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Tweak says, "MOAR"

Duchesse du Labarre. (laduchesse) wrote in toujoursliberer,
@ 2008-06-09 19:42:00

Entry tags:

christopher_blake, thérèse_du_labarre

Subject: Dinnertime.
Who: Thérèse du Labarre.
Where: Dining room, Christopher's estate.
Warnings: None.
Open to: Christopher Blake.

For the first time in weeks, Thérèse wasn't wearing black.

She felt foreign in a colour, actually. She was unused to it. Every time she looked down, she had to do a double take. Her dress was a light lilac, almost a cream, and had pretty embroidery over the bodice. Not the plain mourning gown she was used to. But this wasn't an evening for sitting around and moping about Julien. This evening, she was to have dinner with the Lord.

She was looking forward to it. Christopher was a sweetheart, and she was looking forward to just sitting and having dinner and talking. She wanted to look her best, too, hence the new, pretty dress, and the way her hair was set in a simple but attractive updo, little flowers dotted through the dark curls. Forget-me-nots. How apt.

It was nearly eight, so she checked herself in the mirror, making sure she was nearly ready. A few last additions - a pair of drop earrings and her rosary around her neck - and she was done, opening the door and making her way downstairs to the dining hall. There, she paused, before knocking on the door and stepping inside. "Is my presence required yet?" She asked quietly, looking around for a sign of life.

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blakethesecond
2008-06-13 03:51 pm UTC (link)

Christopher's eyes had flashed infront of them as she fell forwards, her head bashing against his lip and he immediately tasted blood. He could not inspect the damage due to Thérèse's sudden limp body in his arms. Well, that was odd. From being rather aloof, to thanking him, to flirting and wanting to kiss him all in a sitting of dinner. He was glad he hadn't brought his wine over; either he would have a mess on the floor or Thérèse would have had a mess on her dress.

Lifting her up he set her back down in her chair, finding her exhausted form rather heavy to manouvere but he had had practice with his siblings many times. Calling for his manservant he eventually began helping Thérèse back up to her room. She was almost comatose, and on so little wine! But Christopher busied himself by thinking of that and setting the task of putting her in bed, rather than the fact he had wanted and desired to kiss her in those few minutes she had held him.

That notion was too dangeorus to entertain.

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