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Post by sey on Mar 12, 2012 13:22:51 GMT -5
It wasn’t sophisticated to drink vodka in a glass in the morning. Such a thing was considered for commoners, and this hotel did not cater to such clientele. Vodka had been an anytime drink in her household, especially where her father was concerned. But the sophisticated members of Eishoff drank their morning vodka with orange juice and champagne, and placed pretty pieces of mint and orange peels in the glass as if vodka needed such frilliness. Her father would have been upset to be served such frivolous bullshit when he simply wanted vodka. She felt the same, though she said nothing. If they wanted to pretend things that weakened the alcohol made it better, then they could pretend. She didn’t need to be inebriated, she was already hallucinating without the help of alcohol.
Last night there seemed to be too many ghosts. She wasn’t even sure if it really was a ghost she was seeing. What if it were real? What if her father had told her that Ivan was dead but it was all a lie? What if both Ivan and Kateryna were alive? The blonde woman finished off her drink only for it to leave a bitter taste. If they were both alive, then she must have been dead to them. Ivan had gone off and never came back to their home. And Kateryna had forsaken her so many years ago without looking back. She felt troubled and plagued with too many unpleasant thoughts. What if those childhood memories were illusions and she was never happy? What if they had all left her because they could never be happy around her?
Natalya ordered another drink. She preferred to have the alcohol numb her to such thoughts. Perhaps this was why their father drank so heavily. These plaguing thoughts could only upset her. When her drank came, she finished it instantly and left the bar. Drinking all day wouldn’t keep her mind distracted. She needed to do something that could keep her thinking of the past.
In Eishoff was a shop owned by the famous Francis Bonnefoy. He was a talented man when it came to design. She had owned dresses of his creation before and cherished them all. But she currently had nothing of his in her possession. Natalya aimed to change that. His shop was in the upper-class section of the city since his clothing was in high demand. She found herself at his shop. While she had never met him, she respected him as someone not completely useless. The tall woman walked into the shop, looking at a few of the items on displace. ”I need dresses,” she demanded in hopes of getting some person to come attend to her.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Mar 12, 2012 23:06:44 GMT -5
Every now and then, Francis Bonnefoy would treat himself. He grew up with a strict mother and an even stricter grandmother -and though both were loved more than he could say and missed (and rightly so still feared) now that they've passed on, both of these influential women had taught him one pleasantry of life.
Treating yourself.
It was a very general concept, for grand-mama it was to drop her work load and strut her way to the kitchen, kick the cook out of it and bake cookies all day long. For chere Elise it was to, smoke wherever and whenever she pleased. Francis loved indulgence in any way shape or form, but mostly he enjoyed doing whatever he wanted without a moment's notice -much to all of his secretaries dismay.
Today was supposed to be a boring old corporate meeting with a bunch of old stupid share holders, Francis more of a designer than leading CEO was an artist through and through. And decided to completely skip out on all responsibilities on a whim. Instead of that meeting, Francis ran away to one of his favourite shops (his own) and took over, giving one very surprised employee a day off.
He loved getting on the floor, helping customers pick out their favourite outfits, seeing them on real people. Hearing their opinions himself. It was a wonderful feeling. Perhaps if his grand mama and mere would let him, he could give up the company and just open up his own private business. He would much rather enjoy that...Especially since small business didn't have stuffy meetings with stuffy share-holders.
It was a slow morning, the price tags on the display scarred away the common folk, and most of the regular shoppers never came in Sunday mornings. All busy recovering from hangovers or pretending to themselves that they are attending church or something. Ah-
It has been a while, since the Frenchman's last visit, maybe his old priest will let him back in now...
The bell on the door rang; a customer! He jumped off the counter he was sitting on, and smiled brightly towards the entrance. The smile only brightened when he saw the woman there.
"Mais-! Could it be-?!" The designer walked over, barely registering her demand. "But it is! Natalya Arlovskaya, -prima ballerina de mon coeur!"
Another one of Francis' many indulgences. Ballet. And he would recognise his one of his favourite dancers anywhere -with or without stage make-up. |
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Post by sey on Mar 13, 2012 13:19:20 GMT -5
An attendant did come, but he looked different than most that came to her beckoning. The first difference was his style. His hair might have been long, but it was far from messy. It was pristine and flawless. It was cared for by fine products and had such a glow to it. His clothing was stylish. They were all made by Francis Bonnefoy and tailored to his body. It made him look sophisticated yet not something formal that he looked stuffy. He had a French accent, which she supposed might have been fitting considering where the owner of this place hailed from. But this man…this man actually knew who she was. She wasn’t just some rich woman demanding close with a bad attitude. He knew her name and title.
For once, Natalya was taken back. Her pale cheeks were stained crimson. Of all places to get recognized, she didn’t expect this to be somewhere. It was far from a bad thing. Natalya was quite proud of what she accomplished to have such an esteemed title. It was one of the few things she rather enjoyed doing. The title meant she was above others at what she did. The fans seemed to produce, however, weren’t things she was used to. She disliked forced interaction. This place knowing who she was might have been the type of interaction she disliked. They loved her but they knew nothing of her to love her. It was what she hated the most. There were other ballerina that craved such attention, but Natalya could never like such things. People were useless beings, why would she ever want them adoring her.
”Bonjour,” she greeted the man in her usual cold tone but in French. She was familiar with the language thanks to her profession, though she did not do well speaking it. Her accent was too strong. She looked at him for a moment then looked away. Part of her wondered if he was the famous Francis Bonnefoy in person. But why would a man be working in a shop like a commoner? She pushed the thought away. ”I require dresses,” she said again. She glanced around the store at all the lovely silks and laces wore by mannequins. They were so beauty and carefully crafted. They were made with style and such skill. She felt herself smiling for a moment but quickly forced herself to frown. ”Several dresses,” she explained as she looked at the happy man again. He was still smiling, wasn’t he? She groaned disapprovingly. She so disliked people smiling at her. |
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Mar 14, 2012 10:49:09 GMT -5
Francis was still smiling, if anything his smile managed to get wider. He hadn't expected to see the great Natalya Arlovskaya blush, from what he had heard and seen on-stage she was the most compose woman ever and rather distant. Which is why Francis never had the chance to meet her before then. But the Frenchman adored the idea of a woman as distant as Natalya let herself loose and dance.
But what made him especially happy was that, she didn't seem to truly realise who he was. She wouldn't be the first, a few of his customers always ooked so confused when greeted by who they think is Francis Bonnefoy, but- why would he be here!? HE enjoyed seeing this clash of reasoning on their faces.
The Belarussian hid this face well. She really was composed..."I require dresses." Francis smiled, dresses he had- "Several dresses." The frenchman was positively glowing with glee! her quiet approval of the store made his heart flutter. (This is why the Frenchman came to work in his own shops. This feeling.) He stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her arm. He began leading her into the store.
"Bien~ Then we should get working! To the V.I.P room!" |
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Post by sey on Mar 15, 2012 20:22:13 GMT -5
What was this?! He grabbed her, and he grabbed her real arm. She felt herself freaking out as she quickly pulled away. It didn't matter if this man was rich or poor; no one touched her so easily! The only problem was he was going to have to touch her. Clothing places always had people touch her. They had to touch her to size her up. Everything seemed to be judged under a tape measure and nothing was kept sacred. But she couldn't help but to escape his grasp and hold her arm like a wounded animal. It was only natural.
"W-well, da," she muttered. He was right. They needed to go to the back to have properly fitted before he brought dresses for her approval. It was just... She cautiously extended her hand back towards the man to grab again. It was just people touching her was too unnatural. People weren't supposed to be so touchy feely with strangers! They were supposed to be more reserved and distant. She couldn't help but look unhappy about the whole thing. She wanted dresses but this... Why did they have to touch?
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Mar 15, 2012 23:43:25 GMT -5
Francis blinked when she pulled her arm away from him. His mouth opened a little at the apparent -fear, surprise?- on Natalya's face. The Frenchman looked at the ground feeling rather sheepish. The young man was really one of her admirers, he didn't mean to act so...informally with her. He was just swept away in his own habits and excitement.
He swallowed and looked back up at her when she spoke, he smiled a little when he saw her lift her hand for him, but the motion was much too cautious for him not to make a note of it. He smiled softly, and held her hand in between both of his palms.
"Désolé mademoiselle." He said quietly and then let go off her hand completely. His face changed from the gentle thoughtful one to his game-face, a wide and welcoming grin. "So Natalya Arlovskaya, what is your favourite colour?" He began walking towards the VIP room, leading her there. |
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Post by sey on Mar 16, 2012 0:22:15 GMT -5
The second time they touched was much more pleasant. It wasn't in a familiar way but a very cautious and formal nature. When she danced with males during ballets or formal events, they touched her in the same manner. It was impersonal enough for her not to feel alarmed. But he didn't smile in the same manner. It was gentle and sincere. It made her feel uneasy but she did her best to hide it. She wouldn't let some smile let her falter. Men smiled all the time while looking at her. But they usually weren't apologizing as they did.
"I-it's fine," she retorted before he was asking her what was her favorite color. She mostly wore black and blues. She tried to refrain from wearing bright colors. She disliked the thought of bright colored dresses since she would stick out like a sore thumb. Besides, bright colors would give out the misconception she was warm. Natalya never wanted to give off that option. She wouldn't let the world think she was weak. "Violet," she answered truthfully with a smile. While she favored a dark wardrobe, her favorite color had to be violet.
When she was younger, she remembered looking in the mirror. She had blue eyes and her older sister had blue eyes. Her father's eyes always seemed as black as coal. But Ivan had violet eyes. His eyes were so pretty when she was young. They looked like amethyst. Though his bright eyes seemed to die just like hers over the years. By the time he left for the military, they were probably just as cloudy and dull as jasper.
She noticed she was smiling and quickly fixed her lips back into a frown. She might have drunk too much to be smiling so easily. "Why?" she questioned in her usual cold tone.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Apr 3, 2012 9:04:48 GMT -5
Francis smiled in approval, violet was a lovely colour and it would really suit her platinum coloured hair. In fact it would be more than lovely. "A beautiful choice."
He stared at her smile, he recalls vagely that the ballerina smiled sometimes during her performances but all of those smiles were for the show, the audience. This smile was for her, in a moment where her guard had broken briefly, he only smiled politely when her frown returned.
"Why to know where to begin of course~" He resumed his pace. Natalya reminded him of his mother and grandmother, they were ladies of wealth and of talent. They smiled when asked to but only tuly smiled when caught off guard by happy thoughts and happenings. He wondered what kind of wonderful thought could have been trigered by the color 'violet'?
"Do you have a beau, mademoiselle Natalya? A boyfriend, lover -the likes?" [/blockquote] |
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Post by sey on Apr 9, 2012 0:40:39 GMT -5
He needed to know where to begin? She was confused by such a remark. Usually shopping went completely different from this. Most women didn't dare to touch her since she put out a rather unwelcoming vibe. Instead, she was shown dresses that she asked for and nothing more. No one looked to see what colors she liked and to go from there. This man was odd. He touched her so happily and freely even though she was her usual self as if he were happy to see her frown. Then again, it might have simply been because he was a fan.
She ignored her thoughts. She didn't need to know why this man was so happy. It could have been his disposition, his job, or something else. It was of little matter to her. What did matter was the dresses. At least that was what she thought until he questioned if she had a significant other.
"W-w-what?" [/b] she stuttered. She was simply unprepared for such a question. It was so straightforward. She looked a bit upset as she looked away. "I do not see how that matters. Men have nothing to do with dresses or lace,"[/b] she huffed. She didn't buy thing to attract the stares of others. She could have cared less what others thought of her as she paraded about. She brought things for her own delight and satisification. [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Apr 10, 2012 19:08:51 GMT -5
Francis laughed whole heartedly. It was fun, Natalya's prescence was fun -she truly did remind him of his family at times. "You are only partially correct with that remark. Now give me a moment, I shall look for something that will suit your tastes."
Francis left her in the private room, reserved for himself and his guests, not that the lovely ballerina was aware of that nor did it matter. The room was decorated with haute couture, and with wine coloured couches, mirroirs that cover every angle and magazines laying about- Francis swept down and grabbed one of them, the one with his face on the cover. No point revealing his identity just yet, he moved to a closet and looked into the private original design collections. He knew it was around here somewhere....
Ah here it is! From his winter collection, he didn't give it to the person it was originally made for and was he glad for it! To begin with the woman was spiteful bitch and didn't deserve this piece of art, and most importantly he got out of hand and it wouldn't have suited her anyway. But on Natalya Arvolskaya?
Taking it off the rack he carried it gently to the prima donna. "Here this is on my best work- I mean one of my favourites! Fit for a queen." |
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Post by sey on Apr 11, 2012 11:17:00 GMT -5
She was partially correct and it made him laugh? She didn’t understand that at all. Men weren’t wearing dresses or things made of lace. She couldn’t imagine her dearly departed older brother trying to wear such delicate fabric. And no real man wore a dress.
He had led her to a completely different part of the store. There were so many mirrors about. With so many reflections of her, Natalya didn’t know where to look. Anywhere she glanced seemed to have a clone glancing back at her. He moved away from her and moved slightly out of view all while seeming to grab random things. This felt different than usual. It had felt unusual to begin with, but the woman couldn’t help but feel something was going on. But before she could accuse him of any foul play, he brought out a dress.
”Your favorite?” she repeated as she was brought the dress. It truly was exquisite! The dress was so carefully tailored. From afar it looked like a dazzling violet dress, but closer all the small details of black lace patterns could be seen. ”It is quite beautiful,” she said stunned as her fingertips touched the dress.
”May I?” she asked. It was odd to be asking to put on a dress from a sales person, but the way he held the dress with such care almost made her think he was babying it. She didn’t want to snatch it from him. Besides, he would have to give her the dress and leave so she could change into it.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Apr 21, 2012 20:25:09 GMT -5
Francis smiled at the question. He thought that it was cute, Natalya's very girl-ish streak. He had to remind himself that she was his senior by a few years... "Mais bien sur, Mademoiselle Arlovskaya." He gave her the dress and then did a polite bow. Made his way to the door, stopped and then sent her a small flirtatious smile. "If you need help with anything, just call for me."
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Post by sey on Apr 25, 2012 8:04:21 GMT -5
The way he smiled at her as he left the room unnerved her slightly. He was rather an odd person and she couldn’t put her finger on why exactly. Usually odd men seemed to want things from her. But considering she was purchasing a dress from him, what else could he want? She shook her head. The odd man was out of the room so there was no need to worry about him. She removed her clothing and slipped into the other dress. It was awkward to change in front of so many mirrors, but she ignored them. Once presentable, she looked at herself in the dress.
She couldn’t say that it suited her, but it was quite lovely. It was too beautiful for her to resist buying. She walked back over to the door and knocked on it, assuming her male companion wasn’t far. ”How much is the dress? I wish to purchase it,” she said behind the door.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 1, 2012 13:20:17 GMT -5
Outside of the change room, Francis practically bounced with exictment. It could have been the fact that Natalya was wearing one of his dresses, or the fact that someone didn't recognize him in his own store, or both but he just couldn't contain himself any longer. He noticed a client walk in. Francis pouted, he didn't want to deal with anyone else at the moment. He went and greeted her polietely the client obviously recognised him and blushed, he smiled and asked for her forgiveness because the store was closed for a private event. Kissing her hand sent her into a daze and he was easily able to shepard her out of his store. Locking the door behind the woman, he sighed and then ran back to wait by the door just in time to hear Natalya's question.
Instinctively, he knew that she had finished dressing herself and he opened the door. He was giddy with excitement. He gasped when he saw the prima donna. "Je le savais! [/color]" Francis then circled her, his eyes were bright -it could have been the lighting in the room, but really it was just from seeing Natalya Arlovskaya in his dress. It was perfect- except it would need some modifications for her size, but the dress was beautiful, no she was beautiful. In the designer's mind, the two of them, his dress and the woman were a perfect match. " Your waist is so small!" He chided her the way he did to all of his models. He stepped closer and pinched the dress back around her waist, he completely forgot how reserved Natalya was, and he was in full work-mode. " I'll have to seam it..." [/blockquote][/size] |
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