|
Post by smokey on Apr 2, 2013 17:31:55 GMT -6
OOC: Emmanuelle/Gabriel
Emmanuelle Lalancette
Despite the months she'd lived here already, Emmanuelle was still a complete stranger to Paris. When she'd moved to the iconic city, it had been too close to the beginning of rehearsals for the coming season at the Garnier for her to get out and see the sights, or to do anything but go to work, unpack her belongings, assemble IKEA furniture, and practice practice practice. All the movies ranted and raved about Paris being a city of inspiration, as if stepping inside the Louvre suddenly turned her into a Picasso or a Michaelangelo, or if she drank at the same bar as Hemingway and Fitzgerald, she'd suddenly channel their spirits into a manuscript like some literary medium. Emmanuelle didn't believe it, but it did seem pathetic that she hadn't visited any of the wonderful landmarks of her own city.
Emmanuelle wasn't exactly a creative person. She had passed her composition class in university by transcribing the score to a popular action movie backwards and fiddling around with the cadence a bit. She wasn't expecting a miracle to happen beside the Seine, Saint Cecilia dipping down out of heaven and giving her the secret to becoming a Mozart or a Monet, the gesture was more symbolic. I'm an artist, she'd be telling Paris. You did it for all these guys, it would be nice if you could do it for me.
It was either a terrible or wonderful day to go for a lively stroll along the Seine, depending on how you looked at it. On the one hand, it was pissing down rain, and on the other, there were fewer tourists around to get in her way and be totally oblivious to people who were just trying to experience the supposedly inspiring effect of Paris by meandering along the banks of the river. But, Emmanuelle was kind of strapped for options with rehearsal and performance dictating most of her life. She put on her waterproof trenchcoat and boots anyway, not one to want to abandon her plans, and began her dogged march along the riverbank.
Emmanuelle wasn't so very inspired, only wet. She squished along the path and, in a sudden, rare flash of childish spirit, jumped directly into the largest puddle she could locate.
|
|
|
Post by The Exodus on Apr 2, 2013 18:07:58 GMT -6
Gabriel FontaineThe rainclouds overtaking Paris today were absolutely fitting for everything going on in the Fontaine-Blau household. Gwen was moody – borderline depressed – and Torben’s usual pretense of gloominess was all too real. Gabriel had to get out of there before the sadness devoured him, too. He’d offered to take Leopold with him, but Torben didn’t want Leopold catching a cold by trudging through the rain with his uncle “Gibby”. Gabriel had spent the morning house hunting. They were thinking of moving – the whole Fontaine-Blau clan—and somehow, Gabriel was on real estate duty. They were in the market for a five bedroom house and the options were all ridiculously ostentatious. He’d texted pictures to Sophie, who’d insisted that Gabriel pick the one most like a castle at the tippy-top of their price range. He sent his daughter a text back saying “LOL. If you want a castle, ask your maman for a castle”. No reply. That did nothing for Gabriel’s mood. Sometimes he worried his daughter would rather live with his ex-wife than move back home. Today, he couldn’t blame her. He walked along the swollen Seine. The grey water sloshed around, lapping at the pathways, while the sky spit rain down onto Gabriel’s unprotected head. He was usually never without a hat; today was an exception. He didn't mind so much. It was almost nice to feel the cold water slide down his hair and his neck. It woke him from his mental fog and made him feel more alive than he had all week. If he caught a cold, so be it. The other swing chef would cover for him. He stopped to look around. A flash of movement caught his eye. A young woman was splashing in the puddles that lined the walkway. Gabriel beamed over at her. If the rain hadn’t washed away his gloomy mood, the sight of another adult indulging in childishness certainly did. Far too many grown ups were boring, as far as Gabriel was concerned. And loathe as he was to admit it, his own family was acting far too much like the stuffed shirts they all proclaimed to despise as of late. “Nice one!” Gabriel called out to her. He rushed over and jumped in the slightly smaller puddle beside her. “First one to the end of the path just using puddles wins!”
|
|
|
Post by smokey on Apr 6, 2013 17:11:29 GMT -6
Emmanuelle Lalancette
Immediately after noticing that there had been, in fact, a person in the direct viewing area of her childishness, Emmanuelle tried to act like she hadn't done anything, looking at her nails and dawdling around despite being ankle deep in muddy water. She valued her maturity and her adulthood very much, sometimes to excess, and didn't want to be seen as a child. The way Emmanuelle saw it, she had spent like twenty-four years of her life growing up, why would she ever want to act like she hadn't?
Alarmed, Emmanuelle looked up when her performance was complimented. This guy, whoever he was, wasn't at all like the majority of Parisians she knew, which was refreshing, and a little bit weird. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, unsure if she should thank the guy or what. That question was answered for her when he proposed a challenge, something Emmanuelle could never turn down. Ever since she was a young girl, she'd wanted to win at everything she did, even if it was something arbitrary, such as, oh, say, seeing who could reach the end of the path first only by jumping in puddles.
For a second she stood paralyzed, trying to force her way out of her shell, staring incredulously at this playful stranger. It only lasted a split second, though, as her normally completely stoic face gave way to a a Cheshire grin and, disregarding generally agreed-upon rules about not touching strangers, pushed her hand off his chest, not entirely roughly, to hold him back while she propelled herself forward, leaping and landing carefully in the middle of each puddle, trying to make as colossal a splash as she possibly could.
"You're on, man!" She shouted over her shoulder, laughing, not entirely necessary as he wasn't even far away at all.
|
|
|
Post by The Exodus on Apr 7, 2013 14:49:15 GMT -6
Gabriel Fontaine
For an instant, Gabriel worried that the girl was going to tell him off or something. Not that it mattered if a stranger yelled at him; it would just be one more thing to add to this rotten day. But she grinned and pushed his chest, using Gabriel as a springboard to start puddle-hopping.
"You're on, man!" the stranger called to him with a laugh.
Gabriel grinned and made a mad dash – a mad hop – for the next puddle and the next. With each jump came a splash that soaked the hems and legs of Gabriel’s jeans. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun like this. And now the race was on. Gabriel Fontaine was only two puddles behind the blonde stranger. Which meant that he was four puddles away from victory. He took a big leap and caught up to his opponent. He had two jumps to go. Gabriel swung his arms and made for leap number three.
He didn’t expect the puddle to be so deep. It seemed that a layer of water – about six inches – covered a hole in the sidewalk and sent Gabriel tumbling downwards. His ankle snagged on the lip of the hole and he lay face down on the cobblestones. Sopping wet, Gabriel sat up and looked at his opponent. Then Gabriel grabbed his leg dramatically.
“I have been vanquished and submit to your puddle jumping prowess, Mademoiselle. Name your prize.” Then, pausing the theatrics, he added, “And, also… If you’d be so kind to help me up, that’d be great.”
|
|
|
Post by smokey on Apr 11, 2013 14:47:20 GMT -6
Emmanuelle Lalancette
Emmanuelle finished up the race, completely soaked to the skin, pink-faced and smirking at her victory, unable to keep it in, even if it was the smallest of competitions. She'd always liked winning, even, especially, at the smallest things. She'd spent so much of her life pushing herself beyond her ability to the big victories that the little, effortless ones felt as if she had accomplished a lot more.
It had been fun, Emmanuelle had realized, and she hadn't had any fun in a good long while, except on her own, playing around with her instruments and having a grand old time tucked away in her apartment. She sauntered back toward where her opponent had fallen, damp hands shoved in pockets, boots squishing on the soft ground. She offered a hand, palm down, to pull him out of the puddle, and decided on her prize.
"The lady would ask the soggy gentleman's name," Emmanuelle said, unable to affect a posh accent but using the language nonetheless. The point would make itself clear. She did smile, although it took a conscious effort again now that she was no longer running and jumping and generally making an *ss of herself.
|
|
|
Post by The Exodus on Apr 11, 2013 22:06:00 GMT -6
Gabriel Fontaine
The stranger offered Gabriel her hand, which he gratefully took and used to pulled himself to his feet. It was still raining, but it was better to be rained on than to sit in a muddy puddle. He smiled at the woman who’d helped him – the victor – and decided to like her instantly. Gabriel was the sort who made up his mind instantly whether or not he liked a person. And this blonde was a free enough spirit to join in his fun.
"The lady would ask the soggy gentleman's name," she said in the same, theatrical tone Gabriel had used.
“Hardly a prize worthy of your superior puddle-jumping skills,” Gabriel said. “But, as you wish. I am Gabriel Fontaine.”
He considered adding “children’s author and chef extraordinaire as a sort of epithet, but it sounded braggy.
Instead he said, “It’s so nice to meet a fellow kid-at-heart. Do you know how many people would have turned down a puddle-jumping challenge? It’s a sad world we live in.”
|
|