sybarite.

[raynhart-deactivated20171110]

♥️ ♣️ Send a playing card to my ask box! ♦️ ♠️

[bluebloodsmemes]

raynhart‌:

A♥️ - Who was the first person your muse ever fell in love with? 2♥️ - What’s your muse’s family like? 3♥️ - How would your muse react to a confession of love? 4♥️ - What are your muse’s thoughts on starting/raising a family? 5♥️ - What was your muse’s most heartbreaking separation/divorce/etc? 6♥️ - What sort of charity work has your muse done? 7♥️ - Has your muse ever cheated or been cheated on? 8♥️ - How well does your muse perform in social situations? 9♥️ - Has your muse ever had unrequited feelings for someone? 10♥️ - What was the last party or social event your muse went to? J♥️ - Who does your muse consider their best friend? Q♥️ - Who is someone special that your muse always thinks about? K♥️ - Who does your muse look up to as a role model?

A♣️ - What’s your muse’s strongest talent? 2♣️ - What topics of conversation does your muse enjoy the most? 3♣️ - How creative is your muse? 4♣️ - What does your muse have the most passion for? 5♣️ - What would your muse change about their current lifestyle? 6♣️ - How do your muse’s “gut feelings” usually turn out? 7♣️ - Has your muse ever felt “trapped”, either figuratively or literally? 8♣️ - What is your muse the most stubborn about? 9♣️ - What is your muse’s proudest accomplishment? 10♣️ - When was the last time your muse took a vacation or trip? J♣️ - Who does your muse trust the most? Q♣️ - Do other people consider your muse charming? K♣️ - How important is integrity to your muse?

A♦️ - What is the most important message your muse has ever received? 2♦️ - How important is money to your muse? 3♦️ - How does your muse handle indecision? 4♦️ - Is your muse more of the patient or instant gratification type? 5♦️ - How often does your muse change plans? 6♦️ - Is your muse responsible with their money? 7♦️ - When was your muse the most down on their luck? 8♦️ - Has your muse ever received money or gifts from a mysterious benefactor? 9♦️ - How much money does your muse spend on average? 10♦️ - How financially successful is your muse? J♦️ - Who does your muse do the most business with? Q♦️ - Has your muse ever been gossiped about or participated in gossip? K♦️ - If your muse were to start their own business, what would it be?

A♠️ - What was the most painful loss your muse had to go through? 2♠️ - How often does your muse wish to be left alone? 3♠️ - Does your muse ever let anyone see them cry? 4♠️ - What’s the worst injury your muse has ever recovered from? 5♠️ - Has your muse ever had to change their lifestyle in a major way? 6♠️ - Does your muse believe in fate/destiny? 7♠️ - What’s a hard truth that your muse has to learn/has learned? 8♠️ - What does your muse work the hardest for? 9♠️ - Has your muse ever felt forced to change? 10♠️ - How does your muse cope with grief? J♠️ - Who would your muse most likely end up in jail with? Q♠️ - Does your muse manipulate others easily or are they easily manipulated? K♠️ - What is one thing your muse considers a grave injustice?

[axeldeschamps]

houseofmarzara‌:

“Thank you.” He shakes Axel’s hand, a little taken aback that he, too, knows his name. Unlike the people he dresses, Fabian’s face is considerably less known — and while Fabian doesn’t mind anonymity, there’s a certain pride that comes with the recognition. “Men usually prefer the tamer side of the fashion spectrum. Color me positively surprised.” He eyes Axel for a moment, assessing the new face. “You look young. Are you a student here, still?” 

Leaning back against the stairs, he crosses his ankles, propping himself up on his elbows. “Men are usually fools,” he replies. Tame and Axel Deschamps were never two things used in a sentence together, unless the words ‘is not’ are between them; his fashion sense, especially, is one of the furthest things from tame about him. Tame bores him. That’s part of the reason that he likes the Marzara designs so much. He chuckles at the question, shaking his head. “I graduated a few years ago. I suppose that I am still young, yes - but twenty-four. I thank the gods daily that I don’t have to worry about classes anymore.”

[houseofmarzara]

@axeldeschamps​

Fabian sits lazily on the Oxford steps and suddenly it feels as though it’s 1972 again, his small frame fragile in contrast to the towering building. He visited on occasion — reunions, guest lectures, honors. This time, the latter. He crosses one leg over the other and allows himself to relax, elbows used for support against the stone steps. He notices another, a frail light of recognition sparking in his eye. “Deschamps, is it?”

[axeldeschamps]

Back at Oxford, it seemed. Axel never thought he’d see this place again, but, upon receiving his invitation, and deciding that he had nothing better to do for the night, he figured that there would be no harm in returning to the prestigious institution he’d once studied at. It felt like it had been much longer since his graduation; he felt out of place. His eyes are wandering as he walks deeper into the heart of Oxford, but his attention is drawn at the sound of his name. Eyes lighting up, Axel gives a grin, crossing towards the man. “That’s correct. And you are Lord Fabian Marzara... I admire your work, sir.” Holding his hand out for the other to shake, he then moves to sit beside him, deciding that there’s no harm in leisure for a moment.

[axeldeschamps]

albertwindsr‌:

a calloused finger runs against the rim of his glass, daring to press against the edge to tease for an indentation. the boy looked like trouble, the sort he used to share his wallet within the sixties or maybe the seventies - off his head on whatever trendy drug there was in that moment, stewing in his own sweat when lost on an acid trip meant for the revolutionaries of modernism. 

“the former ambassador pryce,” he repeats slowly; curling his tongue around each syllable before he licks his lips - taking the excess of champagne left on his lower petal of flesh. in truth, he didn’t know who that was, or why the social climber was allowed at a royal function, but albert did not raise attention to it - even if his stature did not mean he HAD to know such employees to the crown and government. 

his brows raise at his comment; leaving albert to laugh behind the brush of facial hair that he had started to style and shape. “you think i said beautiful? i simply wondered why YOU would be invited, mr deschamps… after all, it is an honour to be a guest at buckingham palace.” 

Running his thumb over his bottom lip, Axel looks up at the other man, trying to read him to the best of his ability. These noblemen were perplexing to him, but that didn’t mean that he was displeased with their presence. If he was, after all, he wouldn’t be at this party, enjoying their alcohol, nibbling at their hors-d'oeuvres. Nevertheless, he can tell that the Marquess is thinking about him; whether those thoughts were positive or negative was yet to be discovered.

“Correct.” He nods, raising his champagne glass to his lips. He sincerely doubts that everyone at this party knows who his mother is, but using his mother’s name gets him better results in Britain, just as his father’s name gets him better results in France. Taking a small sip of the drink once again, he appreciates the feeling of the bubbles in his mouth.

Raising his eyebrows at the laugh, he tilts his head to the side slightly. “I know that this invitation is an honor, I’m no fool, Your Lordship.” Axel then pauses, thinking over what words to use in this situation. “To call me a model is to imply beauty, whether or not you said so directly. As for your question about my invitation, I suppose you must ask whomever makes the guest list for these sorts of parties. I have no say as to whether or not I am invited. Lucky for me, though, I was invited tonight, and I get to enjoy this beautiful party.”

[axeldeschamps]

silverscrnn·:

she laughs louder than she had done before, LOUDER and LOUDER - as if to command the attention of the room; when everyone was vying for a piece of nobility. marianne was not a duchess, no - but her husband who just so happened to be a duke had only died a year ago.. surely, she could still cradle such a title?

behind her doors, she had fought with her step-son who rightfully chased his own inheritance; but here? amongst the young and old of the monarchy? she was still adored; told over and over again by on-lookers how grand she had been in a movie, how wonderful she looked after the death of her husband - and how nice it was to have marianne back within the public’s eye.

but she would still tread carefully; for lips were the window into secrets, and body language was the topic on many waggling tongues. so she holds herself properly, eyes narrowed as she accepts compliments or their misplaced sympathy. 

it is only when she goes to take a glass of champagne does she stop to catch a breath; “what a celebration,” she comments to no one in particular, eyes set ahead. 

He looks over at her - tilting his head slightly as he observes. Hers is a face he knows - not just for the fact that he knows the nobility, but because he’s seen her films. Axel doesn’t really put forth the effort to go to films all that often, but, when everyone is talking about something, he feels obliged to be a part of the conversation, as well. He may be a bit out of the loop in British high society due to his traveling, but her face would be recognizable anywhere.

“Yes, it is a beautiful night,” he agrees, standing beside her, though making little effort to draw her gaze to him. “The last New Year before the turn of the decade, isn’t that strange...? Where’s all the time gone?” At this point, he’s just making conversation to be polite, and, in his mind, small talk is likely a better way to start than to just dive straight into asking about her career. “You look wonderful as always.”

[eriksj]

Anni, amori e bicchieri di vino, nun se contano mai.

“Years, lovers, and glasses of wine… these things must not be counted” - Anthony Capella (via eriksj)

[axeldeschamps]

cavendishcs·:

London weather was seldom less than disagreeable, and yet if there was ever a more ample occasion to host a party, it was tonight. The stars were seemingly aligned and the skies mostly clear—an aromatic crispness to the air that tousled the once artfully arranged coif upon Bobby’s fair head. “It is,” Cavendish hummed dryly, lifting a glass of his champagne to his lips and taking a minute sip as his eyes drifted across the assembled company. Fizz slid down his throat as his blue gaze raked across the Queen Mother, skeletal and regal as she hobbled across the courtyard. He tore his eyes from the cryptid herself and cleared his throat, clarifying: “Was.”

Turning to glance at Axel, Bobby’s brow rose upon his forehead in a subtle display of curiosity. “I hadn’t heard that you returned from…. where was it, Brussels?” His words are punctuated with a snort. “I can only imagine how absolutely quenched you were to return to Britain.”

Tilting his head before following Bobby’s gaze across the courtyard, Axel returned his eyes to the other. “Oh, please - do not let one old woman ruin your time here. Not when it could still prove to be a wonderful night.” Perhaps he should have been a bit quieter when speaking these sentiments to the other, but he and Robert were nearly on the same page when it came to most things, and he figured that he wouldn’t get in trouble for that. Taking another sip of his drink, he looked out at the crowd, wondering what sort of fun he could get himself up to tonight. 

Rolling his eyes playfully at the question, Axel finally turns his full attention back to the man beside him. “Eh - no, well... not completely. Brussels was towards the middle of the trip. Most recently was Rome, Venice, Marseille, Paris. Then here.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Sometimes, the familiar is comforting. But the traveling was worth it. Not something I would change for the world.” Axel pauses, not sure if this is the time to bring it up, but, after a moment of thinking, he decides that it’s better to say it than to have Bobby think he forgot. “I am sorry to hear about your sister. I liked her more than I can say.”

[axeldeschamps]

albertwindsr·:

he did not recognise the boy - a face he had surely seen before perhaps, but to albert.. who more faces better than names, couldn’t find the will to care. instead, he finds himself searching for more champagne, something old and grand for his tastebuds that had been raised on caviar and red wine. 

fingers stretch and retract till he finds himself a tall glass of fizz, his lips pressed against the rim of the glass as he smells it tenderly - as if to judge it’s price by scent and scent alone. 

he approaches the boy out of curiosity, eyes narrowed as he watches how he loks at others - eyes that seemed to nuzzle into the intimate space between neck and shoulder; undressing his victims with sight and the dilation of his pupils. it was curiosity that lead him to remark upon such a sight, head tossed to one side. “who are you?” he asks - though his voice was loud; he did not mean to ask out of malice.. “i have seen you before… ah, one of those models, perhaps?” 

Looking up at the sight of someone approaching, he immediately recognizes the Marquess of Westminster - Albert Windsor. Axel nearly makes it his job to learn the faces, names, and titles of those who frequent these sorts of high-end parties, mostly because he wants to earn his invitation to more of them. 

Tilting his head to the side as well as he observes the Marquess, Axel chuckles a laugh, shaking his head at the question. Raising his glass to his lips, he takes a small sip, savoring the bubbling sensation in his mouth before swallowing the undoubtedly expensive champagne. “No, Your Lordship.” He smiles after lowering his glass, looking up at the other man, his eyes perhaps a bit too observant as he does.

“My name is Axel Deschamps - the former Ambassador Pryce to France is my mother.” He pauses in order to let the information sink in - not as if his mother is anyone notable anymore; her time as ambassador came to a close in Axel’s youth, after all, many years prior. “But I am flattered that you think me beautiful enough to be a model.”

[axeldeschamps]

AXEL DESCHAMPS arrives at the 1988 New Year’s Eve party hosted by the Firm

Is that womenswear? We never know with the young Monsieur Deschamps, who dresses much too liberally for many people’s pleasures. It doesn’t seem as if he cares, though; he’s been seen with a glass of champagne in his hand, enjoying the party already.

[axeldeschamps]

pcintdry·:

Reservation always hung about the youngest prince, a cloak to mask any number of emotions. That flighty hint of anxiety that burned into his chest was an obstacle he had never quite overcome. Though he might ignore it and press on regardless, it left him always a little short of breath and far less than comfortable. 

It did not help, of course, that to play host on behalf of his family meant to entangle himself in the social circles of people he simply couldn’t get along with. Axel was no exception to this. A useful figure to have around, but one he preferred to keep at arm’s length. He preferred them all at arm’s length. 

George passed the young man on his own return from fetching drinks and paused beside him with the intention of being brief. 

“Don’t you ever feel like taking a night off?” 

It was a carefully poised question, coupled with a half smile and playful eyes that could almost hide the snide truth. 

Axel had his reservations about the Firm and those closest to him knew just that. Even with those reservations, though, he could get along just fine with most of them. The Duke of Clarence, though, was an exception. Any moment that Axel was obligated to spend around him was a moment that he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

Taking a sip from his champagne flute, he did his best to keep himself from both rolling his eyes and replying in a rapid, sarcastic French just to irritate the Duke. Instead, he just gave a shrug. “What is the fun in a night off, Your Royal Highness?” Axel questioned, still holding the flute near his lips in case he needed a quick escape from talking.

“And, if I did feel like that, tonight would not be the night to miss, do you disagree?” A raised eyebrow in the Duke’s direction, free hand smoothing down the front of his jacket. “This is an event for the ages.”

[axeldeschamps]

“It is a beautiful night for a party…” though, to Axel, every night was a beautiful night for a party. Nevertheless, this one in particular was breathtakingly beautiful. He could tell that no expenses had been spared. He knew that the Firm had more money than anyone could care to count, but, even if he hadn’t known that beforehand, the visuals of this event was enough to prove that to anyone.

The crowd was one he’d been seen amongst multiple times in years prior, since his return to London after traveling. Part of Axel wondered what they all thought of him, another part couldn’t bring himself to care. He was making eyes at anyone that bothered to look, as if he could read their minds. Yes, what a luxurious crowd to be amongst, it was. Axel felt like he belonged right there and then; as if he was born to attend parties just like this one.

Standing with a glass of champagne, he was planning on making the very most of this party - after all, who would waste an open bar and the opportunity to mingle in this crowd?

[axeldeschamps]

                                 AXEL ELLIOT DESCHAMPS

                                              sybarite || socialite

born to the (at the time) british ambassador to france and a wealthy art dealer that she met while in paris

dual citizenship ( british/french ) ; raised in paris during the school years and london over the summers, french is his mother tongue

you’ve probably seen him in the tabloids ; he’s a controversial figure considering how frequently he can be seen both wearing women’s tops and gallivanting around town with different men, typically older than he is, on his arm

raised in the art world, grew to love sketching, painting, & photography but will only do it on his own terms - think jack from titanic before the ship - i will sketch you in order to see you nude

will not openly criticize the monarchy solely because he is a big fan of the parties that they throw and doesn’t want to lose access to them

he’s the type to have a closet full of designer clothes solely because of the brand name attached to him

big fan of nights at the theater ; equally big fan of nights at shady nightclubs

a sweet talker with a smooth tongue ; he doesn’t really understand the meaning of the word ‘no’, he’s used to getting what he wants when he wants it

he’s smarter than he lets on - smart enough to get into oxford, though he didn’t excel there.

more info can be found here !!

[chalametdaily]

New/old outtake of Timothée by Collier Schorr for Entertainment Weekly (source)