I Feel Pretty // Valentina & Lucien

[Valentina Morisot D'Aoust]

Valentina paused in front of a huge canvas in a gilt frame and looked thoughtfully at the painting it bore. She tilted her head to one side, then to the other, doing her very best to see the perceived magnificence therein, but she just couldn’t seem to find much in the painting to appreciate. She rather thought that Camilla’s work was more deserving of a place in the museum, but unfortunately no one had asked her opinion when selecting paintings for the exhibit. Their loss.
Earlier in the week, Valentina and Lucien had thought that a long weekend on the East Coast might be in order, and now, late on that Friday morning, they could be found touring various museums in the area.
Museums always made Valentina feel a trifle melancholy, or perhaps nostalgic would have been a better term. Either way, seeing objects from her early life placed on velvet cushions encased in glass was odd. It seemed that people today would take anything from any other time and glamorize it, be it an artifact of real value, or a trinket of little substantive value at all.
Occasionally, Valentina would pause and read the informational plaques posted beside the items, and more often than not, would find some minor error there. This, however annoying, was much less irritating than the stuffy museum docents, who would wander up to Valentina with the intention of being helpful. They would begin rattling off factoids and dates with the demeanor of someone who was trying to explain that two plus two is four to an overly emotional two-year-old. Valentina had once made the mistake of attempting to gently correct a misinformed tour guide, only to be reprimanded quite rudely by the young man leading the tour. Her pride wounded, she had apologized to the young docent, a student by the looks of him, and remained silent for the remainder of the tour.
”Honestly,” she had sighed to Lucien, after the tour had ended,

[/b]”that young man acted as though I had told him that Napoleon was a figment of his imagination. I was only trying to edify his presentation.”[/b]
Today, however, Valentina had opted to tour the exhibit of modern French art on her own, without the aid of a guide. She was quite disappointed in the offerings of the gallery, really, much preferring the work of her sister-in-law to that on display in the museum. She would have to remember to tell Camilla about the seeming decline of talent in the market.
As the hallway of paintings came to an end against a white wall, Valentina saw a pamphlet advertising an exhibit on French fashion throughout history. The pamphlet promised “exquisite artistry,” among other high praise for the fashions of the ages.
Valentina took one of the pamphlets and turned back the way she had come, in the hopes of locating her husband and dragging him through the exhibit whether he wanted to see it or not.
Upon locating Lucien, Valentina offered him the pamphlet, saying, ”Darling, we must see this. I have no doubt that it will be quite the trip down memory lane. What do you think?” She waited eagerly for his response, deciding to see the exhibit whether or not Lucien came along.[/blockquote][/size]

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tags:[/color] Lucien.
lyrics:[/color] she had the world - panic! at the disco.
outfit:[/color] Simple white dress of eyelet lace with a blue sash tied in a bow in back.
words:[/color] Didn’t count.
notes:[/color] None.
credit:[/color] heatherrenee at caution 2.0[/size]

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

As Lucien, Valentina, and the rest of the Chevalerie regularly perused museums, Lucien had since grown accustomed to the condescending manner of the workers that typically inhabited these places. Granted, most of them meant well, but it was always irritating to run across one of the ones who believed memorizing series of dates established one's credibility. Dates were arbitrary; even Lucien could not recall specific years of significant events through which he and the others had lived.

In any case, now was not the time to be bothered by trifling things; the weekend was to be enjoyed, and despite these little inconveniences, even Lucien, who had the tendency to be fussy (though not as much as Valentina, admittedly), was still rather content with how things were turning out. That might have had to do with the company of course; it was rare that Lucien and Valentina had the opportunity to spend time together, away from the rest of the family.

"C'est pas grave," Lucien assured Valentina, slipping his fingertips through hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "You had simply debased his academic credibility. The poor thing was probably not accustomed to having its feathers ruffled."

Chuckling good-naturedly, Lucien released Valentina's hand to stray over to another line of paintings, passing an unimpressed eye over them. He did not understand the merit in producing conglomerations of household objects held together with glue and arranged in vaguely thoughtful manners; one needn't possess Camilla's artistic eye to see how absurd it was.

Luckily, Valentina had found something else of worth, and he peered over her shoulder at the pamphlet in her hand.

"Oui, je suis d'accord. And it would perhaps make this sojourn worthwhile." Chuckling, he plucked the pamphlet from her and turned it over to check the map, and after orienting themselves with their location, they started off, navigating to where the special exhibit was.

When they arrived at the wing housing the exhibit, there was already a fairly steady flow of traffic milling about. Having learned their lessons, Lucien politely shooed away the exhibit tour guide, before drifting over to the first glass display case.

Several mannequins had been dressed head-to-toe in carefully-coordinated ensembles, both women's and men's. There was a fair assortment of styles, though Lucien lingered next to a robe à la française, wrinkling his nose at the ridiculous coiffure and headgear (a birdcage) balanced precariously atop the mannequin's head.

"One of my complaints with these fashion exhibits is that they misleadingly suggest that ridiculous outfits like these were everyday affairs, when, as you recall, they were one-time-use walking conversation pieces or whatnot ... "

But as they continued on, the exhibits moved onto outfits drawn from their adulthood. Robes polonnaises and more streamline redingotes and justaucorps; it was here that Lucien paused next to a certain robe à l'anglaise.

"This ... for some reason I feel as if I have seen this one before," he mumbled, absentmindedly gathering his curls over one shoulder and adjusting the jacket of his suit, before returning to peering at the glass.

[Valentina Morisot D'Aoust]

Valentina wandered slowly from one mannequin to the next, each eliciting a different response. Some of the carefully assembled wardrobes were fairly true to the reality of the thing, but there were a few that made her roll her eyes. She joined Lucien in front of one particularly absurd number involving a bird cage, and she had to stifle a giggle. She had never been one for the attention-grabbing sort of to-dos such as that.

Valentina eyed a few more displays before joining Lucien once again in front of a lovely dress made of ivory and light pink silk, with a modest bustle and a gauzy shawl. As Lucien mused that the garment seemed familiar, Valentina stepped closer to the glass of the display case, allowing her fingers to brush the glass as she gazed intently at the lovely dress. It was familiar to her, as well.

"Lucien, darling," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Darling, I ... This was mine." A mixture of emotions were vying for her attentions, now, and the one that seemed to be winning was a sad sort of nostalgia.

"Yes," she said, seemingly speaking more for her own benefit than for that of anyone else. "I remember this dress very well. I was wearing it when-"

Her voice seemed to catch in her throat just then. This dress before her was the very dress which she had worn the day of her arrest, and had subsequently died wearing. Indeed, there was still a slightly muddy cast to the hem of the dress where it had been dragged through the muck and grime of the streets, and then the prisons.

Valentina took a moment to compose herself. She desperately wanted to avoid a scene, and she satisfied herself with slipping her hand into that of her husband. She gazed fixedly at a spotlight, willing herself not to become emotional.

"My love, I think I need to get some air," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "I'll only be... be a moment..."

And with that, she moved toward the archway leading out of the exhibit.

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tags:[/color] Lucien.
lyrics:[/color] she had the world - panic! at the disco.
outfit:[/color] Simple white dress of eyelet lace with a blue sash tied in a bow in back.
words:[/color] Didn’t count.
notes:[/color] None.
credit:[/color] heatherrenee at caution 2.0[/size]

[Lucien Villette de Séraphin]

Lucien blinked dazedly as Valentina's full attention seemed to be caught by the dress he had pointed out, but his confusion transitioned into concern instead as he recognized the distant melancholy seeping into her demeanor.

His questions were answered with her simple three-word explanation, and with a quiet nod of understanding, he turned his gaze back to the piece. It was beautiful, of course (though he may have been slightly biased in thinking that anything Valentina wore was made beautiful), but now that she had explained, his own mind summoned up the painful memory of the day that she couldn't even word.

The sightseeing crowd around them continued to talk amongst themselves; a young child even bounded over to the same case, stabbing a finger towards the dress - Valentina's dress.

"I like that one! Mommy, can't I have one too ?" she exclaimed to her exasperated parents.

But despite all of the hustle and bustle about them, it felt for a few moments that they were very much alone.

Lucien's gaze flickered back to Valentina, and he gently squeezed her hand again, his eyes still studying her closely, trying to see what she was thinking. She looked to be on the brink of ... of something, and when she slipped away, Lucien winced to himself, but let her escape for now.

He pursed his lips to himself, turning back to the exhibit and gazing upon the dress with a similar melancholy. His fingers drifted over the glass; just like the last time he had seen it, it had been this same distance, so close and yet just out of reach ...

"Sir, if you could please not smudge the glass - " a docent suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

"Oui, of course," Lucien replied simply, stepping back from the case and folding his arms. Once the docent had turned away though, Lucien raised a brow, his gaze darting elsewhere; notably the ceilings, counting the hidden security cameras, then the windows, then the doors, tracing invisible pathways ...

With a slight 'hmph' to himself, he turned on his heel and swept after Valentina, searching for her amidst the crowds. It wasn't hard to find her; there was a door in the next hall that opened up to a courtyard outside where some of the museum-goers were enjoying lunch in the sun, and Valentina was seated at one of the benches.

He drew up to Valentina's side, silent at first. Sinking into a seat next to her, he stared off at nothing, pensive for a moment, before he looked back to her, setting a hand over hers.

"Well, ma chère, the museum closes at eight. There are five windows along the room of the exhibit, all facing westward. I counted five security cameras with only a couple of blind spots between them; there may be more." Lucien paused, before smiling sidelong at her, the smile not without a noticeable smidgen of mischief.