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alder-saan · 1 year

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Thunderbolt

Larissa x reader

Warnings: pain descriptions, curse

Word count: 1.8k

A lightning slashed the sky. Four seconds later, the silence was ripped by a deep detonation, and as if the clouds covering the city were a sounding board, you felt your eardrums, and even your hair, vibrating. The sky was heavily bleeding with great clear drops, which came crashing against the bitumen, and your see-through umbrella. It smelled rain, but not the rain in your native countryside, it was bitter. It smelled of drenched tar. The downpour, clouding the yellowish trail of some neon street lamps lights on the ground, probably wanted to drill your shelter as the impact against the plastic was so violent. And next to you, rear lights of hissing cars were leaving long traces of blood on the asphalt.

You have loved thunderstorms since you were a child. And you were almost twenty for your first trip alone.

No parents, no friends. You were alone. It was a bit frightening but, eh. What could happen to you in Paris?

At the corner of a street, you heard a noise. It was a woman’s voice.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared.

“Toi, qui te moque de nous, les parias, je te maudis. Toi, tu deviendras comme nous, pire que nous. A chaque orage, tu te changeras en monstre, hideux, repoussant. Ceux qui te verront auront si peur de toi qu’ils seront pétrifiés. Que ta malédiction se lève au premier coup de foudre. Pour un paria, évidemment.”

A lightning stabbed your left shoulder. You screamed in fear, and the stench of burnt flesh indicated you were hurt. Automatically, you felt great pain, as if you were scorched with a red iron. You were burning.

You woke up.

Your heart was still racing as you thought about the translation of these words, engraved in your mind since that evening in Paris.

“You, who mock us, the outcasts, I curse you. You, you will become like us, worse than us. With each thunderstorm, you will change into a monster, hideous, repulsive. Those who see you will be so afraid of you that they will be petrified. May your curse rise at the first thunderbolt. For an outcast, obviously.”

You knew those words by heart, although you weren’t sure about the meaning. Especially the last two sentences which didn’t make any sense.

Now, ten years later, you hated thunderstorms.

Today was your first day in Jericho, Vermont. You decided to go there, because of the important outcasts diaspora. Maybe you could find someone who would help you there…

You had no really high hopes. You tried so many things, it just didn’t work.

You even tried to stand at the top of a tree during a thunderstorm.

A lightning hit you, at the very same spot the witch’s one hit you.

And nothing happened.

You tried to see other witches, but none could lift the curse.

You entered the Weathervane, a local café. You had an appointment with the Principal of Nevermore Academy, Larissa Weems. Although you were not the age for going to Nevermore, you asked her to help you, maybe hire you as a cleaner. You needed help.

And as she was very protective of outcasts, she agreed to see you at least once, and to let you have a chance to talk about your situation.

You were a bit early, and ordered a hot chocolate. Maybe not the more professional thing, but you wanted one.

You watched some tik tok videos on your phone, waiting for her to come. The café was empty. Thursday 3 p.m, this was not the time when there were the most customers. The sun was shining outside and through the window, and it comforted you. The sun was your best friend, now. The only days you felt safe were the sunny ones. And the sunlight brushing your skin… It felt so good.

The video you were watching showed a guy making a house in the jungle, you didn’t know which one, with only bamboo (or reed, maybe), and mud. And you were so absorbed by it, you didn’t even notice the tall woman entering the Weathervane and sat in front of you.

“Good afternoon, mx L/N, isn’t it?” She politely asked for you to acknowledge her presence.

You looked up and saw her. She was… She was so beautiful, your heart skipped a beat. Her silver hair in a perfect updo, her sky blue eyes, her little nose, her red lips, the little wrinkles you could see as she smiled… She was so beautiful.

“Uh… uh, I-yes, it’s me” You managed to reply.

Good job! You just made a horrible first impression. She certainly was thinking you were stupid. But there wasn’t any mockery in her eyes.

“Oh you asked for hot chocolate? You’re right, they make the best in here.”

So she was the perfect woman, uh?

You felt something in your heart. That wasn’t a skipped heartbeat. It was more… sharp, and painful.

You knew that pain full well. Soon, it extended into your arm. Your face tightened. You curled up in your seat, holding your arm. You were trying to keep your breath normal, you didn’t want her to see that.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yes… I… It’s a part of the curse… It happens sometimes.” You articulated.

“Do you need something?”

“Thanks, it’ll pass.”

You caught your breath with difficulty. The pain was decreasing, but your heart was still hammering in your chest.

“I’m… I’m better. There will be a thunderstorm tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“My scar warns me.”

“You have a scar?” she asked curiously, and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, it’s probably not something you want to talk about…”

“It’s okay.”

You rolled up your sleeve, exposing your scar, stretching down your arm like the thousands of roots of a thousand-year-old tree whose trunk was hidden by your clothes from your shoulder. She gasped.

“Is that… A lightning scar?”

“Yes. Except it’s a witch who casted it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s none of your fault. But I have high hopes you could help me. You probably know much more outcasts than me… Maybe you know someone who could lift it…”

“Of course, I’ll do some research.”

“Thank you.

The waiter gave her her order, although you didn’t see her ask for someone. A hot chocolate, like you. She took a sip, watching outside. The sun was brushing her face. She was so beautiful. You looked at her eyes, her lips, her hand around the big cup, and thought it would look so good around your throat. She turned her head towards you, and you looked away. She let out a chuckle. You went red.

She had just caught you staring.

“Is your curse dangerous for others? I can’t hire you if you hurt people.”

“Well… yes and no. I hurt people if they see me during a thunderstorm. As _you saw it_ my arm warns me, I can hide before it and so no one is hurt. Telling the truth, I only petrified one person. And when the thunderstorm ended, he came back to life.”

“Mmh, okay, I see.”

You ended up talking about your lives. Larissa was truly fascinating.

“Yeah, I can’t trust any French girl since I have been cursed in Paris.”

“Ugh, don’t talk about French girls…”

“Any bad experience?” You asked.

“Well she played with my feelings. I really thought she loved me but… Well it turned out she just liked when people loved her.”

“I’m sorry for you.” You said, WAIT YOU GAY??? OMG I… I'M GOING TO DIE RIGHT NOW, you thought. “A-a girl did that to me too. She wasn’t French though.” You added, letting her know you were too.

You didn’t miss the smile growing on her face when you said that. And butterflies swarmed in your stomach.

“Anyway, if you want to work for Nevermore, you can have a room for you. We have rooms for one or two. Any partner?”

“Waw, this is the worst way someone ever asked me if I was single,” you laughed, “I am, though.”

She coughed, her cheeks getting pink.

“Well, I think maybe one day we could… you know, have a date.”

“I think too.”

You couldn’t believe it. She was so perfect, and she wanted to date you?

“Oh, and… You’re hired as a cleaner. Don’t think you have to do that to be hired. I wouldn’t want you to… you know.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She smiled.

“However, when will I be free? For our date, I mean. As I don’t have my schedule yet…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll discuss that in my office.”

“Okay!”

You stood up and went to the counter to pay.

“It’s on me,” you said, “You’ll pay next time.”

She didn’t argue. You thanked the waiter and went out, followed by Larissa.

“Do you have a car somewhere?” she asked.

“No, I went by bus.”

“Then let me drive you to your new home.”

She walked towards a car, parked near the café. She held the door, and soon, you were in her car. You didn’t notice it in the Weathervane because of the hot chocolate smell, but she had such a lovely scent. Floral, sweet, it suited perfectly the pastel tones of her clothes.

“Do you know exactly when the thunderstorm will begin? Because I checked the weather this morning, it’s supposed to be sunny the whole week.”

“It usually warns me about 2 hours before, So I think we have something like an hour? I’ll just watch the sky, and as soon as it becomes cloudy, I’ll hide in my room. Besides, it never went wrong.”

“We’ll see, I’ll begin with showing you your room.”

Nevermore was for sure an intimidating building. But you liked gloomy manors in the middle of a forest, especially when the head mistress was Larissa Weems. You walked in it, with wide eyes, detailing everything. The nicely criss-crossed parquet on the floor, the statues wisely guarding doors like silent dogs, the principal’s hips swaying while she walked before you…

“Y/n ?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me what you tried to lift your curse? I’ll find help more easily knowing that.”

“I tried to be struck by lightning.”

“What? Why?”

She abruptly stopped.

“Thunderbolt?”

“Yes.”

“Did she speak in French or in English?’

“In French, why?”

“Did she used ‘coup de foudre’?”

“Er… yes.”

“Oh, lovely, she didn’t talk about thunderbolts.”

“What?”

“It’s a French expression, darling. It means ‘love at the first sight’”

Oh. oh. OH. Well... the curse was lifted then.

______________________________________

DON'T TRANSLATE LITERALLY!

(same for pet names, please)

#larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems

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kabra-malvada · 2 years

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Reader slight redesing

I wanted to give them a more Tech-ish look so I turned the purple shirt into a jumpsuit, but while in the daycare the reader has to wear their hoodie, to seen more approachable to children if they were to need any help.

Can't decide if the hoodie's accents shoul be red or orage, but right now I'm a bit inclinded to a dark orange.

The hoodie has bells just like Sun/Moon's sleeves so that any blind children are able to locate then if needed. Also changed the colours so they'd be more harmonious.

I'll be uploading Sun and Moon's full body design later, so you have an idea on how they look, cuz in the fic FazCo. Ordered some new design changes for our bois.

Don't forget to checkout the first chapter of my fanfic here.

I'll be uploading every monday (lo prometo, ya estoy editando el capítulo 2). ♡

#sun/moon fnaf #sun/moon x reader #celestialheartsfanfic #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf self insert #fnaf sun #fnaf moon

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santoschristos · 8 months

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Megalocosmos - Cosmic Consciousness

We are the universe being conscious of itself.

Cosmic Consciousness is consciousness of the Cosmos, it is the awareness that there exist other planets than our own, other suns and the Sun Absolute, and that they are the centers of a being; it is thus a consciousness of the body of God. (A.R. Orage)

Omni Cosmic Eyes I, II, III by Mahaboka

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delightingintragedy · 3 months

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Saturn Correspondences

From Christian Astrology by William Lilly

(It is mostly word for word. I tried to format it to fit into a nice correspondence list, but the information itself is untouched.)

Zodiac: His houses are Capricorn as his Night-house, and Aquarius as his Day-house. Exalted in Libra, Fall in Aries, and Rules Aquarius.

Nature: Diurnal Planet, Cold and Dry and moist Vapors, Melancholic, Earthly, Masculine, the greater Infortune, author of Solitariness, Malevolent

Profession: Curriers, Night-farmers, Miners under ground, Tinners, Potters, Broom-men, Plumbers, Brick-makers, Malsters, Chimney-sweepers, Sextons of Churches, Bearers of dead corpses, Scavengers, Hostlers, Colliers, Carters, Gardeners, Ditchers, Chandlers, Dyers of black Cloth, a Herdsman, Shepherd or Cow-keeper.

Sicknesses: All Impediments in the right Ear, Teeth, all quartan Agues proceeding of cold, dry and melancholy Distempers, Leprosies, Rheumes, Consumption, black Jaundice, Palsies, Tremblings, vain Fears, Fantasies, Dropsy, the Hand and Foot-gout, Apoplexies, Dog-hunger, too much flux of the Hemorrhoids, Ruptures if in Scorpio or Leo, in any ill aspect with Venus.

Savors: Sour, Bitter, Sharp

Herbs: Bearsfoot, Starwort, Wolf-bane, Hemlock, Fern, Hellebore the white and black, Henbane, Ceterach or Finger-fern, Clotbur or Burdock, Parsnip, Dragon, Pulse, Vervain, Mandrake, Poppy, Moss, Nightshade, Bythwind, Angelica, Sage, Box, Tutsan, Orage or golden Herb, Spinach, Shepherd's Purse, Cumin, Horsetail, Fumitory

Plants & Trees: Tamarisk, Savine, Senna, Capers, Rue or Herbgrace, Polypody, Willow or Sallow Tree, Yew-tree, Cypress tree, Hemp, Pine-tree

Beasts: The Ass, Cat, Hare, Mouse, Mole, Elephant, Bear, Dog, Wolf, Basilisk, Crocodile, Scorpion, Toad, Serpent, Adder, Hog, all manner of creeping Creatures breeding of putrefaction, either in the Earth, Water or Ruins of House.

Fishes: The Eel, Tortoise, Shell-fishes

Birds, etc: The Bat or Blude-black, Crow, Lapwing, Owl, Gnat, Crane, Peacock, Grasshopper, Thrush, Blackbird, Ostrich, Cuckoo

Places: Deserts, Woods, obscure Valleys, Caves, Dens, Holes, Mountains, or where men have been burried, Churchyards, etc. Ruined Buildings, Coal-mines, Sinks, Dirty or Stinking Muddy Places, Wells and Houses of Offices

Minerals: Lead, Loadstone, the Dross of all Metals, as also the Dust and Rubbish of everything.

Stones: Sapphire, Lapis Lazuli, all black, ugly Country Stones not polishable, and of a sad ashy or black color.

Weather: Cloudy, Dark, obscure Air, cold and hurtful, thick, black and cadense Clouds: but of this more particularly in a Treatise by itself.

Winds: Eastern Winds

Angel: Cassiel

Planetary Alliances: Works well with Jupiter, the Sun, and Mercury. Does not work well with Mars and Venus.

Week day: Saturday

Correspondence posts for the other planets: [Sun] [Moon] [Mercury] [Venus] [Mars] [Jupiter]

#astrology #planets #saturn #planetary #planetary magic #correspondences #magic #witchcraft #witchblr #astrology witch #magical correspondences #witches #witch community #witch #astro community #zodiac #zodiac signs #astroblr #astrology facts

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mixamorphosis · 3 months

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Blog post and linked up tracklist [HERE]

Tracklist

01. Biosphere - From A Solid To A Liquid (Biophon) 02. Cosmic Neman - ProximaB (Tigersushi) 03. Sun Electric - Love 2 Love (Music From Memory) 04. Jo Johnson - Discontent Arises From A Knowledge Of The Possible (Self Released) 05. Pauline Anna Strom - The Eighteen Beautiful Memories (RVNG Intl.) 06. Soundstory - Rainstorm (Self Release) 07. Etienne Jaumet - Orage Dans Le Creuse (Tigersushi) 08. Jonathan Fitoussi & Clemens Hourriére - Five Steps (Versatile) 09. Carbon Based Lifeforms - Dreamshore Forest (Analog Remake) (Leftfield Records) 10. James Bernard - UWA10 (A Strangely Isolated Place) 11. Masayoshi Fujita & Jan Jelinek - Workshop For Modernity (Faitiche) 12. David Moufang - Sergio Leone's Wet Dream (Music From Memory)

Download available via [Hearthis]

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wpdariacutnes · 1 year

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🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁

Me: well cupcake be sugar stone (eke: dys name food and be stone same time because is one a can it staws and can makes) so be little grey gem

Name: cupcake (eke: sugar stone DK02)

Age: 22

Game: sugar stone/ white stone eat

Buster: more shut a too 2 a same a wer go (or two hands at the same time but more like a line that 2 balls are flying at the opponent)

Like: milk soda/plush seal/ bit 8 as canda more Relax like "ferts date"

Dislike: lavenda tea/ album rock (is too much money out dys)/coca cola cake

❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐

Name: orange ( kek: DK05 and here normal name like zak)

Age: 20 (max only dys)

Game: soda stone/ orage rubi (a shoole old staws a make home a gem makes)

Bustar: ball eretrik only

Like: out sade as sun plase/goats just goats/ cheesecake with raisins

Dislike: sassy humands too much black one/ kosole a model 1/ white coffe

🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁

Name: sugar

Age: 19 and going wery slow 20

Game: sakura rubi or pink rubi (code look same)

Buster: not fund

Like: be atteshion (sessy chik)/lolipop name dog/ fanta soda

Dislike: guinea pig (headache)/chokolade/ rose man (her eye is stupid)

❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐❤⭐

Offical epic note: 30.12.2022.r

🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁🪴🐁

#vivi megaman ver #megamancomunity #mereal #wpexpleing #youtube #parents take rule #art 2022

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tynatunis · 1 year

Photo

#Repost @elledecorationfr Directeur artistique, scénographe, artiste peintre et céramiste, @benjaminpoulanges a créé un appartement où tout tourne autour de son atelier. Là, ses créations deviennent œuvres du quotidien. 🖋 @audrey_schneuwly 📸 @ricardromain #decoration #design #home #homeinterior #homedecor #homeinspo #light #visit #sun #hometour #discover #travel #inspo #homesweethome #apartmenttherapy #interior #interiors #interiordesign #interiordecor #chasinglight #renew #Paris #Repost @ricardromain - Accrochage arty - Texte @audrey_schneuwly pour @elledecorationfr chez @studiopoulanges La pièce à vivre mêle les artistes d’hier et d’aujourd’hui : outre les créations de @studiopoulanges (céramiques de la série “Orage”, toiles et vases “Origine”...), table basse “Jumbo” en marbre de Carrare et fauteuil vintage “54-S1” de Gae Aulenti, sculpture en verre “Nuit à Ilulissat” de Perrin & Perrin, paire de guéridons “Whale” en bois sculpté et brûlé de @etiennemoyat et guéridon en statuario “Ilia” de @hervelanglaisdesign ( @galerie_negropontes ). Mais aussi, lampe “Atollo” en acier Inox de Vico Magistretti et lampe en bois sculpté signée Brian Willsher. Au fond, photo “Mon Roi” d’Henrike Stahl. #LiveArtfully#helmutnewton #mamiyarz67 #georgesjouve #luisbarragan #donaldjudd #vincenzodecotiis #charlotteperriand #josephbeuys #josephdirand #axelvervoordt #japandidesign #mediterraneandesign #jeanroyere #markrothko #miesvanderrohe #pierrepaulin #ettoresottsass #jamesturrell #jeanprouvé #bottegaveneta #pierrechapo #midcenturydesign #bytyna https://www.instagram.com/p/ClbaOJcNLMv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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athayana · 5 years

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Mère nature est en colère après une journée mitigée entre la pluie, le soleil et en plus des tempêtes. Ça ne cessaient de tourner en boucle. Mais on ne peut pas lui en vouloir, elle exprime ces émotions comme elle le sent et comme elle peux.

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theframelines · 6 years

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Soir d'orage by pecqueuxstephane

#sunrise #fog #sunset #sun #france #dawn #overcast #plage #nord #orage #ciel #phare #nuages #moody sky #nord-pas-de

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lumiere-angel-90 · 1 year

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STYLE CHALLENGE

style by : @melijuniqui.084

#mlp #sun orage #style challenge #mosaïque

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northernmariette · 3 years

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Countess Potocka Visits the Davouts

The moment is drawing near when I will say goodbye to Countess Potocka. In my next post she will share the scene with another memoir-writer, both of them describing the same person in quite contrasting ways. For now, the Countess is still starring on her own, compelled by good manners to accept an invitation to a meal she would have given her left arm to be able to refuse. Marie-Louise being absent, the Countess finds another handy target for her barbs.

The Countess, having ascertained whether her visit will be more convenient in the daytime or in the evening (daytime), gets dressed in new, fashionable and expensive attire, though she is much bothered by her shoes (too small?). I can't help but think that this outfit was meant to impress the Davouts with her superior status and unimpeachable pedigree - something simpler would have been preferable, as we shall see. Since it's already three in the afternoon when she appears at her hosts' door, maybe they were not expecting her anymore, even if we assume she had advised them this was the day of her visit. At least the Countess is honest enough to state Madame Davout had treated her well in the past.

C'est ainsi que j'allai chez la maréchale Davout, qui m'avait comblée de prévenances pendant son séjour à Varsovie, du temps où son mari commandait en Pologne. Comme elle passait les étés à Savigny (1), c'est là qu'il fallut aller la chercher. J'envoyai à son hôtel en ville quelle serait l'heure la plus convenable pour faire ma visite, - on me répondit que ce serait dans la matinée. Je me rendis donc à Savigny par un soleil brûlant, mal garantie par un très petit chapeau orné de violettes, et très gênée dans mes brodequins lilas parfaitement assortis à une robe montante en gros de Naples de même couleur ; - madame Germont, oracle de la mode, avait elle-même combiné toute ma toilette.

[...]

[J]e me promettais une visite agréable. L'hôtel de la maréchale, à Paris, m'avait donné une grande idée de son goût et de son opulence, et je pensais la trouver luxueusement établie à Savigny. J'arrivai vers trois heures. Le château, entouré d'un fossé et d'un mur, avait pour entrée une porte hermétiquement fermée. L'herbe croissait dans les fossés ; - on eût dit une habitation abandonnée depuis maintes années. Mon laquais, ayant enfin trouvé le cordon de la sonnette, une petite fille assez mal vêtue vint, au bout de quelques minutes, demander ce qu'on désirait.

- Madame la maréchale est-elle à la maison?

- Oh ! pardonnez-moi, qu'ils y sont, et M. le maréchal aussi, répondit la fillette.

Et vite elle accourut appeler un des hommes du château, qui se mit à la suivre sans se presser et tout en ajustant sa livrée.

Je me fis annoncer, et blottie dans la voiture, j'attendis encore assez longtemps, ne sachant trop si je devais insister ou simplement laisser une carte.

Au bout d'un petit quart d'heure un valet de chambre se présenta enfin à la portière du carrosse et me fit entrer dans une vaste cour ; il s'excusa des lenteurs du service, m'avouant sans façons qu'à l'instant où j'étais arrivée, les gens travaillaient au jardin, et que lui-même était occupé à nettoyer le verger.

On me fit traverser plusieurs salons complètement démeublés ; la pièce où l'on m'introduisit n'était guère plus ornée que les précédentes, mais au moins il y avait un canapé et des chaises ! La maréchale ne tarda pas à apparaître. Je m'aperçus aisément qu'elle avait fait toilette pour moi, car elle attachait encore quelques épingles à son corsage. Après quelques minutes d'une conversation languissante, elle sonna pour faire prévenir son mari. Puis nous reprîmes notre entretien pénible. Ce n'est pas que madame Davout manquât d'usage ou fût dépourvue de cette sorte d'esprit qui facilite les rapports entre deux personnes du même monde, mais il y avait en elle une certaine roideur qui pouvait être prise pour de la morgue. Elle ne perdait jamais de vue le maréchalat ; jamais un sourire gracieux ne venait animer les traits de sa beauté sévère. [...]

Le maréchal arriva enfin dans un état de transpiration qui attestait son empressement ; il s'assit tout essoufflé, et, tenant son mouchoir de poche pour s'essuyer le front, il eut soin de le mouiller de salive afin d'enlever plus sûrement la poussière dont sa figure était couverte. Cet abandon un peu soldatesque cadrait mal avec les manières empesées de son épouse ; elle en fut visiblement contrariée. Me trouvant de trop dans cette scène muette, je me levai et voulus prendre congé, mais on me pria de rester à déjeuner. En attendant que le repas fût servi, nous fîmes une promenade dans le parc... Il n'y avait aucun chemin tracé, les gazons étaient de hautes herbes toutes prêtes à devenir des meules de foin, les arbres coupés pendant la Révolution repoussaient en manière de broussaille ; je laissais à chaque buisson des fragments de mes volants, et mes brodequins lilas avaient pris une teinte verdâtre. Le maréchal nous encourageait de la voix et du geste, nous promettant une surprise charmante !... Quel ne fut pas mon désappointement lorsque, au détour d'un massif de chênes adolescents, nous nous trouvâmes en face de trois petites huttes en osier ! Le duc mit un genou en terre et s'écria :

- Ah! les voilà... les voilà !...

Puis, modulant sa voix :

- Pi... pi... pi...

Aussitôt une nuée de perdreaux se mit à voltiger autour de la tête du maréchal.

- Ne laissez sortir les autres qu'au moment où les plus jeunes seront rentrés, et donnez du pain à ces dames... Elles vont s'amuser comme des reines, dit-il à un rustre qui remplissait les fonctions de garde-chasse.

Et nous voilà, par un soleil brûlant, donnant la becquée aux perdreaux !

La duchesse vida, avec un calme et une dignité imperturbable, le panier qu'on lui avait présenté. Quant à moi, je faillis me trouver mal, et, n'y tenant plus, je fis observer que le ciel se couvrait et que nous étions menacés d'un orage.

[...]

Le déjeuner fini, je m'esquivai en toute hâte, jurant, mais un peu tard, qu'on ne m'y prendrait plus.

Thus I went to the home of Maréchale Davout, who had showered me with courtesies during her stay in Warsaw, when her husband was in command in Poland. As she spent the summers in Savigny (1), it is there that I had to go and find her. I wrote to her Paris house to find out the most convenient time to visit her, and was told that it would be in the daytime. So I went to Savigny on a broiling hot day, little protected from the sun by a very small hat adorned with violets, and very uncomfortable in my lilac booties perfectly matched with a high dress in taffeta in the same color; - Madame Germont, the oracle of fashion, had herself arranged my costume.

[...]

I had promised myself this would be a pleasant visit. The Maréchale's Paris residence had much impressed me with her taste and love of fashion, and I thought I would find her luxuriously settled in Savigny. I arrived at about three o'clock. The door of the chateau, which was encircled by a moat and an enclosure, was hermetically sealed. Tall grasses were growing in the moat; the chateau had the appearance of having been deserted for many years. My footman having finally found the doorbell, a little girl, rather ill-dressed, appeared, after a few minutes, to ask what was wanted.

- "Is Madame la Maréchale at home?"

- "Oh, but yes, they are there, and so is the Marshal," answered the little girl.

And she hurried to summon one of the servants of the chateau, who proceeded to follow her at a leisurely pace, adjusting his livery as he went.

I had myself announced, and huddling in the carriage, I waited for quite a while, wondering whether I should insist or whether I ought to simply leave a visiting card.

After a mere quarter of an hour, a manservant finally appeared at the door of my carriage and led me into a vast courtyard; he apologized for the slowness of the service, informing me without particular deference that at the moment I arrived, the household staff was working in the garden, and that he himself had been engaged in tidying the orchard.

I was led through several completely unfurnished salons; the room into which I was ushered was hardly more ornate than the previous ones, but at least it had a sofa and chairs! The Maréchale presently appeared. I could easily perceive that she had just dressed up for me, because she was still busy fastening some pins to her bodice. After a few minutes of languishing conversation, she pulled the bellcord so her husband could be apprised of my presence. She and I then resumed our awkward conversation. It is not that Madame Davout's manners were lacking, or that she was deprived of that sort of wit which facilitates exchages between people of similar backgrounds, but there was in her manner a kind of stiffness which might be mistaken for arrogance. She never forgot about the marshalate; never did a gracious smile enliven the features of her austerely beautiful face. [...]

The Marshal finally arrived, his haste reflected in his heavy perspiration; out of breath, he sat down and, using his pocket handkerchief to wipe his forehead, he moistened it with saliva in order to more efficiently remove the dust from his face. This casualness, a bit too soldierly, contrasted sharply with the starchy demeanor of his wife; she was noticeably annoyed about it. Finding myself de trop in this silent scene, I rose and tried to take my leave, but I was enjoined to stay for a mid-day meal. While waiting for this to be served, we went a walk in the grounds... There were no paths, the lawn was covered with high grass ready to be turned into haystacks, the trees, cut down during the Revolution, were growing back as scrub; I left shreds of my dress's ruffles on each bush, and my lilac booties had taken on a greenish tinge. The Marshal encouraged us by voice and by gesture with the promise of a charming surprise!... What disappointment when, at the bend of a clump of stripling oaks, we finally stood in front of three small wicker huts! The Duke went down on one knee and exclaimed:

- "Ah! here they are... here they are!..."

Then, modulating his voice:

- "Pi... pi... pi..."

And at once a swarm of partridges began to flutter around the Marshal’s head.

- "Don't let the others go out until the youngest have returned, and give the ladies some bread... They are going to enjoy themselves like queens", he said to a roughneck who was the gamekeeper.

And there we were, under scorching sunshine, feeding partridges!

With unruffled and imperturbable dignity, the Duchess emptied the basket of bread she had been given. I, on the other hand, came close to fainting, and this being beyond my endurance, I pointed out that clouds were moving in and that a storm threatened.

[...]

Once we had finished eating, I left in greatest haste, swearing to myself that this visit would not be repeated.

(1) Savigny-sur-Orge [this note appears in the original text]

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k5463019n/f278.item pp. 229-234.

So there went the Countess’s pleasant visit, just not quite as pleasant as foreseen. I confess that I share her feelings about the spit-moistened handkerchief. And I too have been in the excruciating position of trying to make conversation when there is nothing to converse about. But she did not expect to have her fancy dress shredded by unkempt scrub. All this while traipsing in uncomfortable booties ruined by grass stains, the reward for this being to witness Davout calling his partridges in a falsetto voice, and a final indignity, bringing her close to fainting (or was it the foot-pinching booties?): having to feed breadcrumbs to partridges, while being expected to have fun doing it. Pass the smelling salts.

The food must have been good, because she does not have a word of criticism about it. No word whatsoever about it, in fact. I suppose no artichokes were served.

My little finger tells me the Davouts were not sorry to see the back of her, unless her manners were so exquisite that she was able to feign delight through her visit. But then again there was this laboured conversation, so... no. They were glad she left.

#marshal davout #aimee davout #countess potocka #davout's country home

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iranondeaira · 3 years

Text

"J'ai eu vingt ans et bientôt trente, les quarante ont suivi et aussi les cinquante, avec quelques unités pour perturber les comptes.

J'ai lu des magazines qui parlaient de mes rides, de bouchers qui taillaient dans les bides et remontaient des seins à la file comme dans les usines pour les automobiles.

Rester jeune, peu importe le prix !

Info, intox, il paraît même que le botox...

Alors, là, moi, j'dis stop.

Remonter le temps ? Avoir encore vingt ans ?

Ça va pas, non ? Tu sais quoi ? J'ai pas le temps !

Demain, dans un mois, dans un an, j'irai me balader pas très loin sur la plage et je ramasserai des galets arrondis que je colorierai aux couleurs du bonheur.

Je lirai des légendes, écouterai des contes et puis les offrirai à qui voudra entendre.

Je me ferai des amis, au hasard sur la toile, dans la rue ou au bar; on discutera jusqu'au bout de la nuit de la vie, de l'amour et de la mort aussi.

Demain, dans un mois, dans un an, j'aurai les bras câlins de mes petits enfants à mon cou enroulés pour mieux me protéger.

Mes enfants seront là et nous nous sourirons, heureux d'avoir su traverser sans sombrer les tempêtes, les naufrages et puis quelques orages.

Il m'arrivera encore de chanter, de danser et de me régaler de gâteaux, de bonbons, de p'tits plats mijotés sans penser aux kilos ou bien à ma santé.

Demain, dans un mois, dans un an, je sortirai la nuit avec tous les hiboux et verrai le soleil sur la mer se lever.

Je marcherai longtemps en goûtant le silence

J'aimerai les odeurs de la mousse en automne et du foin en été et le chant des cigales et le soleil brûlant.

J'écouterai toujours le malheur qui se plaint.

J'éprouverai encore les bouffées de colère face à la bêtise et la haine étalées.

Jamais ni l'injustice ni l'infamie je n'accepterai et lèverai en l'air, mon poing avec rage !

Demain, dans un mois, dans un an...

Et si la mort survient, car elle survient toujours, la garce, elle me trouvera debout, occupée et ridée..."

_______________ Ali MacGraw

"I was twenty and soon thirty, the forty followed and also the fifty, with a few units to disrupt the accounts.

I read magazines that spoke of my wrinkles, of butchers who pruned guts and pulled up breasts in a row like in automobile factories.

Stay young, no matter the cost!

Info, intox, it even seems that botox ...

So, there, I say stop.

Go back in time ? To be twenty more years old?

It's not okay, right? You know what ? I do not have the time !

Tomorrow, in a month, in a year, I will go for a walk not far on the beach and I will pick up rounded pebbles that I will color in the colors of happiness.

I will read legends, listen to tales and then offer them to whoever wants to hear.

I will make friends, at random on the web, in the street or at the bar; we will discuss life, love and death until the end of the night as well.

Tomorrow, in a month, in a year, I will have the cuddly arms of my little children around my neck rolled up for better protection.

My children will be there and we will smile at each other, happy to have been able to weather storms, shipwrecks and then a few thunderstorms without sinking.

I will still sing, dance and feast on cakes, candies, little casseroles without thinking about the pounds or my health.

Tomorrow, in a month, in a year, I will go out at night with all the owls and see the sun on the sea rise.

I will walk a long time tasting the silence

I will love the smells of moss in autumn and hay in summer and the song of cicadas and the scorching sun.

I will always listen to the misfortune that complains.

I will still experience the outbursts of anger at the stupidity and hatred displayed.

I will never accept injustice or infamy and raise my fist in the air with rage!

Tomorrow, in a month, in a year ...

And if death does happen, because it always happens, the bitch, she will find me standing, busy and wrinkled ... "

_______________ Ali MacGraw

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