(no subject)
1. Player Information
Name (or internet handle):Megan
Current characters in Bete Noire:None
2. Character Information
Name:Jeanne Antionette Poisson, 'Reinette', Madame de Pompadour
Livejournal Username: ambitious_woman
Fandom:Doctor Who
Image: Link us to a LJ-icon that you'd like to be your image on the Taken Characters page.
Reserve: http://magistrated.livejournal.com/1299.html?thread=1658387#t1658387
3. Character Information II
Age/Appearance: 28
Reinette was considered to be a 'beauty' by most at court with an oval face, small but well shaped mouth and 'fine grey eyes'. Many wrote that her beauty was enhanced by her wit, which gave her smaller stature that much more memorable a presence. From 'The Girl in the Fireplace' she is played by Sophia Myles and will remain so. She has long, often intricately styled blind hair. Her eyes are blue, but for a nod to history the strain towards grey when angry of impassioned. It is only been historically documented that she used her hands often when she spoke, and as a classically trained danser she would have been extremely aware of space and how to manipulate it to her favor. She is petite, but curved and accustomed to accentuating her best features.
History:
Character : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Girl_in_the_Fireplace
Historical Person : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madame_de_Pompadour
Personality: At the age of eight her father was forced to flee France due to the financial disgrace of his employers. He spent much of Reinette's childhood living in Germany. Though she never blamed him for the incident, and continued to love her father dearly it left Reinette with a strong need to be in control. She will constantly seek the upper hand in situations, and to assure herself through education that she knows as much as possible about any situation. On the whole, she does not enjoy surprises.
Her vigorous education at such a young age onward, left Reinette as one of the most educated and versatile women of her generation in France. Capable of discussing music, art, philosophy and politics of the day she has, in turn, few female friends. Their interests simply are not her own. The only thing they would share at this point is motherhood, as her daughter is still alive. But she was never overly an attentive one. If she does not regard herself as a failure there, then she is at least aware of her failings. Ultimately, men are far better company, and much in the women in court irritate her. She sees women that are intelligent at times, but ultimately uneducated. And one of her greatest irritants is potential unfulfilled.
She is always constantly aware of being judged, and makes a great show that it does does matter. Of a middle class birth, due to France law she was not even allowed to touch her future lover the king, due to her lineage. Thus she was elevated to her title. She rarely speaks about the courts general opinion of her presence there. On a deeper level, it does affect her of course, but she makes a great show of playing with 'masks'. She will even speak of them aloud to close friends. A way of schooling her features so that no one can see her inside, and that she ultimately reveals nothing against her. Perhaps it is another lingering lesson and memory of the Clockwork Men, whose masks reveal nothing.
A great actress, she is not afraid of manipulating a conversation or situation to the conclusion she has already determined. Those that do not allow her to do so consequently both unsettle and intrigue her. She is not one to run from the encounter, rather she will face them again determined to take the upper hand.
She also must remain busy. Ultimately, more than a lover or as a mother, Reinette feels her ultimate contribution are through the art, architecture and literature she sponsors and encourages. She sleeps very little, is constantly working. She cannot stand to be idle. It can make her irritated and often angry.
Sexual Preferences/Orientation: Reinette is heterosexual, and this is clearly her prefernce. However though her role as a mistress and in the course of her education she has definitely encountered women sexually before. If presented with right opportunity she might again, however normally these encounters were less about her own emotions or desires. Something else was likely at play.
Her sexuality is a double-edged sword for Reinette. She has been trained in all things required to sexually please a man, and like all her lessons? She excelled at them. She is quite good at what she does and takes no small amount of pride in it. She often uses sex as a tool, yet another way to delve into the deeper complexities of others. She is a calculated thing for Reinette, a study of action and reaction. All her knowledge and training in play. She very rarely completely loses herself to the experience.
Sex could also make her feel incredibly weak. She suffered from a long list of health issues, many which often interfered in her abilities to see to Louis' needs. Sex could become painful, and at her most exposed Reinette historically tried several strange diets meant to improve her condition -- all of which only weakened her health overall. She was frequently bled at Louis' orders, with only left her even weaker. She ultimately suffered multiple miscarriages while with Louis, each taking a severe toll on her health. In the end she chose to sever the physicals aspects of their relationship before he could do so himself. Her pride simply would not allow it.
Powers: Reinette does not have any specific 'powers', although some would argue her ability to navigate the Doctor's mind with relative ease. However, she always showed a natural aptitude for languages and was fluent in five of them. Since the Doctor 'explored' her mind as w yound child I believe Reinette took note of this experience, and as with many children exposed to different languages at an early age, it came that much easier to her.
Reason for playing: Historically, Reinette is a fascinating woman. She thrived in a time when most women did not, and because of a prophecy made by an fortune teller at the age of eight she that she would one day be lover to a king -- she was afforded education and experiences far outside the norm for her class and sex. No expense was spared, and she spent her youth in literary salons with people such as Voltaire, who was one of her greatest friends. I love that she combines physical limitations and weakness with extraordinary intelligence and mental strength. That even after her physical relationship with Louis ended, she still remained his constant companion and friend, deeply involved in French politics. She simply did not accept limitations, even her physical ones. Which is what ultimately lead to her early death.
I am looking forward to bringing her to Bete Noire for the opportunity to play her off a great variety of characters with differing motivations. While educated and an actress, accustomed to a great many roles and masks -- Reinette still can stray towards darker thoughts. Her marriage was a failure, and she did not know how to be a mother to her only surviving child. The multiple miscarriages she suffered in her time as Louis' mistress left her with deep scars and insecurities. She cannot abide being made to feel weak, and ultimately it was her own body that betrayed her. I would be bringing her fresh off the ending of the relationship that defined her life from the age of eight, having just watched Louis take a new lover to replace her. One that she chose, despite his protests. These wounds are very raw and real. I want to truly explore this pain within the setting of Bete Noire.
4. Original Character Supplement
World History: NA
5. Samples
First-Person: (5-10 sentences) Some might find it an enlightening realization to discover that no matter where they are placed, people still favor the same assignations and manipulations they might elsewhere. Be it the filthiest of hovels, or the halls of Versailles? They are nothing if not predictable. Oh, we might wish to pretend otherwise. Certainly those at court would prefer it not to be so. How humbling for them to know that their games are being played elsewhere, and often with greater skill. It amuses me to imagine their reaction at finding themselves in this place. It amuses me a great deal.
Third-Person: (200 words minimum)
((At 28, Reinette's health issues were compounding and leading to the eventual ending of her physical relationship with Louis XV. This is very recent and very real for her))
"I still believe that you should inform him."
Weary, Reinette noted the lack of deference in her companion's tone, the lack of use of her title. They thought to insult her. They presumed to think that they could hurt her. But what they failed to realize that she did not care. Or to me more fair, in the case of the brunette before her, she merely did not judge her enough of a threat to be worth the effort. Status alone had placed her within Reinette's chambers at this moment, nothing of her own talents or skill. There was nothing remarkable there.
"And then what, do you imagine?"
If this girl possessed an imagination.
"Then he will come to you. Then he will comfort you. Then he will --"
"Then he will what," Reinette interrupted with no small amount of anger from her bed. To be fair, not all of it could be placed at the other woman's feet. "Then he will love me? Then he will take me into his arms and bring us back, inevitably, to this time and place once more? Are you so blind that you cannot foresee the outcome?"
Reinette would have no more.
"You are dismissed. All of you are dismissed."
They left then, knowing better than to argue. A demure, silent row with heads bent in deference she knew they did not feel. The silence that followed enveloped her, wrapping itself around her weary form. But even it could not serve as a balm to these wounds.
And even then, Reinette could not cry.
It was for the best, she told herself. After all, she was not one often given to tears. She did not ply them as other women did, currency used to ensure their desires. She and her own sorrow were strangers in the physical form, and so they acted as strangers often would. Jerking and tearing, none of the movements graceful nor natural. It could not be a pleasing state to the eyes or the ears.
So the rest of her body wept for her. Hot, wet and red it had poured from between her legs in a sensation that should never be so familiar. And yet for Reinette? It was. The royal blood, and the royal body mingled within her own the ways breaths mingled within a kiss. Rejected from her own even as she had welcomed it with her arms a mere three months before. Hardly enough time for even the whispers of speculation to begin.
Only for Reinette the whispers lingered.
How many babes now stripped from her womb in her time with Louis? This would make six to the best of her knowledge and it seemed as if to her that each time some small part of them remained. Their voices and faces and tears, caught up within her insides. Their sorrow lingering. Perhaps she could not cry for the simple reason that they had taken all her tears.
Perhaps it should not matter. FanFan had very nearly grown up without her, reaching the coltish beauty of almost-woman without very little time in her mother's presence. How much time did she practically have for another child? She could only think, however, that this child had been of her, and Louis. And that made the hurt very dear.
She was a woman of many talents, Reinette knew. Educated -- created -- in so many ways so that she might love. But it seemed that she could not sustain it.
Reinette glanced at the blood-stained clothes stacked no neatly on the table to her right, and hated them. Loss should not be contained in such neat corners. Hurt should not be squared to such perfection. Emptiness like this should not have a vessel to contain it.
Still, as she looked at the red bleeding into white, she could hear all too clearly the conversation that was to come.
They were done.
Third-Person #2: Reinette awoke to the sensation of a heavily placed hand on her coverlet, pressing in against her hip and then traveling upwards to rest on her waistline just above. Below the surface of the covers the motion caused her nightdress to lift and bunch slightly. It was something that, if had happened of its own accord while sleeping? She might have found mildly annoying at worst, and oddly pleasing in darker, quieter moments as fabric slid against skin.
But as it was completely unexpected, and utterly unwarranted by her own restless sleep, Reinette's eye shot open, only to find her gaze matched by Phillipe's darker one, just above. Her mother's latest lover, he did not fare well at such close examination. Years of being heavily powdered had somehow frayed his skin, and rough flakes were visible behind the cosmetics currently favored by both men and women. Heavy pockets of flesh sat just underneath his eyes, giving a strange weight to his face. And his hair, no longer protected by a wig, had been visibly worn in patches. The crown of his scalp gleamed in the moonlight.
"You know," he said then, even as his features moved oddly. Phillipe had done a great deal to his countenance over the years that it was not originally intended for. And now we he spoke he seemed to be at war with his own face. The parts of the whole jerked and shifted, with nothing completely connected. "Such skin," Philippe murmured, touching Reinette's cheek. Almost as if he sensed her own dismissing thoughts. "You are nothing else if not her daughter. What she might do to have it now."
She twisted then, in a flash of defiance rarely seen in the more recent years. Lessons and schedules and plans were strictly adhered to, leaving room for little else. But Reinette knew a deep, pressing need to separate herself from his hand on her bare skin, if nothing else. Even as Phillipe's hand still claimed her hip.
"Your mother and I were just discussing the development of your -- attributes, and how well your education was proceeding."
So that was it then. Reinette knew without question this was his way of announcing that not only did her mother know precisely where he was, but that he also approved of his actions.
"How it is time to take things further."
She would later tell herself, in the years that proceeded, that what occurred was not perhaps what her mother intended. That perhaps she had simply wished for this older, experienced man to guide her daughter through the ways and wishes of a man. What would please him, and what would not. For while it was certainly a conversation that might be had between mother and daughter, in the end they were women. Only women, and only alone. Which with father still banished in Germany, they were.
Yes, she would think as Reinette fashioned her tale, it was only intended to be conversation. Especially later, after the elder had passed and only she remained, it seemed natural to protect what memories she could.
And yet other truths always whispered. That this was the world that she had been intended for since she was a mere either years old. And that this was also the world her mother intended for her to be fully initiated into. One that was hard, and cold and manipulative. One in which strength was always required. It was a version that Reinette knew, as she grew older, held much more truth.
Like all of her mother's lovers, Phillipe was of a class greater than their own. Always reaching, Maman was. In her dreams Reinette used she see herself in her mother's arms, tossed into the air in their own happy tandem. But as she grew the image reformed itself into something much more likely. Herself, in her mother's embrace, held tightly and lifted overhead. To reach heights neither would know on their own.
He was of some minor nobility that prided itself more on relations than actual power. Neither of which he actually possessed in portions long enough to actually secure a longstanding invite to Versailles. So instead, like so many others, he languished just on the outside of truly eventful, yet will within the borders of Paris. To pass the time he amused himself in her mother's bed.
He was just the sort of man her mother specialized in.
Reinette would discover that there was nothing about him in bed to distinguish him from the man he was out of it. Not as he peeled the coverlet back, or lifted her nightgown first up to her hips, and then bunched up about her shoulders and chest. He did not remove it, if only because it required too much effort, even as his hands eagerly explored what rested beneath.
Reinette found herself silently working to understand just what made certain parts of the encounter more exciting to the man in her bed than others. The plane of her belly, the hidden skin that rested just on the underside of her breasts. Short heavy fingers pinched her nipples until they peaked in response and yet once they did, he seemed entirely done with them as well. Her legs and arms might as well not be there at all, but she both felt and heard the heavy grunt of pleasure as the same fingers tangled themselves in the curls that rested at the juncture of her thighs, then squeezed.
She was oddly fascinated by the proceedings that continued above her, even if she was not precisely involved in them. This was what was intended for her. Another lesson, another step in the journey towards a king. And Reinette would fulfill that role dutifully, even if this was not the instructor she would have chosen for herself. His eyes were not nearly as fine as those of her writing instructor. Indeed, they were not fine at all.
In full wakefulness now, she watched, refusing to look away from the man that never seemed to quite meet her eyes. Her breasts. Her hips. Her mouth, pressed in a film line of concentration. Anywhere, it seemed, but her eyes as first he covered her body with his own, and then it filled it.
It did not precisely hurt so much as it was unpleasant. But then, a great many things were that way. The last lacings of her corset and the icy cold of winter also left her body vaguely displeased after all. And of course there was a strange stretching of her muscles, ones she was not entirely familiar with.
And still she regarded him with a rarely broken gaze. Philippe seemed strangely displeased by that decision, at one point using one hand to force Reinette's head to one side in an attempt to free himself of her eyes. The pillows softness was a study in contrast to the grinding above her. But she refused such suggestions, chin tiling towards him once more.
As he continued to sweat, straining at his unmatched efforts, Phillipe's heavy cologne was released anew, choking her senses. Reinette would later wonder if he had enjoyed her mother before coming to her bed. Experience would teach her that he had an almost unexpected length of life in him. Even he seemed surprised, and perhaps even frustrated.
But it was what was expected of her, yes? To watch and to learn. To know this man so that she might no others. After all, Louis would have certain expectations of any woman he took to his bed. That was understood. She watched as Phillipe's skin grew a florid red, and his breath grew short. As his eyes seemed not to permanently close with the strain, or perhaps another attempt to avoid her own.
She did not imagine she were anywhere else, for here was where the lesson rested. She did not imagine he was anyone else, as tempting as the idea might be, and for all the promising possibilities that rested just within reach. Her mother was correct. This was precisely the sort of man she should know.
Curious as just what sort of power she might hold, Reinette lifted her own hips in experimentation. It seemed that was all the encouragement that Phillippe needed.
With a single broken sound he stopped moving, and Reinette did not need any further education to know this lesson was over. He did not seem to care that his full weight was collapsed atop of her. Though truthfully her mind was to fully occupied with its own conclusions to notice.
Silently he pulled himself from her, still breathing heavily. Phillipe adjusted his own clothing, and then he was gone.
As Reinette pulled herself into a sitting posistion, and then from her bed to go wipe his sweat from her body at the basin on her nightstand, she spared a glance for the close on the mantle.
It was after midnight.
She was sixteen.
Name (or internet handle):Megan
Current characters in Bete Noire:None
2. Character Information
Name:Jeanne Antionette Poisson, 'Reinette', Madame de Pompadour
Livejournal Username: ambitious_woman
Fandom:Doctor Who
Image: Link us to a LJ-icon that you'd like to be your image on the Taken Characters page.
Reserve: http://magistrated.livejournal.com/1299.html?thread=1658387#t1658387
3. Character Information II
Age/Appearance: 28
Reinette was considered to be a 'beauty' by most at court with an oval face, small but well shaped mouth and 'fine grey eyes'. Many wrote that her beauty was enhanced by her wit, which gave her smaller stature that much more memorable a presence. From 'The Girl in the Fireplace' she is played by Sophia Myles and will remain so. She has long, often intricately styled blind hair. Her eyes are blue, but for a nod to history the strain towards grey when angry of impassioned. It is only been historically documented that she used her hands often when she spoke, and as a classically trained danser she would have been extremely aware of space and how to manipulate it to her favor. She is petite, but curved and accustomed to accentuating her best features.
History:
Character : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Girl_in_the_Fireplace
Historical Person : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madame_de_Pompadour
Personality: At the age of eight her father was forced to flee France due to the financial disgrace of his employers. He spent much of Reinette's childhood living in Germany. Though she never blamed him for the incident, and continued to love her father dearly it left Reinette with a strong need to be in control. She will constantly seek the upper hand in situations, and to assure herself through education that she knows as much as possible about any situation. On the whole, she does not enjoy surprises.
Her vigorous education at such a young age onward, left Reinette as one of the most educated and versatile women of her generation in France. Capable of discussing music, art, philosophy and politics of the day she has, in turn, few female friends. Their interests simply are not her own. The only thing they would share at this point is motherhood, as her daughter is still alive. But she was never overly an attentive one. If she does not regard herself as a failure there, then she is at least aware of her failings. Ultimately, men are far better company, and much in the women in court irritate her. She sees women that are intelligent at times, but ultimately uneducated. And one of her greatest irritants is potential unfulfilled.
She is always constantly aware of being judged, and makes a great show that it does does matter. Of a middle class birth, due to France law she was not even allowed to touch her future lover the king, due to her lineage. Thus she was elevated to her title. She rarely speaks about the courts general opinion of her presence there. On a deeper level, it does affect her of course, but she makes a great show of playing with 'masks'. She will even speak of them aloud to close friends. A way of schooling her features so that no one can see her inside, and that she ultimately reveals nothing against her. Perhaps it is another lingering lesson and memory of the Clockwork Men, whose masks reveal nothing.
A great actress, she is not afraid of manipulating a conversation or situation to the conclusion she has already determined. Those that do not allow her to do so consequently both unsettle and intrigue her. She is not one to run from the encounter, rather she will face them again determined to take the upper hand.
She also must remain busy. Ultimately, more than a lover or as a mother, Reinette feels her ultimate contribution are through the art, architecture and literature she sponsors and encourages. She sleeps very little, is constantly working. She cannot stand to be idle. It can make her irritated and often angry.
Sexual Preferences/Orientation: Reinette is heterosexual, and this is clearly her prefernce. However though her role as a mistress and in the course of her education she has definitely encountered women sexually before. If presented with right opportunity she might again, however normally these encounters were less about her own emotions or desires. Something else was likely at play.
Her sexuality is a double-edged sword for Reinette. She has been trained in all things required to sexually please a man, and like all her lessons? She excelled at them. She is quite good at what she does and takes no small amount of pride in it. She often uses sex as a tool, yet another way to delve into the deeper complexities of others. She is a calculated thing for Reinette, a study of action and reaction. All her knowledge and training in play. She very rarely completely loses herself to the experience.
Sex could also make her feel incredibly weak. She suffered from a long list of health issues, many which often interfered in her abilities to see to Louis' needs. Sex could become painful, and at her most exposed Reinette historically tried several strange diets meant to improve her condition -- all of which only weakened her health overall. She was frequently bled at Louis' orders, with only left her even weaker. She ultimately suffered multiple miscarriages while with Louis, each taking a severe toll on her health. In the end she chose to sever the physicals aspects of their relationship before he could do so himself. Her pride simply would not allow it.
Powers: Reinette does not have any specific 'powers', although some would argue her ability to navigate the Doctor's mind with relative ease. However, she always showed a natural aptitude for languages and was fluent in five of them. Since the Doctor 'explored' her mind as w yound child I believe Reinette took note of this experience, and as with many children exposed to different languages at an early age, it came that much easier to her.
Reason for playing: Historically, Reinette is a fascinating woman. She thrived in a time when most women did not, and because of a prophecy made by an fortune teller at the age of eight she that she would one day be lover to a king -- she was afforded education and experiences far outside the norm for her class and sex. No expense was spared, and she spent her youth in literary salons with people such as Voltaire, who was one of her greatest friends. I love that she combines physical limitations and weakness with extraordinary intelligence and mental strength. That even after her physical relationship with Louis ended, she still remained his constant companion and friend, deeply involved in French politics. She simply did not accept limitations, even her physical ones. Which is what ultimately lead to her early death.
I am looking forward to bringing her to Bete Noire for the opportunity to play her off a great variety of characters with differing motivations. While educated and an actress, accustomed to a great many roles and masks -- Reinette still can stray towards darker thoughts. Her marriage was a failure, and she did not know how to be a mother to her only surviving child. The multiple miscarriages she suffered in her time as Louis' mistress left her with deep scars and insecurities. She cannot abide being made to feel weak, and ultimately it was her own body that betrayed her. I would be bringing her fresh off the ending of the relationship that defined her life from the age of eight, having just watched Louis take a new lover to replace her. One that she chose, despite his protests. These wounds are very raw and real. I want to truly explore this pain within the setting of Bete Noire.
4. Original Character Supplement
World History: NA
5. Samples
First-Person: (5-10 sentences) Some might find it an enlightening realization to discover that no matter where they are placed, people still favor the same assignations and manipulations they might elsewhere. Be it the filthiest of hovels, or the halls of Versailles? They are nothing if not predictable. Oh, we might wish to pretend otherwise. Certainly those at court would prefer it not to be so. How humbling for them to know that their games are being played elsewhere, and often with greater skill. It amuses me to imagine their reaction at finding themselves in this place. It amuses me a great deal.
Third-Person: (200 words minimum)
((At 28, Reinette's health issues were compounding and leading to the eventual ending of her physical relationship with Louis XV. This is very recent and very real for her))
"I still believe that you should inform him."
Weary, Reinette noted the lack of deference in her companion's tone, the lack of use of her title. They thought to insult her. They presumed to think that they could hurt her. But what they failed to realize that she did not care. Or to me more fair, in the case of the brunette before her, she merely did not judge her enough of a threat to be worth the effort. Status alone had placed her within Reinette's chambers at this moment, nothing of her own talents or skill. There was nothing remarkable there.
"And then what, do you imagine?"
If this girl possessed an imagination.
"Then he will come to you. Then he will comfort you. Then he will --"
"Then he will what," Reinette interrupted with no small amount of anger from her bed. To be fair, not all of it could be placed at the other woman's feet. "Then he will love me? Then he will take me into his arms and bring us back, inevitably, to this time and place once more? Are you so blind that you cannot foresee the outcome?"
Reinette would have no more.
"You are dismissed. All of you are dismissed."
They left then, knowing better than to argue. A demure, silent row with heads bent in deference she knew they did not feel. The silence that followed enveloped her, wrapping itself around her weary form. But even it could not serve as a balm to these wounds.
And even then, Reinette could not cry.
It was for the best, she told herself. After all, she was not one often given to tears. She did not ply them as other women did, currency used to ensure their desires. She and her own sorrow were strangers in the physical form, and so they acted as strangers often would. Jerking and tearing, none of the movements graceful nor natural. It could not be a pleasing state to the eyes or the ears.
So the rest of her body wept for her. Hot, wet and red it had poured from between her legs in a sensation that should never be so familiar. And yet for Reinette? It was. The royal blood, and the royal body mingled within her own the ways breaths mingled within a kiss. Rejected from her own even as she had welcomed it with her arms a mere three months before. Hardly enough time for even the whispers of speculation to begin.
Only for Reinette the whispers lingered.
How many babes now stripped from her womb in her time with Louis? This would make six to the best of her knowledge and it seemed as if to her that each time some small part of them remained. Their voices and faces and tears, caught up within her insides. Their sorrow lingering. Perhaps she could not cry for the simple reason that they had taken all her tears.
Perhaps it should not matter. FanFan had very nearly grown up without her, reaching the coltish beauty of almost-woman without very little time in her mother's presence. How much time did she practically have for another child? She could only think, however, that this child had been of her, and Louis. And that made the hurt very dear.
She was a woman of many talents, Reinette knew. Educated -- created -- in so many ways so that she might love. But it seemed that she could not sustain it.
Reinette glanced at the blood-stained clothes stacked no neatly on the table to her right, and hated them. Loss should not be contained in such neat corners. Hurt should not be squared to such perfection. Emptiness like this should not have a vessel to contain it.
Still, as she looked at the red bleeding into white, she could hear all too clearly the conversation that was to come.
They were done.
Third-Person #2: Reinette awoke to the sensation of a heavily placed hand on her coverlet, pressing in against her hip and then traveling upwards to rest on her waistline just above. Below the surface of the covers the motion caused her nightdress to lift and bunch slightly. It was something that, if had happened of its own accord while sleeping? She might have found mildly annoying at worst, and oddly pleasing in darker, quieter moments as fabric slid against skin.
But as it was completely unexpected, and utterly unwarranted by her own restless sleep, Reinette's eye shot open, only to find her gaze matched by Phillipe's darker one, just above. Her mother's latest lover, he did not fare well at such close examination. Years of being heavily powdered had somehow frayed his skin, and rough flakes were visible behind the cosmetics currently favored by both men and women. Heavy pockets of flesh sat just underneath his eyes, giving a strange weight to his face. And his hair, no longer protected by a wig, had been visibly worn in patches. The crown of his scalp gleamed in the moonlight.
"You know," he said then, even as his features moved oddly. Phillipe had done a great deal to his countenance over the years that it was not originally intended for. And now we he spoke he seemed to be at war with his own face. The parts of the whole jerked and shifted, with nothing completely connected. "Such skin," Philippe murmured, touching Reinette's cheek. Almost as if he sensed her own dismissing thoughts. "You are nothing else if not her daughter. What she might do to have it now."
She twisted then, in a flash of defiance rarely seen in the more recent years. Lessons and schedules and plans were strictly adhered to, leaving room for little else. But Reinette knew a deep, pressing need to separate herself from his hand on her bare skin, if nothing else. Even as Phillipe's hand still claimed her hip.
"Your mother and I were just discussing the development of your -- attributes, and how well your education was proceeding."
So that was it then. Reinette knew without question this was his way of announcing that not only did her mother know precisely where he was, but that he also approved of his actions.
"How it is time to take things further."
She would later tell herself, in the years that proceeded, that what occurred was not perhaps what her mother intended. That perhaps she had simply wished for this older, experienced man to guide her daughter through the ways and wishes of a man. What would please him, and what would not. For while it was certainly a conversation that might be had between mother and daughter, in the end they were women. Only women, and only alone. Which with father still banished in Germany, they were.
Yes, she would think as Reinette fashioned her tale, it was only intended to be conversation. Especially later, after the elder had passed and only she remained, it seemed natural to protect what memories she could.
And yet other truths always whispered. That this was the world that she had been intended for since she was a mere either years old. And that this was also the world her mother intended for her to be fully initiated into. One that was hard, and cold and manipulative. One in which strength was always required. It was a version that Reinette knew, as she grew older, held much more truth.
Like all of her mother's lovers, Phillipe was of a class greater than their own. Always reaching, Maman was. In her dreams Reinette used she see herself in her mother's arms, tossed into the air in their own happy tandem. But as she grew the image reformed itself into something much more likely. Herself, in her mother's embrace, held tightly and lifted overhead. To reach heights neither would know on their own.
He was of some minor nobility that prided itself more on relations than actual power. Neither of which he actually possessed in portions long enough to actually secure a longstanding invite to Versailles. So instead, like so many others, he languished just on the outside of truly eventful, yet will within the borders of Paris. To pass the time he amused himself in her mother's bed.
He was just the sort of man her mother specialized in.
Reinette would discover that there was nothing about him in bed to distinguish him from the man he was out of it. Not as he peeled the coverlet back, or lifted her nightgown first up to her hips, and then bunched up about her shoulders and chest. He did not remove it, if only because it required too much effort, even as his hands eagerly explored what rested beneath.
Reinette found herself silently working to understand just what made certain parts of the encounter more exciting to the man in her bed than others. The plane of her belly, the hidden skin that rested just on the underside of her breasts. Short heavy fingers pinched her nipples until they peaked in response and yet once they did, he seemed entirely done with them as well. Her legs and arms might as well not be there at all, but she both felt and heard the heavy grunt of pleasure as the same fingers tangled themselves in the curls that rested at the juncture of her thighs, then squeezed.
She was oddly fascinated by the proceedings that continued above her, even if she was not precisely involved in them. This was what was intended for her. Another lesson, another step in the journey towards a king. And Reinette would fulfill that role dutifully, even if this was not the instructor she would have chosen for herself. His eyes were not nearly as fine as those of her writing instructor. Indeed, they were not fine at all.
In full wakefulness now, she watched, refusing to look away from the man that never seemed to quite meet her eyes. Her breasts. Her hips. Her mouth, pressed in a film line of concentration. Anywhere, it seemed, but her eyes as first he covered her body with his own, and then it filled it.
It did not precisely hurt so much as it was unpleasant. But then, a great many things were that way. The last lacings of her corset and the icy cold of winter also left her body vaguely displeased after all. And of course there was a strange stretching of her muscles, ones she was not entirely familiar with.
And still she regarded him with a rarely broken gaze. Philippe seemed strangely displeased by that decision, at one point using one hand to force Reinette's head to one side in an attempt to free himself of her eyes. The pillows softness was a study in contrast to the grinding above her. But she refused such suggestions, chin tiling towards him once more.
As he continued to sweat, straining at his unmatched efforts, Phillipe's heavy cologne was released anew, choking her senses. Reinette would later wonder if he had enjoyed her mother before coming to her bed. Experience would teach her that he had an almost unexpected length of life in him. Even he seemed surprised, and perhaps even frustrated.
But it was what was expected of her, yes? To watch and to learn. To know this man so that she might no others. After all, Louis would have certain expectations of any woman he took to his bed. That was understood. She watched as Phillipe's skin grew a florid red, and his breath grew short. As his eyes seemed not to permanently close with the strain, or perhaps another attempt to avoid her own.
She did not imagine she were anywhere else, for here was where the lesson rested. She did not imagine he was anyone else, as tempting as the idea might be, and for all the promising possibilities that rested just within reach. Her mother was correct. This was precisely the sort of man she should know.
Curious as just what sort of power she might hold, Reinette lifted her own hips in experimentation. It seemed that was all the encouragement that Phillippe needed.
With a single broken sound he stopped moving, and Reinette did not need any further education to know this lesson was over. He did not seem to care that his full weight was collapsed atop of her. Though truthfully her mind was to fully occupied with its own conclusions to notice.
Silently he pulled himself from her, still breathing heavily. Phillipe adjusted his own clothing, and then he was gone.
As Reinette pulled herself into a sitting posistion, and then from her bed to go wipe his sweat from her body at the basin on her nightstand, she spared a glance for the close on the mantle.
It was after midnight.
She was sixteen.