RE: The Daunting Affray! (Round 1: Temple in the Sky!)
02-06-2014, 03:23 AM
Mademoiselle La Musette, or Christine, was going to the theater. When she found herself in a floating temple, she thought it was some champagne and acting-inspired dream. She barely listened to The Artisan's introduction. Something about temples and entertainment? Christine didn't really care. What she did care about was the splendor around her. Were those columns of different marbles? And was that an angel which just flew by?
"A dream plaisant."
For she found herself, introductions being finished, in a completely different part of the temple, with a fountain depicting an angel pouring water for a mass of huddled lepers. She marvelled at the exquisite craftsmanship of the fountain, for it was carved with exquisite detail, every fold of the angel's robe crisp, and the looks on the poor beggars' faces lit up with joy. She was sitting on a wood bench near a bed of flowers, with a small shrine nearby and the temple proper a little ways off, connected to her part of the gardens by a polished pathway.
"Ce soleil est trop fort! It will burn my skin."
With a dextrous flip of her wrist, her parasol was deployed above and behind her head, providing just enough shade to protect her from the no-doubt burning rays of the sunlight. Thus shielded, she sat for a moment, enjoying the perfectly maintained rosebushes across the path.
"But how can they be so parfait? Ah!"
She caught sight of a gardener. It was a lower angel (for this garden was for their enjoyment, and they preferred to have their own maintain it to their standards), and Christine was instantly taken aback by the sight. The gardener was a perfectly formed young woman, with long, flowing, and golden locks of hair fit snugly into a straw hat. Her wings, not yet worthy of flight, just barely peeked out from behind her robe, and a pair of gilded shears were in her hands. Christine, even in her formal dress for the theater, felt jealous. Here was a woman who wore a simple robe of white, even with such a utilitarian thing as a gardener's tool belt, more elegantly than she did her dresses. The Mademoiselle felt a little silly, being so over-dressed when she would much prefer to be in her dancing dress and singing. A note escaped her throat before she remembered the angel, whose stare stopped the song in an instant.
"Who are you?"
Oh! How melodic a voice these angels had! Christine would have loved to have a person like that play music with her, even for just an instant. But the question needed answering, and so she measured her response carefully.
"My name is Christine la Musette. I am un peu lost. Could you help me find my way?"
The angel stopped, unready to answer the question. Perhaps they were not as perfect as they looked. Well, maybe they were very close to it. At least, no-one with such a good singing voice could be that bad.
"Ah... L-let me ask my supervisor. I-"
Here, Christine saw her opening.
"Non, non! I will go to your superior, it is no trouble. If you could tell me where he is, I will leave you to your travail."
The trembling novice pointed down the path, towards the shrine. Strange, Christine didn't notice that building next to it before. It was a little more than a shrine, perhaps a gardening shed and more besides. She stood and curtsied to the gardener, before slowly stepping towards the shrine. She made a careful pace, aware of the gardener's eyes on her, but also enjoying the sights and smells of the immaculate garden. Soon, though, the portal was before her: a dark entryway into the shrine, unblocked by a door but still a threshold into a new place. She stood on the edge and peered in, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lower light within.
Christine's heart leapt into her throat. A handsome male angel sat at a canvas, painting a scene of the temple gardens. She had not the resolve to interrupt him, and so stood at the door, waiting for some acknowledgement of her presence.
"A dream plaisant."
For she found herself, introductions being finished, in a completely different part of the temple, with a fountain depicting an angel pouring water for a mass of huddled lepers. She marvelled at the exquisite craftsmanship of the fountain, for it was carved with exquisite detail, every fold of the angel's robe crisp, and the looks on the poor beggars' faces lit up with joy. She was sitting on a wood bench near a bed of flowers, with a small shrine nearby and the temple proper a little ways off, connected to her part of the gardens by a polished pathway.
"Ce soleil est trop fort! It will burn my skin."
With a dextrous flip of her wrist, her parasol was deployed above and behind her head, providing just enough shade to protect her from the no-doubt burning rays of the sunlight. Thus shielded, she sat for a moment, enjoying the perfectly maintained rosebushes across the path.
"But how can they be so parfait? Ah!"
She caught sight of a gardener. It was a lower angel (for this garden was for their enjoyment, and they preferred to have their own maintain it to their standards), and Christine was instantly taken aback by the sight. The gardener was a perfectly formed young woman, with long, flowing, and golden locks of hair fit snugly into a straw hat. Her wings, not yet worthy of flight, just barely peeked out from behind her robe, and a pair of gilded shears were in her hands. Christine, even in her formal dress for the theater, felt jealous. Here was a woman who wore a simple robe of white, even with such a utilitarian thing as a gardener's tool belt, more elegantly than she did her dresses. The Mademoiselle felt a little silly, being so over-dressed when she would much prefer to be in her dancing dress and singing. A note escaped her throat before she remembered the angel, whose stare stopped the song in an instant.
"Who are you?"
Oh! How melodic a voice these angels had! Christine would have loved to have a person like that play music with her, even for just an instant. But the question needed answering, and so she measured her response carefully.
"My name is Christine la Musette. I am un peu lost. Could you help me find my way?"
The angel stopped, unready to answer the question. Perhaps they were not as perfect as they looked. Well, maybe they were very close to it. At least, no-one with such a good singing voice could be that bad.
"Ah... L-let me ask my supervisor. I-"
Here, Christine saw her opening.
"Non, non! I will go to your superior, it is no trouble. If you could tell me where he is, I will leave you to your travail."
The trembling novice pointed down the path, towards the shrine. Strange, Christine didn't notice that building next to it before. It was a little more than a shrine, perhaps a gardening shed and more besides. She stood and curtsied to the gardener, before slowly stepping towards the shrine. She made a careful pace, aware of the gardener's eyes on her, but also enjoying the sights and smells of the immaculate garden. Soon, though, the portal was before her: a dark entryway into the shrine, unblocked by a door but still a threshold into a new place. She stood on the edge and peered in, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lower light within.
Christine's heart leapt into her throat. A handsome male angel sat at a canvas, painting a scene of the temple gardens. She had not the resolve to interrupt him, and so stood at the door, waiting for some acknowledgement of her presence.