|
Post by Jenny on Nov 3, 2006 16:51:53 GMT -5
Being an actor didn't make you a genius with words, at leat not in difficult situations like these, it just meant you could recite things you'd said before and make them sound effective. So, being an actor, and determined to get to this damned Opera on time, he decided to recite something he'd said before, but last time it was Kit he was trying to convince.
'They're all lying.' he said, breaking the silence and looking straight into her tearfilled eyes. Some weird sympathy filled him. 'You don't deserve to be lied to. We don't need them. You're just fine without them.... We are just fine without them.'
By the angry look on her face he realized that the denial hadn't lasted long enough.
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 3, 2006 17:17:13 GMT -5
"I'll go with you to the opera, Olaf." she said as she got undressed to put on her new creation. "I'll be all smiles and do whatever you ask but when we get home that will stop." she said standing in front of an old full length mirror checking the new dress for loose threads and made sure it fit.
Rummaging through her jewelry box she found a set of pearls and a set of white gloves. She also took out a pair of white shoes and a clasp with a cameo pin on it. She hung a fan from her wrist. "I'm ready to go." she said after quickly applying some makeup to her tear stained face.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Nov 3, 2006 17:27:02 GMT -5
A couple of sprays of cologne and a quick brush down of his hair was all he felt he needed to look acceptable at the opera--and he decided that maybe he should leave her comment alone for once.
He grabbed his keys up from where he'd left them in the cramped and dark hall, leading her outside and making his way into town, to the opera, listening to silence all the way there.
He had taught her to act, he thought. And he'd be the one to deal with the consequences.
(Last post of tonight, by the way. I'll stop bothering everyone now.)
|
|
|
Post by Jacques Snicket on Nov 3, 2006 17:57:45 GMT -5
"Lemony! Lemony!" screamed Jacques frantically as he raced up toward him. "What is it?" he asked Jacques. "The waiter has mistaken me for Olaf, Lemony. But Olaf must've told him I was not him, but he wouldn't give himself away like that in front of anyone who could be potential volunteers. Only a volunteer on our side could have told the waiter. Gregor Anwhistle told him. I suspected him of certain things when I'd heard he planned to fight fire with fire. I went to another volunteer who was a newspaper vendor—" "S.," Lemony interrupted, "his name is S." "Yes; now where was I? I told him to put a message in the newspaper to all volunteers concerning tonight's opera." "Do you think we'll stop Olaf?" asked Lemony. "All we can do now is hope for the best."
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 3, 2006 21:30:28 GMT -5
(Lol. interesting thing to say Jenny since you've read my story "Teaching Turnaround" .)
Esme said nothing on the car ride. She looked out the window the entire time. Just before they finally got there she asked "How do I look?" breaking the silence. She had to practice being happy to go through with tonight.She smiled t him, but the smile never reached her eyes. That was one thing sh could never do when she was upset. Act, completely happy.
|
|
|
Post by freeeagle on Nov 3, 2006 22:01:02 GMT -5
Beatrice had her hair in 1940s curls and wore the red shawl draped around her shoulders. Her long, cream-coloured dress matched a set of creamy pearls worn around her neck. Pearls adorned her ears and a pearl was set in the brooch she wore on the shawl. Her gloves were red, as though her hands were already stained with the blood she would shed that night.
Bertrand clasped her gloved hands in his own, still feeling as though fate had smiled upon him by granting him Beatrice. She felt guilty, but she loved Lemony unlike she had ever loved Bertrand. Lemony and Beatrice had passion. Bertrand would only ever be her best friend.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Nov 4, 2006 6:40:05 GMT -5
(Oh, it was! I never saw it that way and was wondering what I'd said.)
Olaf sighed, stopping the car in a strange enough place that no volunteers would be tempted to look inside it, tuning to look at her.
Beautiful, at least until he reached her eyes. She could fool everyone else it seemed, except the person that knew her better than she did.
'Fine,' he said moodily, stepping out of the automobile and making a point not to open her door. 'Now get out. We have a lot of work to do tonight.'
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 4, 2006 9:07:51 GMT -5
Wearing her fake smile and walked up behind Olaf with some effort to catch up with his long legged steps. She hooked her arm through his. She didn't want to raise any suspicion so she walked close with him.
"What are we seeing?" she asked looking up at him. Acting like she was okay with all this made her feel better. And looking up at Olaf she knew what side she wanted to be on. Perhaps she would apologize later on.
"Are you okay?" she asked. He looked different than normal, like something was disturbing him.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Nov 4, 2006 13:03:08 GMT -5
'La Forza Del Destino,' he replied bluntly, quickly glancing around the corner before he stepped out any further where he could be seen. He checked his watch again before they reached the opera house. He hung his head, hoping that not many people would see him.
At her second question he took a breath, watching as Beatrice and Bertrand strode in through the exquisite doors, and he wondered who had the darts. He reminded himself that what he was doing was what he'd always wanted-- but now he asked himself whether this was worth all the lives and friendships lost.
And now Esmé-- who he knew had no reason to take his word for anything any more-- looked up at him and he didn't know quite what to say.
'What I feel like is unimportant' he said, starightening up and holding his head high, putting an arm around her shoulder affectionately. 'And you really don't have to worry about it. Now, I want you to find Kit while I look for the others. If she-- by any chance-- has any poison darts on her, please return them to me and then you can go home.'
He didn't add what he wanted the darts for and hoped she wouldn't ask. As they walked into the opera she started to smile again as if she had someone to fool, and he led her to their seats.
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 4, 2006 14:20:56 GMT -5
Esme observed the opera house in gee she had never been anywhere so elegant in her entire life. She took her seat next to Olaf. It was a wonderful seat, good tickets were hard to come by. First balcony third row on the right side.
She was comfortable snuggled into his arm as she started to watch for Kit Snicket. One of her curls fell out of it's pin and hung off to the side of her face. Her mother had always said she had angel curls. That was before she died in the fire.
Years later Esme would die her hair black. Angel curls weren't suitable after a while. This night would be the first of many things to stain her conscience.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Nov 4, 2006 14:54:48 GMT -5
(Again it might be best to wait for Kit or someone else now to stop me mindlessly rambling about nothing as I so often do.)
|
|
fiendishthingie
Catastrophic Captain
And quiet is the thought of you; the file on you complete
Posts: 57
|
Post by fiendishthingie on Nov 4, 2006 17:56:50 GMT -5
After Kit had left the Boutique, she hadn't said a word to anyone. She prepared for the opera in silence by herself, a soft grey dress and pearls with white gloves, and powder, and a hat, and a box of poison darts for the inside of her long black coat...
The plan was this - she would slip Beatrice the darts when they arrived there. She didn't know what Beatrice was going to do with them, because she'd expressly asked not to be told. If there was a murder, she didn't want to know about it. She'd do what she was asked to do, and that was it.
Dewey Denouement's nervous face appeared around the side of her door.
"You look lovely, Kit."
She smiled weakly. Small comfort. Dewey had been a constant friend, and yet he couldn't say anything to relieve her of this pain. He held out an arm, and she accepted it, as they walked to the carriage, and from there into the opera.
They found their box, and Kit searched for Beatrice in vain before suddenly bumping into a slender glamous figure on her way down to box F.
Esmé.
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 4, 2006 18:21:41 GMT -5
Esme had gotten up from her seat to go to the ladies room. "K!" she said happily to her. Just the girl she was looking for. Esme hugged Kit tightly running her hand lovingly up and down her back as you would a good friend.
She couldn't feel the box of darts anywhere on her. She had to pull away as to not look suspicious. Esme's smile was plastered on so big it almost seemed real. She looked at Kits hands to see if she could find the box but still she had no sight of them. 'They must be hidden on her somewhere', Esme thought.
|
|
|
Post by Jacques Snicket on Nov 4, 2006 20:01:53 GMT -5
Jacques Snicket walked around the rows of seats as he tried to find his fellow volunteers. He was writing in his notebook observations about the attenders of the opera. He saw Esmé Squalor walk into the lavatory, not before bumbing into someone. He then saw his sister walk from the direction of the lavatory facility. “Kit! When did you come here? I just came in. Where are Beatrice and Bertrand?”
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Nov 5, 2006 7:02:33 GMT -5
(Don't we now need several more parts, eg. Olaf's parents, and other incidentals? I'd offer to take someone, but I already have Obsessive Compulsive Posting Disorder, and I fear taking another part will make it worse.)
Olaf leant back in his seat, observing the assembled crowds with interest. He had seen Esmé and Kit briefly converse, although they had soon been hidden by other crowds and he hadn't seen the outcome. Beatrice and Bertrand sat at their seats, arms linked, and Olaf guessed that the fun must start at the interval (that's right, isn't it?).
He didn't look particularly conspicuous, and this gave him the advantage of being able to sit quietly and observe the actions of his enemies, including Jacques Snicket who he noticed holding a frantic conversation with Kit a few rows away, and Lemony who had recently taken his seat alone.
Nothing seemed to be particularly out of place, all except for Kit and Jacques. In fact, as Olaf noticed two rather intimidating associates of his entering, he actually thought that the night-- at this early stage--was going quite well.
Until Esmé couldn't find the darts. It went downhill from there.
|
|