The Pains of Passion [Batose  & Wistful Dream]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Wistful Dream on 17-08-2009, 22:37:22</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>17-08-2009, 22:37:22</strong>
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				The music swelled up around her as she waited in the wings, the other swan maidens already in place. And then the note was struck, she was called, for the Prince was already on stage, waiting. Her feet flexed and then she was up, on pointe and gliding outward, quick, fluid movements, her arms lifting and rising, swans wings. She could feel the lambs wool she had placed in the bottom of her pointe shoes, the ribbons that laced up and held her shoes tight to her even as she danced, lean legs on display in the tights she wore. But then a ballet dancer did not have time for shyness; her breathing was evenly paced, focused, there was nothing but her body and her dancing now. The constriction of her custom made her more aware of each breath she took, carefully, thoughtfully taken to make certain each step was as precise and fluid as it had to be. On stage, nothing mattered by the dancing. <br><br>She knew the Prince, or rather Jean followed her, and she moved forward, down off pointe, and then up again before her limbs folded, first her right leg, down the limb folding neatly in two as she leaned forward, her left leg fully extended, torso bent over as well and her arms slowly moved, still the wings, even as her forehead rested against her left calf. This was her passion, and it had its pains. Jean moved around her and then reached down, his hands closing around her slowly moving wrists, seeming to pull her upward, out of the fold of the ‘swan’. She stood with him and then slowly extend her leg, folding it back in to make a fluid turn with him to support her. Chloe could feel her muscles tense and release, and she loved the feeling of it, loved her dancing even as her arms opened and she glanced with supposed love upon the Prince, her arm extending outward in a graceful arch and her left leg coming up high above her head, balanced all on her right foot as he turned her slowly. The fluid movements of Swan Lake took over her thoughts until it was all there was. <br><br>Her dance of the meeting with the Prince, their love, and the stolen glances as she danced first away and then toward him again. Jean was doing wonderfully, she was grateful to have him as a partner as he picked her up and she went up into the air in his hold, her legs parting and flaring out into a single line. Her feet touched the earth again and the blond danced away from him, Odette with her Prince ever in pursuit. <br><br>Chloe felt the rust of the dance leaving her body, feeling some odd power wrap around her, she felt like she could dance and dance, no need to stop the movements of her feet. No thoughts of pain or discomfort entered her body, tightlaced though she was in her costume. The dance became slower, more touching, the undying love of the Prince and Odette clinging together then this stolen moment. Jean’s face reflected desperate need, his longing for his love, and hers mirrored it, their eyes gleamed, only to part as he held her tight in his hold for a mere moment. The chorography pulled her away again and she moved, only to be followed, his firm hands allowing her to make the needed moves. <br><br>The rest of the dance went by in a rush for her, her breathing quickening as they came to the final turn, and she sank down onto the stage gracefully, her body bent once more as a swan. The applause swelled up and the curtains slowly came down. Sure the red velvet was between her and the audience now Chloe rose from her position, stretching out her body, her lips flashing a warm smile to Jean as she inclined her head toward him. “Even better then rehearsal.” <br><br>Jean nodded, his black hair shifting slightly while his blue eyes glinted with approval. “You are one of the best of the etolie I have had the pleasure to dance with Chloe.” Together they moved off the stage, softly discussing the next act. <br><br>Which of course went off as well as the first, the months in training they had spent together paid off and Chloe was more then happy to dance up the ‘cliffs’ edge and leap out into the ‘water’, thus killing herself to free her spirit from Rothbart’s control. Or rather, Odette’s spirit. She had landed on the soft pillows padded where the water was suppose to be and let out a happy sigh as she relaxed for a brief moment. But she had to move quickly to get out of the way for when Jean made his leap. Together the two lay, listening to the ending chorus of the ballet as the other swan maidens danced. However, there was little time to spare in truth and so Jean helped her up and they ascended the stairs, to the small room behind the canvas of the scenery, posing together, her arms moving elegantly and his holding her as the light behind them shone out and showed their silhouette’s in the ‘spirit’ world to the audience. Applause thundered through their ears and they exchanged grins, after all working long hours with each other had made them something close to friends. <br><br>“Shall we place bets ma petite? As to who has the most admirers tonight?” He teased to her and Chloe simply shook her head with a rueful quirk to her lips. The petite blond, built like many of the other little ballerina’s in size, was a touch curvier, just naturally, then them and it added to the feminine mystery about her, part of what had snagged her the role of Odette, accepted the hand Jean offered her as they descended the steps they had hurried up so quickly, her body adjusting and relaxing now that her work for the night was over. <br><br>“Non, we both know you will win.” <br><br>That earned a laugh and the blond just shook her head, the color of her hair like gleams of starlight, pale and silvery instead of the rich golden blond that was so popular. With the pale blond hair, creamy skin and softly pink cheeks she was the picture of an English rose, for all that she now lived in Paris France. The rich emerald green of eyes were alight with good natured mirth and amusement as she let her danser partner lead her to their shared sitting room for receiving guests. In truth, it might well be Chloe who had the most fans waiting, but then that was because men were much more free to pursue their desires, women though would clutter Jean’s mailbox for weeks, if not months with private offers. And a few of the men waiting would likely seek him out as well. Such was the life of a ballet dancer. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>18-08-2009, 21:46:24</strong>
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				Anatole Leikin sat in his seat in the orchestra section, watching in anticipation for her arrival on stage.&nbsp; &nbsp;He felt bunched in, his short stocky frame filled the seat and it was another sold out night.&nbsp; The women next to him wore a god awful perfume that made him want to vomit in her handbag, but he thought 'such is the torture of pleasure.'&nbsp; Tchaikovsky, although being Russian, was not a favorite of Anatole.&nbsp; He always felt the music in Swan Lake was too cliche, although at the time it was composed it was probably quite original.&nbsp; Being trained as a Pianist in the Pedagogical Institute in Moscow, Russia, he was very well versed in Russian music and much preferred the works of Scriabin or Shostokavich, but he was not here for the music or even the Ballet.&nbsp; <br><br>It had only been recently that he had become a patron to Ballet due to his light obsession with a specific dancer he saw about a year ago in London.&nbsp; Now she was quickly becoming a star in Paris and he was one of her most avid admirers.&nbsp; Her grace and her movements were sublime, but it was not her dancing talents he was attracted to, but rather it was the aura she admitted while dancing that fascinated Anatole, for another of his skills was being a magic user.&nbsp; Magic or 'artes magicae' Anatole's preferred reference was something he discovered through his music and under early tutelage from another magic user who discovered him while playing in a concert in Moscow, he became quite versed in the practice.&nbsp; The form he practice had more to do with manipulation and deception, which was helpful in his current line of work in freelance espionage.&nbsp; He was taking a break from work and decided to come live in Paris and follow this dancer for awhile.<br><br>And there she was upon the stage, her movements marked a great talent in dancing, but the spectacular light show that Anatole knew only a few could see that permeated the air around her displayed a most unusual talent in magic; a talent Anatole was quite sure she only knew a fraction of, if she was aware of it at all.&nbsp; He was determined to intervene with her.&nbsp; He knew the experience of discovering one's magic capabilities was very unsettling and he was fortunate to have someone mentor him.&nbsp; Hopefully, it was now his time to return the favor, especially with one he found so pleasing to look at.<br><br>He was mesmerized by her dance and the optical display erupting around her as her movements accentuated the vibrant air around her, and then she was done.&nbsp; An eruption of applause with shouts from the crowd as people began standing.&nbsp; He stole away quickly as the applause erupted and headed back stage.&nbsp; He knew she was receiving guest, but he did not want her to see him quite yet.&nbsp; He pulled from his bag a rare Ghost orchid.&nbsp; He slipped back stage and left the orchid with a small note dangling from it<br><br>The Orchid<br>(http://harperkay.homestead.com/files/ghostorchid2c.jpg)<br><br>and the note: "Dancing such as yours can awaken the most extraordinary events.&nbsp; If you would like some clues as to the source of these lucid moments where reality seems like a dream and dream a reality than meet me at Le Rubis, 10, rue du Marche Saint-Honoré at 4 O'clock tomorrow.&nbsp; I will be the one wearing the green hat.&nbsp; Bonsoir, Mademoiselle."&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 22:30:58</strong>
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				She was use to getting flowers, but the normal were roses, or lilies, or violets. Simple, normal flowers, often in large bouquets of the same, or mixed. However the sight of a unusual orchid waiting for her in the dressing room made her pause and Chloe reached for the note on it, her green eyes glinting with her curiousity as she unfolded it to read the writing. <br><br><span style="font-size: 1em;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: ravi;" class="bbc_font"><em>Dancing such as yours can awaken the most extraordinary events.&nbsp; <br>If you would like some clues as to the source of these lucid moments <br>where reality seems like a dream and dream a reality than meet me at<br>Le Rubis, 10, rue du Marche Saint-Honoré at 4 O'clock tomorrow. <br>I will be the one wearing the green hat.&nbsp; <br><br>Bonsoir, Mademoiselle</em> </span></span><br><br>An admirer wanting a meeting, well that wasn't too out of the ordinary, however the mention of extraordinary events made her uneasy. Could this be someone from England? She didn't need any rumors spreading, she didn't want to loose her position here, not the newly and hard one position as an <em>etolie</em>. The blond bit down on her lower lip, worried, her brows drawn together as she read the note, nearly jumping out of her skin when Jean laid a hand on her shoulder. "What is it ma petite?" His expression was concerned and she smiled up at him, folding the note up neatly and tucking it away, down her bodice, before he could catch a look at it. <br><br>"Nothing mon cher, just an admire leaving his praise, and a wish to meet." Jean's blue eyes moved to the orchid and he shook his head, the raven stands of his hair shifting with the movement. "Well, ma cherie, perhaps you should go, get a free lunch; though I wonder how he knew orchids were your favorite flower. Our fans descend now..." <br><br>And he spoke not a moment too soon, for the doors to their dressing room were opened and several men, along with a few women, came through. The women were mostly of the lower class, freer to seek pleasure where they willed, and a few were dancers at less honored establishments, such as the Moulin Rouge. Chloe summoned her smile and chatted with several of the balletomane, men who loved the ballet and followed it avidly, though she would guess that over half of the draw to it lay in the beauties who danced for them, and many of the balletomane attended performances only to seek new mistresses among the ballet dancers. Chloe had never taken a man into her bed, she had no need for it, her work kept her busy enough and she did not want the distraction nor the demand on her time a lover could be. <br><br>Yet still, she could not make enemies, and they did lavish her with gifts of jewelry and flowers, offers for lunch, which at times she accepted if the man was interesting enough. All ballerinas were aware that they did not have a long life of performing, she had a good ten years left, since she took care with her body and trained, but as time passed she would need a way to support herself beyond what her salary paid. Such was the life of a dancer, for no good man would wed her; at least that had been how it was in England, the French tended to be looser about those rules. <br><br>The evening passed, she charmed and chatted and eventually left with Jean, both preferring each other's company over that of their fans, it was far less complicated, for while they could act like lovers when dancing, when leaving, they both knew they were simply friends. Though, Chloe glanced at Jean as the cab carried them toward the building that held both of their flats, that might well change with some of the more protective manners Jean exhibited lately. Men were the ones who complicated things, not women, and she bid him goodnight quickly, slipping into the solitude and safety of her dimly lit flat. The dancer discarded her wrap from around her shoulders and moved back, toward her bedroom, easily slipping out of the loose dress she put on after performances. Through the bedroom and to her large bathroom, she ran water for her bath, disrobing and then sinking into the hot water with a sigh of bliss.&nbsp; <br><br><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size"></span><div align="center">~ * ~ * ~ * ~</div>[/size]<br><br>Dawn came early and she was up with it, meeting Jean in the room between their flats that had been converted to a studio, the Ballet had paid for them to be housed such, to make practices easier, and so the hours passed away the day, training, dancing with each other to correct missteps. Last night had merely been the mid point of the show case of the Swan Lake, after all it would run all season. Which would be why as she wrapped herself up into a thick wool peat coat and wound a scarf around her neck she could feel her body slightly sore from the exertions when she headed out into the early afternoon to meet the mysterious admirer. <br><br>Her body felt, conversely, nice stretched and limber at the same time and she slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark green jacket, enjoying the warmth of them with the light snowfall outside. Her scarf was a slightly lighter shade of the same hunter green, and her long blond hair was caught up in a pony tail that swayed with her quick steps through the busy streets. She wore her favorite black leather knee high boots, with three layers of leggings between her legs and the chill of the air, the leggings as black as the boots they vanished into. Peeking out beneath the coat was the black of her flounced skirt. She was glad for the deep red sweater she had beneath her jacket, it kept her warm, and she felt even slightly seasonal, though Christmas was still nearly a month away. Which reminded her that she had to rehearsals for the Nutcracker that night, though at least in that she played a slightly minor role, one of the many different 'queens' who presented Clara with gifts. She even enjoyed the loose flow of her 'harem' outfit, the feel was exotic and liberating compared to the normal costumes. <br><br>Her eyes moved around her and noticed that it was nearly four, and she saw no sign of a green hat as she neared Le Rubis. Perhaps it had all been a hoax. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>23-08-2009, 21:17:49</strong>
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				Anatole could not sleep the night after the ballet.&nbsp; His head was swimming in music, emotions and rambling thoughts that crowded together without meaning.&nbsp; He sat down at the Bosendorfer grand piano he acquired when he moved to Paris a few months ago.&nbsp; He was scheduled to play a recital at the Conservatoire De Paris next month and give an accompanying lecture on the music of Scriabin, which despite his extensive knowledge he did not feel prepared for.&nbsp; His playing in general felt lacking at the moment due to his lack of concentration.&nbsp; He wanted to blame world politics, state of the economy, the weather, anything but the truth, which was obsessive thoughts about his favorite Magical Ballerina.&nbsp; The current thought was would she show up and if she did what in the world would he talk about.&nbsp; 'Let me tell you about your aura and what I see,' which Anatole was convinced would send her running at the least or worse call the local police and never see him again.&nbsp; <br><br>He sat twiddling on the key board making random sounds, which then led him to play Chopin Nocturnes instead of practicing Scriabin Etudes like he should.&nbsp; He played until early morning and then fell asleep at the piano, being awaken by his landlord pounding on the front door, complaining about his playing music too late again.&nbsp; He quieted his elderly landlord down.&nbsp; She was a very nice women who liked his music, just not when it was played until 4am.&nbsp; He opened the patio door to his small garden and listened to the birds chirping in the trees and decided he would need a strong cup of cappuccino before heading out into the day.&nbsp; He took a shower and got dressed.&nbsp; He looked at himself in the mirror, noting his thinning salt and pepper hair and goat tee.&nbsp; He was always told he was handsome, although not in a tall classical way.&nbsp; He was about 5'10' but very stocky, with broad shoulders, but still very fit for a man in his mid 40's.&nbsp; He rarely smiled but when he did it had this wry devilish glint about it that was very seductive.&nbsp; His appearance seemed unremarkable, yet he was a hard man not to forget.&nbsp; There was something about his presence that made one take notice.&nbsp; He was a man that gave off the impression that he must be taken seriously.&nbsp; He gave himself one of his wry smiles and left.&nbsp; &nbsp;He almost forgot the green hat as he walked out the door.<br><br>Immediately he noted one of Franco's men following him.&nbsp; Claude Franco was a rival of sorts who was probably curious about Anatole's real reason for being in Paris, not buying the cover story of his pending recital.&nbsp; Anatole had noted at least two different people keeping tabs on him and was sure there had to be at least a third he did not know about.&nbsp; Claude was a very paranoid type and very diligent about his espionage efforts having been very frustrated by Anatole in the past, so any curious movements out of the ordinary demanded his attention.&nbsp; Anatole for the most part ignored them, having nothing to hide currently, but he was going to have to make some efforts at losing them today, because he did not want his meeting with her to be discovered.&nbsp; <br><br>He went to his regular cafe and then slipped out the back and grabbed a cab in the opposite direction.&nbsp; He then spent the rest of the morning back tracking making sure he lost whomever was following him.&nbsp; He used every trick in the book and then when he was absolutely positive he made his way to his favorite little wine bar, Le Rubis.<br><br>Le Rubis was on a very bustling street, which made it easy to blend into the crowd.&nbsp; He kept his hat off until he saw her.&nbsp; He stopped for a moment and hesitated at the sight of her.&nbsp; 'What are you doing?' he thought, 'she will think you are insane!'&nbsp; But then something beyond his will had him moving forward out of the crowd.&nbsp; He placed the green hat on his head just as he was approaching her.<br><br>"Bonjour, Mademoiselle.&nbsp; So good that you came.&nbsp; Won't you please join me for some for some wine?"&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>02-09-2009, 20:36:22</strong>
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				Chloe had just been about to give up and hail a cab to take her to the Paris Ballet, she could use the extra time warming up before the evening performance; yet then she spotted a green hat that had been promised in the note. The girl drew up short, watching the man who wore it curiously. He didn’t seem like the typical type of balletomane, though he was at least a good ten years older then the twenty five year old dancer. Thanks her dancing though she appeared all of twenty perhaps, that was a quality of all ballerinas though, unable to place a true age to them. The girls bright green eyes took in the details of the male, he was striking, a man that exuded confidences and surety, that knew what he wanted. And was use to getting it she would bet. <br><br>However, she wasn’t for sale, it was simply a chat, if even that. The blond inclined her head at his welcome, a soft smile quirking the fullness of her full lips. “Bonjour monsieur, you are not French are you?” She asked, curious, for she had not thought to have found an Englishman seeking out a English ballerina in Paris. How odd life could be. <br><br>The girl nodded slowly, glancing at the wine bar behind the man. “Oui, of course, I did not come out here for nothing monsieur.” this was spoken in a lilting teasing tone, playful, mysterious and evasive. It was the game all ballerina’s came to know, take what was offered, promise nothing and dance around clear answers. Their’s was a world of shadow and stage lights, and she wasn’t quiet sure what to make of the man. He was not as tall as some others, certainly not like Jean at his even six foot, but Chloe did not mind, she was all of 5”3, though on point she gained a few inches. The girl extended her hand to shake or for him to kiss, wondering if she was dealing with a gentleman or one of the rich upstarts who wished to wine and dine the ballerina’s. How he reacted to her hand would tell her much to that extent. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>02-09-2009, 22:01:11</strong>
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				Anatole leaned slowly forward to kiss the soft skin of her delicate hand.&nbsp; "It is a pleasure to finally meet you.&nbsp; Let me introduce myself, I am Anatole Lieken.&nbsp; Let not my English accent fool you, I am of Russian decent, but spend most of my time in Belgium and in London where I first saw you dance.&nbsp; Giselle, I believe, although it has been some time now, so I could be mistaken.&nbsp; And you are just a striking in person as on stage.&nbsp; I am honored by your presence.&nbsp; Please have a seat."&nbsp; He showed her to a small table inside the bar.<br><br>Anatole noted a man looking sideways trying to appear casual in his glance, but his expert eye noted its contrived nature.&nbsp; 'Damn,' he thought, 'I thought I took enough precautions.&nbsp; This is most unfortunate.'&nbsp; He tried to hide his displeasure from his face as he watched her seat herself.&nbsp; &nbsp;He motioned to the waiter.&nbsp; "Please, Mademoiselle, What is your fancy?&nbsp; What would you like to drink?" He asked as the waiter approached.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>03-09-2009, 01:08:20</strong>
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				Chloe felt her smile warm a touch as he kissed her skin softly and she inclined her head, pleased to know that he would be a gentleman rather then a pushy man expecting more then he was due. The dancer felt more at ease and she tucked her hair behind her ear even as she slipped to the table he showed her too, sinking elegantly into chair and tucking her legs beneath the chair as well. She was elegant, yet made herself as small as possible, she knew how to command a stage, yet wanted little of that intense attention upon her when out in public. <br><br>"I do not drink wine often enough to know, will you chose for me monsieur? This is your chosen place, so you must have a favorite." She smiled sweetly and unwound her scarf, now that she was out of the cold she could relax a bit more. Her thick jacket followed it, to be placed on the chair behind her, and her black and red outfit was revealed, fashionably, yet easy enough to move in. Everything a dancer did had a reason, and Chloe was no different. Thinking upon his comment about seeing her dance in England made her incline her head. <br><br>"Russian's are passionate, especially about the ballet, I am flattered by your attention. Should I think you know of my name then? I would very much like to learn of yours if I may."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>03-09-2009, 23:16:47</strong>
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				Not sure if she did not hear him the first time he repeated himself, "My name is Anatole.&nbsp; Anatole Leiken."<br><br>The waiter approached recognizing Anatole, "Monsieur Leiken.&nbsp; May I interest you in Beaujjolais Crus this afternoon.&nbsp; We have a fine Régnié from a few years ago that we are featuring today."<br><br>"That would be perfect.&nbsp; Bring the bottle and two glasses if you please."<br><br>"Oui,Monsieur," and the waiter departed.<br><br>"I think you will like the wines from Régnié.&nbsp; They are noted for their raspberry bouquet.&nbsp; Quite delightful for a quite a delightful company.&nbsp; Yes, you are correct about Russians and the ballet, although I myself have not always been a big fan, I have to say.&nbsp; It was more your dancing that attracted me.&nbsp; I must say you give off the most remarkable Aura when you dance.&nbsp; I was wondering how the experience was for you.&nbsp; Have you ever experienced any..."&nbsp; he looked for the right word "remarkable phenomenon while you dance.&nbsp; Something that is hard to explain and maybe you are not sure you entirely believe is happening?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>06-09-2009, 06:32:25</strong>
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				Chloe blinked in surprise, she had heard of Mr. Leiken before, he was a wonderful piano player and she had heard perhaps even a composer. What could he want with her? The ballet dancer hide her curiousity, after all he had treated her like a gentleman, but he certainly wasn't one of the balletamone, which made this meeting all the more interesting to her. And set her at ease, he wouldn't be trying to convince her to be his mistress. The petite blond glanced up at the waiter, taking the man recognizing Anatole as a good sign, wine shops were notoriously snobby about some things after all.&nbsp; <br><br>As the waiter left her green eyes went back to Anatole, her head tilting slightly to the side as he spoke. The wine did sound lovely, she had always loved raspberry's though the sweet tartness of strawberries had always been her favorite. She didn't believe there were any wines made from strawberries though. Her hands settled neatly in her lap and she relaxed into her chair, listening to him, noticing he had a nice voice. Yet the moment he said aura she stiffened, her hands clenching slightly in her lap and her lashes swooped downward as she covered her gaze. <br><br>She couldn't trust it right now, or herself. <br><br>Phenomenon, that was one way of putting it. Things no one could explain, and not just that but the audience being drawn to her, loving her, caught in what she danced. Instead of feeling the points of exhaustion many dancers felt she came off the stage feeling worn out but at peace, beyond what a good performance could explain. Her throat worked and she shifted on her hair, her hands clasping together to keep them from doing anything else as she fought the urge to fidget nervously. Ballerina's did not fidget. Ever. <br><br>"Yes...its part of the reason I left England, or rather, was fired. Paris was kind enough to give me a home though." Her dark honey lashes flashed upward, the emeralds of her eyes direct and straight forward. "You know about it monsieur? Explain it to me?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>09-09-2009, 00:24:40</strong>
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				The waiter arrived just as Anatole was about to respond, so he stopped himself and observed the waiters little ritual.&nbsp; He opened the bottle, letting Anatole inspect the label and then placed the cork next to Anatole's plate. Anatole held it between his fingers and examined it like it was rare emerald, and then slowly let the fragrance fill his nostril, a slight hint of raspberry mixed oak smell of finely fermented grape.&nbsp; Anatole's lips curled slightly in pleasure, the waiter sensing the cue poured a small amount into the glass.&nbsp; Anatole lifted the glass and let the liquid twirl around the space watching it closely, a slight residue of wine left its mark within the glass and slid gently back down again, a good sign of properly aged wine.&nbsp; Anatole took a sip and let the wine sit on his tongue, the warm feeling of its flavor filled his mind.&nbsp; He breathed and sigh out an appreciation to the waiter who preceded to pour a glass for Anatole and his guest.<br><br>After the waiter finished his pouring and left the bottle, Anatole continued.&nbsp; "Some, the very gifted, have a way through their art of inducing the art of Magique.&nbsp; It is like a hand extends from them past the veils of our perception into the very essence of the universe, the matter at which everything revolves.&nbsp; It is like a clockwork per se, and somehow through our art we manifest influence at the most subtle places within that clockwork to where the gears slightly revolve a little slower or turn direction in such a way that the reality itself shifts, and we all feel it, but the very gifted know something more essential has changed.&nbsp; The trick is to be able to master that ability to understand how we can change things.&nbsp; Now this power can be wielded in many ways, it is up to us to decide based upon our own morale conviction which way to infuleunce change."&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>15-09-2009, 17:47:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The blond watched curiously as the waiter and Anatole seemed to perform a little dance of manners and etiquette with the wine. She stayed clear of alcohol usually, a dancer needed to be in full possession of ones wits and body movements, though a sip of wine here and there at formal dinners could be enjoyable. It was interesting and slightly amusing to watch the byplay though and she tilted her head as a glass was poured for her. Her small hand reached out and picked up the glass, bringing it to her lips to take a soft sip even as the man across her started to speak. <br><br>"Are you saying that I release magic or power or something like that with my dancing? But how? I have never been in the least extraordinary in my life outside the theater, for all I dance epic love stories." Her bright green eyes showed surprise and wariness, after all magic was rather far fetched to the pragmatic mind of a dancer. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>15-09-2009, 20:28:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"It springs forth from the passion of what you do.&nbsp; Magic is the construct of the universe, the fibers that bind us together, like gravity, except the controlling force is love.&nbsp; Music and dance touch this core and some have the extraordinary gift of illuminating its most primal power from the very act of creating what they love.&nbsp; In my case it happens when I play piano, and in yours it happens while you dance."&nbsp; Anatole spoke nonchalantly as if he were discussing the weather. He sipped his wine and continued, "Not all have that connection, actually most don't.&nbsp; Most can play a piece of music or dance and have very little effect on those primal strings.&nbsp; But some have the gift, from our creation of art the strings of the universe are evoked in a manner as to manifest things into reality.&nbsp; The universe is shaped thus, from the playing of those primal strings.&nbsp; It is like a reed in an oboe, by itself it sounds like an ordinary duck, but when placed within the mahogany cylinder of the oboe it manifests a sound, complex and beautiful, and from that sound the hearts of humans swoon.&nbsp; Your beauty, by itself, is lovely to the eye and may evoke a singular feeling to those who see you, but combine that with the energy and passion you express while dancing and that resonance creates a symphony of energy that erupts and changes the very fabric of reality."<br><br>Anatole leaned back, "and if you could learn to harness that power, the things you could manifest could change a great deal of things."&nbsp; Anatole spot the man on the street out of the corner of his eye, obviously pretending to read a newspaper, but seemed to drawn to their interaction.&nbsp; "Be warned.&nbsp; I am not your only admirer.&nbsp; There are others who would try and manipulate you into their bidding.&nbsp; And trust me, their bidding is far too corrupt.&nbsp; If you allow me, I could teach you how to harness, so that you can protect yourself and be in control of the power you possess.&nbsp; The consequence of not controlling it is that others may learn manipulate you and your power and never let you gain your own independence of power.&nbsp; Thus use the power for themselves.&nbsp; I am offering you a training in freedom."&nbsp; Anatole leaned forward and spoke low, "your freedom to choose how you wield your gift."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>19-09-2009, 01:22:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Passion, yes she could understand that, didn't all true passions give way to a special sort of magic? A girl could hardly stand out in a crowd until she was upon the stage and dancing almost as if she had wings to float her upon her feet. A man could seem totally ordinary until he touched his instrument and suddenly music poured from it, swelling and ascending into the heights like something from the heavens. Yes, there was a magic in passion. Primal power of creation, Chloe nodded at that, able to follow him so far, and the idea was tempting, she did want to believe in it, after all it would explain everything that had been happening. <br><br>How could this Russian be so at ease about what he was discussing though? Magic was powerful, and a little...unbelievable in turns.&nbsp; She had wanted the answer, but what if the answer was more unlikely and practical then the things that were happening around her? "Change things? Like what? What could a dancer truly change?"<br><br>Cynicism, usually so removed and hidden within her, for ballet dancers were suppose to be light hearted, laughing and flirty, removed from the concerns of every day life. But in their hearts they knew their time was limited, that their only value was their bodies and how good they were at entertaining those who came to see them. His warning made her emerald eyes snap with a fire, she would not be controlled, being a dancer was her choice and if she had this magic she would use it as she wished, not as some one else did. <br><br>Her chin came up defiantly at the situation he painted with his words and when he leaned forward she spoke primly, tersely. "I will never be controlled by any other then what I must, I will accept your teaching, though you must understand I spend long hours at work."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>25-09-2009, 18:41:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anatole leaned back and drank from his wine, savoring the flavors in his mouth, as well as the moment as it was presented to him.&nbsp; "The time I need with, although precious will be short, but it may change your approach to your work, subtly."&nbsp; He looked sideways a little noting the man had not left his spot.&nbsp; He spoke low "I need a private space with you that can assure us no interruptions; a place you may express yourself as you wish without prying eyes.&nbsp; Do you know of a place that could serve our purposes?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>26-09-2009, 01:46:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Chloe considered what he said carefully and then slowly nodded. "Oui, I do, though, it will take some planning. I share my studio space with my dance partner, Jean, if you saw me perform last night you would have seen him as the Prince. He does have a girl friend though and works at different shows then I do, he is not in the Nutcracker as I am to be this evening, but rather another performance." She took a sip of her wine and savored the different taste before her eyes moved to a clock set upon the wall opposite of them.<br><br>"Oh dear, I'll be late for rehearsal. Listen, come tonight and then simply slip back stage, you may come home with me for a late supper to discuss this further, I really do have to run." She started tugging back on her coat and scarf, muttering to herself under her breath in a mixture of French and English. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>28-09-2009, 18:38:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anatole was keeping tabs of the man on the street.&nbsp; He was adjusting himself, seemingly in reaction to Chloe prepations to leave.&nbsp; 'Maybe she is the one being followed and not me,' he thought to himself.&nbsp; 'Now I will have to find out who exactly is doing the following.'&nbsp; He breathed in slwoly and closed his eyes, pscyhically tagging the man in his mind.&nbsp; <br><br>He opened his eyes and looked at Chloe and smiled "It would be better if we did not meet in public again.&nbsp; How about I just meet you at your home after the performance, if that is alright."&nbsp; The man had moved, Anatole could sense he was on the corner, probably watching the front door for her exit.&nbsp; 'Whoever this man is,' Anatole thought, 'he is not very good.'<br><br>"Just after midnight okay?"&nbsp; Anatole got up and extended his hand, palm facing up, so he could kiss her hand before she left.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>28-09-2009, 18:44:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The blond looked at him, her bright green eyes slightly wary yet curious. She did not often invite men back to her flat, indeed the only one who had been there outside of Jean was one of the rehearsal masters. And this man was pushing to meet at her flat, did he even know where it was? She doubted it, she made certain to keep her personal details hidden. A slight frown marred her brow even as she quickly did up the buttons of her dark jacket. <br><br>"I...suppose." she gave him her hand politely, though it was clear she was still uneasy about the whole arrangement. And hopefully Jean wouldn't be too curious about this either. "I will not be alone tonight, my dancing partner, he lives in the flat beside mine and we share the studio. Or rather, I will be alone but I can't promise no interruptions. Perhaps this is not meant to work out?" She glanced at the clock again, the ballerina clearly nervous and caught up in the thought of being late. <br><br>"I really do have to run, if you wish to have my address you'll have to come to the ballet hall, I can't tarry any longer."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>28-09-2009, 20:44:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anatole Kissed her hand gently, "No worries, we will discuss more over dinner.&nbsp; It will be a pleasure to be in your company again. Now please, do not let me keep you."&nbsp; He watched her go and sat down and finished his wine.&nbsp; He waited until the waiter came over and he handed him a 50 euro bill.&nbsp; "Do you mind if I use your rear exit, again?"<br><br>"No problem monsieur,"&nbsp; the waiter took the 50 euro.<br><br>"Keep the change."<br><br>The waiter nodded, "Merci.&nbsp; Beautiful girl, Monsieur."<br><br>Anatole smiled wryly back at him, "that is an understatement."<br><br>After the waiter left, Anatole took a moment in his mind, sensing where the man was off too.&nbsp; &nbsp;Anatole thought that the man would probably follow her back to the theater where she rehearsed and then leave to report to whoever he was reporting to.&nbsp; Anatole abruptly left heading through the kitchen door and made his way out the back exit.&nbsp; As he moved he cast a small spell in his mind that changed his appearance.&nbsp; When left out the backdoor he was a tall man with blond hair with a courier satchel around his shoulder.&nbsp; He weaved through the alleyways and came out on the main thorough fair and caught a cab.&nbsp; He gave the cab three different places as he felt the man's whereabouts and finally settled on an address he had silently dreaded.<br><br>Aldrich Bertrand had an office near La Bourse, home of the French stock exchange.&nbsp; The taxi pulled in front and Anatole, still cloaked in his altered appearance stepped out and quickly crossed the street.&nbsp; He entered the building that contained his rivals office just behind the man who was following Chloe earlier.&nbsp; The man went directly to the elevator, but Anatole went to the buildings concierge and in French he said "I have a package for Jacques Lambert."&nbsp; Jacques Lambert was stock broker who worked in an office on the same floor of Mr. Bertrand.&nbsp; Anatole quickly signed in and then took the elevator to 13th floor.&nbsp; <br><br>In the elevator, Anatole returned his appearance back to normal.&nbsp; At the 13th floor he stepped out and went into Aldrich Bertrand's office and stepped up to main receptionist desk.&nbsp; He spoke in English, "Anatole Lieken to see Aldrich Bertrand"<br><br>"Is he expecting you, Monsieur Lieken?"<br><br>"Never," with that Anatole sat in the waiting room.&nbsp; The man who he was following Chloe stepped out of Aldrich's office and then stared oddly at Anatole.&nbsp; He slowly walked out as the receptionist announced "Monsieur Bertrand will see you now."<br><br>Anatole did not look at the man as he stepped into is rival's office.&nbsp; It was a corner office with high bookcases all around save the marble desk and an antique globe of the world next to it.&nbsp; A tall thin man with refined features, dark hair with streaks of gray just above the ears, looked pleasantly at Anatole.&nbsp; "Anatole my old friend,"&nbsp; he spoke with a pure London accent.&nbsp; "What brings you to our fair city?"<br><br>Anatole was quite certain that Aldrich knew of his whereabouts for some time.&nbsp; Anatole did not wait for an invitation, but instead sat in the high leather chair that sat opposite the desk.&nbsp; "Can I get you something?"&nbsp; His host offered.<br><br>Anatole was not one to mince words, "Once again, it seems we have a common interest."<br><br>Aldrich looked down at his desk and smiled to himself.&nbsp; "You never waste time with formality, do you my dear Anatole?"&nbsp; He looked directly at him, his dark eyes seemed like two pits from which nothing emerged.&nbsp; "Is she the reason you are in Paris?"<br><br>"Despite all your feeble attempts at extracting that information, again it falls to me to tell you what exactly I am up to.&nbsp; Listen, I will make this brief, save us both the awkwardness of exchange.&nbsp; I am taking her as my pupil and I ask you the courtesy of leaving us be.&nbsp; Now I realize, that is a foolish request, because it goes against your nature not to meddle in others business, especially when new talent is discovered.&nbsp; But once again, you prefer methods of manipulation, as I prefer direct consensual contact, and I have beaten you to the punch, so to speak."<br><br>"Don't be so sure of yourself Anatole, and to let you know we are not the only ones interested in her.&nbsp; In fact, I have already been commissioned to investigate her abilities, otherwise I would abide by your request.&nbsp; She serves no real interest of mine.&nbsp; I am not in the business of wasting my time on training new users of the Artes Magicae.&nbsp; I prefer seasoned talent, such as yourself.&nbsp; Having said that, maybe we could end are little feud and work in concert to ascertain exactly what she is capable of.&nbsp; I would of course pay you directly my contractual fee, if you would save me the trouble."<br><br>Anatole laughed a little, "As tempting as that is, I am afraid our interests are far too confounding for a true concerted effort and I know too well that the flow of information would only be one way."&nbsp; Aldrich opened his hands a little and bowed acknowledgment of that truth.&nbsp; "So, I will pass, and leave with my request on the table, knowing full well the emptiness of that gesture."&nbsp; He got up to leave.&nbsp; "Thank you again for your time.&nbsp; It is never a pleasure, but I always strongly believe it is better to be upfront."<br><br>"I will always give you that Anatole and I a little sadden that we can not mend differences, but I also love a good challenge, and you, my friend, never disappoint.&nbsp; Au Revoir."<br><br>"Au Revoir,"&nbsp; and with that Anatole left<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>04-10-2009, 23:39:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Chloe had made polite goodbyes to Mr. Leiken, leaving the wine shop and deciding to spare the money for a cab to make it to rehearsal on time. Since she was an attractive young lady it was only a matter of moments before she was able to successfully hail one. The blond slid into the supple leather seat, smiling to herself as warmth from the car encased her and she gave the driver the address of the dancing hall. He nodded and set off smartly while she smoothed the material of her peat coat down, humming to herself from the Nutcracker. Tonight was going to be fun, The Swan Princess demanded a lot from her, she was on the stage a lot more then she was in tonight's production, and her outfit was more fluid, all golds and reds, deep rich colors to play up her green eyes and blond hair, unlike the white or black of her Odette and Odile costuming. <br><br>It was only minutes before the smooth black cab delivered her to the steps of the ballet, and she tipped the driver for his speed, standing for a moment to watch him leave. Strange to think that not even thirty years ago automobiles were thought to be impossible flights of fancy. Yet the black and silver box like contraption was quiet comfortable. Shaking her head to clear it of stray thoughts she turned and slowly made her way up the stairs and into the ballet house itself, through the grandeur of the lobby and then into the back quickly. She inhaled deeply, the scents of sweat, leather, silks and rosin floating in the air. Yes, ballet was everything to her, and she wondered if Mr. Liekin would honestly be able to help her. She would hate to loose this job, this ballet house's contract as well. And part of her enjoyed Paris a bit more then London, certainly the French were often more cheery then the British. It also felt a bit like stepping back through time, to a brighter less complicated era. She wished. <br><br>The chorus director saw her and smiled, gesturing her on toward her dressing room that she shared with Jean, knowing that she was running a tad late and the smile held with it an edge of mirth. Chloe was normally always early, it was refreshing to see that the dedicated etolie was not always perfect. The blond hastened her steps, reaching her dressing room and quickly divesting herself of her outer clothing, stripping off all but the most basic of garments, her underwear, even the thin fabric of her bra would not do in the costumes. She tugged on the 'harem' outfit as she affectionately referred to it, fixing veils to sit just right over her midriff, floating from her shoulders to caress her arms and then caught again at her wrists. She was dressed in veils basically, with strings of golden medallions slung across her hips, the tight bordello top showing off her breasts, which was uncommon for a ballet outfit. Perhaps that was the reason she enjoyed this costume, it made her feel like a woman, made her feel sexy, rather then the strict elegance and enforced modesty of the other outfits.&nbsp; <br><br>Done with her clothing her hands flew up to her pony tail, quickly changing it into a tight messy bun, the make up artists and hair stylers would take care of the details before performance, now it was just time to warm up. Chloe grabbed her shoes, flexing her toes to adjust them and then slipping them onto her feet, careful to make sure the gel packets, surrounded and supported by lambs wool was properly situated in the depths of her shoes. It protected her toes and saved her from unneeded blisters. Once the shoes were fitted to her feet her hands took over, lacing up the ribbons in a swift and practiced fashion, after all she had been lacing ballet shoes nearly since she could walk, first her mother's, and then her own. Done with her dressing she left the dressing room, stepping from the doorway just as a group of chorus girls headed the same way, they were to practice for the snowflake song, and their chatter filled her ears while she glided with quick footsteps in their midst. <br><br>Through the warrens of backstage they went, and then the stage opened up, the orchstra already warming up and the ballet master waiting. Chloe went to the side of the stage, smiling at Franc, her dancing partner for the night and the two of them began basic warm ups off in one of the corners of the stage while the ballet master worked with the chorus girls. As the girl warmed up her legs and stretched them and her arms, feeling her feet grow accustomed to their new bondage she thought back to the strange meeting with Anatole. However the ballet master finished with the chorus and started to call the special acts out and all thought but the moment, but dancing and getting it perfect bled from her mind as her body and mind tuned into ballet utterly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>07-10-2009, 21:28:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anatole wandered Paris as the twilight shifted into night.&nbsp; His mind swimming like the throngs of people around him.&nbsp; He watched young lovers, tourist, artists, students, business folk and the vagrants of the city co-mingle in an evening dance, creating a chaotic parade of colors and emotions.&nbsp; The external display matched the internal environment of his mind, where thoughts, emotions and criticism seemed to dance around sometimes synchronized and sometimes in disarray.&nbsp; <br><br>Mainly, his thoughts danced between Aldrich and Chloe.&nbsp; How long had Aldrich been following her?&nbsp; Who was the mysterious patron pining for her abilities and to what end?&nbsp; Anatole was certain that because of Aldrich's involvement it was not in the positive light.&nbsp; He felt a strong desire to protect her and a stronger desire for something more.&nbsp; His internal critic, taking form as his early mentor, scolded him for harboring such feelings.&nbsp; 'Magicae Artes is a form that demands rigorous integrity,' he heard the familiar voice say, 'feelings of sexuality and attraction must be put aside to properly convey the information at hand.&nbsp; One must not let these feelings deter the objective of focusing the delicate energy possessed in creating magic.'&nbsp; Yet, Anatole counter that it was these very feelings of attraction and especially sex that could deliver the most effective message and result in stunning advances.&nbsp; 'Too delicate to master and you are NOT a master!'&nbsp; This voice thundered in his head so loud Anatole feared others could hear it.<br><br>Anatole felt stuck, because he could not deny his feelings and he could not walk away from the situation.&nbsp; He knew those intimate moments of creating magic could arise his strong urges and it would be tempting to allow those feelings to guide the lessons.&nbsp; In fact, he knew lessons like those could evoke the greatest of experiences and Chloe would easily grasp the concepts, but feelings of attachment would also arise and that creates its own confounding variable.&nbsp; Anatole felt he must tread lightly, but he also must tread because the time was ripe and Aldrich was contemplating his own moves.<br><br>The evening wore on, these thoughts playing themselves out over and over within Anatole's mind, till finally he ceased the conversation, just as he arrived at Chloe's flat.&nbsp; He had had never physically been here before, but he had tracked her energetically and known her home's location for quite some time, but he never dared come near, unless invited and now he had been invited, sort of.&nbsp; &nbsp;He debated about waiting for her outside, but now knowing others may be watching he decided to transport within her walls, which involved a spell difficult to master and would expunge much of his energy, but once inside he could meditate and regain his power.&nbsp; Power he would much needed for the evening ahead of him.<br><br>In his mind, he whispered the chant and closed his eyes.&nbsp; He opened them he was in Chloe's flat.&nbsp; He decided he would observe her privacy and just wait for her in her living room, hoping she wouldn't get too freaked out by his presence here.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>14-10-2009, 04:39:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The night's performance had gone smoothly, nothing of any note, and Chloe was limber and flush with her work out. She had allowed Jean to get a cab home for them, both of their legs well worked out, or rather his more then her's, after all he had danced the role of the Nutcracker, doing a good amount of work. The blond wound a silken length of her blond hair around one finger, humming to herself as she stood on the back steps of the ballet hall, back in her street clothing and hugging her thick wool coat to her body. As night had fallen the air had taken a turn for chilly, and she could see her breath fogging the air in front of her, her hands stuffed deep into the coats of her pockets. <br><br>Finally Jean signaled for her to join him and she hurried down the steps, all by flying, her boots thudding against the stone. At least it hadn't rained and melted down the snow, she would have slid onto her ass doing this and just the image of that made her giggle a bit as she came plush up against Jean, smiling up at him. Her dancing partner smiled back down at her, his grin sexy and fully masculine, they were great friends, with just the spark of maybe something more. Something that for the last year neither had pursued, after all having love affairs within the theater was frowned on. Yet that secret smile that lingered between them in the chill of the night warmed both of their hearts just enough for that moment. Chloe slid past him into the cab, sighing happily at the warmth of the vehicle enveloped her.&nbsp; Jean slid in beside her and the petite female scooted over to give her tall friend more room. The cab started off then, flying through the streets of the city and carrying them home toward their flats. <br><br>Once there Chloe handed over money for half the money charge for the ride. Jean linked arms with her and together they strode up the short flight of stairs to their building. "You were wonderful tonight Jean, a true genius."<br><br>He laughed back at her "And you my desert flower were sensually divine." The girl laughed and shook her head, her cheeks flushing pink with delight from the compliment. Her right shoulder felt the heavy drag of her tote bag. Her door came first and Jean stopped with her as she reached for her keys, his blue eyes warm and deep as he reached up and tucked a stray strand of gleaming cornsilk hair behind her left ear. "Get some rest ma petite, I will see you in the morning." <br><br>Chloe had frozen when he touched her, her green eyes darkening with surprise and she summoned a soft smile to her lips. "Goodnight night Jean." The ballet dancer turned then, making herself unlocked her front door and slip into her flat. She closed the door and locked it, before resting her head against the door itself. A heavy sigh parted her lips, she was attracted to her dance partner, but that was just bad for business and she couldn't risk such bad fall out like could come from a relationship gone sour, she was still too new here. The girl sighed and slumped off her tote bag onto the floor, dropping her keys into the small bowl meant for them on the intable set near the door. Her tote she picked up with one hand, lugging it with a mutter, it never seemed all that heavy till she was nearly done with it. Anatole had never shown up she realized, and a yawn split her lips as she shrugged off concerns about that, considering what to make for dinner. Maybe he was just making it all up, maybe there was no magic and just odd coincidences; at least that was what she was thinking until she made it through the small hallway that led into her living room and found the Russian musician sitting on her couch. "You do know that its illegal to break into a building without permission right?" She blinked, still shocked and half not believing it was true, that he was really here. <br><br>"You didn't wish to see the ballet tonight?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>16-10-2009, 19:48:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Sorry for the intrusion, but I feared someone might be watching your apartment, so I took the liberty of finding my own way in, as to not raise suspicion that I am here.&nbsp; I did not 'break' anything in my entry here, and as far as being illegal, well, I find some laws need a little brending from time to time."&nbsp; Anatole rose and bowed a little "It is a great honor once agian to be in your presence, and I do apologize for missing your performance.&nbsp; I learned of some disturbing news after our visit and it needed my full consideration of thought, which I do better alone, and " he smiled wryly, "it is better to do this without the distraction of your grace and beauty."<br><br>He walked toward her a little, "Please tell me how did it go?&nbsp; I'm sure you were magnificent."&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>18-10-2009, 03:33:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Chloe watched the man warily, after all he had somehow gotten into her flat without a key, without anyone seeing him. Someone watching her apartment? Why in the world would anyone want to watch her coming and going? She was merely a ballet dancer. A single dark honey brow arched at this information before she moved further into the room, flicking on the light to illuminate him and the room itself. It felt odd to talk to a man in the darkness of her flat, a stranger. <br><br>His compliments drew a slight flush to her cheeks, the pink becoming on the soft cream color; even after years of dancing compliments could still get that rise out of her. In the dressing room it was different, she was coming off the high of a performance and it was easier to accept them and react like she deserved them. One mark in her favor with directors and theater managers was that she did not have the diva complex so common in most prima performers. Her head tilted back to look up at him, he may not have been overly tall like Jean, but she was still a petite woman. The girl lifted her hands to undo the tight bun that held her hair back strictly from her face, releasing the waves of honey golden silk. <br><br>"It went well, I was the Arabian female lead in the Nutcracker, as I'm sure" her lips quirked wryly there "you know. However I am not the showcase dancer there as I am in Swan Lake, tonight was about the Sugar Plum Fairy." She moved past him, further into her flat, stuffing the pins and hairties from her hair into her coat pocket and then undoing the buttons that held the dark wool garment closed to shrug it off, revealing the same black and red outfit from earlier that afternoon. The blond lay her coat over the arm of a large sage green armchair, her favorite chair to curl up in on a cold day and read while the fire crackled in the grate. However at the moment she was hungry and her feet were sore, so she sank to perch on the chair and lifted on leg first and then the other to slid off her leather boots and reveal her black legging clad calves and the warm fuzzy socks that cushioned her feet. She always made sure to take good care of her feet, after all they were what made her livelihood. <br><br>Done with making herself more comfortable she stood again, gesturing to the open doorway that lead into her kitchen. "Why don't you try and explain why someone would watch my flat, while I make a late supper. I don't live a very interesting life. Work, home, practice....I'm rather boring." Her lips quirked with humor as she waited for his answer, mentally going over what she had in her pantry and fridge, trying to think of something for a good replenishing meal. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>27-10-2009, 22:25:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anatole contemplated how much he should reveal.&nbsp; He didn't want to frighten her, but he also didn't want keep things from her. He got up and slowly began walking to the kitchen talking as he went.&nbsp; "Aldrich Vetis is a businessman of sorts.&nbsp; I have known him for many years, and I will just say his intentions are not always pure, but rather selfish in nature."&nbsp; He found a comfortable place to stand in the kitchen and watch Chloe prepare her dinner.&nbsp; <br><br>"Let us just say,"&nbsp; he continued, "he is a magic user that practices for his own personal benefit.&nbsp; He seeks power mostly, and wields his abilities to influence others to do his bidding.&nbsp; He is very manipulative, Machiavellian really.&nbsp; Anyway, it appears he has shown interest in your abilities and is secretly having you watched for reasons that are not entirely clear.&nbsp; I discovered it while we spoke at the wine bar, noting a strange man who, at first, I thought was following me, but turns out he was really interested in you.&nbsp; I followed him, which eventually led me to Mr. Vetis.&nbsp; I confronted Aldrich and ask that you be left alone.&nbsp; His response leads me to believe he has no intentions of leaving you alone.&nbsp; I am afraid, actually my interest in you may only increase his efforts.&nbsp; Now it seems more imperative that I train you and train you quickly, so you can learn to protect yourself."<br><br>Anatole looked down at his hands, feeling a little embarrassed about what is was going to say, "There is a very unconventional method of teaching that has been known to speed up the process, but it involves..."&nbsp; Anatole looked up trying to find the right words for what he needed to say, "very intimate practices that, although pleasurable may be altogether viewed as..." he seemed to be looking around for the word "in some eyes, as indecent."<br><br>He scanned her face to see her reaction hoping she understood what he was talking about.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>28-10-2009, 04:14:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The ballet dancer moved into her kitchen, humming softly the notes from one of the many performance pieces she danced to, her body still swaying and delicate, the unearthly grace she danced with did not leave her when she departed the stage. Her hands kept busy, pulling out a chicken breast and pasta, working as he spoke to her. "So you alarmed someone you know who is not a nice man. And he has interest in me oui? Why should I listen to you and not him if he approaches me? Many etolie play such a game against their patrons, making each bid higher then the last." a wan smile touched her lips, showing that she had never done such a thing. Her body was her instrument, it was her livelihood, it was not for sale outside of her dancing. <br><br>"Machivaellian....sounds medieval" she teased, trying to make light of it, although inside the petite blond felt afraid. Men, powerful men were interested in her. It would make keeping her job harder, to avoid being stuck with hard choices, powerful men could destroy ballerina's at whim. Her green eyes showed her worry even as she steadily stirred her pasta, angel hair, ready so quick, the chicken breast not far behind thanks to a special trick. <br><br>"I said I would be open to this training, but...what is it exactly you ask from me here? Intimate in what way? A sharing of the minds? Or is it my body you are after? I have never bartered it you know..." there was a grim pride in that, so many ballerina's did in the end, yet she was twenty four and had not. Her hands shook slightly as she put her food on a plate and she pulled out one of her mineral waters before her eyes finally met his. "Is it a matter of life and death? What you would teach me?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Batsose</strong> on <strong>30-10-2009, 21:17:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anatole felt embarrassed by his request and decided he would let that pass for a minute.&nbsp; "It is not a life or death per se, but more about free will.&nbsp; A person with your abilities in magic is vulnerable in ways that are difficult to understand.&nbsp; Unfortunately, Aldrich is not as upfront as me.&nbsp; He may find away to manipulate you that is difficult to foresee.&nbsp; You may be unaware that it is happening and then it is too late to stop it.&nbsp; All I want to do is empower you to harness your own abilities, and then from there you can make your own choice, out of free will."<br><br>Anatole breathed in "You see magic is much like music or dance, the effect we have on others is often not detected by us unless someone says 'hey your dance moved me.'&nbsp; In the same way, a good practitioner can watch the power you exude and use for their own purpose.&nbsp; Every time you dance, the universe is effected.&nbsp; I liken to the clockworks.&nbsp; The clock hands on the surface seem to move in one direction, but underneath, within the clockworks, there are gears and sprockets moving in different direction, all in a concerted effort to move the hand hands of the clock in precise manner.&nbsp; Change the gears slightly and the clock moves subtly different, maybe the change is imperceptive, but over time the effect is plain to see.&nbsp; The clock keeps time differently.&nbsp; Magic is much the same way.&nbsp; The art of magic is manipulating the gears underneath, so that it hard to tell anything has changed, but over time we realize things have changed significantly.&nbsp; <br><br>"Your dance is like the movement of the clock hands, it evokes all sorts of forces underneath.&nbsp; If someone understands the unconscious forces that is evoked and learns to use those to their advantage they eventually gain power over the actual movement of the hands themselves, and thus change the perception of time.<br><br>"Am I making sense?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Pains of Passion [Batose  &amp; Wistful Dream]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>02-11-2009, 02:56:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Free will..." she mused over the statement, thinking that there really wasn't much free will in a life like hers. Her only will was to dance, how to dance, what was good enough, when and where, that all depended upon who had her contract. She sat down on the little table she had set up in dinning room, her fork toying at her food. As he spoke she simply ate, something she had learned to do long ago. Dancer's couldn't afford to skip meals, they needed to replenish their bodies after pushing them so hard. And it served as a touchstone as this Russian stranger laid out a world of wonder and danger to her ears. <br><br>"So every time I dance...magic escapes and some else could steal it?" She blinked at him, taking a sip from her water and frowning at the thought. At his question she nodded sense "Yes...I think so, at least for the most part. How could I stop them from altering what happens from my dancing?" she glanced up at him, her green eyes frank and bright. "I have had too much happen in the past year to think the things that happen are mere bad luck; if you can truly help me then I will sleep with you if that is what you want, after all its not like a ballet dancer makes enough to truly pay for big expenses...not if she wants to live well after her feet can no longer bear the strain." 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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