rcsseauxs-blog

[rcsseauxs-blog]

mskluger‌:

“you mean the insinuation is frightening, mausezähnchen.” there seems to be lines across the bridge of the woman’s nose that, if read in braille, would translate to the disdain sylvianne kluger felt carrying her own luggage. she observes the scene from behind thick black glasses with thickly glassed eyes, then looks back towards the estate before her. “that is broken yellow tape roped off in an uneven shape. nothing more, nothing less.”

“I suppose,” Vanessa shrugs, though she certainly doesn’t sound entirely convinced, “Though I find that symbols can be a great deal more powerful that we give them credit for, after all, you wouldn’t drink from a bottle labeled with nothing more than a skull and crossbones...that may be ripped yellow tape, but I would argue that revolutions have been started by less, merely insinuations or not...”

Fresh Air | Timestamp #001

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artjomjaager‌:

The stage may have been different, but she was a performer all the same. Her movements looked as choreographed as when he had first laid eyes on her. Ah, Giselle. What a sight you are. He watched, eyes fixated on the flightless bird who regained her wings to paint the sky, unable to turn away. Many dusty moons ago, they’d be in this same spot - sharing a bottle wine and discussing her latest work of art. One that now adorned his home.

“I thought I’d find you here, mon étoile.” His arms beckon for an embrace. “Far too long,” he agreed, but his eyes fell to her culinary creation, “No, not at all. Though, I’m far too hungry to see you go just yet. I hope you’re in the mood to share.”

Artjom had always been incredibly kind to her, something she appreciated quite deeply, especially coming from a world so cutthroat and cruel. She liked to think they were cut from the same cloth as conversation had always flowed so easily between the two of them. He was an easy conversationalist who shared her deep appreciation for the arts, someone who she had come to consider a friend, however elusive he may remain. 

“I’m afraid I’ll always remain a creature of dreadful habit. I always return to what I know well,” Vanessa smiles, as they embrace, chuckling as he spotted the dish she had made. Perhaps it was true her artistic talent flowed into the even the culinary realms (it was a shame she was such a terrible student in just about every other subject). “Well, luckily for you I’ve already cut the sandwich in half, so there’s plenty to go around,” she replies, offering him the plate before popping in a small bite of her delight, “You must tell me how you’ve been keeping, my dear Artjom, you look well as ever.”

A Bite to Eat | Timestamp #003

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kieranxmvrick‌:

When he heard about what had taken place, everyone here became a suspect, a murder doesn’t happen without motive. Many here would either fall victim or some way involved. He had stepped out to light a cigarette when he saw someone off in the distance. Alone, too close to the woods. That didn’t seem right either. He walked on the grounds hearing her speak what sounded like french. “No clue what ya said there.” he stated before she spoke english. “It is.” you were either here one day, and then gone the next. That is was death was. He’d know it all too well. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, especially if a crime has taken place.”

She notices the man out of the corner of her eye, before tilting her head slightly, “Crime?” she asks, a frown forming on her already concerned features. She couldn’t say she was completely surprised by the sentiment-- it wasn’t although she had her own experience with false rulings of ‘accidents’. “We were told it was nothing more than a tragic accident...he fell and drowned...” Vanessa elaborated, not sure what to make of the entire situation. “Besides...I’m not really alone, you’re here, aren’t you?” she asks, “And my sister she’s not exactly here, but she’s back at the castle.”

Fresh Air | Timestamp #001

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julietvien‌:

“I never really fell into anything artistic,” Juliet admits. “I got a little obsessed with perfecting my body after my accident, optimal health, and then I fell into the activism –– even missing a leg people can be so dismissive of me because I’m fit.” She laughs, but isn’t all there, the heart of the laughter. “I’ve seen some of your work, it’s beautiful.” 

“That’s quite understandable, out health is something we so often take for granted until we no longer have the luxury of doing so,” Vanessa muses, listening to the woman’s story. “I imagine it’s terribly difficult being dismissed, especially for being fit-- if anything it shows how incredible your dedication is,” Vanessa nods decidedly, before flushing slightly, “Ah, merci, Juliet, you are far too kind.”

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imani-rose‌:

“Vanessa!” Imani saunters over, a pleased expression lighting up her face as she places her hands on her hips “I’m not going to lie, duckie. I’m excited that you’re here, but we’ll get into that later.” Then she recalls what the woman had said, glancing at the many cupboards in the kitchen, “Knowing you, you’ve gone blind so what is it you’re looking for?” She crosses the room, half-heartedly opening the first one she finds and grimaces at a box of tea, turning it over in her hand, “Dio, they better have some coffee in here or i’ll actually die.”

“Imani, darling!” Vanessa greets with vibrant smile, upon recognizing the opera singer. It was always a pleasant sight to see a familiar face within the halls and Imani’s was always a delightful acquaintance. 

“Oh- tea!” Vanessa exclaims as the box seemingly appears in Imani’s hand, as if out of thin air, “Just what I was looking for-- It’s seems you must have the magic touch, Imani; I’ve been here for god knows how long searching for this very box...”

A Bite to Eat | Timestamp #003

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A Late Afternoon | Timestamp #004

@ofjacques​

She’s always been partial to the courtyards of the Winter Palace, even when she was still a dancer. There was a comfort in it’s easy breeze, the aroma of fresh flowers filling her lungs-- it was easy to loose oneself here. This afternoon, however, she had come with a more specific purpose in mind, her arms kept full with two sketchbooks and far more pencils than anyone could possibly deem necessary. 

Her feet move confidently through the rows of trees and greenery, for she knows the exact spot she seeks out-- a small bench with the loveliest view of the rosebushes (she can only hope that Artjom hadn’t moved the bench since the last time she had been his guest). Upon arriving at the desired location, Vanessa stops in her tracks. Not because the bench is no longer there, but rather that it’s already preoccupied. Preoccupied by a man she had once come to call her own. 

She ought not to have been so surprised to see him here, Arthur fell perfectly in-line with the sort of company Artjom liked to keep, though it did little to calm the jarringly fast beat of her heart. Yes, they had parted on reasonably good terms, their split had lacked a certain ugliness one might expect of two passionate lovers who had fallen so wholly and quickly for one another, but Vanessa had yet to come to terms with how she had so quietly isolated herself after the accident. It had been ages since she had last spoken to him and her words fail her now, once again.

“Arthur...” she finally manages, though her words are slightly breathless, “Tu as l'air bien...” (it’s the least she can say).

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cioras‌:

@rcsseauxs // timestamp 3

❝ The kitchen seemed somewhat like its own little dimension, somehow removed from the rest of the glittering palace. Certainly emptier; it was the only place Artjom hadn’t been able to cram full of artefacts, and not many of the guests had ventured down there yet. All in all, Nikolai could allow his guard to drop slightly.

Scouring the cupboards for anything edible, he began to hum a little tune. A rollicking dance his mama had taught him to play on the fiddle – it had lyrics as well, but they were far too inappropriate to be repeated within half a mile of polite company. Still, the song put a small smile on his face, so much so that he only noticed the woman once he’d found a biscuit tin on the top shelf and was looking around to see if he could find a stool.

There was no stool, or chair of any variety, and his leg already ached so much that the last thing he wanted to do was kneel on the marble counter. Glancing back at the woman, he wondered if she would be able to help.

“Sorry, could you –” for a moment he can’t figure out what to say; kitchens and biscuit tins are largely new territory for someone better suited to museum archives and clients’ living rooms. “Could you please give me a hand getting these biscuits down?” ❞

Vanessa had been so caught up in searching for her own small meal, that she was slightly caught off guard by the time the man gained her full attention, motioning to the tin of biscuits placed reproachfully out reach. She looks from the man then back to the biscuits before piecing together the extent of his request. 

She has to think for a moment-- once upon a time she might have leaped in a graceful swell, reaching for the tin without a second thought, but her body betrayed her. No longer could she make miracles happen with the point of her toes, the arch of her back; she had to evolve to think differently now. 

What she does spot, however, it the handle of a wooden broom quietly leaning against the wall, and she suddenly has an idea. Taking the broom by the handle, Vanessa made her way towards the man and the high shelf. “May I?” she asks as she hoists the broomstick upwards with one hand, slowly pushing the tin closer and closer towards the edge of the shelf until it’s within reach. 

Pushing her weight into her toes, a feeling so heart-wrenchingly familiar, but still slightly painful, she reaches a long limb upwards to finally bring the tin down. “Voilà,” Vanessa says, feeling rather proud of herself, “I suppose having long arms can be rather helpful every now and then, even if my ballet teachers complained about them constantly...”

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A Bite to Eat | Timestamp #003

@imani-rose

“Sachets de thé, sachets de thé...” Vanessa mutters to herself in French as she crouches down in the pantry searching for tea bags to no avail. She had never been much of a coffee drinker, given she had never been allowed the drink during her time as a ballerina, instead developing a taste for a spot of green tea with honey.

“I suppose this place is a coffee drinker’s paradise...coffee beans, more coffee beans,” Vanessa sighs heavily as another woman wanders in, “Or perhaps I’m simply blind and have overlooked the tea altogether...Can I help you find anything, mon cher? I seem to have found everything but the one thing I’m looking for...”

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A Bite to Eat | Timestamp #003

@artjomjaager

The journey to Estonia from Paris had been a long and arduous one, a journey that had left her aching for a bite to eat. Given that it was off-hours, the kitchen was seemingly empty, the staff no doubt taking a well-earned break before beginning the difficult task of preparing dinner for so many guests. Spotting the loaf of breach left perched on one of the shelves, Vanessa had the thought to make a quick medianoche, from the leftover meat that would likely be found in the fridge. 

Just as she had put the finishing touches on the sandwich and was about to make her way up the stairs to bring some of the food to her sister, who was undoubtedly equally hungry, Vanessa came face to face with a familiar face-- one, Artjom Jääger, to be exact. 

“Mon cher, Artjom!” she greets warmly, as she recognizes the man, “It’s truly been far too long...I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made myself a small snack to keep me tied over until dinner.”

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julietvien‌:

“Yes that’s me.” She grins, one that opens up her whole face with its show of contentment. “I’m flattered you know that, since we were in different dance circles.” Juliet flushes slightly, trying to sober her slightly star-struck reaction. Many dancers in her company had looked up to those slightly older than them, at the peak of their careers. Vanessa had been among Juliet’s favourites. “I can’t say it was what I wanted to do with my life, but now that I’m doing it I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do. Give some volume to voices often ignored.” 

Vanessa tilts her head softly as she listened to Juliet speak intently. The younger women was quite endearing in her response and it was always flattering to meet someone that recognized from her days as a ballerina, as opposed to those as painter. “The dance world is a small world, though I’m sure you know that as well as I,” Vanessa chuckles knowingly, “But you are certainly wise beyond your years, mon amie, though I know I feel the same way about painting. If I couldn’t be a dancer, than I couldn’t possibly imagine not being able to create sort of art at all...”

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artisticfade‌:

@rcsseauxs

it’s sam’s least favorite time of the day, the sun boring hot and heavy through the windows and across the hallways, the frantic new-coming of visitors and guests alike, the castle filling up and up and up, and sam is expected to be on his best behavior– which is of course impossible. sam has no best behavior to fall back on, no secondary personality to brandish, no better manners to adhere to. he is only this: sneering and impatient, tall and straight in the black suit of his station, ready to catch whatever luggage gets thrown his way, but unerringly unhappy about it.

this hour’s tribulation comes in the form of an admittedly beautiful woman, all lean lines and dark hair, her bags suggesting more bite than bark, but he lifts them up without any outward complaint except a sigh as he strides around her as though she is little more than a pillar to keep the ceiling up. he steps long-legged and bored onto the stairwell leading up to the second floor, a minimal glance backwards in her general direction to indicate she should follow. “this way to your rooms, my liege lady,” he mutters dryly and then chuckles. “and if you see any rats, don’t worry about it at all.”

Vanessa admittedly packed on the heavier side, but what’s one to do when having lug along all her canvases, paints, palette knives and more-- with all the gorgeous scenery surrounding Artjom’s castle, it was impossible not to feel the overwhelming pull to create. One of the galleries she regularly exhibited at had announced there was to be an auction of her latest work and Vanessa had been hoping to introduce some of the paintings she’s created here to the collection. The man who’s come to help her with her bags appears to be an unfamiliar face-- she had been a guest of Artjom’s for a number of years but had yet to make the acquaintance of this particular bag-hand. 

“Merci beaucoup,” she thanks warmly, as he takes a set of her luggage towards the direction her room. Despite the fact the man’s less than pleasant demeanor, she’s remains rather unaffected. Sure, it was a slightly jarring change from the over-eager, brightly smiling staff she’d come to expect, though perhaps his attitude is to be blamed on the chaos of the bustingly move-in. “Well, so long as the rats don’t chew up any my canvases, I think I can manage,” Vanessa responds with the quirk of her lips, as she noticed one of her own works hanging on the walls-- Artjom had become a bit of a collector over the years, but seeing her own work on his walls after so long was still a rather humbling experience.

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Missing Brushes | Timestamp #002

@lilithd-aniels

Vanessa looks around her room desperately, unable to find the suitcase containing her art supplies, specifically her prized paintbrushes that she never left the house without. Rushing outside, she notices Lilith, “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you have seen a grey suitcase around here, mon cher? It’s covered in rogue paint stains, pretty hard to miss...” she asks.

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frozengore‌:

Penelope wouldn’t usually approach others in such a horrid situation, but she realized that even Vanessa didn’t seem to know what to say. placing her hands in her pockets, looking out to the caution tape and then over to the brunette only to manage a sigh. “they said he slipped.” she begins, but deeply she knew something wasn’t right about the situation. “it is, but the timing couldn’t be all the more.” she said softly as her eyes dart out further into the forest. “you ever hear about the twins?” 

“Lieu maudit,” Vanessa mutters in soft French. Perhaps she was foolish to believe in child’s tales of curses and spirits, but looking at the caution tape, seeing the site of something as horrific as death, she struggles to think of anything else. “The twins...” Vanessa echoes, hollowly, “were another tragedy in their own right...” She could only suppose that old traditions died hard, especially here at the Winter Palace.

Fresh Air | Timestamp #001

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julietvien‌:

@rcsseauxs timestamp #2

Juliet had now felt like she quite fit in at this event, no matter what Arabella had told her to convince her to be her plus one, but the fact that she is now facing a woman who had been in a circumstance very similar to her own made Juliet feel tremendously odd. Two former dancers whose careers were ended by vehicles. Vanessa had kept all her limbs though. Juliet had not been a ballerina, not in the same capacity at least, her work had been contemporary, mixing several styles with some acrobatics. She can’t be sure if Vanessa Rosseaux would actually know who she is. 

Juliet tightens the belt on her coat as she steps over to the woman. The gatehouse is cool and an easy way to get some fresh air. 

“Salut,” Juliet greets in French. “Votre voyage s'est-il bien passé?” 

Greeted by the sound of her native language, Vanessa cannot help but smile, especially when she realizes she is speaking to a fellow former dancer. She recalls when she had first heard of Juliet’s story-- it had been a mere few years after her own tragedy and she had found Juliet’s efforts of activism to be quite inspiring, not to mention Vanessa had finally realized how lucky she had been that she had been the results of her own accident. Sure she could no longer dance, but at least her legs had healed to a certain extent. “Oui, mon cher-- the trip was lovely,” Vanessa replies, “You are Juliet Shain, yes?” Vanessa asks, with a fond smile, “I do think I’ve seen your social media work-- it’s very impressive and important.”

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EPISODE 1 | OPEN STARTER CALL

Like this post/reply with which timestamp you’d like for a starter from Vanessa!

TIMESTAMP #1

room references: courtyard, outside, forest by the castle

objective: your character has just arrived at the winter palace and takes a moment to take in the scenery. might be a good chance to run into someone new, see the ripped ‘caution’ tape from the mikkelsen death.

TIMESTAMP #2

room references: second - fourth floor, your suite, inside or outside.

objective: oh dear, you’ve brought far too much luggage with you. maybe seek help from a neighbour? a good way to bring up some conversation.

TIMESTAMP #3

room references: cellar, kitchen or gatehouse.

objective: long travels leave you parched. maybe grab a snack from the cellar or cook something up in the kitchen? it might be a way to impress other guests with your skills.  

TIMESTAMP #4

room references: library, forum, or courtyard.

objective: mr. jaagar has plenty of books to keep one company, how about a sit in this 1700′s styled library, or maybe find some time for yourself reading in the small garden, bring a coat: it’s still cold out.

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Fresh Air | Timestamp #001

After finally unpacking her things, Vanessa thought a bit of fresh air would do her well-- after all, Estonia had such lovely scenery to offer. As she made her way out of the manor and towards the edge of the woods, Vanessa took a moment to smile-- she had been a guest here numerous times before 2016, so there was a certain sense of nostalgia tied to stepping on the grounds once again. It is then she realizes she is not longer alone, “C'est très beau, n'est ce pas,” she comments idly, before her eyes land on the caution tape in the distance, “Though that’s certainly a frightening sight,” she adds motioning towards the tape, “It’s truly so tragic...”

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