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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.

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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.

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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.

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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 ><''

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