So. Who's posting first? :)

Marcelle De Rocher wept profusely at the end of The Snow Maiden by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. The year was 1890, the month January... The day? The 13th exactly; precisely three days short of her 19th birthday. The time was 9:30 at night, location the Grand Opera House, in a seat with red velvet cushions. Her family enjoyed attending operas downtown, but Marcelle preferred operettas. Operas themselves were far too tragic for her to stand. While, yes, she thought they were beautiful, she preferred not to make a fool of herself in public. Anything remotely sad resulted in her bawling and mopping her eyes with her gloves. Which was not the most wonderful thing, considering her little amount of make-up would run and stain the fabric. Then her old maid Beth would scold her as she tried to wash them. And then Marcelle would feel horribly guilty about it, and offer to wash the gloves herself. She would try to do so and end up putting a hole in them and ruining them forever and--

"Marcelle, do stop crying," her sister Ines urged her, giving her a light slap with her own opera gloves. "It is just a play; it could not be farther from reality. People do not just melt onto the floor when they fall in love, after all." Unlike Marcelle, Ines seemed incapable of deep emotions... Except where an attractive, wealthy man was concerned. Ines spent no time applauding the opera, but rather craned her neck looking for some said specimen to set her sights on when they got up. Her sister liked to drag Marcelle along when she met young men. An awkward pursuit, for sure, because Marcelle was terribly awkward around the opposite sex. She never knew why. But something about the tallness and the frame... And the difference in mental processes... It just bothered her. That was why Ines joked that Marcelle would die an old maid with at least twelve cats, living in a dilapidated house at the edge of town... And the local children would call her a witch. That suited Marcelle just fine, she thought.

An opera was the way that Alexander Smith had been asked to spend his night on the thirteenth of January, 1890. An opera. Alexander had to admit, there were many, many things that he would have chosen over a stage full of liars, projecting to its' audience that life was something that, truly, it was not. Although he looked to be young, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, Alexander was much older than most knew. This meant that he had learned the difference between an operatic stage performance, and a true life scenario. The boredom inflicted by the opera had Alexander struggling to maintain his posture. So to occupy himself, he examined the audience. There were quite a few weeping women. The majority of the audience, in fact, was composed of weeping women.

"Alexander, dear," Alexander's blue/gray looked up to meet the eyes of the woman who spoke. "I do believe this is the last opera I'll have you take me to." The old widow dabbed at her eyes with a lacy white cloth. This was probably the seventh opera in a row that she'd told him this. The kind woman had become quite the acquaintance. He'd originally met a few years back, having known her husband through a stable-hand job that he'd gotten. When his boss (The kind lady's husband) passed away because of a heart attack, Alexander had taken the responsibility of getting her to the operas that she so loved.

As people began to rise from their seats to exit the theater, Alexander stood and held out a hand to help Madam Lapoujade to her feet. Once she was up, he offered her his arm and they began to make their way towards the exect. "Well, Madame Lapoujade, I do believe that was a wonderful performance. Did you enjoy it?" He received a simple nod of the head as an answer while she dabbed once more at her cheeks.

This time around, Marcelle did not feel as ashamed about weeping. She noticed that a good portion of the crowd crying as well, minus the men (with the exception of a couple particularly sentimental ones). However, as predicted, she could not regain her composure or dry her eyes properly, because in a moment's notice she was hanging off of Ines' arm. "Come, sister, we have men to introduce ourselves to," Ines announced. "I see quite a lot I have not had the pleasure of meeting in previous social gatherings." Operas were quite "in", and so many of the best wealthy families regularly attended them. Marcelle could classified as upper middle class, but her sister had her eyes set on marrying someone of a higher standing yet. Considering her perfect porcelain complexion and pale ringlets, Marcelle believed it possible. Ines received a good reception from many of the strangers, while she stared through them in an awkward manner, tight-lipped.

It was not as though Marcelle looked terrible. She was pretty, in her own right. But to make it more manageable (as it was prone to tangling), her auburn hair was cropped short... Shorter, then half the men's. Both her and her sister were petite in frame, but Ines was taller, swan-necked, and graceful. Marcelle was shorter and had a tendency to run into stationary objects due to her uncanny habit of stumbling when she tried to walk straight. Though she ate a substantial amount, she was scrawny, and except for her chest, appeared malnourished. However, her complexion was darkened from the hours she spent in the garden as a child, chasing butterflies and frogs (to her parents' disdain). None of these things were considered ladylike or attractive in their society, so she was often described as the "Rustically Charming One". And she was charming enough, except for her sharp wit and scathing commentary.

Additionally, Ines had striking blue eyes while Marcelle had muddy hazel. Not much green stood out, so they tended to appear more... Well... Honey brown? She contemplated the differences between her and her sibling, who was only eighteen months older and therefore subject to more male attention. She expected several proposals later that year for her sister, and none for her. Oh, well. Old maid and cats. Finally, it seemed as though the blonde had had enough fun for one night... She bade goodbye to several of her new male acquaintances and turned to Marcelle. "Well, I think, sister, it is time we got a carriage back home, don't you agree?" Marcelle sighed heavily. "FINALLY. My legs hurt from standing and--" "HOLD THAT THOUGHT!"

Ines' eyes were as wide as tea saucers; she was gazing past Marcelle with such intensity, Marcelle thought she might faint. "Have you EVER seen such a glorious man in your entire life?" her sister asked with undisguised, sheer and utter, AWE. Marcelle's brows disappeared under her bangs, and she immediately had to see what manner of creature had caused her beautiful sister to stop dead in her tracks. She turned around just in time to hear another female whisper longingly, "Alexander Smith! <3"

daww Alex feels flattered. >< Teehee

~

Madam lapoujade came to a stop for a moment as the crowds began to clear out. "Why, I do believe that is Miss Laura." Said the old woman, a smile delicately placing itself on her wrinkled face. She looked at Alexander with a twinkle in her aging eyes. "Yes, yes that is her! It must be. Why, I'd recognize those green eyes anywhere. Dear," She patted Alexander's elbow, "I think I will go say hello to my old friend. Why, I haven't seen her since she was a little girl." Alexander nodded and said with a smile, "I will meet you at the carriage then, in just a short while." The kindly woman nodded once in agreement, then weaved her way into the crowd.

Alexander watched her to make sure that she made it to the person that she intended on speaking with. A girl probably in her thirties greeted Madam Lapoujade as she approached and the two began conversing with one another. Seeing that his charge was safe now, Alexander turned around. He figured he would mingle some while he waited for his company. There was not much fun in sitting a wooden box hooked up to two horses for all the long while that two ladies could speak. His eyes skimmed the crowd for someone who seemed lovely enough. He could really choose any girl to speak with, as most of the females around here knew who he was. Alexander wasn't about to lie, he knew very well his status in the society. It hadn't taken him much effort to convince Madam Lapoujade to put her husband's job into his own loving arms. Now that he had a charming transportation company in his possession, he was very wealthy. Not only did he have wealth, but Alexander had his looks as well. He had kind eyes that were just the right shade and shape to make a woman's heart melt, along with a matching smile. His facial features were sharp and slender, giving him a refined, clean look. And while naturally rosy cheeks weren't always the best features of a man's face, they seemed to do something for Alexander that they didn't for others. The rosy cheeks seemed to make him look just slightly more innocent, and a little more approachable by the more shy women. Although the rosy cheeks were a unique trait, given Alexander's true identity. However this identity was not something that concerned him, much less something he liked to even think of.

In the crowd, quite a few young ladies stood out to him. The one closest was a lovely girl with porcelain skin and perfect ringlets of hair. Alexander put on his best smile and began to walk over to the girl, a casual walk that was just the right pace for someone looking to mingle. Upon arrival, Alexander bent into a bow and took the young ladies hand, kissing it gently. He rose and looked her in the eyes, smiling his kindest smile. "Good evening, ma'am. Did you enjoy the opera?" He asked in his smoothest voice. As she answered, he glanced at another girl standing near the one he spoke to. She appeared to be the sister, her facial features were similar. The girls' hair was short, which was quite unusual for a lady. Despite this, she had an interesting beauty to her. Alexander returned his gray/blue eyes to the lady with the ringlets before he could be accused of staring.

Marcelle had to admit, the man was certainly impressive to behold. He had an angel's features, really. His hair was long (longer than hers) and blond. She could not make out the color of his eyes from this distance, as both she and Ines watched him mingling with the other women who literally threw himself in his path just to be acknowledged (pathetic, she thought). And he seemed remarkably friendly to just about everyone; something radiated from him that caused all females in his immediate proximity to drift towards him with giddy looks on their faces (there was something off about that, she ascertained). But of course, as his eyes scanned the crowded opera house, under the dull roar of the crowd's chattering, the man fixated on someone. Ines started squealing--yes,squealing--to Marcelle. "OH, MARCELLE, HE'S COMING THIS WAY. Quick, look dashing!" Look...Dashing? What did that even mean? What was she, a man? Only men looked dashing, women looked more... Well, like Ines' face.

Of course he gravitated directly, out of anyone in their area, to Ines. Who wouldn't? The man, Alexander Smith, flashed Ines the most exceedingly charming smile she had even seen... Ever, which was saying a lot considering how many men came to call on Ines in a day... After kissing her sister's hand like any proper gentleman would do. Marcelle's insides writhed with something she could not place. "Good evening, ma'am. Did you enjoy the opera?" Alexander asked Ines, who just about rolled her eyes. Or, Marcelle could tell, she wanted to. Because Ines did not care much about opera at all, only the men that attended them. "I am not much of an opera fan, I confess," Ines said with an apologetic smile. "It is hardly realistic enough for my fancy. Women do not just melt onto the floor for love, you know." Yes, Marcelle thought, you would know. To avoid looking at the man's face, she glared at the breast pocket of his suit.

"I do not think we've been acquainted, Mr. Smith," Ines continued, beaming. "My name is Ines De Rocher, and this is my younger sister Marcelle. Do not mind her. She is a bit of a wallflower." "Anyone would be a wallflower compared to you," Marcelle muttered under her breath. "Did you say something, sister?" "Nothing." Ines quirked a thin, pale brow, but returned her attention to the newcomer. Marcelle caught him looking at her in the most peculiar manner. His eyes, which she noted were a pale blue-gray that put her hazel to complete shame, scanned her face. And for a second, it seemed as though he was looking at her haircut. Oh, wonderful. He thinks I'm hideous and look like a boy, Marcelle thought sarcastically. Really, she just wanted to go home. Ines needed to get the man's calling card already, so they could catch a carriage... Marcelle could get back home, lie down, go to sleep... And not dream about handsome angel men. She was hungry, honestly. Maybe she would have some tea and scones before turning in.

Someone who thinks as I do, Thought Alexander as he listened to Ines's answer regarding his question about the opera. As she continued to speak, he nodded politely, making mental notes of the details that they both were giving to him. As Ines introduced her sister, Alexander found that he could not help but sneak another glance at her, one that lingered perhaps a bit longer than either of the ladies would have fancied. To cover, he decided that he would comment on the younger sister in saying, "Well, flowers do tend to make the walls much more... decorated, no?" He tossed a friendly wink and one of his charming smiles towards Marcelle. "I am Alexander smith," He said next, formally introducing himself. With this introduction, he took marcelle's hand and kissed it, all of this accompanied with a bow, just as he had done for Ines. Ever the gentleman, he ccouldn't disclude a lady from the proper introductions, no matter how interesting her hair.

"You two have a ride home, I asume?" asked Alexander, although the question sounded mroe like a statement. It was a rather silly thing to ask, seems as how most wouldn't go somewhere if they had no way to get home. However this line seemed to work rather well as a way to find some more time to spend with a lady. Besides that, Madame lapoujade always enjoyed the company that Alexander brought along. She was very sweet and had a talent for chatting up anyone she came across. Alexander had to admit that while he thought he was pleasant and social enough before, he had learned quite a bit from the old woman. She was also the only one in town that was aware of Alexanders secret.

No! Please say no! Marcelle's mind screamed. She did not want to ride home in a carriage with a man like THAT! He had actually bothered to kiss her hand as well, and instead of ignoring her as they all generally did... He answered her, and winked. WINKED. And smiled. He had gazed at her a bit longer than she would have liked, too. Her every instinct as a genuine man-hater urged her to do something to make him leave her alone--flee, say something rude, behave like a member of the mentally insane community. Something. But instead, Marcelle just gaped at Alexander like a fish. She could not think of a rebuttal. And of course, as was easily predicted, her sister started giggling. "Oh, no, my sister and I do not have a ride home," she said, holding a hand up to her rosy lips. "We had intended to call a carriage back to our home on Fifth Avenue. But if you are offering to escort us home, Mr. Smith, we are more than happy to oblige."

You mean YOU are more than happy to oblige, Marcelle thought miserably. All she could foresee was the awkwardness of sitting across the man in a tiny, confined space. A space that would be constantly rocking from the motion of the horses, in the middle of the night, where it would be absolutely pointless staring out the window rather than converse because there would be nothing to see in the dark except the empty streets and lamps. Which means that she would be expected to talk to Alexander more, or at least nod at the things Ines replied to him with. She could try and push the responsibility of conversation on Ines, but for some reason (from the way Ines kept glancing over at her) as she talked, she thought it might as well be hopeless and impossible.

((Sorry. >< I've been a bit busy. >< ))

~

Alexander could feel the panic coming off of Marcelle in waves. This almost provoked a smile on his angel-like face. To cover, he turned the amusement to another charming smile. "Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to offer you two a ride home. I am escorting my lovely friend, Madame Lapoujade home, as well. So hopefully things shouldn't be too awkward, should you find no interest in the topics that I bring up." His voice was smooth and welcoming, the perfect tone to lure these women in. he was no predator, he had no sour intentions... well for the most part anyhow. With his charming smile still intact, he looked around. "Speaking of whom, perhaps I should gather the kind old woman so that we might be on our way. I'm sure you two are very tired from a night full of dramatic stage performances."

After spotting his charge, Alexander said, "Ah, there she is." He ducked his head to the ladies and turned to go walk towards Madam Lapoujade, hoping that the ladies would follow him. He had been abandoned before like this, although more often than not it was a case of the lady swooning quite dramatically as he turned his back. It was somewhat of an annoyance, really, although flattering. However he wasn't one to complain aloud, so he'd always kept his mouth shut in such situations and helped the lady as best he could. "Madam Lapoujade," Called Alexander once she was within hearing range. She looked up and smiled once she saw who had called for her. Alexander reached her side and laid a hand on her shoulder, nodding politely to the girl that she had been speaking with. "We should get to going," He told her. "And we'll have some company tonight." She smiled and said, "Oh how delightful," Looking for the two that would be joining them. "Their names are Marcelle and Ines De Rocher. They are two lovely young ladies." he explained, holding a hand out towards the two girls.

Unfortunately, Marcelle's sister was quite confident in her own charm and physical beauty. Even if she found Alexander attractive, she would not fall in a swoon the moment he turned away. Rather, when he beckoned for the two women to follow him, Ines picked up her skirts and bustled off after him. In fact, she left Marcelle more or less in her dust, and the younger sister had to run to catch up with them. She went over the evening in her head, thinking about how she had attended the opera with the sole purpose of watching it, not socializing, and then going back home. But her blonde sister had rendered that purpose null and void, within the span of five minutes. So charming was she, that even Alexander Smith had invited to escort them home in his carriage. Really, sometimes Marcelle was surprised at her sister's power over men. Though in this instance it seemed as though Alex had more power over Ines than vice versa.

The two were introduced to a kind, elderly woman by the name of Madame Lapoujade. Marcelle had thought the name was familiar, and seemed to place the woman as the widow of the business men that Alexander Smith had inherited his job from. It was all gossip and the girl hardly knew the truth of herself. But on account of the old woman's familiarity with the man, Marcelle would assume there was some shred of truth behind this rumor, at least. Ines curtsied to Lapoujade with a very polite "how do you do" and Marcelle followed her example, albeit clumsily. She was beyond upset at the turn of events, and very much drowning in her own thoughts. Hence she seemed unable to do anything correctly in the presence of both Mr. Smith and Madame Lapoujade. "Our house is... A forty minute ride from here," Marcelle mumbled shyly. She averted her gaze from the man when she talked, but had no problem looking at the older woman. "I hope it will not be too much of a trouble for you to take my sister and I there."

Madam Lapoujade seemed delighted enough to have the company of the too ladies. "It should be no trouble at all," Said the kind old women with a smile. "Shall we be on our way then?" She said, looking towards Alexander, who smiled in return. "I suppose we should be, if we wish to get these girls home at a decent time." He said, placing his hand lightly in the small of Marcelle's back as he began to guide the party out the door. "Are your folks particularly strict with curfew?" Asked Alexander, the question being directed to either of the two. It was a more conversational tool than anything, an attemp to discover a little about the personal lives of the two. The arm that was not guiding Marcelle out the door was held for Madam Lapoujade to take as they all began a slow walk through the crowds towards the door. The sooner that they were on their way, the sooner they would have peace and quiet.

If news were big at all about Alexanders inheritance, hopefully Ines and her sister already knew quite a bit about his position in society. he had no wish to go on his own life. It was difficult for Alexander to keep his stories straight at times, so he generally avoided the topic of his past. The few number of years he'd spent in this current town could only get him so far conversationally. If he didn't keep the topic on the lives of Marecelle and her sister, Alexander knew that he wouldn't take too well to the spotlight.