little note of challenge. He was a stuffed frock the likes of which all the upper class liked to be, any fool could see that- but something about him scratched under her skin in a way she couldn’t escape, and wasn’t unpleasant- like nails on the back or the hips at the perfect moment. But why still escaped her, and that sat on her nerves- made her belligerent and confused.
She didn’t like dealing with those emotions, so she quit while she was ahead.