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[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Eg1RC2W.png[/img]     [img]https://i.imgur.com/kAAi3GO.jpg[/img] [/center]
[right][color=52625F]Interactions:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/3YDxiU0.png]Madamoiselle Vanille[/url], [url=https://i.imgur.com/faVWmjH.png]Marceau[/url], [url=https://i.imgur.com/RAL9Qyg.png]Madame Angelique[/url], [url=https://i.imgur.com/6v8qTbT.png]Cousin Gisèle[/url] [@Aeolian]
[code]Madame Angelique's Manor in Monaco[/code][/right][hr]

[color=silver]
Anyone who was anyone within France or Monaco knew it was a grave offense to miss one of Madame Angelique's parties. She was at the height of modern-day aristocracy, a Monégasque woman who bore no children, though her husband had pleaded with her for years to bless him with an heir to inherit his unimaginable fortune. But Madame Angelique was too selfish to sacrifice her lifestyle for childrearing, and so, gifted with the power of an apparition sealed within a bejeweled tube of vibrant crimson lipstick, one kiss and her husband would forget all about wanting an heir; no son or daughter to call his own. She had to keep this up over the years, as the manipulation would eventually fade, and he'd fall back into his yearning for a child until the mind-altering was refreshed once again.

As Bé entered Madame Angelique's grand ballroom, he had hoped to steer clear of the woman, but he would not be afforded such a luxury on this night. Flanked by his mother and Marceau on either side, he took in the grand spectacle of the room, with its soaring ceilings and glass canopy that basked the room in ripples of starlight. Tables of food flanked both sides of the room, an inconceivable bevy of edible delights and delicacies like none could dream of. Of course, this sight did not engender sentiments of awe or shock within the young man. This was nothing new to him, though Marceau certainly gawked at the mounds of foods that created an overwhelming aroma, from chicken confit to lamb shank navarin. The tattooed man beelined toward the kougloff and tarte citron before Bé had a chance to protest. To no one's surprise, Marceau would act out of turn, having never witnessed such a feast. This prompted a weary eye roll from Bé, who regretted having brought someone not of the Ton to such an event.  

[code][In French][/code]

Kissing his mother on the cheek as they parted ways, Bé followed after Marceau to one of the food tables. He looked around the expansive room as he bit into a chocolate-covered strawberry, savoring the sweet burst of flavor that flooded his mouth. He recognized many faces there but had no interest in socializing and only offered pale greetings when approached. Beside him, Marceau had already filled his first plate to the brim and was now digging in to fill another. Placing the half-eaten strawberry on his place, Bé turned to him, already appearing exasperated, [color=52625F]"Marceau, please mind your manners and behave with some civility. This is a soiree, not a shabby all-you-can-eat buffet. Fill your plate lightly, and if you want more, discard what you have and come back to the table for another small serving."[/color] 

Marceau was hardly listening. His mouth was stuffed with escargot, and as he spoke, little pieces flew out of his mouth. Bé looked at him with utter horror and disgust. 

[color=f7976a][b]"No, sir....This is emmm..."[/b][/color] he began between chews, [color=f7976a][b]"...the best food I've ever...."[/b][/color] [i]*chew chew chew*[/i] [color=f7976a][b]"...had. The boys down in Nice won't believe me when I tell them about this...."[/b][/color] He paused, picking up something by the end and dangling it like he was inspecting his latest catch. "What's this?" Marceau asked, hanging it over his mouth as he slowly dropped it in for consumption, smacking his lips loudly as he chewed. [color=52625F][b]"How crude."[/b][/color] Bé said.

[i][color=52625F]I have to get away from this man[/color][/i], he thought, turning for the rear corridor. Bé had been to Madame Angelique's home before; he knew his way around, but more importantly, he knew where he could escape off to for a bit of respite from the noise before his mother would inevitably come looking for him again. Mindful to avoid anyone he knew personally, Bé entered the corridor unscathed, just narrowly missing Madame Angelique, who was marching over to him with a glass of red wine in hand before being pulled away by an older man wearing glasses and a very obvious toupee. Her husband.

Several dimly lit corridors and stairways later, Bé had arrived at his destination—the library. It was a grand room with an old-world smell that soothed his throbbing head as he entered. Old books filled the wooden shelves as high as the ceilings, each with its own rolling ladder. He recalled it fondly, like the library in Beauty and the Beast. The modest library he'd constructed for himself in his Parisian flat couldn't even begin to compare.

As he flipped through an old book dated back to 1935, his head jolted up suddenly. Like the rest of the manor, the library was dimly lit. The moonlight that filtered through the large windows brought far more illumination than the surrounding gas-lit candelabras and sconces could provide. Bé looked around for a moment, certain he'd heard something fall. Sitting the book back on the shelf, he crept toward the general area where he'd heard the sound. The room was silent; only the faint noise of music from the distant ballroom and his own heartbeat echoed. 

Bé rounded the corner, certain this was where he heard the thud, and then he hit his foot on something as he took another step forward but, quite suddenly, made a rapid 180° when the sound of his name reverberated from behind him. The voice that called out to was recognizable, airy and bell-like. Instinctively, Bé let out a sigh of relief. Standing before him was none other than his cousin, Gisèle. She was a petite young woman, only a year or two older than he was. Gisèle was an exceptional beauty, and the daughter of his mother's sister, a woman whom Gisèle tried to pretend didn't exist due to her mental health problems. But Gisèle was a familiar presence and one of the few that Bé was fond of. Whenever his aunt was locked away at an asylum, Gisèle would spend that time living with them, so they had developed, over time, a rather organic sibling-like bond. Only she truly understood what it was like living in that house with all of those, now, [i]very[/i] deceased husbands. 

[color=52625F][b]"Gisèle, you terror. How did you know I was in here?"[/b][/color] 

Gisèle giggled, walking over to Bé and embracing him warmly, [color=bc8dbf][b]"I saw you leaving the ballroom and followed. I almost called out to you, but then the Madame would have had her way with your supple form, and I just couldn't allow that, now could I?"[/b][/color] 

Bé shook his head, [color=52625F][b]"Dear cousin, must you make my skin crawl?"[/b][/color]

Gisèle released him, a faint, devious smile on her lips, [color=bc8dbf][b]"You're such a prude. It tickles me to see you uncomfortable in this way. It's a novelty I enjoy, I must confess."[/b][/color] Bé rolled his eyes, [color=52625F][b]"Charmed..."[/b][/color] he jested. But then he remembered something and kneeled down, picking up the small book he'd hit his foot against earlier. [color=52625F][b]"To be honest, I have little appreciation for these sorts of antics, as you know. I mean, honestly, Gisèle, I do not find it amusing,"[/b][/color] he said accusingly, waving the book in front of her so she'd confess to her crime. 

His cousin's eyebrow arched, a confused expression on her face. She looked at the book curiously, grabbing it from his hand and inspecting it closely before looking back to him, [color=bc8dbf][b]"Pardon? I only just came in here moments ago."[/b][/color] 

[color=52625F][b]"Did you now?"[/b][/color] Bé asked, his tone more serious.

Gisèle nodded, [color=bc8dbf][b]"Of course. What is it?"[/b][/color]

He believed her. One thing Gisèle was not, was a liar. And then his mind went back to the phone call he'd had with Auri a few months prior. He hadn't heard from anyone in the Coven since he'd left that provincial American town all those years ago. Well, aside from Sloane, for whom he spoke with every once in a while. They liked to keep tabs on each other, as this is what friends did, no? But in truth, he hadn't heard from her in a while. Bé had been so busy and preoccupied that he hadn't given it much thought. Could his call with Auri have been why? Bé fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist as he thought about Auri, his brief stint in the coven, and the warning she gave him. When she recommended Bé return, he refused and hung up on her. He didn't want anything to do with the coven or St. Portwell, and her request for his return only stirred up feelings of indignation he had long ago shoved into a small box and hidden away. Truthfully, he didn't wish death on those in the Coven who had already perished, but the way he surmised, getting anywhere near his former coven members would only sew more trouble and chaos. Whether this was his stalk...fan or the thing Auri warned him about, he'd handle it in his own way.

With his guard up, Bé's eyes studied the room carefully as Gisèle moved closer to him, looking around in kind. She shared his sparkling aqua eyes, but hers quivered in contrast to his steady determination. [color=bc8dbf][b]"What? What is it?"[/b][/color] she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

[color=52625F][b]"I believe someone else followed me in here, and they knocked over this book. An amateur blunder, quite frankly."[/b][/color]

Gisèle kept her gaze forward as she slowly began reaching for something in the black purse that hung on her arm, [color=bc8dbf][b]"Are you sure?"[/b][/color]

Bé nodded knowingly, [color=52625F][b]"Mind yourself, Gisèle. We are most certainly not alone."[/b][/color]

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