InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "it's time to lose your mind"

Léon Belmont (ex_the_ambas216) wrote in toujoursliberer,
@ 2008-03-28 07:54:00

Entry tags:

ambassadors_ball, leon_belmont

An Invitation to the French Ambassador's Ball
Subject: The Ambassadors Ball
Where: The French Embassy
Who: Léon Belmont, the French Ambassador to the English court
Warnings: none as yet
Open to: All (all players may attend either as invited guests of the ambassador, as servants or guests of those invited, as staff, or as gate-crashers.)

The ballroom of the Embassy was already growing busy, and when Citizen Belmont paused for a moment besides one of the large windows, he could see yet more carriages pulling up outside, wreathed in the mist blowing in from the river.

The quartet had been playing now for a good half an hour, new French tunes as well as those the English favoured. His staff was busy handing out good French wine, and then refilling those glasses when they were drained.

It was going to be a good evening, and not only in the eyes of the party-goers. With some of England’s most prominent aristos on the guest list, and some than some newly arrived French nationals, tonight would be a night of information gathering, of sizing up the opposition, and perhaps even ensuring some of those French escapees were returned to face justice.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

airsandgraces
2008-04-18 05:40 pm UTC (link)

The music might have been lovely and the brightly colored gowns apealing to her artistic eye, but Sibille paid little attention to them. She had accepted the invitaton to the ball out of duty, not pleasure. Attending was a mere extension of the rest of her work, trying to drum up new patrons endlessly. Her son needed new clothing and the cook had to be paid this week, Sibille had no time for fancy or fripperies. Had this been a royal ball she would have been studying the crowd to see who had a noble profile or striking features. Now, she only saw potential subjects as marks in her ledger book. It was a sad thought, Sibille reflected with a slight frown, seeing the world through a financial rather than artistic lens. Political persuasion or appearance made no difference to her now, she would paint anyone or anything that would help her support the luxurious lifestyle she had once taken for granted.

She tried not to look predatory as she eyed the guests speculatively, trying to determine which of the illustrious gentlemen and ladies would be amenable to being immortalized by her brush. At least her time at court had taught her how to smile and cover her avaricious purposes; starving artist was not a role she particularly savored playing. She hovered near the flutes of champagne, strategizing in her mind as she surveyed the crowd.

(Replies frozen) (Thread)

social_climber
2008-04-19 07:04 am UTC (link)

Not very far away across the room, although obstructed by invited guests, chefs, servants and god-only knew who else the Ambassador had invited, stood another, doing much the same thing.

Harry was certainly not a painter, but he was an artist of sorts. And he did, in the way an aspiring man does, admire art. But that wasn't the purpose of his being here tonight. Technically, he was here as a chaperon, but that didn't stop him from casting an eye over the guests. True, his glance sometimes lingered too long over a fine diamond chocker around a neck, but he was not looking for jewellery to pilfer. That was not how he operated any more.

He was, in fact, looking for those who might be of some future use. A politician here, a cross-channel contact there, it could all come in handy. But for now what caught his eye was the woman who was also watching the crowd, her eye analytical. Fancy dress though, so clearly not a common thief. A high-class prostitute then? Although the stance was wrong for any sort of working girl. Interesting.

And so, putting his own work on hold, he wandered over, stopping momentarily to take two of the delicate looking flutes from the server's tray. "Can I offer you a drink, miss? You look parched." He interrupted, hoping to muscle in on whatever the elegant woman was doing that evening.

(Replies frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

repost! apologies!

airsandgraces
2008-04-19 09:41 pm UTC (link)

"Do I?" Sibille said with a sincere laugh, letting slip her mask of artifice for a moment. She accepted the glass with a smile, taking an appreciative sip of the amber liquid. By the time she pulled the glass away from her lips, however, Sibille had reminded herself forcefully of her purpose there. This young man looked promising she felt, trying to unobtrusively take in the details of his clothing. She had no idea of his identity, which perhaps boded poorly for the chances of him having an extravagant pocketbook. His dress and manner however were gentlemanly, and the moderately wealthy could sometimes be persuaded of the importance of art as well. Sibille was nothing if not an optimist.

She smiled brightly, "You are English gentleman, yes?" Sibille inquired with interest that was half mercantile, half natural curiosity. "I find yours a quite charming nation... very appealing to the artistic eye." She let her voice linger meaningfully over these last few words, continuing to gaze at the stranger.

(Replies frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: repost! apologies!

social_climber
2008-04-19 09:57 pm UTC (link)

Harry smiles, "Even if you aren't, free champagne and wine are not to be quickly turned down Especially when they come from the cellars of a man who has no use but to share them." Which was true enough. What was the French ambassador meant to do with a fully-stocked wine-cellar, paid for with the confiscated funds of beheaded aristocrats? He could probably get through a bottle a day, at most. It was a waste, a real waste, especially when those bottles could easy be sold to more appreciative owners on the black market. "And I understand these are some of the best wines available, but I must admit all wine is the same to me."

He laugh at the word gentlemen, but not impolitely. "I would not call myself genteel, miss. But English yes, although I hope that won't make you think of me any less?" He asks, before taking a small sip from his own glass. "The artistic eye, miss? You are an artist? May I ask what sort?"

My turn to apologise. Sorry ><''

(Replies frozen) (Parent)

tigersatthegate
2008-04-19 05:53 pm UTC (link)

Aimé felt sure he had seen the woman before, although he struggled to remember in what circumstances. He did not think she was an escapee, although he remembered her at courtly life back home in France. He struggled to remember whom he had seen her with and in what capacity when suddenly it hit him.

"Madam." He approached her, taking her hand to kiss. "I believe I saw some of your work before the revolution. Are you still able to paint? I very much admired your portrait of Comtesse du Barry."

forgive the repost. The first person I mentioned was from the 1600 not the 1700s!

(Replies frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

airsandgraces
2008-04-19 09:47 pm UTC (link)

Sibille could not have looked more promising had he offered her a commission for a family portrait on the spot. She practically beamed down at his head as he lowered it slightly to kiss her hand. Months of fawning over former bakers and butchers had taken its toll, as had pretending her past career as a court painter had never happened. She could not remember the last time she had meet someone who openly acknowledged her works. It was not fashionable--or always safe, even here--to admit to admiring portraits of executed nobles.

"Yes! How kind of you to say so," Sibille enthused with more excitement than civility, resisting the urge to embrace him right then and there. "I am still painting, yes. My subjects are... quite different of course." She added quietly, glancing meaningfully in the direction of the ambassador across the room.

"But what is your name?" She continued brightly, eager to see if she would recognize it.

(Replies frozen) (Parent) (Thread)

tigersatthegate
2008-04-19 10:01 pm UTC (link)

Aimé followed her gaze, his smile fading a little.
"You have been reduced to painting upstarts wearing their masters clothing? That is terrible! An artist of your talents." He said, speaking a little louder than was necessary - both angry and a little hoping that the ambassador might overhear. After all, there was nothing he could do about it tonight.

"Aimé Laurent." He says, smiling.

(Replies frozen) (Parent)

(Read comments) -