Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

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Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sun Apr 10, 2011 2:37 pm

She was gone. Auguste could not be happier. There was no competition now, no chance of embarrassment, no chance of failure. She was never an immediate threat. No, she was like some long term disease. For a few weeks, Auguste could live with her, he could keep control of himself. After so long, he knew he would not be able to. He would lose it. Never before had he threatened to hit a woman, never before had he bruised one like he had bruised Franze. She intended to rot him away, and she was going to, if left to do so for so long. Her departure marked better times.

He had placed the record to play. It was not long before the music of Jean Baptiste Lully burst throughout the car. It told the world that something great had just been achieved. The music decorated the room with the glory and the triumph that Auguste had to feel in his very soul.

This would mark a new era for the carnival. Auguste could not stop himself from humming along to the notes. The wine shipment had come in, at last. A negotiation with Auguste's dearest and most trusted older sister allowed for them to arrive without too many loses. The carnival had lost money from that. The money it lost in this one event, was nothing when one compared it with what Franze spent on average. Her loss, without a doubt, would be a gain. The gains would make up for any loses.

The door was open, a nice breeze was allowed in. This day could not have been more beautiful, it could not have been more perfect.

All Auguste needed was company. Company would have to come soon enough.
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Sun Apr 10, 2011 6:50 pm

The general consensus of Mistique agreed that it was quite a pleasant day, like some shroud that had previously lingered over the camp was suddenly gone. In a way that was true, what with that Austrian being ostrisized by her own, kicked to the curb with no where to go except the constant poverty that was the Ragtags. Alexandria was completely fine with that, too. No skin off her nose, and it lessened the competition. However, that also meant to serve as a reminder that this was no place for the foolhardy or complacent. One was already thrown from the ranks, more would follow if someone got out of hand. Alex was a belly dancer, inconsequential and easily replacable, but sharp as a tack when it came to taking out the competition. She knew she treaded on thin ice, but she also knew when to advance and when to lay low until the frost had rid Mistique of the weaker.

It had been a long afternoon of pre-shows and light dancing, but Alex was more than ready to unwind a bit before the more laborous acts of the night show. She walked down the main strip of road from the big top, eagerly yearning for a nap or book before dolling up again. Tugging her usual robe closer to her body to quell the bite of desert sand, the Egyptian woman traded her brooding stone face for something a little more appealing when the scratchy crooning of a record player graced her ears. The music was something strong and flamboyant, obviously European and blatantly French. Auguste must have finally composed himself after being stripped and humiliated in front of Franze's wagon. Alex never witnessed the act firsthand, but word of mouth spread fast when one resided in the women's quarters. He would recieve no genuine sympathy from Alex, just a frown and flattery. Honestly, what did he expect from a woman like Franze?

Drifting silently to the side which led to the men's camp, Alexandria tentatively knocked on the outside of the door, not wanting to seem overly intrusive nor available. She had plenty of French friends back home, but she had quickly learned what a man like Auguste would stoop to to get his way. Most Europeans were like that, although she was hardly no different. "Alo? Boujour, Auguste?" She inquired in both her usual Arabic and then in French, the latter language she picked up from French soldiers and missionaries. "Are you well?"
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sun Apr 10, 2011 8:28 pm

((ffff requesting permission to crash? I was planning on writing something with Piter relating to Vienna's departure, but it would probably actually work out better as a reply to this. XD And besides, third person's the charm, right? B) ...Or is it three's a crowd--))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sun Apr 10, 2011 9:33 pm

((Fffff yes, yes, B) I will hold off response, COME IN PITER. Also I planned to make Auguste ask him something, sometime.))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sun Apr 10, 2011 10:40 pm

He wasn't sure if he'd expected more or less from Franze. Probably not more. But probably not less, either. Somehow, this seemed exactly like something that would happen. So perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. He had to admit that throwing Bourbon out naked was a humorous trick, though--and of course he heard about it (he would pretend like he hadn't, though).

Everyone seemed a bit happier in her absence, but as usual, he kept a blank face. He couldn't really say how he felt on the matter, except that he would miss having someone around that was so easy to needle. But it also felt like he'd lost something startlingly close to a friend--though he was sure that no one, including himself or Franze, would have called their relationship that. Especially not himself. He didn't consider himself capable of having relationships so meaningful that they would constitute as 'friendships'. Just a means. All affiliations with people were just a means to an end, and whoever got hurt or double-crossed on the way was of no consequence to him. Just as long as he got was he wanted.

But then again, he himself had noted that Franze didn't have any power, so what did he stand to gain by having anything to do with her?

And stranger still, he'd woken up that morning from the same nightmare he'd described to her--the one where he'd looked in the mirror and seen a corpse. And for the first time, when he checked the mirror in real life to make sure the vision wasn't real, he realized: he had gray streaks in his hair. Just like in the dream. It wasn't as if he'd never seen them before, just that they were only now really registering in his mind. But he hadn't always had gray hair, had he? Wasn't that quite unusual for someone his age? And yet, he couldn't recall when or why his hair had changed. The only clues were the harrowing events in the nightmares. Curious. He wondered why he was only just now realizing this, and why it didn't feel more shocking.

But he could ponder over that later. For now, there was business to attend to, in Franze's leave.

Of course, at the first chance he'd gotten, he'd poked around in her car when no one was looking. It was something that he'd have never done otherwise, but now that she was gone...who was left to care? There were a few things that interested him, but not so much that he felt compelled to do anything about them (the papers he promised Eleri he'd look for were nowhere in sight--a pity). Except for one thing. One thing that was impossible to take without consulting someone about it. The harpsichord.

It was obviously valuable, obviously something worth having. But that wasn't the reason he wanted it. It wasn't that he even desired to play it himself--he preferred his piano, at any rate. It was that he knew it would be sold, or taken by someone else, possibly even manhandled in the process, and he felt he couldn't allow this to happen. Partly out of his devotion to music and whatnot, but he'd also consider this his last gesture to Franze (one that could easily be disguised as his last prod at her).

...Oh, and revenge. He'd have that for her, too. But all in due time.

And he knew exactly who to go to on the matter. Surely the person who was celebrating the most right now was the man who'd caused her to leave, and he had little doubt Auguste would have no qualms about Piter taking something of Franze's--he felt he had done a good job of getting on Bourbon's good side. It was a shame; they probably could have been considered very good friends. If Piter believed in friendship.

When he approached the car, he could hear the distinct sound of a record from within, which had apparently attracted the belly-dancer to the door, as well. Not that he cared either way. What he had to say would not be consequential if heard by people other than the Frenchman. Standing a respectful distance behind and a little to the right of the Egyptian, he addressed her first in his odd, monotonous tone, "I hope you'll excuse me, I have to have a word with Monsieur Bourbon," before knocking upon the frame as well, announcing his presence in French, "Good day. I take it from the music that you are celebrating the carnival's good fortune?"
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Mon Apr 11, 2011 1:58 pm

Company had arrived; the type of company that Auguste had been waiting for. There was feminine company, presented in the body of the Egyptian belly-dancer. He was willing to get to know this company. He had seen the bare outline, and sway of her voluptuous body in one of her seductive dances. She could serve well as the Austrian's replacement. He did not need to consider if she would consent. Of course she would consent.

Then there was intelligent company. Auguste knew the Egyptian tried to parade as intelligent. She may have been, but that was unimportant to him. Her purpose would be elsewhere. The Russian was a sure and consistent source of intelligence. He was the only person in the entire carnival that Auguste could consider intelligent or cultured. Funny, there was only a handful Russians that Auguste was willing to classify as intelligent. Like the Germans, the British or the Austrians, they were generally a lesser people. Piter was a dignified exception.

He stood up, his wine was in hand as he greeted the both of them with kisses. The Egyptian receiving a few more than the Russian. “Bonjour,” he smiled, a greeting again to the both of them.

“Come in, the both of you.” There was no thought put into translating the words for the Egyptian's ease. He assumed she had at least a loose understanding of French. He had to speak loudly over the quintessential French Baroque music. “We have all heard of Franze's departure, I presume? I can not do anything other than celebrate in honour of this most joyous occasion! Join me in my celebration, I have opened a new bottle of wine, one fitting for both the weather and the situation. You must share it with me. The bottle just arrived from home.” And so quickly, he was inside, pouring the both of them glasses. It did not matter if the Egyptian didn't drink. He wanted to share the wine with company, and with a woman.

If the news of the couple's fight had not spread about the carnival, it would have seemed strange to see Auguste so pleased about his ex-girlfriend's departure. Publicly, it was not at all rare to see them together. They were affectionate, and sentimental with each other.The whole carnival had to see, that they were very obviously not platonic. People knew where to find Auguste, when he was absent from his car. He could only be in Franze's car, and likewise for the Austrian (Not that anyone ever had to look for that bitch.) It had to be a surprise to all who heard about what had happened. Auguste had no doubt that news of his naked exile from Franze's car had spread all through the carnival. That was embarrassing, but Auguste chose not to mention it. Those who did mention it, he would fire. What had started that all was a public argument about marriage, followed by something like abuse inflicted on the girl, by the hands of her much stronger man. He didn't know if they knew that.

The glasses were so quickly filled. “We must lunch together, as well.” And his attention turned to the kitchen. “Sit, sit, I will prepare you something.” A grin, as he motioned to the table. The frenchman did not seem like the type to prepare his own food. He seemed too aristocratic for that- but that was not the case. His meals were always home cooked, and cooking was a hobby that he loved.

“We have so much to talk about. I have such plans for us, for all of the carnival.”
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Mon Apr 11, 2011 5:39 pm

Alex didn't get an immediate response from the Frenchman, leading her to think that he couldn't hear her over his gaudy music. She was about to call again, louder, when the flat voice of a certain Mister Petrovich broke her concentration. The Alexandrian's surprise was carefully measured, but she smiled slightly at the Russian. "Hello, Piter," she stepped aside and motioned to the doorframe, "it seems like Monsieur Bourbon is quite popular this evening, yes?" Alex had gotten to know Auguste somewhat better since her employment at Mistique. What he expected, what he liked to hear, what he craved, things like that. It made it easier to read his emotions, men like that were so predictable. Just like the men back home.

Speaking of that Bourbon, she was greeted a little too warmly than what she preferred, but flashed a bashful smile at the welcome. It was obviously a French custom so she let it slide for once. "I'm glad to see you, too, Auguste. Especially in such high spirits." Spirits, indeed. The man had to have been since he had already broken out a particularly pricey-looking bottle of wine. Her French was proficient, albeit laced with quite an accent. Thanking her host repeatedly, Alex sat in a doll-like stance on a plush chair, hardly moving but ready to continue her role as guest in the near future. It was around the same time that Auguste poured his company some wine, which Alex took out of consideration. He obviously didn't know or didn't care that Muslims weren't supposed to drink alcohol, but Alex was barely what one would call a practicing adherent to Islam. Still, she gently shifted the glass on a table and smelled the aromatic drink. Alex had been a steady drinker in the past, but that was behind her now. She had seen how it had done in her step-mother. No need to repeat her past mistakes, especially when inebriated. Things that were best left unsaid tended to slip out when Alex was tipsy. Mouthing a "thank you" to her French companion, the Egyptian sipped some wine before setting the glass down on the tabletop.

It wasn't just the big picture that Alexandria had noticed. It was as if the circus had undergone a transformation in the last couple of weeks. Franze had actually left a man, Auguste was in a jovial mood, Piter...well, he was greying. From stress or something else, Alex had no explanation for it. The Russian rarely ever betrayed any sense of emotion, like an automaton, but there was the slightest hint that something wasn't quite right about him, like exhaustion had finally set in on him similar to rust on a exposed machine. After a few moments of sifting through theories, Alex looked up from her still swirling glass of wine. "You are too kind, Auguste, really you are." She smiled softly, teeth slightly stained from daily servings of tea and coffee. "May I inquire as to what these 'plans' of your's are? I would very much like to hear them, and how they might concern us- as a carnival, I mean."
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Apr 11, 2011 9:44 pm

Piter had no qualms with the belly-dancer getting more kisses than him; had he the choice, he would have let her take all of them. Of course, he accepted it graciously for the sake of saving face, but physical contact of any kind was, needless to say, not really his thing.

Taking a seat, as well, he responded to Auguste's jovial mood with his same deadened tone as always, "It seems almost too good to be true, does it not? I daresay I wasn't expecting Frachenka's departure to come so quickly--all for the better, though." He spewed lies just as easily as he exhaled air, and though he showed no enthusiasm whatsoever, that should have come as no surprise. No soul in this carnival (and perhaps the entire world) had ever seen him excited over anything.

Accepting the wine with thanks and compliments on the selection (like Alex, though, he made no move to drain his glass--when he drank, he always did so in considerable moderation...unlike most Russians, the uncivilized drunkards), he followed the other man's movements out of the corner of his eye, "Lunch would be wonderful, thank you. It's been some time since I've sampled French cuisine." He expected the best; what else could you expect from French food?

And though he was truly looking forward to that (Piter was by no means a gourmet--he'd eat virtually anything on a plate--but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy good food over bad food), he looked forward even more to these 'plans' of Auguste's. No doubt that whatever they were, he could find a way to work his influence into them. "Yes, I'm curious to hear these plans, as well," he agreed with the Egyptian, then added, "I have some minor issue to discuss with you, in turn, but that can wait until later."
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Tue Apr 12, 2011 6:08 pm

"Look at this-" He smiled, displaying a nice onion for both of his guests to see. He could not have been more eager to use it. "I bought it this morning- there is a market in town, do you know? The vegetables are so fresh." The tone, though so excited, must have hinted a drop of nostalgia. Their last town had no fresh vegetables, no markets. Auguste was not used to that. His home city held some fantastic and hidden little open air markets. They were not grand, but they were quaint and comfortable. Auguste loved them, regardless.

His concentration shifted to the preparation of his new and fresh vegetables. "It's too bad we can't stay in the same place, it would be nice to have a garden-" he added. The Frenchman was very fond of small talk. People probably assumed he was simple, his words very rarely seemed to carry some deep thought. He was certainly trivial, certainly vain, and certainly petty. He hid his true intents so well, people were rarely ever able to guess them, nobody could see them. They were visible to Piter, there was no question there-- and the belly dancer might. That meant they were dangerous. That meant that they ought to assume the role of his friends.

His generally good mood made his mouth even more susceptible to thoughtless blabbering.

"But yes, this does seem almost impossibly good! You should see the figures, yourself. We're profiting so well from her loss. That- the pute, I would not know any other title for her than that, she does nothing but spend! A thief, that is what she is. She stole from the carnival, and hoarded everything away for herself. What talents did she even supply to the carnival? The whores at the brothel have more talent- and some of them are actually nice to look at, unlike her." He didn't know if others had seen him around with that expensive Transylvanian whore- the Moldovan's sister. Something had happened to her, he had hardly established a emotional attachment to her. It was hard to be genuinely sad about it.

"Franze was just repulsive, a repulsive, disgusting and pathetic human being! I fail to see how any man could find beauty in her." he spit out the words with some deep set hatred. It was as if he had been hating her for some 300 years. "I have yet to meet an intelligent Austrian, do you know?! She was fickle, and stupid, as well. Do you know what provoked this all? Some damn dream she had. She is not mentally stable, that pute. She's trash, and she'll end up living in trash. I will be glad to see her homeless and suffering!" The vegetables were all sliced. He had to pause his rambling to search out a pan, then one of his cooking wines. The olive oil was already ready.

"These figures will now look much better to our stock holders. There is a handful of those that suck away our money- we'll get rid of them all, more money to our stock holders and more money to the carnival. Pays will be deducted- the former owner payed these common men too much. Their talents aren't worth that.” Obviously, Piter would be excluded from these cuts. Auguste had a fondness for music, and this man produced it. He was deserving. Auguste failed to make it clear of Alex was part of that category. “The freaks, I don't want anymore money wasted on them. They are given a salary, but what use do they have for it? None. Their medical bills guzzle away money. The sick ones can die, and we will replace them with new sick ones. Monsieur Romanov, I hear you associate with the freaks. You would not mind seeing this done." No, that was not phrased as a question.

((FFFF YOUR ICON, PLUM. ALSO THIS IS SO LONG-- SORRY.))


Last edited by MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sat Apr 30, 2011 12:05 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Thu Apr 28, 2011 9:43 pm

((FUCK. I lost half of the first reply I had written for this which took days in the making, why am I so slow at this--/sob Hold on, let me write it again. :I))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Thu Apr 28, 2011 9:54 pm

((FFFFFFFF Nevermind, it was just saved in a different place on my phone. /relief Also, WHAT ABOUT MY ICON? I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT'S A PICTURE OF MY MOTHER. :I))

Piter, though he nodded in appreciation, did not see what was so special about the onion. It looked like any regular old onion to him. But maybe it was because he wasn't French and sensitive to the finer points of fine dining. Or maybe it was because it was really just an onion. Who knew.

And while he really didn't give a damn how fresh his veggies were (on the contrary, he was persistently haunted by the notion that getting any kind of food, in any form, was something to be grateful for), if their host was in a chatty mood, then Piter was all ears. Every word was taken into careful account as the Russian studied him through unwavering, almost unblinking black eyes.

However, it was only to the last few sentences of the diatribe that he offered verbal feedback to. "Living in trash? No, I doubt it." As opposed to the Frenchman's heated vitriol, he was disquietingly unfeeling in his articulation. "I would suggest that she's more likely to be mugged, murdered, and then thrown into the trash. And probably left to bloat up and rot, and be eaten by worms or buzzards or what have you." The way he said it, they could have been talking about some rotten leftover food, and not a living, breathing woman, who had just been among them not too long ago. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "So in the trash, perhaps. But not alive, I'd say."

Some might have suggested he'd taken the statement a little too seriously.

But even if he'd been considerate enough to, well, consider this, he'd already moved on to contemplate these new ideas for pay slashes. The question of his own salary was not so much an issue to him (not that he wanted to be on the receiving end of the budget cuts) as if and how he could use this. For the moment, he would just observe and collect information, but he had to be careful not to say anything that would be problematic in the future.

"I see. It will certainly be a relief to have the carnival back in proper order, concerning the revenue. No doubt the money will be put to better use now." On more wine, probably. He had to wonder if a revolt would take place anyways, with or without his meddling.

And as for the freaks? He granted Auguste one of his...unsmiles. He'd learned to force himself to fake a fairly convincing grin, but there was zero mirth in his eyes--something he hadn't realized contributed just as much to a genuine smile as the mouth. It was, as Franze had described it, an 'unsettling show of teeth'. "I would not mind in the slightest; these old ones are starting to bore me. ...Though I have a feeling that things will be much more interesting now, even without them."
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sat Apr 30, 2011 1:05 pm

He was listening, but didn't have much thought to respond intelligently, he wanted to focus on the food at hand. That little comment about Franze did mark a quick break, the knife was left to hover over the cutting board, as he took one long and disturbed glance at Piter. He had heard the Russian say strange things. He had heard him say things other would see as tabooed. He had never heard anything even in the proximity of what was spoken about Franze...

Auguste hated the Austrian, but those words, he could never even use for an animal.

"....Yeah...." His gaze lingered on Piter for a while, though it occasionally switched for the Egyptian, to see if she was not equally as disturbed. He stared for much longer than he intended to stare. Unfortunately, his eyes kept their place long enough to see the Russian's smile. He had yet to see his companion smile. Now, he regretted the fact that he had to see it.

"It will be..." he responded, almost hesitantly. It seemed a little off that Piter would be 'smiling' at that line. Did he intend something beyond his words? A slight wind must have come through the open window, because Auguste felt a chill.

It was then, that Auguste had noticed something that seemed different about the Russian. He seemed, maybe paler than user, maybe more callous than usual, or maybe it was the opposite of callousness, maybe it was the presence of some sense of emotion. Maybe it was just Auguste's own warped perception, playing tricks, as a response to those uttered words. His sick words, to Auguste, manifested themselves physically. "Monsieur Romanov- you are not ill, are you? You don't look quite up to your normal self..."

"Maybe you should head back to your car, I would not like to risk your health- or mine."

((HURRRP EDITED))


Last edited by MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Tue May 03, 2011 8:35 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Mon May 02, 2011 6:02 pm

Alexandria was content to sit back and let the Frenchman spew forth his unbridled hatred for his last mistress. She was not at all interested in lover's (?) quarrels, and not too eager to get embroiled in one. The Egyptian took tiny sips of her wine, nodded empathetically to feign interest. The two men exchanged some words between themselves, not particularly regarding Alex in any fashion other than Auguste's fixated stares- much to her chagrin. The Russian, normally taciturn, spoke again of the exiled Austrian. Alex wish he hadn't opened his mouth; the half-smile was chilling enough without the graphic theorizing of Franze's demise.

Slowly repressing her gag reflex, the Alexandrian removed her glass of wine from her lips to prevent it from splashing around in her trembling hands. "I am sure that whatever has become of the Austrian will not bear any negative repercussions towards us. She could be wandering the wastes, which suits her just fine if I may say so." Warning signs flew up in the back of Alex's mind concerning the pay cuts. When it came to fiscal matters, Bourbon had become the self-proclaimed Treasurer of Mistique. Alex was not as flighty as some were led to think; she knew when money was being drained for reasons beyond that of the circus' needs. The Freaks, as emaciated and malnourished as they already were, had been dying off more so than usual; and Alex had caught wind that the Frenchman was spending quite a pretty penny on one of the whores the same time he was stringing around Franzcheska. Typical Auguste, always thinking the universe revolved around him until it all came crashing down. "Surely removing the cost of the freaks and their housing, medical bills and food will cover the remaining debt. No need for drastic overhauls of the budget; we don't need our paying customers to think we're provided less than what they paid for- the best, naturally."

Piter, however, was the most enigmatic person Alexandria had ever seen; and therefore the most dangerous. He barely registered any emotion at all. He was a true tactician, cold and precise like surgical steel. Alex sometimes felt as if she were walking on the very edge of a knife just being in the same room as Romanov. Both she and Auguste knew he could be trusted. No one in this carnival could.

Turning her attention back to her host, she smiled in approval of the simmering onions the Bourbon was preparing. "You didn't have to, Monsieur Bourbon, but thank you very much. Your generosity knows no bounds." It served her well to warm up to womanizers, especially ones who were eager for company. Still, she wasn't desperate and Auguste wasn't entirely brainless. They both had their share of unfavorable relationships. But if she could fill the void the Austrian left behind, things could prove to be quite beneficial both for the circus as well as herself.


Last edited by SHAKESPEARICLES on Wed May 04, 2011 5:03 am; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Tue May 03, 2011 8:06 pm

((fffffff I think I should say so before I reply: Piter always has some grays that I constantly forget to draw. They are sort of a pseudo-symbol for the Siege of Leningrad, though, so he doesn't remember why he has them--and he didn't really think about it until he started having nightmares. XD Sorry! I didn't make it clear enough at all, it's my bad. XD))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Tue May 03, 2011 8:28 pm

((flkjsdklgkdfg I'm sorry, I will edit that, then-, I didn't realize. ): ))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Tue May 03, 2011 8:40 pm

((It's okay; I looked back and was like "fuck, I should have explained it better :I" Totally my fault, ffff XD I COMMIT SEPPUKU NOW, THEN EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY--/shot))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Wed May 04, 2011 5:04 am

((ffff I edited my comment, too. :U And don't fuss, I do things without explaining a lot XD))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Wed May 04, 2011 8:33 pm

((Thanks, guys; sorry again about that! XD))

"Of course it will not bear any negative consequences for us," he reassured the Egyptian, while still looking towards Auguste, in a voice as soft as the ground covering a pitfall. When he finally broke eye contact, he glanced at her shaky hands briefly, "Careful, now; it would be a shame to spill such a fine wine." Fine and expensive. He wondered how the carnies would feel if they knew how much was being spent on such things, not to mention the Frenchman's other, less savory (in Piter's asexual opinion) indulgences. Especially considering that they would now be getting budget cuts. Already, Alexandria didn't seem too excited about the idea, even if she managed to express her alternate suggestion in a more reserved fashion (a good move, if she intended to keep her job). But how many others would be out-and-out outraged by it? It was worth looking into.

After all, what better way to bring down Bourbon than by means of his own self-indulgence and narcissism?

For now, though, he would keep mulling over the possibilities. When his health was put into question, he sipped his drink first before responding coolly, "It's nothing to be concerned about; if I look worse for wear, it is more likely because I have not been sleeping lately. But if you'd prefer to be on the safe side, I have no problem with excusing myself. However, there is still something I'd like to discuss before I leave."

Setting down the wine glass, he continued, "You probably know this, but there is an antique harpsichord in Franze's old car. I don't know what you've planned to do with her things, but I've been concerned that, in the case that they're sold, the instrument will fall into less experienced hands. As a musician, I'd find that distressing. I'm sure you understand? Of course, I'd be willing to pay for it, but I also need permission to have someone remove it from her car. I hope this is a reasonable request?" If not, there would just be all the much more to want revenge for.
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Thu May 05, 2011 3:25 pm

Finally breaking away from his initial shock he returned to the simmering pan. He couldn't leave the onions unattended for too long- already he had risked some small, but essential flavour. He added more vegetables to it, a few more slices of onion, dumping out what to him, seemed ruined. The wasted pieces must have looked fine to anyone else- except to Auguste, at cooking, like everything else, was a perfectionist, almost neurotically so. Some more olive oil drained into the pan, and a quick dash of the wine. He ignored his company for a few ingredients longer. The stove turned off, an the meal was complete.

"Mademoiselle-," he began, taking out two plates to transport the contents of the pan to. "This is not a carnival, this is a business. We are all being payed a little too much, even I. When I speak of budget cuts, I speak for myself, as well. You are not the only ones who will have to lower their standards of living. The last carnival owner was very generous. Too generous. You may not understand the magnitude of this depression- your last owner didn't even adjust your paycheck to match the deflated dollar. We had stockholders from around the world. They are now pulling out. My family would have pulled out if this wasn't the remotely stable stock we have left. We're losing money, we're losing our backing. I was sent here to prevent you from going under. If you go under, my family will as well, and all of you will be without a job, without a home, without anything to your name. For the stability of the carnival- you see, I must adjust your paychecks."

His customary smile was accompanied by a sigh, as he placed the two plates in front of his guests.

"I'm sure Monsieur Romanov would understand, don't you?" He smiled, sitting down and taking the bottle of wine to fill up his own nearly empty glass. "Would you like any more-" And another smile followed that.

He took a sip or wine, formulating a response to the harpsichord question.

"The harpsichord..." he began. "The harpsichord....the Austrian whore- she played it with such beauty. I had learned some pieces on the instrument, as part of my education, but my ability is only rudimentary. I could never be able to play it like she did. It was a shame she could not play it and make love at the same time." he chuckled, before taking another sip. "But you are interested in it...?"

"I'm afraid, though, that I can not allow it to be moved into your car. Then who would be able to hear it, other than you? I'm sure you understand, music is not something that should be hidden. It will be moved into my car, and every day, you will come visit me, to play it for me." He tilted the wine glass, and threw another smile at the Russian. His Russian, as the Egyptian agreed, was far too enigmatic. It would do Auguste well if he could keep his eye on the man.

"You must understand...There is some...sentimental value... in that instrument."

((I don't really feel like getting my French cookbook to figure what he is cooking, sorrry.))
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Thu May 05, 2011 7:22 pm

It was a struggle to keep from clicking his teeth at Auguste's smooth-talking. There were good arguments, in the explanation he gave to Alexandria--legitimate concerns, really. No doubt a lot of it was true, or at the very least, was based on the truth. He had to question (inwardly, of course), how much truth was in the promise of the Frenchman cutting his own paycheck, though. It was certainly something he would be closely monitoring; now that the statement had been made, he could be held to it. And if it wasn't upheld, it was something Piter would most certainly be using against him. There was nothing the ruled hated more than a ruler's broken promises.

"Naturally, that's the way business works sometimes," he agreed, politely refusing the offer of more wine with a wave of the hand (his glass was barely half-drained), "Everyone sacrifices a little now, to keep things afloat...later, it will be worth it when we all still have our jobs."

The answer to the issue of the harpsichord, however, was not something he'd expected or wanted to hear. He gave himself a second to think by taking a sip of wine. Was there some sort of ulterior motive to what Bourbon was asking of him? It was difficult to say for sure; perhaps he truly did just enjoy hearing the harpsichord. But every day? Alarm bells went off in the Russian's over-active mind; a healthy dose of paranoia was what kept him in check (it was similar to bravery: through sheer courage, you could do many amazing feats, but without a measure of fear, you would just as soon get yourself killed), and this seemed fishy to him. Well, if this was the game Auguste wanted to play, then he would just have to find a way to work it to his advantage.

"Truthfully, I did not actually plan on playing it as much--it is not my specialty, after all. But if that is what you want, I take no issue with it." Setting his glass back down again, he stared at its contents as though he were trying to freeze them with his demeanor alone, "I look forward to it, in fact. I hear the keys of the harpsichord are more resistant. It will be interesting, breaking it in."

Although if Auguste had enjoyed the airy waltzes and light tunes that characterized Franze's playing, then Piter's style was likely going to be a different experience for the man. Like any other thing that could be controlled, he manipulated the keys with a calculated precision that, while technically exceptional, left some measure of soulfulness to be desired. When working, he played pieces more fitting for the atmosphere of the carnival (classical music only, though; he didn't do kitsch), but in private, his own selection was...well, as Franze put it, "dreary".
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Sat May 07, 2011 9:04 pm

She reclined in the chair and held the longest possible eye contact with her employer. He was right, in essence. They weren't here to give thrills for kicks. If laughter was the best medicine, then Mistique was the priciest apothecary on the block. Not one smile was free, and honesty was fabricated. This was indeed a business. "I see your point. And I agree with your standpoint; we all need to subtract certain unnecessary commodities from our gross income." She dropped hints like people dropped anvils, except with a semi-sweet sugar coating.

And sentimentality her foot! It was all too obvious he despised Franze, so why keep a memento? He was the type of man who'd savor victory over any man or woman, most were like that. He didn't even play the harpsichord, at least to Alex's knowledge. As far as she could tell, the instrument was little more than a pretty little paperweight. Romanov was musically adept beyond most expectations, being just as meticulous and precise with his performing as he was with basically everything else, aside from having having a heartbeat. Or a heart for that matter.

"I am at ease with budget limitations for now, but perhaps we could sell or auction off the freaks, not that they would actually fetch much but why look a gift horse in the mouth? And, if you permit, the belongings of a certain Austrian- sans the harpsichord. It would be a fast way to earn money." She affirmed, noting the verbal duel the two men waged over Franze's abandoned possessions. It was all too obvious by the way they struggled for one instrument that their true intentions were entirely selfish. Neither one of them had any shred of cooperation in their system. It was pure politics, a skirmish to control Mistique under a sole leader. If that should be the case then Alex could play their game. Alexandria could play it very well. It wasn't because she was a pretty that she wanted to get her way, she expected to. But looks weren't the master key to success. They were inconsequential in game of wits, which she as also blessed with and deadly effcient in doing so.

The Bourbon was emotionally charged, flippant, and unstable. The Russian was unpredictable, self-reliant, and exponentially more responsible. Both men presented a unique set of extremes, but Alex grew up around extremes. Those extremes shaped Alex to be the low-profile opportunist with a twist she was at the moment. However, it was still unclear if the men would work together as coherently as they had proclaimed.

"Piter, is there something wrong with your piano? From what I've heard, it is in as impecable condition as ever. Why don't we just lock away anything that lousey woman left behind until we can come to a mutal agreement. At the present, we have more pressing matters to attend to, like how the other workers will react to pay cuts and the debt."
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  MOSSAD TRAINED SHARK on Sun May 08, 2011 8:18 am

"Thank you, Monsieur-" Auguste smiled, with a nod. He really didn't care about the carnival- or the people of the carnival so much. He cared about its stability. He cared about the money the entreprise produced. Only once the carnival was financially stable, only once they were making money again, then Auguste could be unaffected by the depression. Then, Auguste could return home. He did not care for permanent leadership- this was not a group of people he wanted to lead. He got along with them well enough. He was amiable to them, and most of them to him- with a number of exceptions.

"You can practice on it, for me, then, if your ability is not as refined. That instrument was never popular with the Russians-, was it? Your people are not...the type that would prefer such niceties." He took another sip of his wine. "But I still have no doubt in your ability to play it. Franze had mentioned your compositions in brief. For me, you will play what I like. I will call you up when I feel like listening." If the Russian was busy, Auguste would not be concerned. "I've also been meaning to have a change of music for your performances. Your usual list has become repetitive- I'm assuming the old ringmaster chose it. There is a new image I would like to see this place have. That requires a departure from the old tastes... We will work together more, about this." The Frenchman gave the Russian another smile. Auguste was a man who appreciated fine tastes- no matter what the area. This was to ensure a little more than personal preference, though.

The Egyptian girl began to speak. Auguste's smile simmered down. Her opinions were fine to hear, but would he consider then? Of course not. He was his own adviser.

"Of course we have to- You as well, obviously. I understand that you're giving a fairly hefty pay check. You don't use that all on your visits to the Ragtags, I assume." A little bird told him about that. Few things were secret from the Frenchman's eyes. He personally made himself the center of everything. Everything goes around the center- "I'm not sure how you live, Mademoiselle, but I'm sure you don't need that much." He moved his hand to pick up hers. A soft, brushing kiss was planted on it, to perhaps smooth down the edges of his words. "You didn't live like that in Egypt- did you?"

He dropped her hand. This was followed by another smile, despite the facts that he did not approve of the things he heard.

"A number of people visit us just for the freaks. I personally don't appreciate the practice, but it earns money. Selling them will only result in a loss of profits. Keeping them hungry will keep them in a desperate condition. People like to see that." That was that. The carnival was already so centered around the freaks- who, without a doubt, were the cheapest and most controllable faction. They couldn't even think of selling them. "Not hungry enough to die, but we'll keep them under fed." Auguste was getting increasingly irritated at the Egyptian. Did she plan to push herself into this conversation? Was she acting as if her jurisdiction mattered more- or as much as that of the financial- and with that, complete leader of the carnival? She should have known better. The best way for a woman to get power in this setting would always be appeasement.

"The harpsichord is no longer an issue, Mademoiselle Bayoumi. We really do not need the opinion of the carnival to decide the place of an instrument.”
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Thu May 12, 2011 5:20 pm

It was becoming increasingly difficult to not allow any part of his face twitch with irritation. "No, I'm afraid I do not prefer the harpsichord. But not out of any personal identification with the average Russian," he replied icily, "'My people', as you say, make up a nation of drunken swine, with little interest in any of life's niceties. If I didn't know better, I might even call it an insult to be lumped together with them."

He had Bourbon fixed with an unmoving stare, not allowing the man's eyes to flicker away as he spoke, "But of course, I would be...delighted to work together on the carnival's music. You know, I must say: no matter my feelings towards her, Frachenka was something like my favorite plaything. It's been a bit boring, in her absence." 'Plaything' meaning person. 'A bit boring' meaning he was ready to do something drastic to entertain himself. Not that anyone, these two notwithstanding, would know that but him. "Even as a pianist, it gets dull playing the same things all the time. I will welcome the break in normalcy."

As the other two semi-debated the topic of the freaks and money ('semi' because it was more like Auguste telling Alexandria how it was going to be, rather than a real argument), he thought for a moment, then spoke up, "If I may... I'd suggest adjusting the living quarters of the freaks. You realize that some have their own cars? What do they need the space for? They can be grouped together in far fewer cars, with dividers, perhaps--it will not change the viewing experience for the guest. And then, the leftover cars could be sold. They are not cheap, after all." He picked at a fingernail idly, "In that case, you might even be able to lay a few people off. It would take less work to move the cars about if there are less cars..."

He would support any reform that would make the freak's lives worse. The more oppressed people were, the more willing they were to do something about it--not that anyone thought that the freaks were capable of doing anything. Even Piter had his doubts. But either way, it would not hurt his cause.
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Re: Te Deum [Versailles/Public]

Post  Major Glory on Thu May 19, 2011 8:25 pm

The Egyptian felt slightly, not so much by the slight kiss on the hand, but by the Frenchman's words. His dialogue combined with his physical presence was more than enough to remind her that she treaded on a thin, thin wire. Alex laughed slightly and slowly retreated her arms beneath her sleeves. "Not at all, Monsieur Bourbon, barely a penny." The Ragtag circus was most certainly below par compared to Mistique, but it gave off the essence of home. "It is a very homely establishment, and while I have not the slightest wish to leave here, Ragtags does very much remind me of Egypt. It- It shows me how far I've come, and how very much I have to be thankful for." She loved her homeland, dearly so, but not enough to return only to dance in sketchy nightclubs again. "I appreciate your generosity, Monsieur Bourbon. It is always a pleasure to be employed by such a reasonable man."

Alexandria's breathing slowed to a more relaxed pace when Piter spoke up. "That is a very economic suggestion, Piter." While she knew that the freaks wouldn't share their enthusiasm, what choice did they have but to accept it? They wouldn't try anything, not in their malnourished and decrepit state. "Auguste, that seems to fit in quite nicely with your suggestion, yes? Hopefully now the budget cuts won't effect the circus as a whole too adversely now." It was a plausible theory, but Alex wasn't going to side with Piter wholly quite yet. Alex glanced out of the window, taking note of the setting sun. She hadn't realized how dark it had gotten since she had first arrived. "Oh my, it seems that I have overstayed my welcome." She stood up and walked to Auguste, briefly kissing her host on the cheek as a parting thank-you. "I hate to miss out on any further conversation, but I have a show in a few minutes. Musn't be late, and thank you for the dinner!" In all honesty, she couldn't have been more eager to leave the wagon. She wasn't used to playing two people at once. Alexandria threw Piter a passing nod before exiting the spacious housing unit. She'd have to play their game at a slower pace, but win their game she would.
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