sapoteur: (Spy Emblem (BLU))
Though Victoire had refused to speak to her mother for months after being conned out of her job, she eventually relented when her wedding date grew nearer. Not because she was any less angry about the whole affair, but because it became clear that, if left to her own devices, her mother would exact a very traditional vision of her wedding. The marriage itself was going to be a sham, Victoire thought. There was no need to call her religious observance into question too.

Realizing she'd need to step in if she wanted to enjoy any part of this process, Victoire called her mother and began taking over the planning and delegating tasks. C├ęcile, though miffed that her own ideas were being dismissed, was pleased that her daughter was taking an interest finally and so didn't argue (much) when Victoire instead turned the reception into an elaborate 18th century costume party.

And so Victoire put on a Mona Lisa smile, planned the production, and got into costume and character on the big day. She played the part of happy, excited bride convincingly as any other. For most of the day, she was even having fun. There was gambling and dancing (though her dress prohibited her from any jive steps or lindy hopping), festoons of confections set about to be picked on a whim, and all her friends and relatives dressed like the last French court. It was an idealized historical fantasy.

It was only when she had a final dance, late in the evening, that she afforded herself an acknowledgement that she wasn't really as satisfied as she appeared. Not that her father hadn't known anyway.

There were still plenty of couples on the dance floor despite the hour, but they were all giving each other a wide berth so the ladies wouldn't bump into each others' panniers. Reynard felt they had enough privacy then to ask, to reassure himself that though she had inherited his diplomacy, he could still see through her facades.

"Ce n'est pas ce que tu voulais," he said, keeping his own expression neutral in case they were being observed.

Victoire was not sure if it was a question or a statement of fact, but she responded all the same.

"Non." In that moment, she wanted to hide her face in his neck and let him shield her from the world like he always had. His costume was rented, though, and she didn't want to smear her makeup on it. Too, her hair was in danger of toppling over as it was. Instead she gave him a little smile, easily readable as contentment at a glance. Up close, Reynard saw the resignation in it though.

"Je n'ai pas non plus," he said, giving his own small smirk to obscure his meaning. He reached up to adjust a tiny ornamental bird that was threatening to fall out of her towering mass of curls.

September 2013

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