#Elegance by Bertrand

[isilrina]

Happy Art Monday! I'm very excited to share the finished drawing of Moon Jeong-Hui, which I completed last Friday. I'm thrilled with how it turned out! I envisioned him with the likeness of the Korean actor Song Kang. As of today, it might be my best drawing. Since last week's WIP, I've made some changes: added a watch on his wrist, and now he's directly looking at us. His shirt collar features the embroidered logo of the workwear fashion brand managed by his company, Bertrand, called Elegance. Their slogan? "For everyone. Because you matter." Jeong-Hui stands in front of the vertical slats blinds of the meeting room, where he'll spend countless hours helping Angeliki manage her huge company. I loved drawing the watch, the logo, the glass surfaces of his glasses and watch, and of course, his hair. I'll share the time-lapse in the future. A bit more about Jeong-Hui: he was promoted to be Angeliki's secretary as a trap set by his supervisor, expecting him to fail. But Jeong-Hui is exceptional at his job. Starting at the bottom and climbing the ranks, he knows the company inside out. His dedication and problem-solving skills are unmatched. Without Jeong-Hui, the company's crisis at the start of the story would have caused severe damage, and Angeliki might not have survived without losing everything. He's truly indispensable. I might draw him more in the future, so stay tuned for that and the upcoming time-lapse!

Have a little quote from Jeong-Hui that fit this drawing perfectly: "Let me know if you need anything else, Noona."

Also you can find the playlist I listen to while drawing/writing anything related to "The Heiress" on spotify

[obeyfeline]

Gift ideas:

Craft made leather goods, below by Bertrand Montillet www.abzaroke.fr and Victor Dast www.atelier dast.com, respectively.

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle Series

The Game of Kings 2 

Chapter 11

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement) 

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 

Marabelle Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing – Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor 

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson 

Most characters belong to Pixelberry Studios 

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material & innuendo, crude language, intimidation, physical violence.

Not Beta’d - Please excuse all errors. 

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement 

Words: 3259 

The Game of Kings, Part 2 – Chapter 11 

Chapter Summary – It is game day! Let the games begin... Liam discovers Leo’s plans to abdicate. Sophie is targeted by an opponent. 

Music Inspiration: Till Forever Falls Apart, Ashe, FINNEAS 

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother. 

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events. 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24, dialogue prompts: “(Congrats.) You’re one of us now.”, ‘games’ 

The Royal Cordonian Polo Club, Game Day 

The sun was shining brightly over the expansive polo field, casting a golden glow over the lush green grass and fluttering banners that adorned the venue. It was the day of the highly anticipated charity polo match to raise funds for flooding relief due to the earthquake that struck the coastal duchy of Portavira.  

The atmosphere was charged with excitement and anticipation as spectators arrived at the venue. Royalty, nobility, and the common folk were all greeted by the sight of elegant tents and marquees set up around the field. Grandstand bleachers were erected around the perimeter of the playing field to the south, while across the field in the VIP area, distinguished guests and sponsors were treated to a luxurious experience. The VIP tent was elegantly decorated with floral arrangements and comfortable seating, offering a panoramic view of the polo field. Waitstaff moved gracefully among the tables, offering champagne and hors d'oeuvres to the noble classes enjoying the pre-match festivities. 

Members of Liam’s team, Sophie, Drake, Melanie and Maxwell were assembled at center field waiting anxiously, but enthusiastically, to start the match. The opposing team members, Rashad, Penelope, Neville, Kiara and Tariq stood opposite, discussing strategy in hushed voices. As each player stood beside their steeds, Marabelle snorted impatiently, muscles tense with anticipation as she felt the energy pulsing through the crowd. Sophie stroked Marabelle’s mane as her hooves pawed the ground, eager to explode into action. 

Standing beside Maxwell, Liam listened intently to Drake’s scheme to outwit the other team but was periodically distracted by Sophie’s voice as she spoke soothingly to her horse. He looked over and admired the smooth contour and silky skin of her neck as her long hair was pulled up and hidden underneath her safety helmet. As Maxwell asked Drake a question, Liam stepped closer to Sophie and murmured into her ear, trying not to be overheard. "I have a confession to make.” 

"What's that?" Sophie giggled as his breath tickled her neck. 

"I'm totally checking you out right now." Liam shamelessly flirted, watching her reaction with delight, and enjoying the moment. 

"Oh, am I distracting you, Your Highness?" Sophie cheekily whispered, grinning wide. 

"Extremely," he admitted, their banter adding an extra layer of excitement between them. 

"Then we're even," she smirked, batting her eyes. 

"Even for what?" Liam chuckled not knowing where Sophie was going with that comment. 

"For the flowers and the note." Liam paused, recalling the gift he had sent over to the Beaumont estate on Valentine’s Day. 

"Ah, yes, the flowers and the note," he said, biting his lip, trying but failing not to smile. 

"That was very sweet of you." Sophie replied glancing up, watching his reaction through her eyelashes, smiling demurely. 

"Well, I try." Liam winked, turning his attention to acknowledge the referee walking towards him. 

Melanie could not help but notice their intimate, and soft conversation as she needlessly adjusted her mare’s saddle, moving in close by to stand beside Drake. 

“Congrats. You’re one of us now.” Drake’s voice interrupted her thoughts with his congratulatory remark to Sophie as she spun around to his voice, her annoyance clear.  

“What?” Melanie snapped; her tone sharp as she pivoted to him. 

"Whoa ... whoa, Smithson! Calm down..." Drake responded, raising his hands in a placating gesture, seeing Melanie's irritation. The tension between them was now palpable, adding an uncomfortable twist to the atmosphere between them. 

Melanie's frustration simmered just below the surface as she glared at Drake, her eyes narrowing. She had always felt like an outsider amongst this group, and seeing Sophie being welcomed so warmly and repeatedly by everyone only intensified her feelings of exclusion and jealousy. 

Drake, sensing her ire, took a step back. "I didn't mean to upset you, Melanie," he said, his tone more cautious now, trying to diffuse the situation. "We're just happy to have Sophie join us." 

Melanie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sure, whatever," she muttered, turning her attention back to adjusting her mare's saddle. But deep down, she couldn't shake off the hurt of feeling left out once again. 

Drake's face fell. He'd meant what he'd said, but it seemed like no matter what he did, it was always the wrong thing where Melanie was concerned. 

He opened his mouth to apologize, but then stopped himself, realizing that anything else he said would only make things worse. 

With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked away, leaving Melanie to stew in her own irritation. 

Meanwhile, Sophie, oblivious to their underlying tension, beamed with excitement at being accepted by the group. She couldn't wait to join them in their adventures and create lasting memories together. Little did she know the dynamics within the group were about to shift in unexpected ways very soon. 

The referee approached Liam, bowing respectfully before him, presenting the game ball with a solemn air. Liam inspected it carefully, making sure it was in good condition. After confirmation, Liam signaled all the players to mount. 

"Good luck out there, everyone," the referee said, and then he stepped back, signaling the start of the match. 

Liam led his teammates as they kicked their horses into action, eager to get the game underway. 

Sophie, riding Marabelle moved alongside Liam. Her heart was racing, and she could not believe she was about to play in front of such a large crowd which included the king and queen.

She looked over at Liam and nervously smiled. "There are so many people here," she called out. 

"Yeah, this is the biggest turnout we've had in a while," he responded. "Are you ready?" 

"As ready as I'll ever be," she answered, feeling the butterflies return to her stomach. 

"Just focus on the game and having fun. That's what it's all about," Liam smiled. 

"Right," she said, taking a deep breath. 

"We've got this," he assured her. 

As all the players took to the field, the crowd cheered and waved flags bearing the colors of their choice team. 

Liam rode his horse first onto the field. His teammates followed behind him, each looking confident and determined. 

"And here they are, ladies and gentlemen, the Cordonian Royal Polo team and the Domvallien Polo Club team!" The announcer’s voice boomed over the sound system.

The applause was thunderous as Liam smiled and waved at the cheering crowd. 

Lord Rashad, the heir to the Duchy of Domvallier led his team onto the field as he also waved to the crowd. 

"Let's give them a big hand," the announcer continued. "They're going to be giving their all today, in support of the relief efforts for the victims of the recent floods in Portavira." 

Sophie smiled and nodded, trying to calm her nerves, as she noticed her Aunt Bethany and Daniel waving to her from the stands as she rode by.

The starting pistol sounded and the game was underway. Liam and Drake took turns driving the ball toward the opposing team's goal. Sophie watched their fluid movements with admiration, trying to predict their next moves alongside Maxwell. Across the field, Neville and Rashad were also closely following the play as Kiara and Melanie followed closely behind Penelope and Tariq. 

Liam passed the ball to Sophie, who received it confidently, her body moving in sync with Marabelle. 

She deftly guided the ball toward the opposing team's goal, her mallet striking the ball with precision. 

The crowd cheered as the ball sailed through the air and landed in the net. 

"And the first point goes to the Cordonian Royal Polo Team!" the announcer shouted. 

"That was incredible," Liam shouted, smiling with admiration. 

Sophie smiled back, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Let's keep it up," he said, giving her a wink. 

Sophie's heart fluttered, and she nodded, her determination renewed. 

As the game progressed, Neville seized an opportunity for the opposing team and scored a goal, eliciting cheers from his teammates and spectators. Passing by Sophie, he could not resist shooting her a snide glare, his expression smug and condescending. 

 Sophie, unfazed by Neville's behavior, remained focused on the match and ignored his intimidation tactics. She knew that in polo, actions spoke louder than words, and she was determined to contribute to her team's success. 

 Liam, watching the interaction, felt a surge of protective instinct towards Sophie. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Neville's antics to ensure that Sophie was not affected by his arrogance. 

Sophie and Liam's performance throughout the game was electric and their team was flawless as they dominated the field.  

Sophie felt a sense of pride as the crowd cheered. She could not believe she was actually doing this. It was exhilarating. 

VIP Tent 

"Duke Barthelemy, so glad you could make it," Constantine welcomed, offering his hand. 

"Constantine, good to see you," Barthelemy acknowledged, shaking his hand. Dressed in a tailored suit, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly groomed, he took a seat at the table next to the King. 

“Your Majesty.” Bertrand bowed. "This is quite a turnout," Bertrand commented, surveying the crowd. 

"Indeed, it is," Constantine agreed. "I see Maxwell and Sophia have joined my son's team for the match." 

"I must admit, I'm a bit surprised to see my youngest son playing on the same team as the prince," Barthelemy said, a hint of disapproval in his voice. 

"Nonsense, Barthelemy," Constantine replied. "Maxwell is a fine player, and a valuable addition to the team.” 

"And it's always paramount to support the Crown," Bertrand added. 

"Yes, well, I suppose," Barthelemy said, his lips pursed. 

"Oh, come now, Barthelemy," Constantine chided, laughing heartily. "There's no need to be so apprehensive. This is a charity match, after all. Lighten up and enjoy yourself." 

Barthelemy gave a tight smile. "Of course. You are right, your majesty.”  

"Good," Constantine said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, let's watch these youngsters put on a show." 

“However, Constantine, I am surprised your other son is absent from today’s activities."

"He's a grown man, Barthelemy. He has his own life." 

"Still, this is a very important day for the monarchy, and he should be here, supporting the Crown and country. He is the Crown Prince." 

"Leo has a lot on his mind, and he needs time to sort through it." Constantine replied stoically, purposefully not revealing any information to his old friend.

Barthelemy noticed the look of irritation on the King's face. "I see. Forgive me for being forward, Your Majesty, but I feel the need to remind you that this is a pivotal moment for Cordonia. And as the Crown Prince, Leo has a responsibility to the people of our country along with his betrothed." 

"I'm well aware of my son's duties," Constantine replied, his voice low and terse. 

"Come now, Constantine. There is no need to be distressed." Regina patted his arm trying to defuse her husband's aggravation.

The game was nearing half-time as Barthelemy watched his niece with admiration. His thoughts were singular... Her dedication, talent, and composure on the field spoke volumes about her character and capabilities. 

As he watched Sophie and Liam's undeniable chemistry and teamwork, Barthelemy's thoughts turned to her future. He knew that Sophie had all the qualities of a great leader and ruler. Her compassion, intelligence, and ability to inspire others were qualities that would make her a remarkable queen one day. 

King Constantine glanced at Barthelemy, noticing the proud smile on his face. "She's quite impressive, isn't she?" the king remarked, acknowledging Sophie's talent. 

Barthelemy nodded, his gaze never leaving Sophie. "Indeed, Your Majesty. She has exceeded all expectations today. It's moments like these that reaffirm my belief in her potential." 

 'She will make a remarkable queen', Barthelemy mused, having heard abdication rumors amongst the nobility; his speculation peaked.

The match continued with intense excitement, each team giving their best effort. Sophie and Liam's team kept their lead, highlighting their dominance on the polo field. The atmosphere was filled with excitement and anticipation as the last moments of the first half approached. 

At half-time, the players dismounted and enjoyed refreshments in the players tent. Speaking with Liam, Rashad asked what he thought of Leo’s phone call to his father, the king.

Liam sighed, "Leo is probably just frustrated and needed time to think, away from the palace."

Rashad looked concerned. "But the timing couldn't be worse. With your father's health declining, and Leo refusing to take the throne..." 

"Rashad, I've known Leo my entire life. He's stubborn, but he always comes around." 

"I hope you're right," Rashad sighed. 

“My apologies, your highness,” a royal courtier addressed Liam, interrupting the conversation, handing Liam an envelope.

After ending his conversation with Rashad, Liam read the note from his father announcing that he was to meet with his father at the Royal tent at the end of the match. 

As the game progressed, it was clear that the Cordonian Royal Polo Team had a strong advantage to win.. They scored several goals, much to the delight of the crowd.  

Sophie felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins with each successful play. The cheers and applause from the crowd fueled her determination, and she rode Marabelle with unwavering focus and skill. 

Sophie's skills were improving with every play, and she quickly became an asset to the team. 

However, as the game continued, she could not help but notice that Liam seemed distracted, his usual focus and intensity absent.  

As the final whistle blew, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Sophie couldn't hold her joy and excitement, exchanging high-fives with her teammates and sharing a triumphant smile with Liam. 

The Cordonian Royal Polo Team had won the game and the match raised a significant amount of money for relief efforts in Portavira. 

Liam approached the players'tent, a broad grin on his face. "Congratulations, everyone," he said, his voice filled with pride. "That was an amazing game. I couldn't have asked for a better team." 

Sophie blushed, the thrill of victory still coursing through her veins. 

"We couldn't have done it without you, Liam," Drake replied. 

"We couldn't have done it without our secret weapon," Liam corrected, his gaze resting on Sophie. 

"Thanks, guys," Sophie replied, touched by their support. 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Drake asked. "Let's go celebrate!" 

"Not just yet," Liam said, his expression growing serious. 

"What is it, Liam?" 

"My father has requested to see me. I will meet up with you guys later at the beer garden." 

"Sure, whatever you need, man," Drake replied, patting Liam on the back. 

Liam kissed Sophie's cheek. “I shouldn’t be long, love.” 

“All right, see you later.” Sophie grasped Marabelle's reins and started walking towards the stables. 

Liam left his team, walking across the grounds toward the VIP tent. He spotted his father standing outside, surrounded by a small group of nobles and officials. 

Constantine noticed Liam approaching and waved him over. "My son," he boomed. 

"Hello, Father," Liam said, his expression solemn. 

"That was quite a performance out there today."

"Yes, thank you. The team performed admirably. "

"Indeed. And Lady Sophia," Constantine added."Quite the addition to the team."

Liam's face lit up. "She's incredible, isn't she?"

"I can see that you are quite taken with her. She is a charming young lady."

"Father, I don't just think she's charming, I --"

*I know," Constantine interrupted. "But we can discuss that later. For now, I need to speak with you about an urgent matter."

Liam nodded in understanding, "what is it, Father?"

"Your brother," Constantine replied, his voice grim.

"Leo? What about him?"

"He has refused the crown."

"He has what?" Liam's jaw dropped. 

"Calm yourself, Liam. You are in the presence of others," his father reminded him. 

"Father, I..." 

"Later," Constantine cut him off. 

Liam was shocked and angry. He couldn't believe his brother would abandon his responsibilities like this. 

"Liam, it's time we had a discussion about the future of our kingdom," Constantine said, his voice low. 

"Of course, Father," Liam replied, his thoughts racing. 

"Walk with me," Constantine instructed. 

The two men walked in silence, the crowd of nobles and officials following them at a respectful distance. 

"Liam, you must prepare yourself. The crown will soon pass to you, and with it, the heavy responsibility of leading our country," Constantine began. 

Club Stables 

Neville had been watching Sophie with growing annoyance. He couldn't understand why Liam and the others were so taken with her. She was just a commoner, a nobody, and yet they treated her like she was special. She was fortunate to be a relation to House Beaumont, however, she was an American. Not nobility. Another commoner for Liam to grant station to.

After Sophie dismounted from Marabelle and secured her into a stall, Neville approached, a smug smile on his face. 

"Good job, Lady Sophia," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Sophie looked over and ignored his comment, trying to get her bearings. 

"Hey, I'm talking to you," he snapped, stepping in front of her. 

"Leave me alone, Neville," she retorted, trying to push past him. 

Neville grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. 

"Get your hands off me," she hissed, struggling to free herself. 

He pushed her and Sophie stumbled backwards, losing her balance. She tried to regain her footing, but her foot caught on the edge of the gate, and she tumbled to the ground, landing hard on her side, her head smacking the ground.

She winced in pain, clutching her arm. 

"You should be more careful," Neville sneered, stepping over her. 

"You bastard," she muttered, tears stinging her eyes. 

Neville laughed, his expression mocking. "That's what you get for thinking you're better than you are." 

As he walked away, Sophie lay on the ground, tears streaming down her face. 

She was hurt, and angry, and she didn't know how she was going to get up to get help, feeling dizzy. She laid back down holding her arm close, listening to Marabelle whinny as she reared in her stall.

But one thing was for certain: she was not going to let Neville get away with hurting her like this. 

"Squirrel? Are you okay?" Daniel exclaimed, rushing to her. 

"No, I'm not," she replied, her voice choked with emotion.

"What happened?" 

"Neville happened," she said, anger replacing her pain. 

"What? Why would he do that?" 

"Because he's a jerk," Sophie replied, her voice breaking as she covered her face with her hands.

Daniel helped her to sit up, his face etched with concern. He reached for his phone and tapped Maxwells number.

"Do you want to tell Liam?" 

"No, I don't want to make a scene. It's just a few bruises." 

"Okay, if you're sure," Daniel said, his voice uncertain. 

...I swear that I'll be yours forever, till forever falls apart...

📌Perma-tags: @bascmve01 @busywoman @kristinamae093 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kingliam2019 @ao719 @alj4890 @emkay512 @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @malblk21 @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @emersyn-in-cordonia @dutifullynuttywitch @charlotteg234 @lovingchoices14

📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesaprilchallenge24

[cyanide-latte]

The Anatole Siblings (a semi-brief overview)

Making their home in Fleur City, these three young aristocrats are the great-grandchildren of the elderly Mme. Anatole. Their mother came to live with her grandmother prior to the children being born, and so the three have only ever lived with their great-grandmother, mother, and eventually their stepfather when their mother remarried. Mme. Anatole was the last mage of her line for many years and became overjoyed when her great-grandchildren developed magic. She spares no expense to ensure the three of them will grow up to become capable mages, gentlemen and lady.

Marianne Daphnée Anatole

Nickname: Mari

Oldest (by 16 months) but won't correct the misconception that she and her brothers are triplets (because that can come in handy)

Constantly chastising her brothers

Very spoiled (but not spoiled rotten, there's a difference, thank you very much)

Somewhat haughty demeanor but she's quite sweet underneath

Attends a private all-girls' academy that focuses on raising its students both as elegant ladies and capable young mages (I've decided it's called Dame Rose's University For Young Ladies, loosely inspired by the Enchantress who cursed the Beast, but idk about finer details beyond that)

Much as she does prioritize becoming a proper lady, she also can be quite rough-and-tumble, a fact her stepfather is proud of and encourages

Loves horseback riding and can do riding for shows, she'll sit sidesaddle and everything, but she's also training in stunt riding and practicing utilizing her magic while riding

Undecided on what she wants to do with her life

Polyamorous and determined to grow up and have many great loves whom she can lavish with all the affection she has to offer

Toussaint Éloi Anatole

Nickname: Tea

Second-oldest, and twin to Bertrand

Attends Royal Sword Academy

He and his brother convinced their great-grandmother to let them enroll at RSA rather than Noble Bell College

Boisterous, slightly arrogant but very straightforward, generous, good-natured and extroverted

Paints in his free time. He's not exactly skilled as an artist but he knows this and still chooses to express himself through it

Has a deep regard and respect for any artist of any kind, no matter what their art or craft or trade is. The sort of noble who would be a great patron or benefactor, and he does hope to one day be an official patron to many great artists, so that he can lift up and support the people who can do amazing things he can only dream of.

He boxes, and a lot of his stocky build is indicative of his muscle.

Slightly naive but honest view that everyone around deserves kindness, support and more than just the basic necessities, they deserve to live comfortably. The most likely to debate with his peers about this.

Deeply concerned with fairness and sportsmanship

Asexual but is open to the idea of a romance

If he were attending Night Raven College, he would be sorted into Heartslabyul

Bertrand Ernest Anatole

Nickname: Rand

Youngest but somehow has Oldest Sibling vibes AND Middle Child Syndrome, twin to Toussaint

Attends Royal Sword Academy

Acts like he can't stand his brother and sister but will absolutely make anyone who hurts them regret doing so

Introverted and is not quick to offer his thoughts, and he can be quite snappy when he does.

Unlike his brother, he's a skilled musician on the piano and while he appreciates natural talent in others, he holds a much deeper regard for anyone who hones their skills through hard work and constant, patient effort.

He values cleverness, wisdom, and keeping a realistic view of the world.

While he shares his brother's thoughts of everyone deserving kindness, support and the chance to live comfortably, he's focused less on espousing the ideal in discussion and trying to actually put change into action, and he's not keen to be in the spotlight while doing so (though he does light up when others express appreciation for what he does.)

Skilled fencer

Semi-closeted bisexual with a heavy preference towards guys (he's known this about himself since he was young)

If he were attending Night Raven College, he would be sorted into Scarabia

A special thanks to @tixdixl , @simons-twsted-children , @inmateofthemind and @ramshacklerumble for helping me figure out what their names were going to be!

Taglist: @elenauaurs @blithesharem @rainesol

@thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @distant-velleity

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for my TWST OCs!)

[emmettverhoogen]

Beatrice pushed the photos towards Ernest and Ernest left the fork with a piece of the root beer float pie on the plate almost immediately, instead picking up the photo with curiosity to look at it and absorb everything.

“A little bird said you would like it,” she said with a soft, discreet smile. Ernest felt as if it were Kit speaking through her voice something Dewey would say if he were there. He didn’t even notice the equally soft and discreet smile that had formed on his lips as he gave Beatrice a quick glance before turning back to the photographs.

The woman in the first photo was very beautiful, a remarkable woman, with a gentle smile and an expensive and elegant costume, highly fashionable as he remembered that Beatrice was—the one from the past, at least. She was elegantly holding a glass with one hand and pointing toward the camera with the other as if to catch the attention from the man next to her. That was Bertrand. He looked surprised, but happy, too, with his eyebrows raised behind his glasses and a more open smile than Beatrice’s as he had one hand behind his back and the other waving at the camera awkwardly. He had a mustache grown specifically for a character, Ernest recalled. The play was alright, though his character was more of a buffoon than a hero.

The other photo was older, worn out. It was a shame that the cameras were not colored back then. Beside an energetic Bertrand, there was a man who, if anyone else looked, would assume it was Frank or Ernest—it was Dewey, hiding half his face with a book. It was from when they were younger, since Bertrand’s hair was more voluminous and longer than in the first photo. He had his lips open in a smile that showed all his teeth, so happy, so innocently noble, with eyes almost squinting but full of glow. Ernest sighed and blinked successively, deep down hoping that photo would suddenly come to life and he’d be able to say again, “No one can recognize this place, Dewey. When you take another photo, don’t hide your face behind a book!”

Ernest put the photos back on the table and went back to eating the pie. “If I ask you pretty please with sugar on top, will you tell me how or with whom you get these photos?”

“No,” Beatrice said.

“Does it have anything to do with those maps and letters in your file folder?” Ernest asked, and Beatrice and Frank looked up at him.

“No, either,” she said. “Not necessarily. I would appreciate it if you didn’t peek at my stuff again.”

“She’s been growing up,” Frank murmured, finishing chewing his piece of pie. “She no longer needs our care.”

“I’m sorry,” Ernest said, sincerely. He did had become fond of her, and cared about her talking and traveling to places with any adult supervision. But it was also curiosity, simple and pure curiosity to know how she could be as skilled and intelligent and free as Kit without having grown up in a solid residence with her, for obvious reasons. Ernest was sure Dewey would understand him.

“When it’s time I’ll tell you everything,” Beatrice said calmly, scraping her fork to eat the rest of the pie.

[radical-revolution]

”When you allow yourself to think inexactly your prejudices, your bias, your self interest comes in ways you don't notice. You do bad things without knowing that you are doing them: self deception is very easy. So that I do think clear thinking immensely important. I have myself a passion for clarity and exactness and sharp outlines. I do like clarity and exact thinking. I believe that very important to mankind.”

— Bertrand Russell, A Conversation with Bertrand Russell (1952) NBC Wisdom Series. Time stamp 17m. 32s.

Bertrand Russell's success can be partly explained that he wrote and spoke to be understood. His clarity of expression reflects the clarity of his thought. Unlike many philosophers, Russell is well-known for his lucid and elegant prose style. In his philosophical works, there is little abstract jargon nor do we find many flowery expressions. Russell valued getting to the point. The interview was broadcast on Russell's 80th birthday (18 May 1952).

[louisetaylor]

The novel we all need:

Beatrice's 200-page novel/letter to Lemony containing all of the many reasons why she can't marry him. The darkly elegant turn-of-the-century opera/ballet/high-society vibes of Lemony, Beatrice, Esme, Jerome, Kit, Jacques, and perhaps Olaf, all scheming and murdering and flirting in The Unnamed Big City.

Cab rides fraught with menace and apprehension, with Jacques whistling up in front as he drives. Beatrice narrating everything with a grief (and loquacity) similar to Lemony's, but looking toward the future rather than the past. Sometimes she writes "a word which here means" because Lemony says it so often. Food and fire as recurring themes. Beatrice might have an unnerving attraction to fire...and one instance of intentional fire-setting because she knows two instances would legally make her a pyromaniac.

Her uncertainty between Lemony and Bertrand, two very different men who are equally pretentious in different ways (and subtly fight over her in Clever Verbal Skirmishes, which she loves). The whole story taking place in the melodramatic atmosphere of the opera, perhaps divided into acts. Brief arias of soliloquy from Beatrice, letters from Lemony (!!!) and her friendship with the mysterious Duchess R of Winnipeg. GORGEOUS clothes on absolutely everyone.

Lemony and Beatrice bonding over their love of root beer floats, not to mention questioning the whole system of V.F.D. thinking violence is never acceptable and the world should always be quiet. I've always wondered why Beatrice chose Bertrand over Lemony, and if she really loved Lemony more. LEMONY COOKING FOR BEATRICE AT 2 AM IN HER APARTMENT AFTER A SHOW. Lemony crying on her shoulder at the bitterness of the world, disapproving of her preference for sweet milky tea. Bertrand symbolizing fire (candles, chandeliers in operas and restaurants), and Lemony symbolizing water (rain, the sea, lunch at Briny Beach, splashing with her in the fountain).

The fated tea party, the friendship turned simmering rivalry between Esme and Beatrice, the theft of the sugar bowl when Beatrice finally turns her back on Esme. Kit's subtle glances at Olaf, who's still young and kind and handsome and full of hope and mischief, even though he's a bit of a jerk. Kit believes in him. Everyone else just believes in Kit. Jacques flirting with anything in a skirt just because he likes making people blush and giggle.

The denouement is the grand opera where Beatrice's performance is followed by the death of Olaf's father and the breaking of the fellowship.

Notes in the margins written by Lemony and punctuated by tear stains.

At the end of the book, she quotes Robert Frost. "Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire."

After the quotation, Lemony writes "She burned too bright for this world" from Wuthering Heights, which she loved.

Perhaps the overall meaning of the book could be that Beatrice (a name which here means "she who brings happiness") loves Lemony, and always will, because he symbolizes grief and lost love and wishing for the safe childhood that none of them ever had. But Lemony is the past, and Bertrand is the future. Beatrice has always been surrounded by people who wrote and spoke and sang of the beauty of grief, the glory of sadness. But Beatrice couldn't help holding a happiness as deep as grief. She loves dark stories and art as much as anyone (she's an opera singer, after all) but she's hungry for happiness.

And she had happiness with Lemony when he gave her food, when he hugged her and told her all the ways he would love her, when he played the accordion so well it made her cry. The manuscript is stained with her tears too. She needs to make people happy, and as much as Lemony loved her, she could never make him happy. He saw and adored her deep capacity for happiness, but he couldn't receive it. Like Dante, he admired Beatrice's glow from afar. Now he descends into the inferno, where his angel can't go with him.

The novel is perhaps named A Series of Fortunate Events. Because they all happened with him at her side. Although she has to leave him, she mourns for him, for his endless wandering on the run, and never regrets the time she spent with him. She finally learned to see herself as he always saw her--a beacon of light and warmth who held all the friends together, even as the times grew dark and the force of destiny worked on them all.

Perhaps it was really Beatrice who symbolized fire all the time, not Bertrand. Lemony was water, and water smothers fire and dims its light. But Bertrand might symbolize air. Bertrand might be a fresh breath of air on Mount Fraught, liking the outdoors more than Lemony, making mischievous jokes with Olaf, slurping loudly from a straw while Lemony does a Dramatic Philosophical Monologue, meeting her on windy streets with newspapers (articles written by Lemony) blowing around their feet. Bertrand pining in the background as Lemony kisses Beatrice's hand. She feels more alive and awake with Bertrand. Water reflects fire, but air feeds it.

The whole novel contains foreshadowing of all the unfortunate events to come, some of the references quite clever and amusing even as they break your heart. But one comes away from the book with a sense that though Beatrice was always doomed to die...she LIVED. The book must be warm and full of life, contrasting the books about her children in a world that is often too cold and too quiet. The world is too quiet without her. But it's not a sad ending. Because she left a legacy of warmth and hope and love. Lemony wrote the children's stories for her sake, because he loved her and remembered her.

He loved her for her fiery happiness, even as she loved him for his grief and vulnerability. In the scene where Lemony confesses his love for Beatrice, a moth flies into the candle on the table between them, symbolic of Lemony wishing his heart out to be with her warmth, even as it doomed him to exile in a cold and quiet world.

But even this is not the end. Because someday, after Beatrice and Lemony have had their say, young Beatrice Baudelaire II will drop a note through the ceiling of Lemony's office, and the old Beatrice somehow gave Lemony a child to love and take care of, in a strange and roundabout way.

Edit: Allusions to heaven and hell throughout the work, hell being the arson perpetrated by the Bad Guys, and purgatory being the wide empty hinterlands that lie outside the city. Lemony chooses to stay in hell to help the unfortunate people in it, making him a bit of a Christ figure. Bertrand climbing his way up out of hell and reaching for the heaven of a safe home and family. Beatrice symbolizing an angel who fell, or was pushed, from heaven a long time ago and being a bit of a Christ figure herself for going deep into Lemony's sadness and understanding him, thus saving him even as he saves her.

[luluwquidprocrow]

sweetest things

violet, klaus, beatrice, bertrand

gen

3,155 words

To the consternation of most of the Baudelaire household, the third Baudelaire child takes her very sweet time making an appearance.

my fic for @snckt for @asouefanworkevent's wicked way exchange!!! lainey, i loved ALL your prompts so much and i, fully 100% intend to do another one as well, when i can get my head around it better. but here is some baudelaire family slice of life!!

By Friday afternoon, according to Violet’s checklist, the Baudelaire family had tried –

1) An after dinner walk (It was fun for the four of them to go around the block after dinner, with Klaus pointing out all the summer flowers, but it hadn’t done anything at all. Mother hadn’t been very optimistic about that option anyway. She walked around all the time, and if that wasn’t enough to jog anything, more average physical exercise was unlikely to move things along.)

2) Surprising Mother (Father had hidden himself around the house all day and tried to startle her – it had only really worked once, and mostly just succeeded in Mother almost smacking Father right in the face with her summer book. They were all very thankful Mother was rereading Violet and Klaus’s books from when they were very little, and not her customary enormous summer novel. Violet wondered what would’ve become of Father’s face if he’d been smacked with, say, Mother’s gigantic illustrated Moby Dick with the gilded cover. Something very horrid, she thought. Father was very handsome.)

3) Dancing (Also a regular activity, but one Mother enjoyed much, much more than the after dinner walk. They’d all been sure that a whole afternoon of elegant tangos and brisk but careful sambas would be the perfect thing – but Mother had ended the day sitting and grumbling when nothing happened.)

4) Not doing anything in particular (On the chance that merely suspending their wait and pretending they weren’t waiting might cause something to happen. They all carried on with their usual day – Father brought Mother lemonade, and Mother read regular, adult books, and then did a crossword puzzle with Klaus, and Father worked on his puzzle book, and Violet and Klaus played chess in the library and gave answers when Father asked them for help with the trivia section, and then Mother and Father played game after game after game of backgammon, and they all painted their toenails again (with Violet and Klaus and Father taking turns doing Mother’s toenails), and none of them entered the nursery just to even look at it and make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and they even moved Mother’s hospital bags from the front foyer into a closet, and then they all sat around in the afternoon sun not doing anything until Mother let out a very dramatic sigh and said they should give it up as a lost cause. They’d gone out for ice cream that night, as a reward for all their trouble. They were a few days past Mother’s initial due date now, or her due week, because Violet had been late and Klaus had been early, so when it came to expecting her third child, Mother circled the whole first week of August so she was prepared at any moment. After the ice cream, she’d looked at the calendar in the hall almost like it had betrayed her.)

5) Laughing (Father told the most terrible, awful puns and jokes, and went around a whole morning making jokes in the library to make Mother laugh. Violet and Klaus thought Mother had to be humoring him, but it was her genuine laugh, every time. Maybe, they figured, when you married someone, you thought them saying “You’re a real page turner” and looking between Mother and the book she’d been holding was endearing, not embarrassing. Either way, that hadn’t worked, either.)

Violet starred the next thing on her list – spicy food – then put down her notebook and scooped up her invention into her arms. She carried it back downstairs, stepping over Klaus, who was in his usual position on the floor outside the kitchen, where the sunlight came in the best through the big glass window above the sink and filled up all the spaces of the Baudelaire home with a soft, yellow light. It fell right on the pages of Klaus’s book, just the way he liked it.

“What are you reading?” Violet asked, looking back over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” Klaus mumbled. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet this week, Violet thought, barely helping at all with Violet’s list. It was like all the anticipation, all the excitement, all the wondering and waiting just passed right over him. Violet frowned down at Klaus’s head, buried back in his book. She figured that when Klaus wanted to talk, then he would surely tell her what was bothering him. She’d just have to wait him out, too. And Violet was getting excellent practice at waiting things out.

“Ah! Is this it?”

Violet turned back to the kitchen. Father was looking at her expectantly, standing by the counter with the tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers and one onion all laid out. She rushed over and set her invention down.

She picked up one of the tomatoes and fit it onto the top dowel. Violet pressed the tiny button she’d put a tomato sticker on, and her invention whirred to life as she and Father watched – the tomato spun around as the record player underneath it started up, and on the first revolution, the skin of the tomato peeled off, and on the next, it split open, sliced out from the inside, creating neat little cubes of tomato that fell onto the transparent plate below, all to the tune of one of Father’s bossa nova records, the sound coming out of the gramophone horn fixed on the side. Violet beamed. She’d designed it last week, after seeing a box grater display in the supermarket, and knew she could do better.

“Wonderful!” Father said. “Very well done, Ed.” He removed the tomato pieces and set them in the big glass bowl at his elbow, then set one of the cucumbers on the dowel. “You can get started on the croutons,” he continued, gesturing at the sideboard cabinet, where he’d put the bread last night.

Violet picked up the big bread knife nearby and got to cutting. It would be easier, she started thinking, if there was a machine for this, too – and something that would toast the croutons – and something to saute the garlic to put them in – and maybe something to tell time while you were doing it, too – and maybe –

“Croutons first!” Father said.

Violet realized she’d been reaching for the ribbon in her trouser pocket. She gave herself a little shake and got back to the bread. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Father set the chopper for the cucumber. He was humming along with The Girl From Ipanema, and perfectly at ease. An excellent opportunity to try and catch him off guard.

“Where’s Mother?” Violet asked, to start.

“In the library,” Father said. He removed the cucumber and replaced it with a pepper. “Relaxing.”

“And it did not work,” came an irritated voice, and Violet and Father both looked up to see Mother in the doorway, holding onto the jamb as she stepped over Klaus as well and lowered herself slowly and gingerly down into one of the stools by the counter. Klaus watched her carefully until she’d sat down, and went back at his book.

“Aha! Here she is!” Father exclaimed. “Miss Tall and Tan and Young and Lovely herself!” He leaned over and gave Mother a quick kiss on her forehead, brushing some of the hair that had fallen out of the bun atop her head out of her face.

Violet barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Father was at it again. Certainly, Mother was tan and young and lovely, but not very tall at all. But it made Mother look a little less grumbly, and that was good.

“Anything I can do to help?” Mother asked. She adjusted her position in the stool, sitting at an angle so the curve of her stomach didn’t hit against anything. “Get you the vinegar? The coriander? Dance around with the salt shaker until I salsa this child out of me?”

“All you have to do is sit there and look nice,” Father said. “Which you already do, effortlessly. And not eat all the cucumbers,” he added, waving Mother’s wandering hand away from the big bowl.

Violet waited a few moments, slicing into the bread again. She wasn’t sure how she’d fare against both of her parents at the same time, now, but maybe it would cheer Mother up. And hopefully Klaus would join in. “I wonder if Ginger will like gazpacho,” she said, keeping her tone light.

Father started humming again. Mother was suddenly inspecting her fingernails, looking very interested.

Violet reached over into the icebox for the half-used garlic bulb. “Or if – ” She caught sight of the mason jar filled with soft, small green leaves. “ – Sage will like garlic croutons.”

Father smiled once more, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses, and Mother successfully stole a piece of cucumber from the big glass bowl and popped it into her mouth. “Very refreshing,” she commented. Father gave her a mock-stern look, until Mother said, “You said all the cucumbers, that was one cucumber.” She maintained eye contact as she reached into the bowl and took another. “Two,” she said, around the cucumber.

Violet puffed out a sigh. Mother and Father had been so tight-lipped for the past nine months about what they were going to name their third child. Violet and Klaus had taken to dropping name options at every opportunity, to see if they could jog a response. Not even food-themed names could get them to talk. Mother and Father were going to make them wait until the baby was born. Which, at this rate, could take an age.

All of a sudden, Klaus cut in. “Babies can’t eat gazpacho,” he called, looking into the kitchen. “Or garlic croutons.”

Violet didn’t scowl – she thought she was much too old for scowling – but her face scrunched up, just like Mother’s had been doing. Why didn’t Klaus want to have fun anymore? It wasn’t as if they’d run out of food names. And of course babies couldn’t eat gazpacho, but that wasn’t the point.

“Perhaps Pepper will like gazpacho when they’re old enough to try it,” Father said. He scooped up the last pepper and dropped it in with the rest of the ingredients. “Klaus, stop sulking down there and get the vinegar and citrus juice for me, please.”

Violet almost thought Klaus would insist he wasn’t sulking, he seemed in that sour of a mood, but it was hard to talk back to Father. So Klaus got up from the hall, bookmarked his page with a thin slip of paper, and joined Violet and Father and Mother in the kitchen.

While Violet and Klaus bustled around, getting the remaining ingredients, Mother chopped up a scallion into little pieces with a knife. Scallions! The one thing Violet hadn’t allotted for in her invention. She’d have to make an adjustment for that, later. Mother complemented Violet’s handiwork, then helped her cross a few wires so they could use it as a regular record player too, without needing to slice or chop anything more, and the Gilberto album went on, filling the kitchen with soft saxophones and guitars. When Father and Mother had mixed everything together in the bowl, Father placed the soup in the fridge so it could chill, and then the four of them made the croutons together.

They crowded around the stove top, pressed close to Mother as she sauted the butter and garlic in a pan before tossing all the bread cubes in alongside. Klaus got to shake the pan around to coat the bread, and use the big salt grinder to sprinkle them with salt after, and he looked a little happier.

Mother and Father piled the croutons atop a cream napkin on plate. “Well, we have to try them,” Mother said. The gazpacho would take forever to chill – or at least a couple hours – but garlic croutons were considered spicy too, Violet realized, and maybe that would be enough to convince the third Baudelaire sibling to make their appearance.

“I concur,” Father said, and the four of them each took a crouton. “What do you think?” he asked over all the crunching.

“Buttery,” Klaus said.

“Toasty,” Violet said.

“Garlicky,” Father put in.

“Very garlicky,” Mother said, looking pleased, and she took another crouton, and then a handful of them. “Well done, troupe.” They stood in the kitchen, waiting and waiting, but the only thing that happened was that Violet’s feet started to get a little sore from standing. The warm summer breeze continued, and the sun was still bright in the mid-afternoon sky, and Desafinado was playing now, and Mother was still, despite everyone’s best intentions, very, very pregnant. Violet frowned; Father kissed Mother’s forehead again; even Klaus sighed.

“Maybe the gazpacho will do something,” Mother sighed, and dusted crouton crumbs from her fingers. “It’s early, but how about the two of you set the table anyway, mm?”

Klaus got the napkins, and Violet got the silverware, and they passed under the big archway between the kitchen and the dining room, filled with soft purple and blue shards of sunlight from the pieces of stained glass in the dining room windows.

“I could always try to scare you again,” Violet heard Father offer, back in the kitchen. “I’m still upset that didn’t work.”

“If you tell me you’re going to scare me, how is that going to work, Bertrand?”

“Forget I said anything – look, that’s an awfully interesting frying pan, isn’t it? What if you look at it while I go over to the other side of the kitchen and get a washcloth and on the way back, while you’re very engrossed in the pan, who knows what will happen?”

Mother started laughing. Violet and Klaus followed each other around the table, putting each place setting down a piece at a time. It was a good sized table, Violet thought. Definitely enough room to accommodate the fifth Baudelaire.

“Which end do you think the baby will sit at?” Violet asked. She thought the far end, by Mother, would be the best, so Mother was right there if they needed anything.

“Babies can’t sit up right away,” Klaus said. “It’ll be months before they can sit at the table.”

Violet knew that, but that wasn’t the point of it, either. She thought maybe she should stop waiting out Klaus in particular and just come right out and ask him. She was his older sister, and soon to be the eldest sibling out of three, and she should be able to problem-solve this like she’d problem-solved an unexciting box grater, like she’d been making the list of things to try and help Mother, like she wanted to be able to do for their new sibling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Klaus said again. He folded the fourth napkin and set it down on the table, a little too hard. He ran his fingers over the bend in the cloth. “Do you think the gazpacho will work?”

“I hope so,” Violet said. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

Klaus shrugged. “I mean – I liked things the way they were,” he said quietly. He adjusted his glasses, then the collar of his shirt, like the way Father fidgeted sometimes. “A baby changes a lot,” he pointed out. “Mother didn’t even read her summer book, this year.”

Things had been a little different this year, Violet realized. But not in a bad way. In a fun way, of getting things ready and helping Mother and Father, and they still spent a lot of time together, all of them. But Violet hadn’t been able to go to the museum with Mother as much as other summers, and Father had spent a lot of time looking out the window with a little crease of worry in his brow, when he thought no one else was watching. They’d all have to spend a lot of time looking after the baby when it finally did arrive. They might not be able to go to the museum at all, and maybe – it struck Violet with a pang – maybe Mother wouldn’t have time to read a book with Klaus next summer, either. Things might change a lot.

“And,” Klaus continued, “what if something goes terribly, terribly wrong? Babies aren’t supposed to be late.” He glanced past Violet and back into the kitchen, and when Violet followed his gaze, she saw the book Klaus had been reading earlier placed on the counter. One of Mother’s pregnancy books that they’d all taken turns reading.

“Oh, Klaus,” Violet said. “I don’t – I was late,” she remembered. “And Mother was okay. And – ” She hesitated. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “We’re all still a family, aren’t we? That doesn’t change just because some other things do.”

“It feels like it,” Klaus said miserably. “I like it when things stay the same.” He wiped the side of his hand under his glasses, over each eye.

Suddenly, Violet had an idea. She reached over and put her hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “I think Brie will really like you, Klaus,” she said, trying to put on her most serious face. The corner of her mouth twitched, just as Klaus met her eyes.

It worked – Klaus started to laugh, just like Mother’s genuine laugh, a loud and bright startled sound. “You think so? Wheely?” he asked.

“Of course they’re gouda,” Violet said, giggling.

“I hear puns!” Mother called. “Bad puns!”

“Excellent job!” Father called after.

The gazpacho was delicious. Mother was still pregnant after dinner – but the gazpacho was delicious, and so were the remaining croutons, after all of them sneaking handfuls while the gazpacho chilled. And Violet and Klaus and Mother and Father sat around the table, all of them suggesting the silliest food names they could come up with, making Mother laugh until there were tears in her eyes.

Father and Violet and Klaus gathered up all the dishes and took them in trips to the kitchen, letting Mother stretch out in her chair. When Violet and Klaus came back for the glasses, Mother grabbed hold of them and pulled them down onto her lap, all of them making a little oomph noise. They were a little too big to really fit comfortably, especially with Mother’s stomach taking up most of the room on her lap, but she held Violet and Klaus so close against her.

“Let me tell you a secret,” Mother whispered, looking at Violet and Klaus. “Don’t tell your father I told you, alright? Look surprised when he tells you. But I want to tell you.” She got a look in her eyes like she’d heard every word Violet and Klaus had said before dinner. Violet thought there wasn’t a thing in the world Mother didn’t hear. “Both of you, sweetest things.”

“What is it?” Klaus asked.

Mother smiled, slow and beautiful. “Sunny,” she said. “That’s what we’re going to name her.”

[capsensislagamoprh]

School of Magic had there Holiday party. Images from it may be blurry because look, my camera skills suck, and then they enchanted the drinks! Ugly sweaters, refined, elegant, and all in Dhampir's underground lab. (Look, he's off sight and not using it anyway. We'll clean up after, promise! We even took our shoes off!)

Ugly Sweaters: Target. All other clothes? Me. If anyone's asking Bertrand is tucked in Adam's coat as the 'bulk' for Santa. He keeps running the illusion by popping his head out for treats. It's delightful. Happy Holidays!

[camillemontespan]

forever and eternity [drake x camille AU] [chapter one: life goes on

@mvalentine​

@notoriouscs​

@twinkle-320​

@saivilo​

@sophxwithers​

@katedrakeohd​

@jovialyouthmusic​

Stepping back into the writing pool and seeing what I can come up with..

*********************

Drake Walker could remember the first time he saw her. In a cloud of smoke, their eyes had met and she sang her song to him. 

It had been in a basement bar. Drake had been sitting alone, nursing a glass of whisky, wishing his life could just end. 

He wasn't suicidal, no. He was just bored. Bored, alone and wondering what he was actually supposed to be living for.

Until he saw her.

She was standing on the little stage. A pianist was setting up to play behind her. With the microphone in front of her, she threw her shoulders back and exhaled. She looked nervous. 

'Good evening,' she breathed into the microphone. 'I hope you're having a fabulous time.'

Her voice was like caramel. Smooth, low and sweet.

She was wearing a silk gold dress that hugged her delicate curves. Her skin was like mocha and her hair was pulled back into a chignon, a more sophisticated style of a bygone era. Everything about her screamed elegance. 

She surveyed the room and that was when her eyes settled on Drake's.

He gave her a small nod.

She smiled softly and turned to the pianist.

'You ready, Bertrand?'

'Always darling,' the pianist replied. 

The audience - of which there were only about twenty people - chuckled and sipped their drinks.

'My name is Camille,' she told them. Her eyes lingered on Drake's. 'And I hope you enjoy the little songs I've prepared for you.' 

********** 

Drake woke up in a cold sweat. The bedsheets were tangled around him. Groaning, he managed to pull himself free and clambered out of the bed. He stumbled into the ensuite bathroom and turned on the light to survey himself in the mirror, wanting to calm down.

Why did he always dream of her? Why did he always dream of that night? 

She was gone. She was lost to him. 

Drake studied his face and looked for any signs of new wrinkles. None. He hadn't had new lines form in years. No grey hairs. Nothing.

It had been a long life.

He thought back to the dream he had just had. Or perhaps he should just call it reality? 

Because that moment in that bar had happened. He had seen the most beautiful woman, watched her sing and life, as always, had went on. 

Life goes on.

It did.

He hadn't seen Camille for 96 years. 

And yet Drake remained unchanged.

************

'I dreamt of her again.'

Drake waited for Leo to respond. But as usual, Leo poured him another drink and let out a sigh.

'You gotta get over her, man,' Leo said.

Drake smirked. 'Its been 96 years. I think the time to get over her has passed.'

Leo shook his head and poured himself a drink. He shouldn't drink on the job but in Leo's world, he was fucking immortal. He could do what he liked. He was 352 years old. 

He leaned across the bar and studied Drake. They had been friends for centuries. Leo knew everything about Drake.. or so he liked to think. But he had a feeling that Drake held a secret universe inside himself that he never let anyone into.

Except maybe Camille. That girl had a hell of a hold on him and Leo didn't know how that was possible. Drake had built a fortress around himself that kept him shielded from everyone he knew. Maybe it was this life that had made him do that. That made sense. But Camille had managed to knock that fortress down. Then she left and the walls were built back up, more solid than ever.

'Camille is a footnote,' Leo said, not bothering to sugar coat. 'You've lived all this time and only knew her a tiny fraction. If you had a normal life, she wouldn't have this hold on you.'

He knew he sounded like a dick. But that was only because Drake hadn't listened to him for the past 104 fucking years. Try being patient with that. 

Leo was different to Drake. He didn't mind being alone, if anything he preferred it. This life demanded no attachments and for Leo, that suited him just fine. He bedded women and didn't call them after. No responsibility.

The fact he moved around a lot and changed his identity every ten years meant nobody could stay with him anyway. 

Being 352 years old meant Leo had to be very careful. 

He had been born in a tiny country called Cordonia that now no longer existed. He had travelled the world, gathering riches, losing riches, loving women, leaving women behind. He left chaos in his wake and that was how Leo liked it.

Now he was a bartender working in New York, having lived this life for five years so far. In another five years, he would move onto the next city, the next identity. 

Leo was a nomad. 

Drake, however, was not. 

Drake didn't change his identity. He was always Drake Walker. 

***********

Drake Walker had been born in a tiny ramshackle cabin in Texas in 1845.

His father, Jackson, had died fighting at the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863. Father and son had fought together until the last.

Drake should have died with him. The stab wound to the chest was fatal. Anyone else would have died but Drake did not. He fell unconscious on the field by his dead father’s side and the world went dark. His heart stopped beating.

Ten minutes later, he woke up in a fit of terror. 

The wound had healed.

Drake returned home from the war changed. He couldn’t explain how he was alive. 

And now, 177 years later, Drake still couldn’t explain it. 

*********************

After Leo finished his shift at the bar, he demanded food. 

Drake found Leo to be like looking after an overgrown man child. He was energetic and unpredictable; Drake was the exact opposite. 

‘Let’s go get burgers,’ Leo cajoled Drake. ‘I’m craving a double cheeseburger with all the jalapenos.’ 

Drake rolled his eyes but went along with him.

The two of them had met fighting during the Battles of the Meuse-Argonne in 1918. They were in the same battalion. Leo, terrified out of his wits,  had taken a sip of Drake’s whiskey that he had kept in his hip flask.

‘This is hell,’ Leo had told him. ‘And I’ve seen hell.’

Drake grimaced. ‘You get used to it.’

Again, when Drake woke up from a fatal head wound, he found Leo slumped against one of their fellow soldiers and he was staring at him with wide eyes. Blood covered his tanned face and his blond hair was slicked back with blood.

A bullet wound had embedded itself in Leo’s neck, yet he was still alive. 

You… you’re like me....’ Leo croaked.

Drake and Leo stayed together after that. 

******************************

They found a booth and settled down. Leo swiped at the menu and decided he wanted the burger, loaded fries and a milkshake.

He went to the gym every day so he could eat what he wanted. But he knew he wasn’t going to die of heart failure. 

Drake was reading the menu when a shadow fell over their table. 

‘What can I get you guys?’ 

He looked up and instantly felt like his world was collapsing in on him.

The waitress standing at their table, who was staring at Drake in shock, was Camille.

She looked exactly as she had 96 years ago. Youthful. Beautiful. Unchanged. 

Drake could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She continued to stare at him, her eyes wide and terrified.

‘Camille?’

Leo looked between the two of them with an open mouth. ‘What the fuck…’

‘Camille?!’ Drake’s voice came out strangled. 

She stepped back. Her hands were shaking.

‘Drake, how… why..’

She dropped the menu on the floor. Tears were forming in her eyes and she looked like she was going to throw up. Before Drake could react, she turned on her heel and ran out of the diner. 

[odoroussavourssweet]

L'Artisan Parfumeur Timbuktu

Nose: Bertrand Duchaufour

notes: mango, pink pepper, cardamom; incense, papyrus, karo karounde; vetiver, myrrh, patchouli, benzoin

Timbuktu opens with dry smokiness with the lightest touch of funk, and, yes, a tiny sliver of mango.

It settles into a pleasant dry tea-like scent, greenish but not quite "green tea". There are whiffs of a sharper, fresher green along with the dusty-green-earthy core. I think the core is vetiver, but vetiver transformed into something a bit unfamiliar; it's both greener and funkier.

There's a light floralcy overlaid on the dry green; I've seen karo karounde described as "jasmine with almond" which is pretty accurate.

Timbuktu feels almost like a smoky-woody riff on jasmine tea. I'm a fan!

It fits into the niche of "medium-light, dry and unisex, casually elegant" scents that includes Diptique Tempo as a prime example. Just a notch darker and more eccentric than a cologne, but still subtle and low-key. This is the sort of thing that can become your everyday scent.

[modorama]

art | 6eme : Bertrand Cavalier eponymous exhibition at the delpire & co bookshop + Yukata Yamamoto's new exhibition at Alain Brieux Librairie - Permanent Concern consists of a series of smartphone photographs that Cavalier took in the Netherlands in 2021. The objects and situations that he portrays are often recognizable and ordinary: from a plastic table to a brick wall blotched with paint or a girl’s skipping rope. The full zoom used by Cavalier reveals—in much the same way as his presentation of the photographs as monochrome laser prints does—the inherent structure of his subjects and how, as “foreign objects”, they break with the original order. In this way, Cavalier emphasizes the various aspects of urban planning, including among them the unintentional, the “mishap”, which he characterizes as a quality that allows room for a subjective and personal use of the cities in which we live. delpire & co bookshop 13 rue de l’Abbaye 75006 Paris  11h — 19h

- In the studio of Yutaka Yamamoto around Saint-Germain des Prés, which is reminiscent of those of photographers from the beginning of the last century, he creates his photographs by combining the rigor of classical techniques and the simplicity of his themes. He gives them, with a sober elegance, an existence that is sufficient in itself. Yutaka Yamamoto's images go to the essential, demonstrating that his subjects, far from being a tiny part of a whole, carry within them an intimate reality. Yutaka Yamamoto was born in Japan in 1955. After studying at the Tokyo Kuwazawa Institut School of Design, a school whose spirit is based on the Bauhaus concept, he founded the "Design Office Hotel**" in 1979, and was the artistic director of several Japanese women's magazines, as well as Toshiba's magazine. He moved to Paris in 1990 and collaborated with many French and foreign magazines , he also collaborated with Yohji Yamamoto, Kenzo, Hermès.

Librairie Alain Brieux 48 Rue Jacob, 75006 Paris

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

A Princess for a Prince – Chapter 8

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist

Main Pairing – Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language & innuendo.

Not Beta’d - Please excuse all errors.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff

Words: 2436

Chapter Summary – Sophie receives a personal invitation to the New Year’s Eve Celebration Ball at the palace.

A Princess for a Prince, Chapter 8

Music Inspiration:

The Look of Love, Diana Krall

Kiss Me at Midnight, *NSYNC

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: My submission for Choices Flashfics @choicesflashfics, Week #65, prompt 1 - “Sometimes, being with you feels so much like a dream ... and I don't ever want to wake up.”

A/N5: My submission for Choices December 2023 Holidays Prompts – New Year’s Eve

A/N4: My submission for Choices Holiday Prompts 2023, Quote Prompt – “You look even more beautiful in candlelight.”

A Princess for a Prince

As they finished breakfast, Aunt Bethany glanced at Sophie with a knowing smile. “Sophie, I believe that Prince Liam left a message for you earlier this morning, my dear.”

Beaumont Estate, Duchy of Ramsford

Sophie's heart skipped a beat. “Oh, oh ... thank you, Auntie.” She excused herself from the table, her steps quickening as she made her way to the study where the message awaited her. A sealed envelope with the royal Insignia sat elegantly on the desk. With trembling fingers, Sophie broke the seal and then unfolded the letter.

Liam’s elegant handwriting greeted her:

‘Dearest Sophie,

I hope this morning finds you well and that the memories of last night’s ball linger as fondly in your heart as they do in mine. Your grace and beauty illuminated the ballroom, and I found myself enchanted by every moment we shared.

I would be honored if you would join me at the New Year’s Eve ball at the palace. The evening promises dancing, champagne and a fireworks extravaganza. I can think of no better company than yours to enjoy the splendor and ring in the New Year.

Yours sincerely, Liam’

Sophie’s cheeks flushed with excitement and a hint of optimism. She folded the letter gently, holding it close to her heart. She quickly composed a response, expressing her eagerness to join him for the Ball.

With her heart aflutter, Sophie entrusted the letter to the awaiting palace messenger, requesting it to be delivered directly to Prince Liam’s chambers. Beaming, she made her way upstairs to her room to start planning for the event.

December 31st, Cordonian Royal Palace

The entire palace and grounds were adorned with sparkling, opulent decorations; the air felt energized with excitement. The chandeliers in the ballroom cast a warm glow across the room as the orchestra played holiday melodies. Waitstaff circulated with flutes of champagne, as nobles enjoyed sumptuous gourmet platters of hors d’oeuvres.

Entering the ballroom with her aunt, Maxwell, Bertrand and Savannah, Sophie glanced around the room. She spotted Liam very quickly, resplendent in his royal attire, engaging in conversation with Leo and Madeleine. When his eyes caught hers, he smiled delightedly, and excused himself from the conversation to make his way across the dance floor to Sophie.

Liam’s eyes sparkled as he approached her with an appreciative smile. Sophie, wearing a stunning deep purple gown that shimmered in the candlelight, returned his smile blithely and dipped into a low curtsy. Her gown, embellished with delicate lace with intricate beadwork, accentuated her curves perfectly. With a tender smile, he leaned in, closing the gap between them, softly kissing her cheek.

“Good evening, Sophie,” Liam greeted her with a charming smile, “You look even more beautiful in candlelight.” Lifting her hand for a kiss, he then pulled her close to whisper in her ear, “...and you shouldn’t curtsy, it’s just me.”

“Good evening, Liam. Thank you for inviting me.” Sophie replied, her voice tinged with excitement. The air crackled with anticipation. Sophie responded to his request with a breathy whisper, “I will remember that always.”

Offering his arm, Sophie slipped her hand around his arm and joined him to move onto the dance floor, finding a spot in the center.

Liam placed one hand on the small of Sophie’s back, the other holding her hand. She stepped into his arms, and they began to move to the music.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sophie,” Liam whispered in her ear.

“Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself.” Sophie responded shyly.

As the orchestra transitioned into a waltz, they began to move effortlessly across the dance floor, their chemistry evident in every step. Their conversation flowed seamlessly as they danced and the world around them seemed to fade as they lost themselves in each other’s company, their laughter blending with the music in perfect harmony.

Dancing the Cordonian waltz, Sophie’s gown flared and billowed as Liam twirled her under his arm. As he pulled her back to his chest, she rested her head back, enjoying the feel of his arms around her in an intimate embrace.

As the night progressed and the countdown to midnight drew near, the energy in the room heightened. The air buzzed with excitement, and the guests gathered awaiting the grand moment.

Maxwell and his mother stopped by the open terrace to wait for the fireworks show as Bertrand and Savannah joined in with the celebrations on the dance floor.

Sophie found herself standing beside Liam as the final seconds of the year ticked away. As Leo and Madeleine stood with the herald to announce the countdown. The ballroom erupted into cheers and applause as the clock struck midnight, marking the start of 2024.

Amidst the celebrations, Liam turned to Sophie, his eyes filled with warmth and determination. In that fleeting moment between the past and the future, amidst the cheers and revelry, he took her hand and whispered, “May I steal a moment with you, away from the crowd?”

Sophie’s heart fluttered as she nodded, following him as they made their way to a secluded third floor balcony overlooking the palace gardens. The night sky was filled with fireworks, with vibrant colors against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

As the echoes of fireworks lingered in the air, their eyes locked in a shared understanding; a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken emotions that had bloomed between them over the past year. Liam gently cupped Sophie’s face in his hands, his touch tender and filled with a depth of emotion as the world around them disappeared. It was just the two of them.

“Sophie,” he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the quiet night. “This past year has been a revelation, and I find myself drawn to you in ways I never thought possible. Your laughter, your kindness, and your grace have captured my heart.”

The air was charged with an unspoken electricity as Sophie gazed into Liam’s eyes, feeling her heart flittering with a mixture of excitement and a tender vulnerability. She could sense the depth of his sincerity, his words stirring something profound within her. “Liam, I feel the same about you.”

In that fleeting moment, as the world seemed to stand still, their lips met in a gentle and tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with the promise of a new beginning; an unspoken vow to explore the budding romance that had blossomed between them.

As they parted, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, Sophie’s cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, and Liam’s gaze held a warmth that mirrored the newfound connection between them. Taking her hands in his, Liam pulled her closer to him as he lowered his head to re-capture her lips. Moving one hand to her waist as the other cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss.

The kiss spoke volumes, conveying feelings that words could not quite capture. Their shared hopes, fears, and the uncharted territories of their hearts that they were daring to explore together.

As Liam and Sophie looked up into the night sky, and more fireworks shot up to celebrate the new year, their eyes met once again.

Liam’s smile was tender. "We finally have a chance to spend some time alone," he said, squeezing her hand, pulling her even closer. As their lips met once again, Sophie felt more butterflies in her stomach. She was nervous but excited. She knew Liam was experienced, and she wanted to make sure she did everything right. She trusted him and was ready to take their relationship to the next level.

Liam kissed her passionately, his tongue exploring her mouth. She melted into his embrace, her body responding to his touch. He pulled back, his blue eyes meeting hers.

"You're so beautiful," he said, running his fingers through her long mahogany tresses.

She smiled shyly, his words making her blush.

He cupped her face with his hands, kissing her softly, his lips lingering on hers. He traced his tongue along her neck, nibbling her earlobe. She moaned softly, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

She could feel his growing desire pressing against her, his hardness against her softness.

“Liam!” Sophie’s voice was full of laughter and warning as she pushed away, her heart pounding. “We’re not alone, you know.”

“I can’t see anyone else around here.” Liam chuckled.

“That does not mean there isn’t anyone watching. We don’t want to give your guards any concerns, do we?”

“Liam sighed. “You are right, of course. But ... ”

Sophie looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, “But what?”

“Let me make this more private.” Taking her hand, he tugged her hand to walk down the long corridor, Liam turned to lead Sophie into an empty parlor. After locking the doors and closing the heavy drapes, Liam led Sophie to sit on a large sofa.

“Now,” Liam whispered, “where were we?”

“I think you were telling me about your gua...”, Liam moved in quickly to secure her lips in another passionate kiss. His passion was clear as he sat down beside Sophie. The two of them got lost in the moment as Liam pulled her onto his lap.

“Liam, I ...” Sophie began. She wanted to explain that she was unexperienced but wanted to learn more with him.

“Sshh ... No more talking,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them.

Sophie nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck, savoring the feel of his strong arms around her.

Liam gently removed the pins that secured her hair. Her curls cascaded over his hands like silk, and he buried his face in her perfumed tresses. He kissed her earlobe, then her throat. His lips moved lower, to her collarbone, while his hand gently caressed her neck and shoulder.

Sophie was breathing faster now. She tilted her head back, encouraging him to continue his exploration of her skin. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and a tiny moan escaped her.

"Sophie, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Liam paused, his heart beating rapidly.

"What is it?" Sophie asked, her voice slightly questioning.

"I am falling in love with you," Liam whispered, his voice full of emotion.

Sophie gasped, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh Liam, I love you," she replied, her voice shaky.

"You do?" Liam asked, his face lighting up.

"Yes," Sophie replied, her smile mirroring his.

“Sometimes, being with you feels so much like a dream ... and I don’t ever want to wake up.”

Liam cupped her face with his hands and kissed her passionately. "You have made me the happiest man in the world tonight," he said, his eyes shining with love.

Sophie beamed up at him, her heart full of happiness. She had never expected to fall in love with a prince, and now, she could not imagine her life without him.

Liam pulled her into his arms, “I don’t want this night to end,” his lips brushing her ear.

“Me neither,” Sophie admitted, her heart pounding.

“Maybe it doesn't have to,” Liam said, his voice low and husky.

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, there’s no reason we can’t stay here a little longer. The party will go on for hours, No one will miss us.”

“But, Liam, we can’t just disappear together,” Sophie protested, even though her body was already responding to the suggestion.

"Why not? No one would know where we are," Liam pointed out, his hand stroking her back.

"They might guess," Sophie said, her breath catching in her throat as Liam's hand slid lower.

"Let them," Liam murmured, kissing her neck.

"We shouldn't," Sophie whispered, even as she tilted her head to allow him better access.

"You're right, we shouldn't," Liam agreed, his lips moving down to her collarbone.

"We shouldn't," Sophie repeated weakly, her eyes closing as Liam's mouth found the spot on her neck that drove her wild.

"No, we really shouldn't," Liam said, his voice muffled against her skin.

Sophie's last resistance melted away as Liam's slipped his tongue into her mouth in search of hers in an all encompassing kiss.

Sophie's last resistance melted away as Liam's tongue plunged into her mouth, just as Liam's phone pinged with a message.

Sitting back, Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the message from Maxwell.

‘Sorry to interrupt, but we're getting concerned about your whereabouts.'

Liam sighed. "Maxwell thinks we need to get back."

"We could say we got lost," Sophie suggested, her hand sliding down Liam's back.

"And what? Stay lost for the rest of the evening?" Liam chuckled.

"Well, maybe not for the rest of the evening."

"I wish," Liam said, regretfully.

Reluctantly, they made their way back to the ballroom, their bodies still humming with desire as they walked hand-in-hand.

As they approached the doorway, Liam turned to Sophie and grinned. "How about we plan another escape for next weekend?"

"I like the sound of that," Sophie replied, grinning.

💕Thanks for reading

Perma-tags: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

Submissions:

@choicesficwriterscreations @angelasscribbles @choicesflashfics @choicesholidays @choicesprompts

[tonin-terets]

Hublot — Tourbillon SR_A from Ditroit on Vimeo.

A majestic-paced parade of product-focused shots outlines the comfort and lightness of the renewed Hublot Tourbillon SR_A, a timepiece by the polymathic creative Samuel Ross. The watch's case contrasts against the backgrounds, shifting from cold neutral backdrops to elegant industrial structures, and from flat dark shadows to radiant brightness. Shot by shot, vivid bursts of green punctuate select areas of the product, and a sleek motion blur effect glides through, amplifying the sensation of movement and accentuating the essence of etherealness. ditroit.it


CREDITS

Direction Ditroit

Creative Director Salvatore Giunta

Design & Development Mantas Bardauskas Alessandro Nobile Claudio Gasparollo Matteo Nicoli Marco Serracca Davide Rubini Maria Grazia Di Giovannantonio Alessandra Sartori Ariel Lu


Producer Irene Costantini

—

Audio Chris Banks Tom Andrews

—

Client Hublot

Creative Director Alexandre Bertrand

[bolsino11]

The Ultimate Guide to Hermes Evelyne Sizes: Find Your Perfect Fit

Hermes Evelyne is a timeless bag that has captured the hearts of fashion enthusiasts worldwide. Known for its elegant design, practicality, and the signature perforated H on the front, the Evelyne bag is a must-have in any luxury handbag collection. But with multiple sizes available, choosing the right one can be a bit challenging. In this guide, we'll break down the different Hermes Evelyne sizes to help you find the perfect fit for your lifestyle.

A Brief History of the Hermes Evelyne Before diving into the sizes, it's essential to understand a bit about the bag's background. The Evelyne was first introduced in 1978 by Évelyne Bertrand, the head of Hermès' riding department. Originally designed as an equestrian bag, its purpose was to carry horse grooming equipment. The iconic perforated H logo was intended for ventilation, but it soon became a beloved aesthetic feature. Over the years, the Evelyne transitioned from a practical accessory to a fashion statement, adored by celebrities and fashionistas alike.

The Different Hermes Evelyne Sizes The Hermes Evelyne bag comes in four primary sizes, each catering to different needs and preferences. Understanding the dimensions and capacities of each size will help you decide which one suits your style and daily requirements.

Hermes Evelyne TPM (Très Petit Modèle) The TPM is the smallest size in the Evelyne family. It measures approximately 16 cm x 18 cm x 5 cm. Despite its compact size, the TPM is incredibly versatile and perfect for those who prefer a minimalist approach. It's ideal for carrying essentials like your phone, keys, and a small wallet. The TPM is great for casual outings or when you want to travel light.

Hermes Evelyne PM (Petit Modèle) Next up is the PM, which stands for Petit Modèle. It measures around 29 cm x 30 cm x 7 cm. The PM size strikes a balance between compactness and functionality. It's spacious enough to hold everyday items such as a tablet, makeup pouch, and other personal essentials. The PM is perfect for daily use, whether you're heading to work or running errands.

Hermes Evelyne GM (Grand Modèle) The GM, or Grand Modèle, is the larger counterpart of the PM. It measures approximately 33 cm x 31 cm x 8 cm. This size is well-suited for those who need a bit more room. The GM can easily accommodate larger items like a small laptop, books, and even a light sweater. It's an excellent choice for busy professionals or those who like to be prepared for any situation.

Hermes Evelyne TGM (Très Grand Modèle) Lastly, the TGM, or Très Grand Modèle, is the largest size available. Measuring around 40 cm x 39 cm x 10 cm, the TGM offers ample space for just about anything you need to carry. It's ideal for travel or as a chic gym bag. The TGM is perfect for those who prefer a bag that can handle a busy, on-the-go lifestyle without compromising on style.

Choosing the Right Size for You When selecting the perfect Hermes Evelyne size, consider your daily activities and what you typically carry in your bag. If you prefer a lightweight, compact bag for essentials, the TPM might be your best bet. For a balance between space and convenience, the PM is a great option. If you need more room for larger items, the GM will suit you well. And if you're looking for a spacious bag that can double as a travel or gym bag, the TGM is the way to go.

Click here for more information:-

Investment Bags 2024

How to Store Luxury Handbags

[capellilavita-blog]

𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚’𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚 2016 𝘼 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙤 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙮 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧

When you combine quality with quality you are assured of a winner, and in the case of Morgenster Estate, it happens to be a Trophy Winner for The Reserve 2016 at this year’s Michelangelo International Wine & Spirits Awards. At a gala event attended by members of the wine and media fraternities, the deserving wine was awarded the Bidvest Premier Lounge Bordeaux Blend Trophy.

The prestigious competition is the only event of its kind in South Africa with an exclusive international panel of accredited wine judges, winemakers, wine masters, journalists, and sommeliers.

Morgenster Estate’s crown jewel, The Reserve, is the epitome of its perpetual pursuit of excellence. This elegant blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot reflects the soul of their unique soil at the foothills of the Helderberg Mountains. It’s the result of both nature and nurture – a true labour of love.

“We are honoured to have been awarded this Trophy at such a prestigious international competition and this is a testament to our commitment to producing fine wines of the utmost quality and to carrying on our legacy”, says The Bertrand Family

The Reserve 2016 is yet to be released and is a wine you want to add to your collection. To pre-order this Trophy Winner or for more details, email info@morgenster.co.za

*content provided*

Morgenster Estate

Pippa Pringle

#capellilavita #morgensterestate #morgensterexperience #morgensterwineestate #morgenster #stellenbosch #winelands #michelangeloawards #trophywinner #redwine #awards