BOUCHE PLEINE DE LYS —

her collarbones like wings that spread from the base of her throat to the ends of her shoulders. a bird held down by skin.

[soixanteqvinze]

AURÉLIE SUN — TWENTY-SIX. AERIAL ACROBAT. 

skeleton / biography / pinterest / vieux carré

[stlowens]

Ada Limón, from “Dead Stars.” [ID in alt text]

[laurapetrie]

“Darling, I don’t wake up ’til the afternoon.” - Rita Hayworth, 1974

[weltenwellen]

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

[soixanteqvinze]

mabel-landry​:

Mabel felt a hand take hers and immediately let her body follow the guide without knowing who it was. Someone was here to help her, that was all she knew in the moments it took to place a face to a memory. A wonderful memory, of learning something new and hoping to be as informed and put-together as the woman she spoke with in the store. One hand slowly rose to pat at the top of her head, as if that would be enough to keep down the frizz that had puffed up mere moments into her work day.

There were a number of questions Mabel now had to answer, as she eagerly looked at the generous host and her surroundings and then back. “Blue?” She pictured something a little lighter than navy, in a shining fabric with straps so thin she didn’t know how they kept all that fabric up. She was sure she’d seen a woman at the hotel wear a dress like that out the night before. Even as she daydreamed, she was already shaking her head. “No, no, thank you. I don’t think I’ll stay long. Just until things, um, get quieter.” She’d never been this close to a shooting where the thing on the other side of the barrel was a human being. She didn’t know if she’d ever find the city quiet again. “I’ll have some ginger ale, if it’s not too much of a bother.” She felt small and childish asking for the soft drink in an apartment full of people who clearly knew how to have fun. She crossed her arms, and felt the thick fabric of her uniform sticking to her skin with each movement. She was learning everyday that the heat of New Orleans was only made worse when there were a lot of bodies around. “Um, actually, I might try on that dress. If it’s okay.”

❖

Maybe she’d come on a bit too strong, but Mabel doesn’t seem to be bothered. She looks a little lost, instead, a bit hesitant, but still intrigued. The expression she wears now reminds Aurélie of girls she’d known in Paris, ones who’d come from the countryside for bigger dreams and sparkling lights, heads caught in the clouds while reality kept their feet on the ground. It’s easy to get swept up in all the glitter and gold, but harder to navigate if you don’t know where to start, and if Mabel’s supposed friends won’t show her a good time, then Aurélie decides she will.

“Of course it’s okay!” she replies brightly, keeping hold of one of Mabel’s hands so she doesn’t lose her in the crowd as she leads them to the kitchen. “And stay as long as you like. You’re not a bother at all, I’d never think so! And the more the merrier, you know.” Once at the icebox, she pulls out a bottle of ginger ale and pops it open before handing it to Mabel and mixing another drink for herself. She doesn’t put much thought into it, simply topping champagne with gin and a splash of lemon juice. Then it’s up to her room, Aurélie chattering on about who’s who and this and that on the way. 

It doesn’t take very long—the apartment isn’t particularly big, and almost feels smaller due to the sheer amount of people packed inside. In fact, her bedroom feels almost like a reprieve from the party in full swing. Placing the drink on her vanity, she flits over to her wardrobe, flinging it open and flicking through the dresses until she finds exactly what she’s looking for. “Here it is!” she announces with a smile, pulling out a strappy, sparkling blue number with beaded embroidery. Its fabric flows down like a waterfall, stopping where it hits just below her knees. “What do you think? If you don’t like this one, I’ve more for you to try.”

[soixanteqvinze]

taliakemarres​:

✧ 

people like her needed a bit of divine intervention to slow down— sometimes that came in the form of some random egg spinning her out so hard, she’d made it all the way to that comfy little chaise that she was now calling home. and being the creature of opportunity that she was, talia had been surveying the room in search of a palooka to fetch her drink. that’s how aurélie found her, burning a hole in the side of a fella’s face. “here i am!” she sings, smiling at the sight of her beloved friend, “my gams needed a little reprieve before i spent the rest of the night showing these boys how it’s done.” in due time she’d get aurélie out there with her, robbing the spotlight like they always did. 

for now she mimics her counterparts movements, leaning in close and giving the dame her full attention. talia wants to laugh at the new information but humors her friend nonetheless, making a show of finding their topic of conversation, “he’s gotta be a real cake-eater. can’t believe he’s rubbing shoulders with us regular guys and gals.” and if she thought she could say the words with a straight face, she’s quickly proven wrong as her laughter fills the space around them. the poor fella was putting on one too many airs to be believable, but hey, someone was bound to take the bait. 

someone that wasn’t them, of course. talia turns to aurélie before she starts laughing again and eyes the glasses of champagne appreciatively, “you’re an angel and everything else. you saved me from having to chat up mr. tall, dark and valiant over there. surely, i’m no match for his charms!”

❖

it’s a small miracle that talia’s even managed to stop moving, really—the woman’s always going, going, going, and it’s a wonder if she ever takes time to breathe. ( clearly, there are exceptions to the rule. ) “and i just know you’ll deliver. oh, you won’t leave me out, of course.” aurélie grins, tone conspiratorial. she wouldn’t dream of leaving talia behind, either—her life in this city is made much brighter with talia around, and since that first night they met in knock five times to now, she’s not quite sure what she’d do without her.

“but for now, we make this our throne.” aurélie gestures where they sit with her free hand, leaning further back into the chaise. she seems to sink right into the plush cushions, the velvet soft against her skin, and she kicks off her heels for good measure. when talia plays along—or attempts to, anyway—aurélie dissolves into a fit of laughter alongside her. “oh, isn’t it just something? we’re so honored to just be in his presence.”

you’re an angel and everything else, talia enthuses, and aurélie beams. “i know, i know. who would i be if not the one to come to your rescue?” she teases, clinking her glass against talia’s before taking a sip. “oh, so that’s who you were staring at,” she continues with another laugh, pushing herself back up slightly. “i think you’d have your work cut out for you, truly. he’d have you swooning in a minute.”

[softestaura]

Daniela Garza

[chandelyer-deactivated20241003]

‘Diana’ dress - 10% off code: wisteria

[dixt]

gold, ivory and pearl pendant depicting dancing nymphs · by rené lalique, c. 1900

[marypickfords]

Millie (John Francis Dillon, 1931)

[metamorphesque]

― Anaïs Nin, Henry And June

[text ID: There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.]

[queensgcmbit]

“Is there any part of me that doesn’t go directly to my heart?”

— Sanna Wani, from “Meditation,” in My Grief, the Sun (via firstfullmoon)

[davinafray]

(x)

[soixanteqvinze]

giovannivincelli​:

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It startles him, just a little—though it certainly shouldn’t, for more reasons than one. He’s grown accustomed to far more jarring interruptions, having spent years in the war, and—to state what’s obvious to the woman accosting him and what’s not obvious to anyone who, well, matters—he’s infiltrated the four walls of precisely the woman he should be seeking to avoid.

Giovanni Vincelli has never been known for making sound decisions. Why the fuck does she need to ask?

Still, he doesn’t show that she’s spooked him in the slightest, an easy smile taking hold of the edges of his lips and settling there. “Hello, Aurelie. It’s lovely to see you again, too.” And maybe it would be, if she weren’t such a royal pain in the ass. “I do, and the hole I crawled out of is rather cozy, but I wanted to come and have a look at yours. I wasn’t disappointed.”

❖

“The feeling is mutual.” She smiles again, sweet as sugar. Just as he keeps an easy demeanor, she reins in her temper. To any onlookers, they seem nothing but amicable, two people loosely connected by one woman, but they both know the truth: I can’t stand you, either. 

She’d love nothing more than to kick him out, but she won’t, once again, for Nalini’s sake, because she knows her friend would rather have him safe here than out there, where gunshots ring out and blood stains the streets. And even if she did try, she’s not sure Giovanni would listen. He’s always been so good at doing exactly what he wants to do—they have that in common.

“Oh, how I’d hate to disappoint you,” she drawls. “Is that all? You wanted a party, thought you’d swing by the one everyone’s talking about. Pardon me if I find that hard to believe.” She feigns innocence, finger tapping to her chin. Her voice is low, tone blasé. “You can’t have her, but you can’t stay away. Don’t you get tired of playing this game?” Haven’t you done enough?

[soixanteqvinze]

lerikapali​:

for: @soixanteqvinze​ date: september 12, 1924; at the party. location: the apartment of aurélie sun and nalini khuranna.

news never travel slowly in places where people laugh, dance and chatter as the alcohol flows—courtesy of yet another bootlegger reducing the prices on the black market—and aurélie’s firm grip on his upper arm as she leads him to a less crowded corner is proof of that. judging from the furious expression on her face and her stride, it isn’t exactly difficult to imagine that something must have attracted her ire.

hasim knows better than to see it as a challenge, but he takes it as one anyway. softly, but with a humorous undertone, he says, “if you wanted me all to yourself, you should have simply said so.”

as she leads hasim down the hall and into another room, she breaks into a rapid stream of french, punctuated by curses and giovanni vincelli, the switch to english happening abruptly as she whips around to face hasim. “and isn’t it just so shameless of him to show up here? maybe i should be thankful it’s not charlie, but really, he has the audacity to sneak in like a—”

then hasim’s voice cuts in, soft and tinged with amusement. her vexation ebbs, and she lets out a laugh, light and bubbly like champagne. “you’re a difficult man to get a hold of.” she leans back against the wall, smirk playing on her lips. “surely you’ll excuse my methods.”

[queensgcmbit]

“I am light now, or on the side of light—: light-head, light-trophied. Light-wracked and light-gone.”

— Natalie Diaz, from Postcolonial Love Poem; “Skin-Light” (via luthienne)

[soixanteqvinze]

scofflawed​:

hugo grins at her comment, blue eyes sliding about all the faces that likely have no idea as to whose apartment this and likely have no care to learn either. he can’t truly say he blames them; had he not known her, he would be like them instead of sat off to the side having a smoke in a space they’ve carved out for themselves. 

“me? i’m far too well-behaved to be caught up in vincelli business.” he thumps ash into the tray between. a gift for her procured from jeweler who had insisted hugo take it rather than shoot him. he’d never killed anyone and, yet, they believed he would pull the trigger on them and that was - more often than not - why he carried a gun. “i’m afraid they won’t have me. i don’t run amuck starting shootouts on a perfectly good night for drinking and partying.”

he glances about again, picking virginia out of the crowd and reassuring himself she hasn’t disappeared again, before looking back to aurelie. “i’m glad you’re alright. truly. though… i’m not sure your apartment will fare as well as you.” 

“such a perfect gentleman. ginny's a lucky woman,” aurélie quips, arch grin tugging at her lips. despite her facetiousness, she means it. the rumors she hears of hugo brandt sound like an entirely different person, and he treats his girl better than over half the men she’s had the displeasure of meeting. someone like that can’t possibly be a loose cannon or whatever that painter’s been telling her. 

“but see, that’s just one of the reasons we’re friends.” she lazily points at him before bringing her cigarette back to her lips. “it’s just such poor behavior from them, isn’t it? why couldn’t they start a shootout on the outskirts, instead of right in the middle of bourbon street? smart of you, not to get involved at all. i bet it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

when he continues, she groans, waving a hand in front of her face. “ugh, don’t remind me. i simply cannot bear to think of it.” mischievous smile flits across her features once more, and she cuts her gaze to hugo. “you don’t suppose the party will go on for two, three more days? i’d hate to keep people from having a good time.”