1x1 CLOSED Birds of a Feather (NemoPav)

[PavellumPendulum]

It was a soirée only to be attended by the upper class. Well, as upper as the commonfolk could get. Most of those with any actual status or coin wouldn't have come anywhere near this little gathering by the desperate owner of a book binding business, attended mostly only by other businessmen, their wives and their children. There was a paltry showing of servants to wait upon the gentlemen and the ladies, as well as a dreadfully sparse array of petit fours and desserts to be passed around. Léona had barely eaten the one that she'd been offered, her well-adjusted tongue refusing the taste of a second class Paris-Brest. Whoever was in the kitchen clearly had not a single inkling of whatever it was they were trying to make, the cream piping messy and melting into the soggy, dilapidated pastry.

There were men with money here, but none that were actually halfway decent targets, as the host had otherwise suggested, patting many hands in order to at least get a few good men and women in his parlour. He was beet red, practically sweating bullets in the center of the room as his guests listened to a lonely serenade from a single violinist, his budget too strained to even splurge on a trio or a quartet. What an embarrassing show. Murmurs and whispers served as the sad base on which the solitary violin made music.

Léona adjusted her wine red dress, feeling the bust hold tight against her body. It was an elegant piece, one she had been saving for an event better than this one. She'd have to decline any future social invitations from this absolute moron, seeing as how he'd already wasted a good hour or two of her precious time.

A lady beside her reached out to inspect one of the crackly, pink macarons arranged on the table and Léona carefully stopped her, a hand tapping the paler, outstretched one. "I would advise against tasting any of these..." she stated, both politely and knowingly, "You would have better luck tasting authenticity if you licked the doorknob at a bakery." Her French accent remained, stewing her words in honey, as her dark eyes flitted over the woman in question. She was young and doll-like. Léona quickly sorted through her memories of the beginning of the gathering, when the idiot of the evening made all the introductions between them all.

Ah yes, Miss Fear.

@Nemopedia

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

A discerning eye recognises true class, and it was far sought this very night within the pretentious crowd that likened themselves to be something elevated and a step above the rest. It was in the way they held their glasses, and in their speech, in the too much rouge on their cheeks, and the too many frills on their dresses and the lack of quality in any of the ribbons, but especially the very fabric itself.

It could even be smelled in the smothering amounts of perfume, the wafts and stifling clouds of heavily mixed scents that lingered around and clung unmasked as Ondine tried to weave through the crowd, trying her best to avoid the host of the party that had tricked her to this place tonight right after introductions were made. She had seen the man leer at her, picking her out from the crowd in the tearoom she worked at as he had slid her by that invitation. And while Ondine had no intention of getting with a bookbinder she had seen the company he had been with, all classy people that she did like to connect with but were nowhere to be found tonight.

With her first dance Ondine had only been half so lucky, finding her hand in that of a young military man that had been a tad too eager at the introductions, so eager even that he hadn't even waited for her answer. Ondine hadn't minded, finding it suiting herself just fine that she was out of grasp of the bookbinder. Besides, the attention of the soldiers were always flattering, young and flirtatious as they were. However, even that wasn't part of her aim, for soldiers usually meant second sons or the peerage, or poor men who hoped for a good shot and career, and Ondine wasn't looking for anyone with their feet still in the wet soil, but on solid ground.

And thus she drifted, hiding from the old geezer who so obviously wanted her, and trying to look for that spark of class that was missing. Even the macarons lacked their usual grace as a plate passed by, prompting Ondine to reach out for them just to see how one could manage that when she was stopped by another hand. A much darker hand, belonging to a woman in a red dress with an exotic accent that suggested French, the classiest place to come from, and exuding a natural grace that was out of place tonight on this particular night. A woman of certainty and maturity, contrasting the innocence and youthfulness that Ondine tried to emulate with her soft pinks and blushing cheeks.

"I wouldn't dare sample them," Ondine responded after a short silence of surprise, a smile flashing over her lips as she slowly recalled the name of the lady that had approached her. Untitled, businesswoman, wealthy. Those were the main takeaways Ondine had formed within her mind upon introductions, while also taking note of the whispers of the crowd, whispers of shock and surprise and of pity. It told Ondine that she wasn't dealing with an ordinary woman, if the general appearance of Miss Vielfaure hadn't already given her away as such.

It was generally considered to be bad taste to criticise the host at his own party, but Miss Vielfaure had already done so and Ondine had no qualms moving along, her hand retracting from the plate as she flashed a sweet smile to the server with a nod. "I wonder if their pastry chef is travelling still, they certainly look like they have seen the road," Ondine tittered, curtsying to Miss Vielfaure as poised as she could in the crowd.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

Though Léona was well-educated enough by her time spent with her late husband to know the ins and outs of social niceties, she still marched to the beat of her own drum when it suited her. There were times in which masking her true feelings and opinions was necessary in order to approach a situation with the appropriate amount of finesse, but there was little to lose at the bookbinder's public embarrassment gathering. Besides, with all the chatter around them being tossed out, subtle insults at the host's expense weren't far and few in between at the current moment, based on the bits of conversation that Léona could pick out just in that moment...

Her sharp eyes trailed over Ondine's sweet, rehearsed smile, flitting over those rosy cheeks and carefully demure posture. Even the soft clarity of her voice, both sugary and grounded, carefully making sure to not drift too far into dreamy and distant territory, was perfectly engineered to be an enticing flytrap for unsuspecting men. If it was by accident, she certainly was a natural. If it was on purpose, Léona considered them to be bark carved from the same tree.

She returned Miss Fear's curtsy with one of her own, pleased with her own observations and filing them away for now so that she could keep them in mind for another day, when they would perhaps actually serve her well. "I'm quite certain they've seen beneath the roads, considering the presentation of these sweets. They must be odes to the humble dirt and grime below us." she responded easily, a chuckle working it's way out between her dark lips. She tapped her foot against the floor briefly, the rhythm of it dissonant against the melody of the lonely violin, pondering her next words.

"I take it you have a discerning eye for pastry then?" the woman questioned, seeing as the other had agreed with her, "Perhaps knowledge and acquired tastes that go beyond the pitiful array we have before us?"

It was a tentative step into discerning more about Ondine's background and potential exposure to culture, specifically her own.

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

Had Ondine still been fresh at this game she would have flushed at the way she had exposed herself. Now she knew how to play off her expansive knowledge for sweets and pastries better, a suppressed giggle escaping her that she hid behind a delicate hand with a slight nod as if she was too humble to truly admit any mastery of the sort.

"Having a sweet tooth is a vice of mine, I'm afraid." The admission is done in a shy manner, as if ashamed over the vice, rather than the straight lie she was playing. Ondine had quite enough of sweets, being surrounded by them quite so much made for a distaste, and none of them ever tasted quite right for none ever commissioned the right places, or could afford them to the parties to which she did find herself invited. "It is perhaps the only temptation I saw in those buttons; the promise of sugar and sweet, even if it is to ruin me," she laments before cheering herself right up, for no one enjoyed melancholy even if the party was quite sufficiently deceased.

"But pardon my poor manners," Ondine pipes up, curtsying towards the lady as her lashes flutter close before rising, "Ondine Fear, miss Vielfaure," she introduced herself, trying to emulate her best French accent before rising her eyes up again, "I wouldn't dare to pretend myself to be more knowledgeable than I'm. Simply a connoisseur," came the end of her admission.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

Having a sweet tooth was certainly a vice, but in their positions, it was more understandable. Perhaps if the two of them had been street urchins, it would've been more questionable, since after all, which street vagrants could afford a luxurious, churned cream or a delicately made pastry, but on Miss Fear... Well, Léona could see how it could come off as endearing, especially with that tinge of shyness peeking through her voice, paired with the sweet flutter of her thick lashes. Ondine put together her best impression of a French accent, which, truthfully, was not very bad at all. The older woman chuckled at the second curtsy and introduction, nodding with faint approval.

"Your secret is safe with me. I am doubtful that anyone who has tried what has been served tonight will be able to continue having a sweet tooth regardless." she responded, a brief side eye scoping out the small pockets of people that were shifting around the room, a few having drifted closer to the two of them. They were still safe to gossip amongst themselves, but Léona did lower her volume slightly, seeing that the fledgling crowd was shifting.

"A pleasure, Miss Fear. Léona Vielfaure, though you and everyone else was probably more well acquainted with my late husband, Guillaume Vielfaure." she paused, picking a piece of lint off of her own dress and letting it fall between them, her fingers smoothing out her dress at the same time, "The years are long without him, but I trust that he is resting easy."

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

Slave to mistress. Léona's story was an inspiration to many, Ondine included. How many in the Peony room had whispered to each other, hoping for their own mr. Vielfaure? And while Ondine thought herself above a merchant, determined to marry a title, she had caught herself thinking wistfully what it could mean to marry so lavishly wealthy that she never had to beat another pastry again. What it would be like if she had been the recognised daughter of a Duke and all of the hands offered to her.

"A fairy tale romance many of us can only dream of," Ondine responds, "my hope is to find a man who will adore me half as much," she continued, her mind continuing it with a; 'and twice as rich' which she left unpronounced before turning her head towards the band that started their blaring music again, the crowd shifting as couples started to dance in a distance.

"Unfortunately, there won't be a match tonight," Ondine determined, her eyes disapproving of all the menfolk on the floor and those to the side, none handsome enough, or screaming of obvious wealth, or of charming wit to be called a prince of any sort. "Lonely are such nights," she smiles, purposefully turning her face away from one particular shabby looking man that came to approach her with an abundance of energy and eagerness that she did not like at all.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

A fairy tale? Perhaps.

The edges of Léona's lips tipped upwards, more out of thoughtfulness than from being actually amused by Ondine's comments. Those first few years had been hell. There had been more times than not where she'd wondered if killing Vielfaure would have been better than living as his property in those days, but she'd never acted on it. His poor health and habits had done the job for her, years after she'd finally decided that he was not the man she'd thought he was. There had been parts of the shrewd merchant that she'd loved and parts that she'd loathed. In the end, she won though, no?

She was still here standing, with his money, which he could not have taken to the grave with him. His crimes against people like her would keep her and her son living comfortably for the years to come, so long as Léopoldine did not run the winery into the ground. She doubted he would though, with her and his business partners around, carefully safeguarding their profits.

Léona took a sidestep around, acting as a guard herself when some wretch that had surely crawled out of the gutter made their way towards them, his face barely hiding the hunger in his eyes when he set his sights on sweet little Ondine. A pleasant, knowing smile on Léona's face, she nodded sagely. "Fairy tale romances do not begin their first pages on nights like these. But I have hope for you yet, Miss Fear."

Waiting a few pointed moments, she eventually caught the eye of another lady, giving Ondine a polite tilt of her head. "I wish you the best. May we meet again, in a more suitable environment." she purred with a faint chuckle, before gliding away, to give her greetings to another acquaintance.

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

And with that the best part of the evening came to pass, leaving the night dull for the rest as Ondine danced a dance with a wealthy man, too old and too sweaty for Ondine's youth and dreams, ruining her dream of a dashing romance with a duke for the night.

A week went past like that, no interesting catch, no stories to tell, nor a place to dress up. The Peony Room was far from a place where Ondine could afford to dress prettily, not like the guests that frequented it, not as the patissier.

Smelling like vanilla and other spices, Ondine was trimming the sandwiches neatly as she prepared a tray of afternoon tea for one of the ladies, keeping the rinds of the bread to the side to make pudding later. A moment Ondine was looking forward to as it was the only time she got to enjoy something sweet with her tea in a fancy place like the Peony Room, pretending to be a lady instead of a worker.

"Hurry Ondine, don't start dreaming now. Clean up your face and arrange your hair. We have a special guest today and I want everyone to look their prettiest."

The words were so familiar that Ondine barely paid any attention to whichever lady had graced their presence this time, barely catching on that she was a wealthy lady of great fortune who could be their ticket to the top. The head said that of every guest with money as Ondine finished the tray before she was ushered out of the kitchen after another wipe with a damp cloth they used to cover their dough.

"For the missus," Ondine smiled, realising that she had missed out on the name of their well established guest today and realising that she didn't quite recognise the lady until she stood in front of her, dressed in her usual daily drab as she set down the set of finger sandwiches on the table with muted shock.

"Miss Vielfaure," she managed with a curt bow, suddenly self-conscious with flour caking her cheeks like powder, hiding the natural blush Ondine was so proud of.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

The Peony Room knew Miss Vielfaure well enough. She wouldn't say that she was their most frequent customer, but she was certainly a familiar face, one that had, upon tasting their supposed best French pastry offerings, had confidently said that their work was not a shame to the long legacy that French cuisine had. Her reputation preceded her with far worse insults at other establishments, so this was most definitely a compliment, in her eyes. With her hair elegantly pinned up for once instead of let loose (she preferred to do so when eating for longer periods of time), Léona's eyes settled upon the girl that was serving her, watching the tray of dainty little sandwiches be carefully laid on the table.

The other two women at her table, barely called friends, more business partners than anything, were engaged in their own conversation, leaned towards each other instead of towards her. That was fine. She had little interest in their sons anywho. Nothing but young blood and fresh faces, with pockets that were shallower than her own. The curt bow and proper pronunciation of her name from the girl's lips brought a name to mind, but it took a few seconds for Léona to fully register it. It was hard to put her finger on that recognition, what with the other lady's face being smeared with flour, her clothing lackluster and similarly powdery.

With her dark eyes narrowed, a faint smirk of sorts found Miss Vielfaure's lips, pleased when she finally found what she'd been looking for in her mind. "Ah, greetings, young Miss Fear." she gave her a polite nod, mindful of the two women with her. They paid the two of them little mind, still heavily engrossed in their own conversation, "What a chance meeting." Her tone was indicative of her connecting the dots now.

She let her words hang in the air briefly, an interested glint in her eyes, though she carried on casually, "What sort of sandwiches have you prepared for us this afternoon?"

So the girl played dress up and enjoyed a brief spot amongst the lower nobility in the night, hm? One could colour Léona impressed.

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

A chance encounter, indeed. If Ondine was shyer in person she would have blushed, but she had always known that a day such as today was to come. She hadn't prepared herself for it, if ever, rather preferring dreaming away that this chance encounter would lead to a romance like Cinderella fairy tales, but here she was, needing to be quick on her feet as she curtsied once more, a muted smile on her lips to remain polite and also hopefully catch the eyes of her colleagues and the friends that accompanied the miss.

"An assortment of finger sandwiches, Miss Vielfaure. Ham and mustard, accompanied with a refreshing cucumber salad and eggs with watercress," Ondine started to list off the sandwiches on the bottom plate, before her hand moved up a level to the second plate where the scones where, the staple delicacy, "today we have some special scones as well, paired with cinnamon and nutmeg, please do let us know what you think of them," she added after the standard introduction before rising her hand to the top plate, the one that she was in charge of and hesitation came, a short pause before she resumed.

"The delicacies served today are truly special," Ondine started, though she felt her confidence sink a little as she wondered if Miss Vielfaure would share that sentiment. After all, Ondine had never been in France, nor been trained by a French baker. She just had been pulled along by their own bakers and then, when the owner felt confident enough in all Ondine learned, allowed Ondine to go off on her own, which Ondine felt confident in so far, given that the Peony Room was popular for their pastries. Yet, now Ondine wondered if it was because she made the pastries or if it was because of the establishment.

There was no use in lamenting that now, the plate was set and Ondine had yet to finish her explanation.

"I recommend the macarons. The master has spent a great deal of time teaching our patisseries." In which Ondine meant that she had spent a great deal charming every baker in the neighbourhood about the techniques they employed and sampling each one of them and studying the effects each method had before deciding upon her own based on her own likes. It had resulted in a one-of-a-kind macaron that they had to make fresh daily and in limited order. For the macaron was the size of a finger-sandwich, making it hard to maintain the crunchy outside and chewy inside, and its characteristic foot, accompanied with the sweet filling between with fresh pieces of fruit between to give the macaron sandwich, as it was called, both a sweet and refreshing combination.

Some had referred to it as a Frankenstein pastry as well and Ondine wasn't sure what to expect from Miss Vielfaure, giving her harsh critique on the pastries of the ball.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

Truth be told, Léona did not particularly give a damn about what sort of sandwiches they were currently being served. A story as interesting as this one, tied tightly with a ribbon behind a flour-covered face and sweet, demure eyes, well, that was far more delicious than anything that the Peony Room could ever really offer her. Even if she did have a decent opinion of their desserts. Miss Vielfaure watched as Ondine described each bit of the assortment laid out for the ladies at the table, from finger sandwiches, to scones, to macarons. She hummed quietly as she listened, her gaze sometimes flicking from the food in question to the young lady introducing each dish.

The macarons in particular were interesting, since shockingly, she had not yet sampled them at this establishment, despite having frequented it decently often. Perhaps she had always been too busy sizing up the other women at the table to really enjoy her meals, ha. The plated desserts, though they clearly had the look of traditional macarons, were gargantuan in comparison, more similar to a macaron sandwich than anything.

Still, she would not be one to judge on appearances alone.

Forgoing everything else on the table for now, she reached out and took one of the macarons into her hand, carefully inspecting it as though she were a world renowned French patissière. After a few moments, she did eventually sink her teeth into the dessert, her expression unchanging as she weighed the delicate flavours on her tongue. Only when she had chewed and swallowed her first bite, did that faint smile return to her lips, eyes on Ondine once more.

"Truly special indeed." was all she said in the end, though Ondine had likely seen enough of her to know that this was more praise than most received. "You have my thanks. That will be all for now, Miss Fear." Though she'd dismissed the younger woman from their table, only a split second after the other had turned to walk away, she did add, "Return to us when our meal is over."

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

Excitement. That was what Ondine felt at the compliment, and then a chilling foreboding that whispered to her that this was all she amounted to. A nasty little voice that Ondine had dismissed and ignored and pushed away with every inch of her rage returning at the instruction that Miss Vielfaure wanted her back at the table. Was the true test coming after the meal? Or was their only humiliation at the end of the road? Ondine couldn't tell, but she did as told and she waited, stirring the custard in preparation for the next day while her eyes travelled into the direction of that particular table, earning her a good scolding for showing her face around the corner too often.

"Was everything as wished?" Ondine would ask at the end of the meal, her feet heavy when she reappeared at the table once more. This time the female had wiped her face, rubbing the flour off her face and fixed her hair. She had even dabbed some beetroot powder on certain spots to bring out a blush, wondering to herself why she was even attempting to woo a lady in the first place.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

They ate. They socialized. Léona listened to her peers speak of the antics of their husbands, their sons, their daughters. Léona had nothing to contribute to the conversation. Her husband was laid deep in the ground, rotting and decomposing. There were no antics to speak of. Her unborn children had followed him. Léo was the only one left, but he did not require her prying eyes wherever he went: he was old enough to carry himself properly. He was no perfect child, but she had enough faith in him to focus on her own goals, her own ambitions. These women had forgone their own, thinking the hard work to be all over simply because they had started a family.

And so, when Ondine returned, the faint boredom leaking into Léona's expression found itself retreating, an interested smile on her lips as she stood. The others were already beginning to leave, gathering their things and smoothing out their dresses, but Léona lingered, giving the young Miss Fear a good look over. She'd cleaned herself up since their last conversation.

Léona slipped her hand into her handbag, easily finding her calling card in lieu of an answer. She held it out to Ondine, her name and address neatly written on the faintly perfumed paper. "It was. Pay me a visit sometime. I'm quite interested in your potential." It was less of a polite question and more of a statement, though it begged the question, potential to do what?

That was a question that she would not answer until Ondine visited the Vielfaure manor.

Miss Vielfaure turned on her heels and left the Peony Room.

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

Bewildered, Ondine was left with the card, her first calling card since she had introduced herself in society, for, despite all her good looks, without a network Ondine had no one and nothing she could rely on. Was Miss Vielfaure posing herself as one? Ondine thought about it deeply, but no more deeper than she fussed over getting a new dress ready that she could wear for the call.

And so Miss Fear found herself in front of the fine mansion of the Vielfaure's, her eyes wide at the well-kept gardens and how smartly even the servants were dressed walking around. It certainly had a different type of allure to it than the city in itself held, and from what her home was with her mother.

"This way, please," one of the butlers had gently urged her, the scrutinising eye over her dress barely noticeable. In the end Ondine hadn't managed to get a new dress, forced to alter an old dress of her mother's instead back when her mother was still a debutante. A time that had now easily surpassed two decades, for the dress itself was older than Ondine, and while the style was dated the alterations were done tastefully and kept in a simple manner, rather meant to accentuate Ondine's natural good figure and posture rather than flaunting off what she did not have.

"A pleasure, miss Vielfaure," Ondine greeted, curtsying along when she was shown in.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

Ondine, ever so well prepared, answered Miss Vielfaure's call both swiftly and appropriately. When she arrived at the manor, escorted into the parlour by one of the butlers, Léona gave her her full attention, setting her teacup down on the table before her and letting her eyes do the talking. Ondine's dress was quite old, most definitely nothing bought recently, but the alterations, visible to the eye, were tastefully done, leading one's gaze to the accentuated parts of her body. Though the younger woman did not seem to have the resources that she needed to flourish, she most certainly had the eye for culture. Still, none of that was the real goal of today's meeting. She could have figured all of that out from afar, anyway.

Today, the purpose of their meeting was to see if Ondine had the drive.

Léona could care less if the girl was naturally beautiful or talented. She did not spend all her time picking up lost ducklings off the streets in order to fashion them into pieces of art. In fact, she rarely tended to busy herself with the business of new debutantes, since she herself had more important priorities to tend to... But she would be willing to make an exception, for a young woman that reminded her of herself. You could always make something out of nothing, if you had the determination.

A faint smile graced her painted lips. "Please, sit." she did not stand to reciprocate the curtsy, the honeyed light streaming in from the window and giving her a faint glow as she sat, waiting, "I welcome you to the Vielfaure estate. You've caught my eye, Miss Fear."

She was open about her interest, reaching out to pour the lady tea, doing all the serving herself. The air was warm with the scent of chamomile, faintly floral and sweet. Straight to the point, her next question was about their first meeting, that dreadful evening with the bookbinder. "How, may I ask, did you procure yourself an invitation to the Eaton's soirée?"

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

Ondine had often dreamt of her Duke father one day taking a turn and accepting her into his home. Of how it would spiral her into wealth and luxury and what her rooms would be like and how many ribbons she would have to choose from. She imagined all of this as she allowed herself to take a seat, her manners at their most proper as she wondered how wealth could ever stink when it was all flowers and sunshine so far.

When Miss Vielfaure's question was posed Ondine's lips curled into a smile, her mother's rules resounding within her mind as she formulated her answer. "Mr. Eaton is a very kind man who graced many in the Peony Room with an invitation." Half a lie. He had provided the invitation to the prettiest in the salon, where Ondine found herself an uncontested beauty. It had taken a little more than that, and that was the smell of desperation in Mr. Eaton's face at finding himself a pretty little wife to match his status and playing into that insecurity. When she found that the soiree was anything but the class Mr. Eaton had promised Ondine was already too far in to back out.

"He truly wishes the best for us and to marry upwards," Ondine continued, singing praises as her mother had taught her not to speak ill of the feeding hand and Mr. Eaton's hand was a feeding one indeed, with such a vast network, even if those that truly mattered seemed to snub him to a degree, it could mean another entry.

So she continued to feign innocence, not because she truly was so naive not to see Mr. Eaton's attempt to make one of them his wife, but because she knew that Miss Vielfaure knew the underlying words between the sentences said and would understand.

"How did Miss Vielfaure find herself at the soiree?" Ondine returned the question, curious to know how someone of actual class found herself tricked in a dull party like that organised by a man too desperate to see the reflection cast in the mirror.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

Nothing but praise left Ondine's lips. Appropriate, but not really what Léona cared to hear. She couldn't blame Ondine though, after all. Seeing her position, she was likely used to being relegated to such underhanded speech in order to preserve herself and her status... It was a survival tactic, fawning rather than fighting. It was one that women were often taught to use as their only line of defence in such a society, where their wills were rarely considered more than odd quirks and unnecessary decorations adorning a pretty face. Léona contemplated Ondine's face briefly, picking out the undercurrent of her words, a light hum given in response.

"Eaton is an acquaintance. The evening was not as advertised, but I secured myself some future cooperation on his part by attending." she was honest in her own parlour, willing to lay her truth bare in that moment, "Women like ourselves must sometimes do so in order to curry favour among the masses and collect resources." She offered up the similarity she believed she saw between them now, elegantly bringing her teacup to her lips and taking a long, slow sip.

She watched Ondine's face now, searching for any miniscule change in her expression.

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

---

'Women like ourselves,' Leona had said, the solidarity so clearly punctuated that Ondine felt her cheeks warm, her lips pulling up in a wider smile that she tried to modestly hide behind a sip of tea. Yet, it felt unfair. Unfair, for Ondine was meant to have it all. Had her father maintained his promise and dignity with his mother she would have been a duke's daughter instead of a pastry chef of a fallen gentleman's daughter.

"It is hard to procure an introduction without a man in life, I shall be relying on you for the future, miss Vielfaure," Ondine had answered, even if her night hadn't been quite so successful as Leona's had been, given that Ondine had no certainty of an invitation to a next time, or even higher up. It was her only hope now, without a present father-figure in life who was willing to step in for her. In the end, even batting eyelashes and fleeting touches couldn't get Ondine into the attention of higher society, nor the fact that she was born from gentility outside of wedlock.

"Is Miss Vielfaure looking to expand the winery?" Ondine sounded her question finally.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

There was acceptance in that answer. Léona did not consider herself the patroness of all charitable causes, but she was not afraid of extending a hand to women who, in slightly different circumstances, could've lived lives like hers under the thumb of patriarchy yet come out with less success. Especially ones that showed both promise and motivation. Ondine could be something of a passion project, perhaps even an investment, depending on how well she played her cards. "Good then. It looks like we are in agreement." she let her lashes flutter shut briefly, a fresh breath of air to signify the new relationship that the two of them would have moving forward.

She had no hesitance concerning the question of the winery. "Of course. My late husband was quite modest about his expansion into English territory, but I see the way lit ahead for me quite clearly. The only ways to go are forwards and up." Léona brushed a finger against the rim of her cup, "There is preparation to be done first, most certainly," with the underlying tone meaning that she wished to procure a husband and funds to ensure that she had a good launching pad for these ventures, "But the vision I hold cannot be swayed."

Her gaze rested on Ondine, measured. "And you, what do you see for yourself in the coming years?"

 

[Nemopedia]

Ondine Fear

Female | 20 | miss

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Did Ondine dare herself to believe that they were equals to one another? Barely, but Miss Vielfaure did a good job in building up her trust quickly, perhaps the colour of her skin adding into that trust, as Ondine carefully exhaled, letting go of the tight grip of the fabric of her skirt.

"I hope," she started, hesitant still, for Ondine didn't want to say; 'to get what I'm owed', for while she felt such a way that was an inelegant way of putting it, "to elevate my position in society," she decided on honestly, her lips tight at first before remembering to smile.

"If I could achieve half of what you have achieved, I shall be content," Ondine continued to fill in the silence, even if that part was a lie. For, while Ondine greatly respected what the woman had achieved, the pastry maker still hoped for more.