Mademoiselle Olympia de Nemours
FC: Emilia Schüle
Age: 23
Interests: Comte Sebastien. Lord Vincenzo. Lord Philippe. Amélia <3
Household: Amélia
Lineage
Mlle Olympia de Nemours might have been named Mlle Olympia Calderón, had she been born only a century or two later. Only, she was not - born in 1649, she was brought into the world under very lively circumstances that might have been a plot for a romance novel, a short thriller, or perhaps a drama. Her mother started as an illegitimate child turned orphan turned actress but soon learnt that her acting skill along with the long heritage of nature-related knowledge and affinity for drama can be better used in other ways. And just like that, Mlle Maria Calderón died and the legend of Madame Severine was born. The farce played out for ages and Maria, well Severine managed to obtain quite a lot of money from her extracurricular activities. Some of her clientele were idle high-society ladies seeking a thrill that would not come cheaply, old widows looking to converse with long-forgotten spirits, young women seeking to discover the name of their love match or soulmate - the idle sought out amusement. But the majority of her finance came from a very real necessity for solutions for real problems: herbs and teas to help those who wish to have children, same as those expecting some they did not ask to have. Things went according to plan until they didn’t. The night the illegitimate son of a wealthy nobleman showed up for a group seance and left for a month, she knew the plans she had made are sinking beneath the waves like the battleships. Armand de Nemours was a dark handsome stranger, unscrupulous politician and a rake with a reputation Severine chose to ignore. All the warnings were obliterated in the flame of passion she had for him and his walls came down like sand castles - love or lust? Neither knew nor cared. They made a daughter early into their relationship, and to their great surprise, they were both on board with the idea. Altho born out of wedlock - as her father often jokes, in their family tradition of making bastards - Olympia was legitimised soon enough and was raised with the best of both worlds. She spent time in her father’s household learning about etiquette, politics, diplomacy and all the ties that came with a title of a duchess she would inherit. The rest of the time she spent learning how to read tarot cards, combine and seek herbs, and the art of illusionism her mother so skilfully used at work. And all was well with the world. Until things got interesting. She won’t forget the spring day her father came to the house, as he usually did. He came with some flowers from his family garden, as he usually did. He came accompanied by his entourage, which was not always a habit. He came with a feast, which was not the first, but it was a surprise. And he came with a present: a gown, ivory in colour, and an announcement: a marriage. Both women her mother was and the one she had to leave behind to become who she is today promised their devotion to the Armand and the garden party went for far longer at their - now - family estate. In his usual manner, nothing was without a plan - and only a few months later they announced Armand’s father was dead and the estate was left with his widow and a young heir - in reality, the strong ties Armand held with the community gave him a better chance to claim his (unintended, but never unwanted) title of Duc de Saint-Simon. Most are unsure if the young widow decided to give into Armand’s request before or after the seance his wife held at the mansion in the south of France, but the papers have been signed and Armand was now Duc de Saint-Simon - and he had everything that a duke should have: the acceptable amount of fortune, a wife, a child, a house and all the connections the society might not have been based on all the good graces, but for them, it was enough.
Traits: Passionate. Intelligent. Mischievous. Spoilt. Determined. Romantic. Diplomatic. Ambitious. Charming. Confident (or pretending to be). Eloquent. Sophisticated. Sweet (until she is not). Open-minded. Hungry for life.
Fast times and fast nights
Time was completely irrelevant.
The sounds of celebrations and pouring of the wine would be the sound of waking up and the sound you last heard before your head hit the pillow, and oh, how we loved it. But every now and then, I had more taste for something a bit slower, lighter, and easier to handle, and in those moments it felt quite lovely to share Vincenzo’s company. Such is this afternoon: lovely, hazy and quite lazy. The idea is to take one of the gondolas out, perhaps share some food on the other side of the canal, or just take it from there, and it feels like it was entirely my idea, but I really think he enjoys that at this point.
“Am I boring you witless?” I asked, all of a sudden, in a moment of silence between the banter and the smiles. His brows furrowed a little bit, as he turned his head towards me, shaking it.
“I figured you thought more highly of yourself,” he teased, and I shrugged. I did, but it meant nothing.
“I do,” I replied. ”But it means very little, everyone does,”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about it,” he laid prompted on his elbow, glancing at me.
“I guess you’re right about that, too,” I noted. ”We have a strange custom of meeting on boats,”
“We also have this tendency to talk about nightgowns, fans, and grandmothers,” he added.
“In my defence, those are some of my favourite things,” I chuckled. ”And what about yours? Besides art, which seems like quite a good decision, knowing you patron so many skilled artists,”
“Have I mentioned art before?”
“Women notice things,” I smiled. He grins, pushing us further from the shore, as I fluffed my skirt, popping the basket open to grab a macaron.
“So, what else have you noticed about me?”
“I feel this might make go to your head, but the sun has gotten to mine, so I am not going to stop myself,” I smirk. ”You like art, but I mentioned it already, and you do like the outdoor activities so much, it’s absolutely delightful,” I continued.
“You’ve watched me,”
“In your defence, you are extremely pleasant to watch,” I shrugged. ”You also know and see more than you let others believe, and you are quite good at hiding your intention,”
“Am I?”
“In most cases,” I teased. “But please, ignore my parlour tricks,” I smiled.
“I thought you focused on tarot readings only,”
“Versatility is what I do best,” I corrected him. “It’s fun, the parlour tricks, altho I normally make them seem less than they are,”
“Explain,” Vincenzo said, pushing us further up the river. “After all, I am doing the manual labour here, you could at least keep my mind occupied,”
“People are easy to read when you know where to look,” I shrugged. “My mother knew well how to use it, and once I actually paid attention to what she said, I did see the truth in that.”
“Rumours have been swirling, you must know it, too.”
“They tend to do that,” I smiled. “I feel I disappoint people easily by not being shy nor embarrassed by that.” Vincenzo is silent, and the conversation dies for a short moment, and I shrug at it.
“I didn’t get the impression you cared about what others think,”
“It would be a treacherous slope for a woman to thread,” I replied. “I do not think I can afford it, but once I am out of my dress and in my favourite nightgown, I go to sleep easily, your grace.”
“And your dreams are delightful, I imagine,”
“Most days,” I smiled. “Are yours?”
He seems to take a break for a second, before glancing at me shortly. “Would you like an honest answer, or to pick up on whatever banter we might both like?”
“I would like to hear your honest answer,” I replied. “We can flirt later.”
“It’s a lot of pressure to stand in someone’s place wherever you go,”
“A possible understatement, perhaps?” I tried a lighter smile. “Being born into duty is something else entirely,”
“The worry appears occasionally, rest assured,” he smiled. “I tend to let go of the past, and let the future find me.”
“Juxtaposition de jour,” I noted. “You feel the pressure, but you also do not worry about it,”
“Is it not the best? Being aware and without a care of any other moment than now,”
“Refreshingly lovely,” I smiled. “And I am not even flattering you.”
The gondola reaches the shore with a little bump, and I steady myself on his forearm. We disembarked and the second we found a lovely place to sit, the laziness of the day truly took over.
Closed eyes and closed blinds
The celebrations went on indefinitely - one could not tell if there has ever been a pause between them or you were just one of the unfortunate ones to succumb to dreams at a point. Still, it felt like the best of times, yet the letters from back home made notice of the upcoming end to a fine summer. It takes me a second to realize this indulgence is not without a price, in the end, as I have not yet replied in definite to any letters that addressed the questions running through the minds of my parents.
And, in the end, I did not know if I even could.
Did I have a sense of what I wanted to do? Perhaps. But did I have a clear direction which pointed me very definitely somewhere? Absolutely not.
“I hope you are thinking of something wicked I might do today,” Amélia chuckled, stepping into the sunlight and forming a perfect shadow over my face. It took me a second to regain the focus her soft features, and she moves again, dropping to the blanket, next to me, and the world turns into a light blur again.
“I’m afraid it’s far more boring,” I admit. “Considering all the excuses I am yet to use when my mother, or father ask about the state of affairs—”
Amélia chuckled, playfully - naughtily, actually - and I did, too.
“Such a lovely truthfulness to your relationship,” she grinned. I remained silent. “Okay, you seem as if you just lost a pretty important bet,” she continued, reaching forward, taking my hand into hers.
“Do I?” I smile, squeezing her hand.
“You do,” Amélia replied.
“The end of summer is near,” I say. “Maria was here last week, and the letters from home are all quite harmonious in their intentions.”
“I will not have it,” Amélia stated in a tone that left no room for argument. “Especially now. I need your help.”
“Oh?”
“It’s about Louis,” she casually mentions the king. “I will not admit this should you share it—”
“Who with?” I sigh, but she knows our conversations are ours only.
“—and I am not admitting I have any love for him, but I am not stupid.”
That I can agree with. “Quite the contrary, I believe.”
“Yes. Which means I know losing his affection would not benefit me, do you agree?”
“Of course,” I replied. “Are you losing it?”
“I’m unsure,” she admitted. “And I do not want to wait and find out if my intuition was correct or not.”
“How can I help?”
“You can brew me a love potion,” she said, and I admit that when I will look back at this moment in time in my life it will most likely seem like no surprise at all, but at that moment, I was taken aback a moment. Amélia seemed perfectly lighthearted about it, even more so than normally.
“You know those things—”
“Wine, liquor and some herbs to make his smaller king rise to the occasion, yes,” she said it all in one breath. “So, you list me things you need, and you will get them, and—”
She picked up on my worried expression, rolling her eyes playfully.
“You can say no,” she says, and I shrugged.
“I know,” I replied. “This would not hurt you, or me, should the word—”
“Nothing will come out,” she said, confidently. I smiled, nodding. A few days later, we made the love potion. Things seemed to be back to normal.
(She does her first threesome with Amélia & king, after this, in my mind, because she is already been notified of her departure)
Outlines on bedsides
Parties, letting go of whatever might have been going on with Philippe, lightly flirting and establishing (or trying to) friendship. Finds more parties to enjoy. Sleeps with Sebastien.
Such a perfect cadence
Time with Vincenzo, they are being flirty and seem to be having a good raport. Might do something a bit more blush-worthy with him, IDK, at this point, all fun and games.
Last edited by Zaralee (23/08/2022 at 12:33)
