🖤 The Veiled Reflection 🖤

ODILE ST. PIERRE Thirty Seven. FRENCH ORG. Loyalist. Socialite. Launceston > Porto > London. "The little sister in her wanted to be every bit his mirror, even if that mirror came with it's own set of ghosts trapped inside." -- Unknown.

[lararutherford]

"Now, I know a woman whose only value to this world is being a host body for venereal disease is not about to lecture me on sleeping around."

[odilestpierre]

"Careful, Lara." A sweet smile, all false, and no teeth swept Odile's features. "If you clutch those pearls any tighter, you might actually choke on your own bitterness"

[lararutherford]

"Says the girl about to get railed by her...what, seventieth Italian errand boy?"

[odilestpierre]

"How many factions have you collected now? Playing Bingo, are we?" Odile tilted her head. "...he's not really my type, cute though, might just make use of my time away."

[lararutherford]

@mobscene-starters Event: Valentine's 2026. Time: After the date reveals.

"Did I ever mention, I fucking hate kids?"

[odilestpierre]

"...tracks."

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — The Barbican Centre. DATE — Friday, February 13th, 2026. STARTER — OPEN for anyone.

Merde.

It's part of a very limited vocabulary he has in French, but the Rutherford has a feeling it's going to be a revolving word over the next twenty-four hours.

Only in his head, of course—he's not a complete animal.

Granted, it could be worse, he thinks, downing the remainder of his glass and reaching blindly for another on the champagne table to his left. But it could've also been much, much better. He's suddenly grateful he resisted Diana's attempts to wheedle him into a date involving a multi-day trip abroad.

Twenty four hours with a French Commandant... He can do this. He has no other choice.

[odilestpierre]

"It could be worse, Mon Cherie. It could've been me..." Odile purrs, the flicker of lashes, the pout of her lips. She says it all in passing, not stopping to talk as she raised her glass in his direction. "Hurt her, and Yves — they'll kill you."

Petty? Maybe. Truth? Absolutely.

[odilestpierre]

ODILE ST. PIERRE: valentine's day auction event, 2026

Escorted by: herself, and her girls.

[odilestpierre]

FOR: @varden-lefebvre WHEN: Three days before Christmas, 2025. WHERE: Varden's House.

"You're a hard man to get alone these days." Odile had all but walked through the door, her dress picked purposefully, as she always did when she found herself in Varden’s presence. Dark, restrained, sparkling to represent that she was never ordinary. Bold, she guessed.

Accompanying the dress were red diamonds. Statements, as she often made when she wanted to make an impression. Odile was off to a socialite event in a few hours, and she'd dressed early to make sure she had enough time for this.

"Promise not to keep you too long," The gift lay neatly tucked away in her bag. Modest in size, impeccable in wrapping. It was her forte, after all. Odile was a self-proclaimed master gift-giver. "Consider this a Christmas courtesy."

[sudaul]

[odilestpierre]

FOR: @mobscene-starters WHEN: January, 2026. WHERE: Upscale bar, South Kensington. EXT. Evening. Balcony.

"Hmm." Odile's head shifts. "It's giving Blair Waldorf, 2007. Which is… a choice."

"Thank God we have cards that afford us better." She was drunk. One too many glasses, and the cool air was keeping her grounded.

[laurent--stpierre]

"You look like a Brenton hooker. And I'd really rather not hear about your future sexcapades. Try to keep it in your non-existent pants until I go home, yeah?"

[odilestpierre]

Odile turned to Laurent, the corner of her lips tipping in amusement. "What? Would you rather I go home with one of the people we know? One of our friends? Because, unfortunately, big brother, I don't know many other people..." she turned to the room. "So let me look...for your benefit." And her own.

[odilestpierre]

FOR: @varden-lefebvre WHERE: THE VENUE. EVENT: HALLOWEEN, 2025.

"How convenient — I was just looking for my Ken to get a little dirty with." the teasing grin, hands sweeping down her outfit as she entered into his space, "I gotta' say..we both look impeccable, if I do say so myself." Odile paused, tilting her head to the side. "Air-headed male...never took you for the type."

[sofiedekker]

"I've heard that dish soap works well. Otherwise, I suggest bringing a healthy bribe for your hairdresser. It's hard to stay mad at a bottle or a nice bag." Just to be safe, Sofie stood an arm's length away from Odile, just in case the fake blood wasn't completely dry. As fantastic as it looked on Odile, fake blood was a little too mojo dojo casa house for this Barbie. "I'm pretty sure I saw Jean leading a contingent to a dark corner. Give it about ten minutes and I think we'll have our eye candy back."

[odilestpierre]

"Bribery, honestly, sound advice. Maybe I’ll get her that Chanel polish she’s been eyeing. She’s the only woman in this city who’s seen my true roots, after all." and that was a horror show when left too long. No one needed to see that.

"Jean in a dark corner? Quelle surprise — shame he's not over here entertaining," the corner of her lips tilting as she turned her head to Sofie in a grateful nod. The French were not just her brother's family, but her own now. And people like Sofie brought her comfort in situations like this one, even when her eyes kept searching for Laurent in the room. She had someone as good as a sister beside her. "If I can’t find any decent eye-candy, I might just become the scandal myself, and see what options are left over in this Sahara Desert of men."

[yvesdemetz]

"Well, at least you have an excuse for your ass to be hanging out this time."

[odilestpierre]

"It's not my fault your eyes wonder," It was a joke, but the smile that presented on her lips was devious as she took a step backwards. "You could just admit I look fantastic." But would he? Fuck no, she knew better.

[odilestpierre]

ODILE ST. PIERRE | AS CHRISTINA AGUILERA. HALLOWEEN 2025

Location: The Venue. Accompanied by: Herself.

[odilestpierre]

FOR: @mobscene-starters WHERE: THE VENUE. EVENT: HALLOWEEN PARTY, 2025.

"I'm just praying the fake blood doesn't dye my hair, because my hairdresser will literally kill me if it does." Her bank account was already quivering as she stared into the first mirror she could find. Was she vain? Absolutely. Did she care? Not one little bit. "But it was easy to chuck on, didn't take much effort— if you get me." Odile had spent most of her day in a meeting about a new charity she'd be hosting. Time had been of the essence. "We need new eye-candy," she pouts. "My poor eyes are being denied what they are due."

[archivist-goldfish]

Rosie Huntington-Whiteley

[lismarstclair]

"Good answer,"

Keeping her hand laced in the other woman's, Lisette weaves her way through the crowd till they come up to a table near the bar. Sitting Odile with her back to the ring, she grabs a drink off a passing tray and places it in front of her friend. The waiter attempts to tell Lisette that the drink, a Jack and Coke as he explains, was 'made for someone' and she only bit back, "Then make it again," while cutting the waiter down with her eyes. He put up no further argument, and Lisette sat down across from the younger woman, "Deep breath and deep sips," she said, pushing the tumbler towards her and squeezing her hand.

"You've never been to one of these, have you? I don't think I can remember you being at one in recent years."

[odilestpierre]

The confirmation brought a tilt to Odile’s lips, a snort falling from her lips, although it fell flat. “Why don’t we throw a couple of dangerous shots in there too, y’know, just because no fucks are going to be given once I’ve sank a couple…” or one too many. She laughed, head falling backwards as she attempted to match the energy,

Her tone wasn’t the same tempo as her usually light, high-pitched, excited voice. This was a party after all, wasn’t it? Where she flourished and excelled. Instead, it came out lower, less enthusiastic. But the comfort of her hand intertwined with Lisette’s allowed her to keep her head high. 

Odile had been brought up in a socialite’s spotlight; she knew how to work a crowd. Her ability to mask had been one of her strongest skills. But this? It felt off-kilter, different from what she’d moulded herself too. She wanted to be the spit of Laurent, but even she had limits. She was still struggling to put the pieces together. 

Walking, she didn’t realise how tightly she held onto the woman who was her family. But there was something in the way Lis commanded herself that it rubbed off on the blonde. Odile felt confidence bloom in her where it’d otherwise lacked moments ago.

Reaching the bar was a blur. Lisette talked, and Odile turned – staring back towards the ring. Before she snapped herself out of it, and came to look at the man who now looked flustered under the star of a St. Clair. Don’t worry, my dude, it happens to most people, she wanted to say. “Same, uh, please,” she managed, though her face had paled once again.

This is when she wished they could leave. No phones, no exit…stuck. 

“Nope,” she hadn’t, and she wondered if it’d been for the best. “I always avoided it, honestly. I just thought…my image, there were certain things I should stay away from.” And it’d always made sense for her to do so. But Laurent being here…after everything he’d been through. “Maybe I thought I could handle more than I can…” Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought, though she didn’t voice that out loud.

[viktoriya-kurylenko]

She wanted more than anything else to sink her nails into Odile's skin; to feel her jerk as the pain radiated through her face and neck. It would be so simple to add pressure.

There were rules though and although she normally didn't mind breaking them, violence outside of the ring would result in removal. Viktoriya very much wanted to see the rest of the fights. Still, to let this moment pass...

"Do I make your nervous, Odile? Can't fend for yourself, hm? Always needing someone else to take care of things for you." Vika looked around and was happily surprised to see the blonde's compatriots fully occupied. She turned the woman's head around as well, letting her see her predicament. "Tonight's not your night." She squeezed Odile's face just a bit tighter.

[odilestpierre]

The monologue was enough to have eyes narrowing. Jean fought, and lost, and she continued to watch until he could take no more. She had no choice, forced by the opposition's fan club.

"Cause me any amount of harm will equal in you being ejected, and you wouldn't want to bring such shame to your poor father, now, would you?" She wanted to say it: that they all knew he was crazy. "Now as I've already said, Viktoriya, remove your hands from me. Because if my brother or his friends see you, I can't promise how this will end for you. Or your brother."

A princess she was involved but yet her hands remained relatively clean. She was shielded from the right parts, while also being shown everything all at the same time. It made her naïve in some senses, but highly street aware of more situations. But her handle on her mouth, just like Laurent's, had never been a strong suit. The winch of Vika's hands on her caused a grunt to form on her lips, which pulled back to reveal teeth. Bared, feral and ready to snap.

"Tonight isn't over."