[hr][center][h1][color=cadetblue]Madame Saint-Claire[/color][/h1][hr][i]Wedding Night[/i][/center][hr]
Though it wouldn't have been as large of an issue to many of the participants in the reception that neither groom nor bride had arrived at the reception precisely as they were supposed to, the lack of punctuality tugged at the Madame's mind, lifting her from the group of posh Muses she had surrounded herself with in a rather brusque manner and pushing her away from the festivities, forcing her toward the Theatre. Araminta Saint-Claire's thoughts were strewn about in confusion as she strode her way down the hall toward the Painting Room, only to arrive at the door, met by the aged man who was now rising from his canvas, the portrait only halfway completed.

[color=cadetblue]"I've just missed them, haven't I?"[/color] The Madame's voice was strained from the near panic she had already put herself in, and the gentleman's solemn nod only pushed her away from the scene yet again, her heels clicking furiously against the wooden floorboards as she strode from the Theatre, her mind set toward the one place she knew to find the Renaissance.

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[color=cadetblue]"Isabel!?"[/color] the Madame could hardly maintain her calm composure she had become so accustomed to wearing, letting it fall from her face as the cry of her Renaissance's name echoed through the house.

The Renaissance's home was only a short walk from the Theatre, standing rather overtly alone from the abodes of the rest of the colonists, surprisingly well-built for what materials the colony had to spare when they had begun to construct Churchill into what was now seen. The house was two stories in height, with an attic atop of that, and no basement below. The color scheme was generally a pale blue throughout the house's interior, though the color would shift occasionally to more eccentric, lively shades in some of the more frequented rooms - the living, dining, and entry rooms all fit a similar energy, much brighter and optimistic than many of the rooms surrounding them.

A single staircase led from the entryway to the second floor, which the Madame quickly ascended as she tugged at the frills of her dress - she cursed, for a moment obviously upset with the pomposity of her get-up - and turned, looking down the hallway which had cut into the walls portals to different rooms, each one designed to how the Renaissance saw fit for them to be. As she strode down the dimly lit corridor, the Madame looked from left, to right, then left again, into each of the rooms - private study, studio, bedroom - then to her right once more, looking into the closet, the door to which had been swung open, and a ladder had been unvelied from above, leading into a black expanse. After a brief pause, Saint-Claire finally lifted herself onto the steps of the ladder, pushing herself upward into the darkness.

As she finished her ascent, the Madame turned to face the one source of light in the attic, coming from the opened window from which the sounds of festivities rang in. She gazed about, letting her eyes fall on each upturned and destroyed painting, the canvas on many of them split and torn, paint and tools strewn about the space in a chaotic fervor. Finally, she spotted a red mass hunched over itself next to a blade cast onto the floor. The Madame let a hand fall upon it, and from it rose the tear-stained face of the Renaissance.

[hr][center][h1][color=lightblue]Cassandra Voss[/color], [color=crimson]Iseabal MacGilios[/color] & [color=cadetblue]Madame Saint-Claire[/color][/h1][hr]Collab w/ [@Heretic][hr][i]Present Day[/i][/center][hr]
Cassandra had made her way to the house of the Renaissance, though it took her some time to convince the few Muses stationed outside that she was to be let in. After she had finally made it inside, however, the Madame had become another serious obstruction, which took further convincing to finally allow the Vanguard to see Isabel. Cass was led upstairs and into the studio, noticeably bare for what it was intended; the room itself was a white color with a single lamp hanging from above, and had placed at it's center a stand and canvas, which was turned so that one could not see it's painting from the door. From behind the canvas stepped Isabel, dressed incredibly modest in a gray floral dress, which reached down to her feet and wrapped around her ankles.

The Renaissance led the three of them downstairs, entering the living room at the rear of the house. After Madame Saint-Claire spoke quietly to a housemaid, the three of them spread throughout the room, the Madame sitting at the edge of a settee, Isabel in a polished rocking chair, and Cass standing in the middle. Though there was a bit of unease felt between the two Muses as the Vanguard refused to take a seat, they both thought better than to speak of it, until the housemaid arrived just a short moment later, carrying in tea.

[color=cadetblue]"Have a drink, darling, if you'd like,"[/color] peculiarly, Saint-Claire spoke kindly to Cassandra, pouring a porcelain cup partially full with the steaming liquid, sliding it across the short table toward the Vanguard.

Cassie nodded, whispering a quick "thank you" as she reached for the cup of tea. Maybe it would help to ease the anxiety she was currently experiencing, but she'd nonetheless remain standing.

Taking a long drink from her own decorated teacup, the Renaissance fluttered her eyes close as she set the cup back onto its saucer, lowering it down to her lap. After a swift sigh escaped her lips, Isabel finally let her eyes open, though kept her gaze lowered as she spoke. [color=crimson]"So, I understand you want to speak to me about my marriage. Very well,"[/color] her cold blue eyes lifted to meet Cassandra's before she continued. [color=crimson]"What would you have me do about my husband?"[/color] Her voice was darkened and serious, which stung out at the air with a sharpened edge.

[color=lightblue]“Well for one, you can both try to get along. He's not easy, trust me I would know, but we all need this to work. The majority of Churchill depends on you too now."[/color] Cassie was becoming slightly irritated that Isabel was being so difficult in attempting to make her marriage work. Did she even care about her people? [color=lightblue]"If there's anything I can do to help, you just let me know, but you have to swallow your pride and fulfill your duty. That's how it is, and that's how it'll continue to be. It may not be something you want, but you don't have much of a choice."[/color]

Cassie took another sip of tea, eyeing the Renaissance as she waited for her to respond, almost as if challenging her. Isabel sat back, letting the curve of the wooden bands of her chair tilt her backwards as she tried to let her nerves ease. [color=crimson]"You speak as if I'm at fault for your Spartan's brash behavior,"[/color] though her words could have been an attack, the way Isabel let them roll from her mouth into the air gave off a strange relaxed tone, as if she were stating the obvious.

[color=crimson]"Yet you truly wouldn't be so quick to think that as soon as I go to my husband and apologize for his behavior, then all of our troubles will go away,"[/color] the Renaissance's gaze drifted about now, not entirely set on one thing to look upon. [color=crimson]"I would think you of all people would see what disruption Theodore caused..."[/color] absent-mindedly, Isabel grabbed for her tea and took a drink, allowing a brief moment for Saint-Claire to pipe up, [color=cadetblue]"the Vanguard have not taken this lightly, I can assure you. What ensures that there remains a balance of power within your faction? Only the blood of your own comrades. But, just how long can the King truly keep his crown?"[/color]

Isabel's eyes broke from their haze and locked onto the Madame, a coldness seeping into their already frozen color. Saint-Claire sat back in her seat, pulling her cup toward her lips to show that she was finished speaking. The Renaissance then reset her gaze to look once again at Cassandra as she spoke, her voice finally seeming to be properly distressed given the circumstances. [color=crimson]"What would you have me say to him? What words will make their way past his ears so that he may finally find a meaning in them?"[/color]

[color=lightblue]"Have you even discussed each other's expectations for this marriage?"[/color] Cassie spread open her arms as she talked, a sign she was becoming increasingly agitated. [color=lightblue]"Because that's the first topic you both should have addressed!"[/color] Now pacing back and forth, Cassie took a quick glance at Saint-Claire, and she could have sworn the Madame would at the very least like to exchange a few words with her. 

[color=lightblue]"No, you know what? It's fine. If even the sight of him repulses you, there's nothing we can do about that. But let's get one thing straight. You [I]will[/I] at the very least pretend that this marriage is working, or we are gonna have some serious problems."[/color]

Without a second to spare, Cassie turned to leave the Renaissance's home. On her way out, she deliberately yet delicately placed the teacup on the entryway table before opening the door and shutting it close behind her in a rather brisk manner, leaving both women alone to react. They sat there in silence for a short moment, Isabel gripping the handle of her cup tightly as Saint-Claire sipped gently at her drink, letting the air still to a deafening quiet.

[color=cadetblue]"I swear, it never seems to make much difference what you say to those lot,"[/color] the Madame placed her teacup and saucer down on the table while she continued. [color=cadetblue]"I do hope that [i]that[/i] one doesn't become too great a problem, or I'd hate to have to--"[/color]

[color=crimson]"Have the handmaiden prepare a bath for me,"[/color] the Renaissance stood suddenly from her chair, placing her cup quickly beside the Madame's before she strode toward the front of her house, then to the stairs. [color=crimson]"I'm going to go see my [i]husband[/i]."[/color]