Who do you think you are? [Eric]

[LISETTE DESTINEE]

Lisette was nervous about doing this. Of course Colette was her mistress and one of the friends she had in France but she wasn't sure about showing around this friend of Colette's. Surely this man wanted to have someone else as a guide. Surely not someone who was just a maid and nothing more. Well,she used to to be something. That was until everything got taken from her. First her heart and then her family. Her heart she still had....but in spirit,it was scattered. Somewhere. Lisette mentally shook her head as she tried to get the image of her past out of her mind. Eric had been occupying her thoughts more and more recently. Something that she hated. She promised herself that once out of England,she would wipe him from her existence. He didn't deserve her thoughts. He was the one who threw it all away. Not her. Not her.

Lisette tried to control her mind and thoughts as she straightened herself up. Colette had told her to not work as a maid today as sh e was being a guide to this friend of hers. Whomever he was. Lisette still tided up in the other room while Colette visited with her friend. She would only wait until she was called in. Lisette was dressed with her hair up in a proper bun with a few curls of her hair hanging down. She wore a grey dress suitable for a servant to wear. This was one of the nicer gowns that she owned in her closet. She missed the days where she wore proper court like gowns. But those days were gone but they would never come again. This was her life and she adjusted to it. Suddenly,she snapped out of her mindset as she heard a knock at the door. All the other servant scrambled into the sitting room where the countess was. Meanwhile,Lisette closed the door to the room she was in but opened it a little so she could hear the voices. She wanted to hear what this man sounded like before she saw his face. Put a good sound to her ears.

But little did she know that her past would find her once more...

Lisette's gown

[ERIC ANNESLEY]

don't know what you need ,

Tick. Tick. Tick. France. The centre of culture in a blossoming Europe. Even with the general dissent that was common amongst English aristocrats, Eric knew better. His own father, who had only visited Paris once before, often remarked that the entire country smelled of cheap wine whilst the same Burgundy stunk on his breath. The sailors, with even greater patriotic expectation to be bitter still slipped sweet sentiments in lapses of sobriety for the French surreal, lascivious revolution that had the bourgeois clamouring atop each other to enlist as foot soldiers. The lights of Marseilles' shipyard could cut clean through the thickest London fog, and the ladies were just like those lamps, gilded and glowing. Any sensible reprobate's paradise, surely, but Eric was not entirely convinced. Anything worth so much attention always came dressed in many layers, and he would peel France down to her shift. Anything interesting was worth experiencing first hand. These were years ago.

It was surreal indeed when he received a wedding invitation from an old friend, the French Countess Fournier, at a point were brandy and disillusionment left him near to consider joining Chatham. The long overdue, joyous news wrought a change in him. No longer would he traipse the docks half-witted, sulky and sullen-faced. If the Countess could find happiness, then he could too. He would make his own absolution. Youthful determination that had been a stranger to him these past months blazed bright inside once more, giving Eric peace of mind to return to his daydreams of France and the enticing possibilities she held. Finally granted leave from the Royal Navy, Eric very graciously accepted the invitation and chartered a ship for the French coastline, resisting the impish urge to purchase a bottle of gin for the countess' intended. Tradition amongst his old shipmates when any one of them were married. 'Good spirits for years of Hell!' For the countess, he chose brandy instead. For good measure, he bought one for himself.

Thankfully so. Before the first day's dinner on French soil, the bottle was drunk and dropped into the street. The sailors had lied. The lights were dull, and the ladies vapid and plain. Another gilded England. Yet, oddly, he found himself wishing for the flagrant snobbery of English socials, at least he felt at ease there. Whereas here even in an empty room, lead and oil eyes glared down judgmentally reproachful from the walls. He felt naked and uncomfortable and much unlike himself, magnified tenfold in a crowd of strangers, once his favourite playground. But he had forgotten all of his games and tricks, his charm so thin and flimsy like soiled parchment he needed drown in drink to keep up in conversation. One, two drinks and the tension eased. Three, four drinks and he felt almost complacent. Five, six drinks and he forgot himself entirely. Half-witted and sullen-faced and not all what he had planned.

Yet he carried a nagging truth that he could never drown in brandy, desperately though he tried. The striking familiarity of France's aggrandized progressiveness was crushing enough, but worse yet because it reminded him so strongly of home, the memories of what he had lost there came to stalk him, and reminded him constantly that he was never who he once was. All because of a girl. A brief fling if nothing more that he had neither seen nor heard from in months. He hated her for it. For every second of time in which she consumed his thoughts. For each face he looked into, expecting to see hers. For each clumsy time he muttered her name while he talked to the ocean, sat and complained. For every day he felt less like himself. Eric did not believe in love, and this feeling that consumed him certainly could not be what he supposed was it. He would pour himself drinks until he decided. Damned Lisette.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The little mantle clock gave an unexpectedly powerful chime. Eleven o'clock. Eric snapped back to his senses with the new hour. He massaged his temples, blushing apologetically at his hostess, Countess Fournier. He drank too much last night again, obvious from his sunken eyes. A poor decision considering that he had accepted another invitation from the countess for a tour of Versailles Palace that morning. Now he would take it stumbling and moody. “Forgive me,” he muttered, genuinely embarrassed that his hangover was getting the better of him as he rubbed his temples again. Repressing a yawn, Eric thrust a weary hand into his coat pocket, fumbling for the brandy he had purchased for the Count. His gift to the Countess, five yards of Indian silk, lay tucked in a wooden box beside his feet. He hoped perhaps that by presenting her with the gifts that his uncharacteristically sloven manner would go unnoticed. But he would be in her company the entire day, he reminded himself. It was no good. Were he not sober by noon, he would surely be found out, and he had no intention of burdening Colette with his frivolous troubles if and when she might ask for an explanation.

He had barely drawn the bottle, though, when the room was suddenly inundated with servants. “Oh. Then you'll not be-” Eric was barely able to conceal his confusion, but answered his own question mid-thought, and silenced himself immediately. It was foolish to assume that Colette, between her aristocratic duties and innumerable wedding preparations would have an entire afternoon to spare guiding him around the palace. The question of who would in her stead, however, left him feeling uneasy. So unlike him. Tick. Tick. Tick. He glanced back at the mantle clock, mocking him with its steady drum. Five past eleven. It knew its place. It would if it had a brain. Ignoring the wedding gifts now that the room was filled, he turned politely to Colette and asked in spite of himself, “I know you're terribly busy, my Lady, but, won't you join me today?”

Bitter.Sweet.Sundown. @caution

[COLETTE FOURNIER]

Colette had heard an old friend had come to France. Eric Annesley. She had remembered visiting England at one point during her travels and so she invited him to have a talk with her. It had been a while since they last seen each other. But alas this was his first time in France so she wasn't confident he knew his way around Versailles well. She would have given a tour herself but...she was becoming more and more busy with planning her wedding. She wanted everything to be perfect. She normally wasn't a perfectionist but for this event. She had to be. She had waited for this day for a long time. But regardless,she had so much to plan and in little time to do it in. So,she remembered her maid,Lisette Destinee came from England. She was the perfect person to guide Eric around and plus,maybe they could really spark a connection. She was still a matchmaker regardless. Lisette was so very sad and she could have used something to perk herself up.

When Colette was prepared for the arrival of her friend but she had Lisette hide in her chambers until she was announced. Colette stood in the living part of her chambers as Eric had come in and she said. "Welcome my friend..." She then saw a look of a man emerging from a hangover. When he asked for forgiveness,she sighed and said,"Forgiven. But you should know that drowning your sorrows with a drink is not good for you." Colette hoped that Lisette would hold her own. She motioned to a seat as she sat down on a chair. "I hope you'll be more sober for your guide in your tour of Versailles." She said. Eric looked confused as he said “Oh. Then you'll not be-” Colette shook her head and said,"Forgive me,my friend. I would be your guide but I am busy planning my wedding. It's the highlight of the season this year and there is much to be done. Or else I'd guide you myself." Colette had confidence however in Lisette to be kind and be the proper guide to Eric.

I know you're terribly busy, my Lady, but, won't you join me today?” Colette shook her head as she stood. "I am deeply,deeply sorry but I cannot. I am too busy." Colette then smiled and said,"But! I have another guide in mind for you. She is from England,you know. I thought she'd be the best guide for you. She knows France and Versailles very,very well." Colette then turned to see her door was slightly ajar and she saw Lisette's eye poking in. She raised her hand out and said,"Miss Destinee,you may come out now." Then in a moment,Lisette came out and walked into the room. She turned to Eric and said,"May I introduce Lisette Destinee? She will be your guide for today,my friend. Surely a better one than myself."

[ERIC ANNESLEY]

don't know what you need ,

Ruffled embarrassment. Had all women a latent intution that allowed her to transfigure a man's heart into a window and examine his secrets at her leisure? English ladies had always seemed to exude a general obtuseness and self-concern. Perhaps it was the Countess herself. But stale brandy still lingered on Eric's breath from the night previous, and—he caught sight of his reflection in a wall mirror—his eyes were distinctly bloodshot. There was no secret here, despite his eagerness to explain away his hangover with anything but the truth. Inwardly he sighed as the Countess did aloud. What she must have thought of him then—a far cry from the affable, temperate gentleman of yesterday. So long as this did not cause her to renege on his wedding invitation, he may have still had the chance to leave this meeting without his reputation in shambles. Though no such social destruction came, her words, when she began to speak, carried a forbidding tone. He had better be sober when he saw her next Though she 'forgave' him openly, an unshakable, sinking feeling assured him that her disappointment in his shabbiness was much greater than she was willing to admit.

Accepting her clemecy with good grace, Eric was acutally relieved when the Countess twice declined his invitation. Perhaps it was for the best to span as much distance between this man and that of her memory and she as he could, at least until the former was wiped from existence, and his breath no longer stunk of liquor. Besides, a stranger was easier to fool. And what greater distance than to send him home? Eric nearly chuckled at his ironic misfortune when the Countess divulged his tour guide to also be English. No doubt with his personal comfort in mind, Eric almost felt guilty for his ingratitude, but England had dogged his heels from the moment he had departed her shores, and for just one day, he'd like to be free of her. Nevertheless he entertained a fleeting curiosity as to the identity of his guide, willing in silent determination she not be a familiar aristocrat. He could not tolerate much more of this social upkeep in his half-witted state. Lord forbid she be a friend of his father's, which seemed crushingly likely in that she supposedly knew the palace well. Adjusting his posture once again for good measure, he too noticed the half-concealed spying eye from behind the sliver of a cracked door. Almost transfixedly he stared at it, expressionless. There was something unpleasantly familiar about it.

When the door swung open, so did his mouth in a sickeningly surprised 'o.' It couldn't be.

Like something wrenched from a nightmare, a long lost lover he'd chase through the early hours of the morning only until he would wake in a cold and lonely bed, she stood before him. Impolitely he scanned up and down her body, determined to out her as a spectre, a cruel joke between friends, or else himself a madman. She was all that he remembered, her angelic face, each gentle curve permanently etched into his memory. Only her dress troubled him. The daughter of a Lord, she looked uncomely in a grey maid's robe. But his desire to discover why she was dressed beneath her station was far outweighed by that to turn tail and run. From her. From France. From England. Neither ocean prayer nor God could save him now, and he sat, rooted in his seat as though he may very well melt into it. Only fitting, because this was surely Hell. A maelstrom of conflict arose suddenly in him like a seastorm, crashing down in perpetual, unforgiving ,whitewashed waves until he drowned beneath them. And she. She another siren who would not save him. Which demise he preferred ached at his brain until he caught himself back in the drawing room, sputtering incoherent nothings at the two women. He silenced himself immediately, though was not yet prepared to exclude the possibilty that she was still a dream.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Vainly, he attempted to swallow the stubborn lump in his throat, managing an uncharacteristically flat, meek, “Hello.”

Bitter.Sweet.Sundown. @caution

[LISETTE DESTINEE]

As Lisette stayed by the door, she heard the footsteps of the countess's friend but when he came into her view, her heart sank. Her friend was someone she never thought to see again in her entire life. No,no,no! She thought, her eyes widening. Not him! Anyone but him! God, please tell me this is a cruel joke fate is handing me. He's not really here. He's not really here. She shut her eyes and hoped she would wake up like always. But when she shut her eyes, he was still there! Eric was the one she was going to be a guide too. This couldn't be happening to her! Lisette took her eyes away from the door as she silently sinked to the ground, biting her lip as to not cry. He was really here. Why,why,why?! Why was SHE the one who was guiding him? She couldn't back out now. She had promised Colette she would guide him but the idea of being alone with HIM angered her. Hell, even speaking to him angered her! After what he did, she couldn't ever forgive him.

He had broken her heart. She was a fool to even have it opened up for someone like him. Obviously, he had used her for something of a fling and if she had been in his bed,he would have tossed her away like the next piece of food on a plate. But him…he seemed so kind to her and she never thought he could do something like that. But that obviously was a play to win her affections. But after she had witness that kiss, her heart felt like he had stomped on it and stomped hard until nothing remained of it. Lisette was so angry at him for betraying her and hurting her like that. But things went from bad to worse in her life,her parents soon died and whatever she was to be as a lady….it was gone. She had left England a woman who was a peasant and heartbroken. She was a shell of what she had been. At least she tried to make something of herself here in France. She had a job at least and earned her way in the world. She had lead herself to believe that he was a shadow of her past. But if she would have forgotten him, then why did she still dream about him? She dreamed of seeing him again constantly but why? She knew why. She just wouldn’t have the heart to say it. She still cared about him and she hated herself for it.

Lisette thought about running from the room and just hiding in the servants quarters but she could not. So she turned to glance at the door again, just watching Eric. He had arrived with a different look in his eyes. He wasn’t as bright as she remembered. He must have had a hungover She had seen the men in France and how they drank. She knew the symptoms. But why would he have cause to drink? Maybe he regretted something? Maybe he felt the guilt of breaking her heart? How she wished for that to be true. Maybe it would give her some satisfaction in knowing that. But at an moment, she saw him glance her way. His eyes glanced to the door at the same time that the countess’s did. But it was his eyes upon her that scared her more. She gasped and looked away, shutting her eyes. She heard Colette’s voice say to her. "Miss Destinee, you may come out now." Colette had stood up, dusting her skirt off as she stood at the door, holding onto the doorknob. She stared at the doorknob as if she was staring death in the face. She knew she could not run now. She wouldn’t give Eric the satisfaction in knowing her fear of him. Never.

As Lisette turned the doorknobs of the door, she opened the doors, walking forward as she saw Eric’s look when she emerged. It was not one she was expecting to see. She thought maybe perhaps he wouldn’t have cared to see her but still, he was shocked. Maybe dazed. She thought maybe it was because of his hangover but thought nothing of it. She hoped he was shocked. Shocked to see her like this. Here she was…she was hoping he’d pity her. But she doubted that. When he only gave her a hello, she curtsied to him, giving him a cold stare that Colette would not see. She spoke to him in her regular voice as she said,’Sir.’ When she arose, she crossed her hands as she heard Colette introduce Eric. She nodded to him. She heard the countess then say I hope you will treat him with as much kindness as you have with me. Lisette fought the temptation to say no. But she didn’t. She masked her expression as she said,”I will, my lady. I shall give him the best tour of Versailles.” Lisette looked at Eric still, hiding all things she wished to say to him. Then to her horror, the Countess excused herself. She walked over to the door leading to the exit to the halls. Well,I won’t keep you two waiting. She spoke. I have some business to attend to about my gown. Eric, my sincere apologies once more. Lisette,show him the best tour. Lisette curtsied and she heard the swishing of the countess’s gown and a door close. She and Eric were alone. Lisette rose from her curtisy,not even making another glance at him. That was when her coldness came out. “Eric.” She said his name in the coldest tone. “If it were not for my duties to my mistress to give you a tour, I would leave this room and not look back. I have nothing to say to the cold,heartless bastard that you are.”

[OOC: Let the fun begin. MUHAHAHA]