Satine is in her room by herself, singing.

This is not terribly unusual, really. She's got an armchair, and a window with a lovely view of something she's sure isn't on the other side of the wall, and a tidal wave of survivor's euphoria she's not likely to stop riding in a fundamental way very soon.

The song is "Beyond the Sea," and she's smiling ( Read more... )

The Fourth Act Complication.

August-October, 1899.

Satine wakes up gasping, her whole body convulsing with shivers. Several moments pass before she can reorient herself -- in her bedroom, tangled in the sheets of her own bed, alone. There is a dent on the pillow beside her, and a note. She grabs at it, smudging the pencil with sweaty palms. It's from Christian; he's returned to the garret to write ( Read more... )

It smelled like home, the moment she stepped through the door. Sweat and cloth and dust and paint and leather and liquor and sex and electric wires, that was the familiar perfume of the Moulin Rouge. ( Read more... )

She'd have expected that her talk with Jack not going as planned would have thrown her off, but Satine finds herself in stable spirits as she approaches the Bar ( Read more... )