"There are not many ways for a woman to respond to inhumanity."

[rareradiance]

[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

Comments

[oilwithvinegar]

"Which revolution, might I ask?"

Paul smirks, tipping his hat to her but not rising from where he's lounged out on a sofa. His gaze is calculating and a little bit lecherous, sizing her up in more ways than one.

[rareradiance]

"French. It began in 1789." She catches the way he is looking at her and smirks faintly, amused. "Catch me in a better mood, Monsieur, and we'll see."

[oilwithvinegar]

Paul grinned wider at that, and rose to offer her a bow. "Forgive my manners, mademoiselle. Prince Paul Marloffski of Russia."

[rareradiance]

"Ah! Grand company indeed." Gabrielle made a sweeping curtsy, dramatic enough to be a little mocking. "In France you would lose your head. At the moment, I think I am inclined to like you for that alone."

[desfeuilles]

Feuilly looks at her curiously. "Not very much, no."

[rareradiance]

"No? Then I shall have to make some. Clever enough work will always find a market." She dips into a quick curtsy, offering a hand to be kissed. "May I ask your name, Monsieur?"

[desfeuilles]

He makes no move to take it. "Feuilly," he says gruffly. "I take it you're clever, then."

[rareradiance]

She retracts her hand, then, with only the slightest of frowns. "I made a fan once that combusted at the touch of a tear. Yes, I am quite clever."

[sweariwontdie]

The lady is hesitantly approached by someone from her own era. "You are safe here, mademoiselle." Armand offers a smile.

[rareradiance]

"I should have been safe in France," she replies, her composure faltering a little. "Olympe should have been safe -- my friend the Marquis. How can they promise us our rights and yet take our lives?"

[sweariwontdie]

"I don't understand it, mademoiselle. I eventually had to go into exile." His voice expresses his sincere sympathy. "I'm Armand St. Just. My sister used to be an actress at the Comedie Francaise."

[rareradiance]

She makes a brief curtsy, offering a hand to be kissed, a bit shaky yet to be especially graceful. "My name is Gabrielle. I am, as I said, a fanmaker."

[russet_goddess]

The sick Zara looks at her hard for a long moment, and then shakes her head. "Ent any work for money."

[rareradiance]

"No? Then how do the people here eat? Or do the bakers and the butchers work without pay as well?"

[russet_goddess]

"Ent any of that. Food if y'want it, got places t'sleep." She shrugs.

[rareradiance]

"How curious." Gabrielle considers this. "I will trade, then. Or give them as gifts." She cannot think of a life without making beautiful things.