┖ B E H I N D ❧ Tℎℯ ℛeality ┑

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Malfis, Oct 15, 2012.






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    "Oh hey, aren't they the Fontaines? Yes them over there."




    "Indeed, the perfect family. With the handsomely intelligent husband and the beautiful motherly wife. Everyone is envious of them."




    They live in a grand house, big and luxurious as any billion dollar mansion should be. Though the place may seem empty, they have three children to occupy it and bring the hallways and rooms to life. Here and there, butlers, maids and servants are busy at work. Laughter and constant chatter buzzes among the walls. While Mr. Fontaine is at work, Mrs. Fontaine is left to tend to the house. If one is lucky, they can catch her in the glimpse of her private studio, painting away as usual.




    Aren't they living the perfect fairy tale life?




    HA. HA. HA.




    What a joke.




    That's right, everything ISN'T as it seems. Very few people do realize. BUT. The Fontaine's lives are just a mere contract. A deal and agreement of a marriage. To put it into simple fools terms, "a deal", which shall stand till the end.




    Long ago a rich man by the last name of Noble was working alongside the previous duke of Bristol. They were great friends and business partners until one thing messed up and that tragically ended the life of the brilliant duke. It ended the life for Arthur's father. While still young and eligible to be married, his mother was a sneaky rat with other intentions. Attempting to arrange several marriage attempts with many prissy brats.




    One night the idea popped into the newly duke's head. A way of favor. A forgiveness. And a way to marry someone he could control forever. There would be no equality, it would just be him as the dominant ruler. That's when he proposed his idea to Noble. That fine fool was a scared man by then, the crime and mistake he committed had led to tragic murder and if he didn't do as Arthur wanted, he could easily be sent into a trail of punishments. Luckily for Noble, he had a daughter. A daughter to use as offering and sacrifice She would be his scapegoat and protector. Just to save his own pitiful life.




    Then marriage between Arthur Fontaine and Bridgette Noble was announced and they were officially, together. What a shame though, because their marriage is loveless, and filled to the brim of nothing.




    Of course Arthur wasn't stupid. Knowing that things might just lurk below his nose, he made sure that if he was ever to die before without an excusable reason, the news of Noble's crimes would leak through out the media ruining the man and anything he succeeded in creating.




    It's been eight years and they've started a family. With two twin boys and a new born daughter, their lives are somewhat... normal. But will this last long enough? Or will Arthur and Bridgette's relationship break apart into fragile lines? ... Only one can tell in time, and hope that fate has mercy.



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  2. Re: Behind the Reality



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    Arthur Fontaine (34)

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    Bridgette Noble Fontaine (32) ​



    Other Characters​

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    ➨ Charles [Charlie] & James Fontaine : The seven year old twin boys. Charlie is the troublemaker who's constantly lectured by his mother while James is the sweet innocent smart boy who his mother favors. Charlie is the spitting image of his mother, while James looks more like his father.

    ➨ Beatrice [Bea] Fontaine: The four years old new born daughter of the Fontaine family. She's doted on by her father. She has golden ringlettes like her mother and green eyes like her father.

    ➨ Winston Fontaine: The previous duke and Arthur's father who has died.

    ➨ Caroline Fontaine: Arthur's mother who disproves of his wife, Bridgette. But loves her grandchildren with all her heart.

    ➨ Eric Noble: Bridgette's father, he's been able to live thanks to the graciousness of Arthur but can easily be thrown into jail. He was divorced and owned a small piece of property. Held the title of "lord."

    ➨ Donna Noble: Bridgette's mother. She raised Bridgette as an infant and was a single mother. She worked, balancing the role of a worker and a mother. She lived an average middle classed life and taught Bridgette the best things in life before she died.

    To be updated...
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  3. Had it really been that long? It seemed like so little time flew by, even if it wasn't fun. Her babies, her own precious little gems seemed to grow up so quickly. Right before her eyes, Bridgette Fontaine's own children appeared to grow up from infantry into the the chapters of toddler lifestyle. Ah, but, it's not like Bridgette was going to raise them with silver spoons in their mouths. No, they would walk through life like any other ordinary kid. But the woman supposed, it would be a but difficult to proceed as planned when constant crowds of rich bitches swarmed to her children like bees to honey. The snobs piled her babies with attention, and all that could wound up going to their four and seven year old minds.

    "Hah..." Bridgette breath out heartily, and she tilted her head to the side and promptly cracked it. She relieved pressure on her fingers by proceeding to push both hands together with moderate amount of force.

    That nasily voice could be heard from even where the woman stood gracefully; on the third floor bedroom balcony. Safe to say, her mother-in-law had to be the most obnoxious thing to walk the planet Earth. No matter how many times Bridgette tried to make the relationship between the two better, the proud hag only knocked her off to the side. So God helped that woman, if Bridgette didn't have a beast of a husband to keep happy, then the stupid wench would have been pushed out of the fifth story window by now. If only. She scoffed, slowly lifting herself from the wooden rail.

    The woman slithered from her only safe haven and hesitantly slunk down the stares in a cat-like manner. She unobtrusively made her way past a few servants, only to stop in the kitchen, where the monster stood, holding her dear children in a way that was probably unsafe. "Oh, Mother, I did not hear you come in, when did you get hear?" An icy venom dripped from every word, wrapping Bridgette's own ears with a thick layer of frost. Anything other than an hour ago is a lie. She told herself, while those narrowed eyes of her's shifted onto Bea, whom was being tossed -what seemed mockingly- in the air by none other than this wench. Bridgette couldn't get her daughter away fast enough. She had used the excuse of "it's feeding time" when in actuality, she meant "hands off, bitch."

    Opening her mouth to speak, the woman let off a quite blunt, and rather rude to say, question,"I'm quite sure Arthur's not around, so what do you want?"

    Her 'husband' was not kept on a tight leash by Bridgette. Truthfully, she could care less as to where he went and what he did, as long as he held the reputation Bridgette worked hard not to tarnish. That's all she was there for, and so it's what she will strive at doing.

    In the past couple of years, she had thought their relationship was slowly getting better, but Bridgette's mind deicived her. In these past few months the man has gotten distant, and even wicked.

    "Are you going to answer, or no?"
     
  4. Gray and silver tints were hidden in the old womans light blond curls. The green eyes still showed remaining glimpses of her youth and power. With the power in her voice the old woman carried little Bea carefully away ignoring her disappointing daughter in law. She didn't wait another second for a reply, time waited for no elderly soul like herself. Every second counted, not that she would use it in an efficient manner. The girl laughed at something and whispered words into the old grandmothers ears as she nodded and replied. The two were gone, leaving Bridgette to ponder how her own daughter could be such an angel around the demon of a woman.

    Elsewhere hidden in the mazes of rooms...

    He sighed, his eyes tired and his face written with fatigue. But no, he could not stop. If he dared leave it unfinished, insomnia would strike like a thief in the night. Refusing his body of any rest and sleep. No, it must be done. Arthur grasped the warmly heated coffee mug, bringing it to his lips. With every passing minutes he inhaled the smell and sipped it down. As he signed the last piece of paper on his desk, his signature written with a flourish, two boys barged in. Ah right, his two sons. The future of the family.

    "Charles, James, goodness what are you doing still awake at this time of night." Arthur murmured, his tone lacked any energy.

    "Why daddy, it's only 11:00. Tomorrow is Saturday so no school at all! Plus mummy doesn't seem to mind." The dark haired boy said quietly, as if he was expecting punishment.

    "Alright fine, fine. Run along boys but I expect you two to be in bed in twenty minutes," he replied, strictness underlay his voice.

    "Ok daddy!" The blond one yelled while running out of the doorway and dragging his brother along. Such a rambunctious child, quite the trouble maker too.

    While stepping aside from his pile of work, he sought out to find his mother. It still remained a mystery why the woman would stay around the house hold so long with her obvious distaste in his wife. How he spent countless hours listening to her complaints and foolish reasons. Though often Arthur himself ignored the words that rolled out of the womans mouth. But to simply state it, Bridgette and his mother were not compatible together.

    Descending through the many stairways he wandered down the halls as a few remaining servants swept and cleaned. He quickly questioned one of the servants who had just shut the doors to his sons' room. She whispered a response within in seconds stating that they were asleep and in bed. With a wave of his hand, she was dismissed to her quarters.

    Finding himself wandering off to his mothers room, he found her with her reading glasses viewing an old classic while little Bea was asleep on her grandmothers bed.

    "Well good evening mother," he said, breaking the connection between her and her novel.

    "Arthur isn't it quite late, if you need anything ask me in the morning. Time for you to sleep," it was a simple command. Motioning him outside of her room, Arthur swiftly managed to carry the still sleeping child in his arms.

    "Goodnight mother"

    "Goodnight my two lovely dears" And the door shut with a thud.

    He gently carried his beloved daughter in his arms. Just as he had placed her in her own bed, he found her arriving from down the hall. He shut the door to Beas room.

    "Hello there lovely wife," a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.
     
  5. The day had been rather peaceful, excluding the mother-in-law who always seemed to do things in a manner that subtly showed hints of purposely annoying things she did to tick off Bridgette. The woman was smart enough to not snap, but rather, she shut herself in her grand room all morning and afternoon until the moon came out. She creeped out of the room, and began to wander throughout the mansion without a care to what was going on around her. That is until she saw her seven year old sons still awake and chattering like monkeys on a sugar high.

    "What are you doing still awake?" Bridgette stopped the two of them from running away with "The Look". We all know what this glare means, and it always managed to make any young child frightened enough to spill the truth. Yet, in Charlie's case, the boy still managed to tell a smooth lie.

    "Daddy said it was okay," the young voice peeped, and in a flash the two were running off again, giggling like they had just successfully accomplished grand theft.

    "Ah, whatever," the mother would let that slid, but she would laugh in their faces saying, 'I warned you', when they collapse halfway through the day.

    All was calm until an almost mocking sentence reached her ears.

    "Hello there lovely wife."

    And poof, lovely day ends as the black, apathetic force trudges its way into her head, slowly but surely breaking down every last shred of mentality the woman grips so dearly onto. She was like a drowning man clinging to the end of a thread. Only, there was a sadistic bastard cutting the string shorter and shorter, while laughing in glee; such is the life of a wicked being.

    "Hello dear husband." Without turning around, Bridgette began walking away until a thought popped into her head. "Alight, I know you're supposed to be asleep by now. Why are you still awake, it's not good for your health." She backtracked her steps and gripped her 'dear husband's' hand within her own.

    Guiding him through the halls, the duo eventually reached the door that led into their bedroom. "Go get changed and I'll bring you some water. Okay? Don't stay up so late next time." Her voice was surprisingly commanding. Yet, it harbored a type of worry.

    The woman retreated back into the silent corridors, the occasional laugh of Charlie would ring throughout the halls, and quickly got the glass of water she'd promised.

    Almost surprised to see that Arthur had done what she wished, Bridgette happily chirped a "goodnight, love," as she placed the water on the wooden night-stand placed a few inches beside the king-sized bed.

    The woman herself quickly stripped off the clothes of today and put on fresh pajamas. She slipped onto the bed by Arthur's side, and was about to drift into a slumber when she abruptly sat up and leaned over Arthur. "Sweet dreams." Bridgette planted a soft, goodnight kiss on his right cheek. The satisfied woman curled back up into her usual sleeping position with a mental chuckle.
     
  6. Arthur was surprised, usually Bridgette tended not to show affection at all. Yawning tiredly, he let some sleep collapse upon him. Though despite closing his eyes, his brain alerted him continuously about the work awaiting on his desk. At times like these, Arthur felt older and ready to collapse. But despite the "sham" of a marriage that it was, as his mother would call it, he found comfort with the coldness of a wife like her. In certain manners, he could be quite the sadist.

    As the few remaining hours passed by, the household was silent and still.

    The sun rose with its colorful splashes of red orange and yellow, stirring up the people minute by minute. Eventually within the next few minutes everyone had awoken besides the children who were still in slumber. Arthur forced himself to get up despite the soreness and tiredness of his entire body. Switching out to his daily cleanly white buttoned down shirts, he also quickly tied the tie around his neck. He ran the water while he brushed his teeth, hearing Bridgette wake up.

    With the daily habits done, everyone was down stairs in the main dining room where a grand breakfast of toast, cereal, jam, eggs and bacon were presented with glasses of orange juice plus tea. Most of the time, breakfast remained in silence with a few sounds made by Charlie who had managed to prank his brother. Little Bea on the other hand was content with her buttered toast, chewing it slowly with her small cherry shaped mouth.

    The cellphone in Arthurs pants began to vibrate and he excused himself, heading towards his office. This left an uncomfortable feeling in the air for Bridgette and Caroline.

    The old woman grasped the delicate tea cups and her eyes were directed towards Bridgette, glazed in ice. " Hmph, wonders what Arthur is doing all these days without your company. "

    The hidden meaning was clear, quite a slap in the face as well. That's right, the old women suggested Arthur had found interest in other "women"
     
  7. Bridgette always woke up before Arthur, even if he didn't quite realize it. She had laid there, completely still, for an hour before he had gotten up; basking in his warmth before the day started soothed the woman's stress level greatly. After he descended downstairs, Bridgette forced herself to rise and start the day anew. Usually, it was always the same, repetitive actions every.single.day: wake up the twins, feed them, send them off to school if it was a weekday, and then wake up and entertain Bea for six hours straight. The only out-of-place thing this morning seemed to be the grouchy old woman looming over Bridgette's dining table, nonchalantly drinking tea. While her children ate their breakfast, Bridgette could only stare at the ceiling, waiting and waiting painfully for the next few days to flash by. Because, by then, this old hag would be gone.

    Breakfast today was indeed as silent as always, but with the added awkward sprinkles mixed into the recipe for disaster. Bridgette, like always, wiped the mess from her children, but Caroline constantly -but swiftly- leered at her daughter-in-law, looking for whatever fault she could scratch up. Thankfully, there were no 'mistakes' today.

    It wasn't until her husband, Arthur, excused himself from the table that Caroline dropped the bomb.

    "Hmph, wonders what Arthur is doing all these days without your company."

    The obvious emphasis on the 'your' rubbed Bridgette in all the wrong ways. Replying smoothly with a simple, "work, I presume, Mother," was not as satisfying as Bridgette had hoped for.

    "Why do you care? It would make me leave, isn't that what you want? Right, Mother?"

    "I'm pretty sure I'm the best 'party' he's got going on right now."

    "How about I shove that scone up your a-..."

    Dear James, the good little boy he was, censoring his mother's immaturity with an innocent -not to mention mature- statement, "Grandma, Daddy told me he's working on a project." What an angel. Although Bridgette was steamed at both mother and husband at the moment, one for being downright rude and the other neglecting his family to do work (as always), her children were just little angels that kept her image in check.

    "Grandma, will you play with us today?" Charlie piped up with a devious smirk that only Bridgette could detect behind that sugary smile. "That would be a great idea." The woman added in, surprising both of her sons, who were well aware of their mother's intense hatred.

    "All of us should go out into the garden to play," James suggested, nudging his brother in the ribs as he tried to steal a piece of food.

    And perhaps push 'Grandma' into a rose bush...

    Bridgette nibbled on the corner of a piece of toast with a newfound smile. Bless her children.
     
  8. Arthur was indeed the epitome of workaholic. Despite it being the weekend, it was the same routine. Work. More Work. And then more work. By the time it had been 3:00 in the afternoon, the man had skipped out on lunch until one of the maids motioned him to eat. As he was obsessing over every single one of his files, his phone began to rang.

    Hello.

    Arthur, this is Madeline. Party tonight, you're expected. No objections, bring your wife and see you then.

    zzzzzz.


    Right Madeline. She was a distant cousin who had the reputation of throwing frivolous parties. Every single one he had heard or been to ended up in a mess. He himself was often drunk and before he knew it, he was suffering from a hang over. But at that single split second, it seemed like a fun thing to participate in. It had been months since he had left the house to do something just with Bridgette. Plus it would do him some good to get fresh air and relax a bit. And so things were settled with Bridgette. The kids were to be left at home with his mother. Oh if he only knew the consequences from attending Madelines Party, Arthur might have just stayed home instead.

    After the Party.

    Everything was a blur to Arthur. Colors were fuzzed and he felt like the world was turning up side down. He racked his brain for memories. He recalled getting a drink and then another. Now getting back at home, he felt Bridgette... Or at least that's who he thought was there. The thrumming in his ears continued and his head ached. He tried to speak but nothing was comprehensible besides the slurs of connected syllables.
    Lacking any sense in his head, he had ended up pushing Bridgette against the mattress of the bed. He was too intoxicated to realize anything and he only heard silent cries from what he understand.

    Warning: Some Sexual Content, not for those under the age of 13

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    Oh right the man didn't know. In fact it was just merely s-e-x. His lips were pressed upon hers, the heat rising in his body. Despite the lack of clarity his brain failed to process he continued through the movements. When he could finally focus his eyes for merely a few seconds, yup for sure. Only Bridgette and hey this wasn't exactly their first time. Time ticked away as it continued before Arthur fell upon her smelling of sweat and alcohol, finally at rest. His chest rose up and down at a steady rate and he still clung to her, keeping her in his grasps Though it was for sure, he was going to suffer from a hang over tomorrow, who knew if he would be in the state of function. Maybe for once the Workhaolic could just rest a little and take a break.
     
  9. Contents of last night flashed into the extremely cynical woman's mind; tangle bodies, -naked bodies I should mention- perspiring, blushing skin, and intense ecstasy. Nope, it never got old, but the angry outbursts of Arthur resulting in sex could cause Bridgette to purposely hit his sensitive spots during their sexual escapades and then laugh like a madwoman at his obviously pleasure-filled animilistic moans. She knew every single inch, every tiny centimeter, just perfect for torturing. He never lasted very long during nights like these. On the other hand, the dominance could flip and Bridgette ended up eaten alive. Last night was one of those nights for her. It had taken the woman off guard. One minute she was chattering happily and in the next her clothes were gone. Arthur was like a freaking magician.

    She was sore, she was tired, and a head splitting headache haunted her mind at the moment, but as always Bridgette was more concerned about her husband who was peacefully snoozing away. He was bound to wake up soon, and crawl right back into his office like the workaholic he was. Bridgette supposed, she could be the nice wife for once.

    Slipping on a silky, blue robe, the woman painfully trudged down into the kitchen. She retrieved the usual remedies -water and tylenol- for Arthur's typical ailment: the hangover.

    Back in their room, which would need serious cleaning this afternoon, Bridgette slunk negligently into an armrest by the bed, still clutching the medicine. She took a few, secret sips from the water before Arthur woke up.

    It was silent for a few moments until her husband shifted, causing a slight panic to rise in Bridgette, appearing to sell her out by the evident blush on her face.

    "Hey," she said with the 'soothing' voice of her, "wake the hell up." Yes, Bridgette was a serene person, indeed.

    When Arthur refused to stir, the impatient woman set down the pills and flipped the bed sheets off the male's body with her free hand; apparently she had forgotten the contents that were hidden by the blankets, i.e. lack of clothing.

    Her eyes quickly snapped to the floor that had suddenly earned her attention. "Arthur, wake up!" She yelled, snapping her fingers in rapid succession. And for the love of God, put some clothing on before I have a heart attack. The own sound of her heartbeat was erratic, and definitely faster than it should have been.

    "Arthur...?" Bridgette made her way around to his bedside, and leaned over is sleeping body. She placed her cold hand upon his head, making sure he did not have too bad of a headache.

    His headache would have been minor, from harboring a hangover, but Bridgette couldn't exactly use the same excuse since she wasn't exactly drunk. No, actually she was completely sober.
     
  10. Arthur was still asleep, moving slightly every few seconds. He heard something until a cold breeze fell over his body. Fluttering his eyes open for a few seconds he saw Bridgette peering over him. Still half asleep, he pulled her towards her lips.

    "mhm... shut up,cold." He said groggily. His body slightly shivered.

    Still tired and drowsy, he used the last of his remaining energy to pull her body over his. He draped his arms around her waist, hugging her for warmth. He could smell the sweet perfume that lingered in her blond locks from last night. At that moment he complete forgot what had happened the evening before. A minor headache still ranged like a beating drum against his skull. There he stayed silent, still breathing in and out, he staid motionless. Sleep fell before his eyes yet again, numbing the ringing of his ears.

    Dreaming away... so many memories and scenes.

    There they were, Arthur and Bridgette hand in hand. It looked like a beautiful day, the sound of the ocean waves crashing through the rocks echoed through the area. Everything at that moment was supposed to be picture perfect. Smiles, Laughs, Sweetness. But then it all began to slowly fall apart when the figure of Bridgette let go of his hands, falling from the cliff as Arthurs own heart felt like it was being torn apart.

    He awoke, startled, he apparently was still clutching the body of Bridgettes around his own. He didn't say a word. If only he learned to express his true love, maybe their relationship could go to full bloom. Right those words he hadn't dared utter yet...

    I love you.

    What a coward, unable to even let the simple three words spill out of his lips for her. Just for her, in all these years. With out a genuine feeling or meaning. How shameful.
     
  11. The half-asleep, affectionate cuddle had taken Bridgette off guard, earning Arthur a very girlish -not to mention foreign- sounding sqeak from the lips of his wife.

    "Hey! W..What are you doing? Let me go. You need to drink this water." She pushed against him, struggling to get free. The command about the water was merely a lame excuse- partially due to the fact several ounces of it splashed out of the glass and took a free ride down the front of her robe.

    Eventually, the stubborn lady managed to let his actions go; instead, Bridgette took advantage of the situation (which she dared not to think) and dipped into Arthur's warmth. She herself started to become drowsy though she dared not show it.

    The man's face, resting only a few centimeters above her own, seemed deep in thought. Provoking conversation was the last thing Bridgette wanted to do, seeing has how every time they talked ended up with a fight or some type of emotion other than love or happiness.

    Love..


    Bridgette would be lying to herself if she said...

    ...If she said she didn't love Arthur. Sure, he irritated her. Sure, he was a sex machine. Sure, he scared her sometimes, and sure he was never around in this relationship. For some reason, Bridgette couldn't help but yearn for him every time he was gone. She needed him, but the woman refused to admit anything. Nothing would be said until she could crack Arthur's obsidian shell and get him to say 'I love you' first.

    Is this childish? Absolutely.

    But she was terrified. Terrified that he wouldn't feel the same way and she would be flung to the side like some disgusting creature.

    In all honesty, Arthur was so expressionless Bridgette began to believe he didn't love her at all.
     
  12. Time began to fly away quickly, picking up speed and pace. For the lives of Arthur and Bridgette, it's usually been as ordinary as every other day they spent. If people knew their lives under the surface, typical and repetitive would be a nice way to describe it.

    Now, today was a special day for two of Arthurs and Bridgettes dearest friends. They had known each other forever and now their closer friends were finally to be wed on this grand sunny day.

    While in the grooms confined quarters...

    Greg was combing back the last of hair into place, attempting to keep a serious expression on his usually humors face.

    "Finally the day comes when I settle down, ha, mother never saw this coming." Greg said with a grin. "No more days of wandering, now I'm chained to marriage, any advice on how to live it to the max Arthur?"

    Arthur was surprised, of any person that should be asked this question, he should be the very last. Distracting himself with his blue tie, he began to speak.

    "... having lots and lots of s-... play as much chess and I mean as much chess as you can." Arthur said blatantly.

    In all honesty, that was the threads of his marriage with Bridgette, not that he didn't like it. Again though, he felt distant with her despite all these years. But there was no doubt that he had faith and loyalty for her. Sole devotion as marriage should be. Another benefit of marriage, children. Since he also had children now, responsibility was now set heavily upon his shoulders. It sometimes blew his mind that the lives of his children would depend on his parenting skills. Yet he was happy to take on that task.

    Greg looked up, his ears turning pink. "Arthur Fontaine, that's ... one of the last things I would have imagined coming out of your mouth."

    The other men laughed at the indirect meaning of the carefully woven sentence.

    Elsewhere on the rich Victorian estate, in the brides chambers.

    Rachel sighed, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she awaited for her custom wedding dress to arrive. Looking at the other girls who were still getting dressed, she fidgeted just slightly. In the womans mind, marriage seemed like a done deal. There would be no more flirting or extreme partying, she was going to be with her soul mate until the very end of her life. Seeing as Bridgette had gotten dressed quicker than the others and speak out loud from her itching curiosity.

    Blushing shyly she mustered the courage and the words tumbled out of her pink lips, "Um.. Bridgette, how is your married life with Arthur? I'm sure you've got to have lots of wonderful stories to tell. And out of just wonder, you two must have lots of hobbies together right? What's it like being his wife? Right now, I'm just wondering if marriage would be as romantic and sweet as dating...with Greg" The girl said with a sweet smile painted on her cherry pink lips.
     
  13. These questions were nearly impossible for Bridgette to answer, first it was the "how's life with Arthur," sexy time all the time but then next was the indirectly asked, "how do I keep Greg by my side?" Sex...And have three children while you're at it.

    Bridgette is thus classified as unhelpful.

    "Well, make sure your dearest husband it always satisfied...or..er.. happy in the relationship. I make sure Arthur is always pleasured...uhm..yep. And don't have kids too early!" Bridgette managed to force off her tongue before corrupting poor, innocent Rachel's mind. Rachel was a beauty, and God help Greg if he were ever to cheat, Bridgette would probably come at him with her full fist of: "FALCON PUUUUUUUUNCH!"

    The wedding itself went by faster than a blink, the days began clashing together and weeks zipped by. Eventually, the autumn season came to an end and the winter curtains lifted once more.

    Arthur and Bridgette ordinarily took an annual trip to somewhere warm- somewhere that usually grew coconuts. But for once, Bridgette wanted to take a vacation to somewhere cold. The snow in England was never pretty. Rock salt and plows melted the snow and/or turned it a mucky brown color before the full pulchritude could be taken in. It was almost doleful how natural beauty was taken advantage of, and then cast off to the side like it was a nuisance.

    Nudge nudge, wink wink.

    And thus, Bridgette and Arthur found themselves in the bitter winds outside of a Russian blizzard. The two stood, freezing their asses off outside of a small log cabin. Bridgette almost half-expected to hear the words, "I told you so," come from the lips of her husband. But no, he was too cold to jab a sarcastic remark at her.

    Once inside the cabin, the two settled on a couch shoved into the corner of the room. The interior wasn't much to look at; a basic bed, a fireplace, a couch, and a kitchen and bathroom in two separate rooms. "I-I-I'm so c..cold." Bridgette entwined her hand within Arthur's almost surprised about how warm his hands were.

    A knitted quilt blanket was draped over the duo's body, as Bridgette, in not so many words, snuggled herself up against Arthur for warmth. His breathing was steady, signaling he may have been asleep- Bridgette was too afraid to look and see. The woman rested her head against his shoulder, and moved her body so that there was no space in between the two.

    Just for warmth.

    Apparently, Arthur had been mostly asleep. He shifted a bit in his slumber, so that his head now was drooped near Bridgette's shoulder yet not exactly on in. Arthur's messy, bed-head bangs covered most of his face, but that was the usual.

    Leaning daringly close, Bridgette placed a small, quick kiss on Arthur's lips and the ruffled his hair before settling back into the previous position.

    Just for warmth.

    She should stop lying to herself. But once a liar, always a liar.

    Within the next few instances, the woman found herself dozing off in the comforting body heat of her husband.
     
  14. Arthur was very much shivering his ass of at the cabin. He regretted choosing Russia but it seemed to make Bridgette happy so might as well go along with the idea. A few rays of sunlight poured in from the cozy little house but the storm was still apparently lively, refusing to cease and end. Arthur sighed, at times like these he felt... strange. It wasn't normal for him not to get up and work or at least do something productive. Everything felt too calm and peaceful, as if they were living monochrome lives of old boring people. Though being stuck in a cabin up in the mountains left enough reason for boredom. To simply say, there was nothing, absolutely nothing to do in this stranded place.

    He kept close with Bridgette, feeling a lot more tired and peaceful than usual. The crackling of the fire was quite warming and the sheets were now a comfortable body temperature. Days like these made him just want to crawl over and sleep, sleep and more sleep. He himself was too lazy to do anything else.

    Glancing at Bridgette he found her awakening, surprised to see that she still held onto him firmly. She slowly began to open her eyes as if bewildered that he was staring at her.

    holding her glance for a few minutes he finally decided to speak up.

    "Are you alright? Still cold?" It was unusual for him to be so openly "kind" or "gentle" but with circumstances like these, the time seemed right for it.

    He reached for her hands, creating friction for more heat. He caught her seemingly quiet.

    "Well... what shall we do today?" He said, very clueless on any ideas.
     
  15. Bridgette hadn't realized her accidental slumber; yes, she had not meant to fall asleep so soon. She wanted to be locked in a silent embrace with her husband a bit longer. The time spent doing that would have probably been the most tranquil since Bea's very own birth four years prior.

    "Bundle up and meet me outside," her tone of voice was more commanding then ever. Bridgette went on this trip expecting to have a nice time alone, and damn it, she would get what she wanted. Even if she had to make herself look like a fool, Bridgette would accomplish this easy task that to the Fontaine's, was impossible.

    Bridgette had a talent at being able to get dressed quickly. Her husband on the other hand took days just to put on a shoe. She was always the first to be outside waiting; this time was no different than any other.

    Her hands were toasty within hand-knit gloves, and the rest of Bridgette was covered in puffy, blue marshmallow-like material that made the woman appear like demented walrus.

    In all honesty, she could care less.

    Bridgette scooped up the delicate white flakes in her palm, and inspected the detailed hexagons briefly before getting a sudden urge to eat the snow. A soft chuckle resounded throughout the silent area. It almost sounded like an echo. The woman bent down, and piled more snow into her hands, shaping it into a sphere.

    Clutching the snowball within her hands, Bridgette whipped around instantly as she heard the click of the wooden door open. "What are we doing out here?" Arthur questioned, passing the threshold.

    The minute he stepped over the steel frame, Bridgette's ball of frozen droplets were wiping at high speeds towards his unsuspecting face.

    "Bullseye."
     
  16. Just as it landed "splat" right upon his face, he was already running to create his own snowballs for revenge.

    Wiping of the wetness of the now melted ice, he smirked, throwing as many as he could while he himself ducked. For what seemed to go on for three hours, energy was running down. Arthur sighed, collapsing on the coolness of the Russian ground. He paced his breathing while staring up at the blueness of the sky. He turned his body in search of Bridgette who was sitting down resting.

    The clouds in the sky were tinted with grey, as if to foreshadow an oncoming storm.
     
  17. Play time ended as soon as it began. The heavy clouds unnerved Bridgette, due to the fact that a storm was coming; most likely a snow storm. She ushered Arthur inside the house, but she herself ran out the door screaming something a little along the lines of "I'm going to go get wood for the fireplace." There hadn't been much to begin with- three or four logs to be exact. At the rate they were using it for warmth and cooking, the couple would freeze before the week was over with.

    Now, for the reason of Bridgette to be the one trudging out into the tundra? Simply put, she felt useless sitting around. For the past ten years of her life she's always been a busy-body. Now on vacation, all she could do was fidget and have spastic thoughts.

    "Ah.. I think this should be good..?" Bridgette smiled at the abundance of wood she carried within her arms. She was all set to return to the house but before the woman could register what was going on, a blizzard in full-throttle whipped up.

    "Eh..?" She turned her head from side to side, looking desperately towards the horizon. The sky was gray everywhere she turned, bleak and lifeless. The snow had already covered up her footprints. She was lost.

    Well. Shit.

    "Arthur!!!"
     
  18. The cold was finally beginning to affect Arthur. He breathed the cold air down into his lungs as it stung just a bit. He felt the chilly numbness of his fingers. As he inhaled and exhaled breaths, the heat would rise out from his lips. It felt like he was being frozen slowly and painfully like an piece of ice. As he struggled to pick himself, he scanned the surrounding perimeters for any sign of Bridgette. But of course, his efforts were futile as he stood frozen in place. One step and another, he heard her suddenly scream. Even though she was desperate, it was endearing that at least she admitted defeat and cried for help when she knew she would need it.

    Slowly walking through the thick blanket of white snow, he pushed against the wind, feeling colder and wetter than ever. Reaching his now nearly asleep wife, he used up the rest of his strength to pick up her body as she shivered, her teeth chattering. Taking in a deep breath, he ran with all his might ignoring the pain that shot across his body. His heart continued to beat, faster by the second, pumping some heat that would melt down the snow. Finally opening the cabin door, he placed he down as he himself sat on the floor. His head rested against the bed as the flickering fire warmed the atmosphere. The door had locked and the storm appeared to get worse.

    He was tired beyond belief, letting Bridgette take the full bed while he lazily found himself shutting down on the floor. He sneezed and coughed a couple of times, praying in his head that he wouldn't get sick.
     
  19. Bridgette immediately went to wrapping a blanket around the shivering shoulders of her husband and rushing around to get him something to drink. "You know I would be sympathetic with you, but you forgot the firewood. And therefore finding me was pointless." Not only did she feel the need to point this out, but the woman just had to say with the most cynical voice she was able to muster through her chattering teeth. Bridgette shoved the cup of lukewarm tea into Arthur's hands and sat down behind him, facing the opposite way. "So, I'm totally not sorry or anything." Hopefully Arthur would realize this was his wife's indirect way of saying "I'm so, so, so sorry."

    The duo sat in a bit of an awkward silence for the next few hours; the only sounds made were from the dying fire. It was Arthur whom fell asleep first to leave Bridgette in her depressed thoughts.

    I always have to screw everything up, huh?

    The trophy wife who fails at her simple job.

    Arthur deserves so much better.

    It took Bridgette quite some time to fall asleep after her very emo-like thoughts. By the time she woke up, Arthur had moved to the couch and she was still curled in a fetal position by the fire, but a blanket was laid across her body. Thus she concluded he was still half pissed off at her. The next time the woman awoke from her very uncomfortable slumber it was light outside.

    The next few days inched by slower than a turtle with three legs. The days consisted of ignoring each other, sleeping, and drinking cold Jasmine tea. Yay.

    Today was the last day of the vacation, so the earlier she packed, the earlier Bridgette could get her ass out of Russia and back to her adorable children. Every time she saw them, they just rejuvenated her spirits.
    Time skip- one w e e k

    Finally readjusted to her previous lifestyle, there was only one thing that was bugging Bridgette. She sat in the study, secretly sipping on very expensive wine that her father sneaked into her luggage the day she left for the Fontaine estate. Every now and then she would drink it. The bottle was still half-full, but since Bridgette was a pessimist it was half-empty to her. The chair she relaxed comfortably in on the usual day felt like nails to her at the moment.

    Her husband was giving her the silent treatment.

    "Clever bastard." She clutched the bottle hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Obviously, the woman had just a bit too much to drink. Just a bit. That's all. "How dare he ignore me?!" You could almost see the fire and devil ears. "I mean, he could have just let me die. Doesn't he want me to? BAH!"

    If anyone had walked in on her at this moment, they would probably be rendered speechless. The usual composed and elegant Bridgette Fontaine was now acting life a five year old who just got her doll stolen.

    "Maybe I should go and yell at him for being such an ass! Yeah, y- yeah, that's what I'll do. HAHAHA," there was bit of hiccuping in between that sentence, causing her glorious rant to break.

    Luckily the children were in school, for it was a Thursday afternoon. Bea was taking a nap.

    "Oh mah God, this rug is soft."

    Maybe Bridgette was a tad more tipsy then she realized. An empty wine bottle lay a few centimeters from her fingertips. Her body lay sprawled out negligently across the floor. Bridgette had only taken a few strides away from the chair she'd sat on previously before she tripped and landed on her face.

    Tears pricked the woman's eyes. In a few moments it was a full-out wail. Bridgette covered her eyes with her hands and proceeded to curl into a fetal position.

    "It hurts, it hurts!"

    She wasn't referring to any physical pain, it was her heart that ached more than anything.
     
  20. There were no other words to explain Arthurs trip with Bridgette than "silent". Indeed, such a void less marriage that survived on mutual care, or at least that's how Arthur saw when it came to Bridgette. Many times he was haunted by the stupid choice he made. The guilt of a forced agreement still gnawed and clawed at the bitterness guilt. Maybe she would have been happier if her father willingly accepted his punishment. But what was said was now done. He couldn't part with her after all this time. No, not at all.

    For the few days while locked together in the cold, there was barely any conversation between him and her. Despite the children that strengthen their minimal bond, they were two people as far away as planets. Arthur could only sit in the car and think with absolute confusion, he didn't want to be that selfish man. Maybe he should have given her a choice much earlier, even though it burned, he was going to let her choose. Of course, his thoughts were constantly drawn to divorce despite the pain.

    As he remained silent, the car had a sudden lurch. The driver began to yell a few words until Arthur himself blacked out into the fading darkness.

    ---

    The white nurse nodded, recording the information down of the scene. Apparently a foolish teenage driver hadn't bothered stopping at a stop light. This created a impact between the two cars. The teenager survived with a few bruises while the driver had severely broken his right foot. As for Arthur Fontaine, no physical harm was indicated but he had fell into a coma. News spread from the doctors that the man had a likely chance from awaking his coma however amnesia would be the most likely resulting factor as soon as he woke up.

    As the sleeping body of Arthur rested on the white linen sheets, the nurses had at once called his family and wife, Bridgette.