Gabrielle has always given her work away for free here, when she's willing to part with it, but in the plot hole's absence there seems to be no sense in giving something for nothing. She takes a look through the fans strewn about her room, gathers them up, and brings them downstairs. This time when she sets up her table, she puts up a sign next to ( Read more... )

There's a young man leaned up against one of the walls of the main room -- or, well, somewhere people pass by quite often. Well, at first glance, it might look like a young man. But if you look close, you might notice the slightly rounded figure under the waistcoat and shirt. She's leaning in an attitude which probably looks familiar to ( Read more... )

After several weeks of reading and studying, Childermass is ready to try something. He made a small model of Lynette's spaceship, and took it out to the gardens. There, he attempted to enchant it to send it through time, as well as space ( Read more... )

Gabrielle has set up her table in the main room.

A selection of fans with holiday scenes painted on them are laid out for examination, along with designs of the non-seasonal variety. There are, as usual, a selection of more . . . risque pieces for those so inclined. There is also a pot of chocolate, with a little sign reading "Joyeux noel! Have a ( Read more... )

Samuel Spade is, improbably enough, set up in one of the rooms just off of the Mansion's main room, with an easel and a paintbrush and a French fan-maker, looking for a subject to paint. Feel free to bother, mock or assist him.

T: A joint post with Gabrielle Durand. Beware of lagging three-way conversations, but feel free to come play.

A young woman enters in a sweep of velvet skirts, closing the door neatly behind her, and looks about with interest. She is dark-haired and quite pretty, richly dressed, with a golden bracelet on one slender wrist ( Read more... )

After rest, a bath, and some decent food, Gabrielle finds herself in much better spirits than when she first arrived and, for lack of something else to do, has set to work. Seemingly miraculously, she has found the tools of her trade in her new room, as well as a passable dress or two (though they are nothing so fine as Zara's work -- unaware of ( Read more... )

[She is a young woman still, though weary -- so weary, her smile bitter where once it was sweet as she surveys her surroundings. This is not where she was questioned by the Comité, it is not a cell, nor is there any efficient machine of execution in sight, though she knows she is condemned. She pushes her hair back from her face, where it has been ( Read more... )