#pearls and jewels sewn into her dress with pretty lace and silk

[sihtryggr]

after watching the borgias, it really puts into perspective how disappointing (and boring) the costuming for hotd is

which isn’t to say that hotd costumes aren’t nice (because some of them are) but they could certainly be better

[harrenhals]

Summerhall Solstice: A Song of Ice & Fire + gothic horror

Jeyne Poole & Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber

Based on the story of Bluebeard, The Bloody Chamber tells the story of a teenage girl who marries an older, wealthy man. She soon realizes the full extent of his perverse and murderous tendencies when she discovers the bodies of his previous wives, presented in gruesome ways. In both the original folktale and The Bloody Chamber, keys are a reoccurring motif. In both stories, the girl drops the key to the chamber in a pool of blood which cannot be washed out. 

“So, for the opera, I wore a sinuous shift of white muslin tied with a silk string under the breasts. [...] the white dress; the frail child within it; and the flashing crimson jewels around her throat, bright as arterial blood.” - The Bloody Chamber

“The bride was shivering too. They had dressed her in white lambswool trimmed with lace. Her sleeves and bodice were sewn with freshwater pearls, and on her feet were white doeskin slippers—pretty, but not warm. Her face was pale, bloodless.” - The Prince of Winterfell, A Dance with Dragons

“Keys of all kinds - huge ancient things of black iron; others slender, delicate, almost baroque; wafer-thin Yale keys for safes and boxes.” - The Bloody Chamber

“Even if he found some secret way out, Theon would not have trusted it. He had not forgotten Kyra and her keys.” - The Turncloak, A Dance with Dragons

“There was a Marquis, once, who used to hunt young girls on the mainland; he hunted them with dogs, as though they were foxes.” - The Bloody Chamber

“Ben Bones, who liked the dogs better than their master, had told Reek they were all named after peasant girls Ramsay had hunted, raped, and killed back when he'd still been a bastard, running with the first Reek. ‘The ones who give him good sport, anywise. The ones who weep and beg and won't run don't get to come back as bitches.’“ - Reek III, A Dance with Dragons

[unfocused-overwriter]

I looove clothing descriptions

I know, I know. “Ohemgee gurl do you want to sound like my immortal???” Well screw that. Sure, you don’t need to know what every character is wearing at every second of every day, but if it’s their main/only outfit, or if it’s a very special occasion, then it’s all cool! I have pretty outfits in mind, I want to show them off (since I can’t always draw them)!!! To follow @brainstatic‘s amazing tip:

If, say, you’re really into fashion, feel free to describe in painstaking detail every outfit that elves wear for all possible occasions. I promise you it’s no weirder than describing the dialects of tree people. 

Feel free to ignore that I also describe the dialect of tree people. Or its equivalents. 

And for once, the excerpt and the intro will actually be linked! Yay, weddings!

Here’s an extract for you:

From chapter 40

"And now the moment you've all been waiting for..." Danae started, putting as much sarcasm as she could in her voice. "Let us gear up."

The eight girls and women gathered in the loggia, fresh, cleansed and perfumed from their morning in the Great Baths, exclaimed in joy. Even the older, more mature ones Danae usually relied on clapped enthusiastically, and showed to whoever was looking their dresses, veils, jewels. The princess herself could not help but smile. Dressing up for an event was always more interesting than the event itself; especially surrounded by other girls who were just waiting for an excuse to praise each other's beauty, elegance and taste. [...]

Danae was to wear an exquisite lavender dress, all sewn from a single piece of silk. The plunging cleavage was lined with golden lace -beautiful but itchy- and the bottom of the skirt was sprinkled in small golden curls, in waves to follow the movement of the cloth. Golden vines were coiled around her upper arms. Danae could not remember the last time she had worn such a gorgeous and expensive dress. While one of the girls pulled back her hair and started braiding it, a maid sat in front of her and applied on her face a brown powder to define her features, and another, partly made of crushed gems, to make her skin shine. On her eyes, with paintbrushes and pigments, the cosmetic artist painted a sunset of blue and purple. Since the Queen's accident, the court was defiant of kohl, and Danae, despite knowing exactly what had happened, was not different. Still she allowed the woman to paint a few brown curves on her eyelids and temples, and others on her chest to highlight the curves of her breasts. Once the two ladies busy on her hair were done, they placed a fine golden tiara on her head. Danae turned around, appreciating, in the polished bronze mirror, the careful mesh of braids and free hair, intertwined with chains of small pearls. She considered herself above the vanities of the court most of the time, but she was still only human. Feeling beautiful was a very nice feeling.

[hello-clarisse-blog1]

The Mouse & The Queen

Present Day: Fingers idly brushed over the ivory keys of the piano in Clarisse du Volde's music room; it was where she practiced playing; even though she had been playing for well over two centuries, she was nowhere near a master of piano nor her violin. A tumbler with bourbon sat on the smooth blacktop of the baby grand, alongside a candle and a glass with the amber colored fluid in it. Curiously, an emerald and diamond necklace sat there as well; the pink ribbon faded and frayed slightly at the end. Waving her hand over the waxen object, a small flame flickered to life. A small bit of her power and something that she found as a comfort. Pressing her long thin fingers down, the diminutive vampiress began to play. At first, it was just random chords, then moved into a piece that she had heard somewhere. She didn't quite recollect where but she had learned the piece by ear. It was a somber song; one that befit her mood. Fingers brushed over the emerald necklace when she had finished, chuckling hearing Exodus teasing her, "Are you done with your death durge?" A rolling of her eyes and she looked at the portrait of a man on the wall, raising the glass up in a toast. "Bonne anniversaire, Papa. Ta petite souris t'aime tellement." 1778. It was early when Christopher du Volde walked up the stairwell to his youngest daughter's room. It was seldom that he spent time with her, being that he was so busy with his work and also keeping abreast of the French royals lives. He had just finished listening to his decidedly anti-monarchist wife, Vivian, read yet another libelle about the Queen, Marie Antoinette. It had taken everything in him not to throw the decanter of bourbon at her. She drove him mad, this wife of his and he sorely wished that he'd been allowed to chose his own. But appearances were important and his family had pressed him into this. It was a mostly loveless marriage, the two sleeping together only for them to try for children. He was indifferent to their gender. Thier first child was a girl named Antoinette, a stillborn boy came a year later, a second daughter, Vivienne followed a year after that, a live boy and a stillborn girl had come two years later--the boy died a month later and then they finally had gotten their son, Frederick. Seven years later, Clarisse had come into the world. Even though she wasn't his. Vivian's affair had resulted in the conception and Christopher, being indifferent, didn't care. He loved their children and he would love that child too. Sitting in her room with her governess, Genevieve, the two were breaking their fast with little cups of chocolate and freshly made pastry from the bakery down the street. Standing in the doorframe for a moment, Christopher smiled at the nearly six-year-old as she endeavored to sit up straight and to look like a proper lady, but no matter how she tried, she slouched. He knew that he ought to correct her, but he could see that she was trying her best. She was dressed in one of her sister's old dresses, he noted, but he knew it was her favorite. Yellow brocade with a pale pink stomacher and rosettes sewn upon it. At her neck hung a small pearl necklace and at her sleeves were lace. He was amused, as ever, to see she had kicked her shoes off. Her blonde tresses were curled and pulled back, her mouth formed in a determined pout though her bright green eyes were alight with excitement at the idea of tearing into the pastry on her plate. "Bonjour, little mouse!" He greeted her finally, startling her off of her chair. His laugh rang throughout the room and she was unphased, simply getting up off the floor and ran to him. Kneeling down, he took her into his arms and embraced her before rising and twirling her around. He was unusually tall and Clarisse adored when he lifted her. She was small for her size and her mother assumed that her least favorite child would never stand more than five feet. It was a fact that Christopher found amusing. It made it easier for him to embrace and carry her. "Today's a special day, Mouse." "Is this my birthday, Papa?" "It is not. But I have no obligations today and I thought you might enjoy walking the gardens of Versailles with me. You needn't change, you look fresh as springtime, though you will need your shoes when you finish eating." Christopher was certain that he'd never seen the child move so quickly in her entire life but he was polite and didn't comment harshly, though Genevieve kept apologising for her charge's behavior. "She's excited. Let her be." The carriage ride over was quiet and Christopher took in the child, noting how...docile she was. He knew Vivian was often cruel to her and she often hid in her rooms. Her governess was more motherly towards her as was Antoinette, his eldest daughter. Both strived to make a lady of the child, but there was only one problem in his mind; they were forgetting to let her be a child. Leaning over, he kissed her temple, grinning as she looked at him wide-eyed. "It's not proper to kiss a lady," she teased him, hands folded in her lap. "Oh, is it not?" he replied, his Irish brogue tickling his words. "I thought I was with my daughter. My mouse." "Vivienne says I'm too big to be a mouse. She says I'm a rat and that I'm getting portly." "Your sister ought to mind her tongue," Christopher frowned. "You're always going to be my little mouse and there's not a bit of fat on you. You needn't heed her words, child. In fact, don't think of her at all today." "No?" "Non. It is you and I today. All day. And when we are done here, we will visit one of the cafes. If, of course, the lady desires it. After all, I haven't a daughter here but a lady." Giving her a wink, he couldn't help but smile as she laughed. The need to behave was broken, she was allowing herself to be the child he knew she could--and should--be. Upon arrival, Christopher opened the door and stepped down, offering his hand to the child, smiling as she affected a grown persona again, holding her head up, though he was careful to be sure she didn't fall. Graceful was something Clarisse was not. Taking hold of her hand, the two began to walk together, looking over the garden entry and heading in. Christopher took notice of how Clarisse looked at other women there and he nudged her, making a face at her, grinning as she wiggled her nose in response. The two engaged in light conversation, laughing and enjoying the other's presence. He was pleased to see her talk so much, given that usually, she wouldn't say two words; just looked on quietly as if wishing she was anywhere but where she was. "If I were Queen," Clarisse giggled suddenly, "You would have to bow to me, Papa." She looked at her father expectantly, breaking into a wide smile as he swept into a deep, courtly bow, doffing his hat at her. "Your Majesty," he spoke, kissing the small hand as it was extended towards him. Her cheeks hurt from smiling but she found that she couldn't stop; her father was her favorite person on earth. Taking hold of her father's hand as he stood back up, the two were about to walk again when a soft female voice rang out.   "I hear the Queen is here!" "Yes, I am here," Clarisse replied, unaware that the woman she was speaking to was Marie Antoinette herself. Stepping forward, she looked at the woman's dress, admiring the silk and lace. Maman was always saying that the women at Versailles were so richly dressed; there was envy in her voice when she said it and Clarisse could see why. She made a promise to herself that when she was a woman grown, she would have dresses and jewels just as fine as these. Christopher was about to bow when the Queen quickly shook her head, indicating that she was playing along with the curious child.  "Your Majesty looks beautiful today," the young woman continued, kneeling down to be eye level with Clarisse. "Do pardon me, Majesty, I should have curtsied," she apologised but Clarisse shyly smiled, "There is no need, Madame." Her smile was bright and her cheeks rosy. Clarisse found herself quite taken by how beautiful the woman was; how sweet her perfume was. She reached out, wanting to touch her necklace but withdrew her hand, remembering how Vivian slapped her for doing such once. "Would you like to see?" the Queen asked the little one, slipping the necklace off her slender neck and placing it into her small hands. An older woman seemed annoyed by the entire interaction between the child and the royal, but the rest of the women seemed charmed and moved to settle on a bench nearby, their colorful skirts making a rainbow. Christopher watched amused and somewhat in disbelief at the scene that was unfolding before him but seeing his daughter happy, that was enough for him. "Madame, this is the prettiest thing I have ever seen," Clarisse spoke politely, brushing her fingers over the small diamonds and the emerald in the center. "Then Her Majesty must keep it." The Queen replied, fastening it about her neck, laughing at the awkward way it hung around the child's neck. "You will have to grow into it. But look at this, the jewel even matches your eyes." "I couldn't!" The child blinked, shaking her head. "You must. I insist. And you must listen to me," Marie Antoinette spoke warmly. "You must because I am the Queen." The shock on Clarisse's face made the young Queen and her ladies laugh, "Do not fret, little one! I am very happy to have met you! Tell me, what is your name?" "Clarisse du Volde, Majesty." She gulped, falling into a curtsy, which she hoped was as graceful as she thought it was. "What a pretty name for an especially pretty little girl! I hope when I have a child, she is as pretty as you." "May God grant you many children, Majesty," Clarisse replied, remembering what her grandmother had said when the announcement was made that the Queen was with child.  "I thank Your Majesty for indulging my daughter," Christopher spoke, smiling as he bowed and kissed her hand. "You are very kind." "And she is charming. Please. She must keep it. I really insist. I have more than enough necklaces; perhaps she will remember me fondly," she spoke, folding her hands over her belly, revealing the gentle swell. "I know there are many who do not like me but I have truly enjoyed this time together. I hope that if you walk the gardens here in Versailles again, we meet again." There was a sadness in her voice and Clarisse, overcome, embraced the Queen, breaking all protocol. Once more Christopher moved to correct his daughter, but the Queen hugged her back, brushing her fingers against the girl's cheek before she and her coterie of women continued on their way.   The necklace sat in Christopher's pocket for the remainder of the day; keeping it safe for her. When they got home, he would entrust it to his personal safe. This wasn't something that anyone but he and Clarisse--not to mention the Queen--needed to know about. The two talked spiritedly amongst themselves about the incident and then heading to the cafe as promised, though Risse fell asleep on his lap before she could enjoy the treat. He laughed to himself, carrying her back to the carriage and heading back home, bringing her up to her room. "Thank you for making my birthday wonderful, little mouse," he whispered to his daughter, locking her new necklace away until she was old enough to wear it...though something told him, she never would wear it. She'd just savor the memory of this day for the rest of her life.