「ODETTE ALARIE」
34 • PERFORMER • TAKEN BY EVE
DIRECT FROM LE PETIT JOURNAL:
The lady Odette Alarie may be less of an angel than she likes to make herself seem. Though her clothes and airs might have you thinking she’s of the highest class, rumors are buzzing about that the dances she performs at Le Ciel are far from what you might see at Palais Garnier - especially in the costumes she chooses to wear while performing. And, even more shocking, there’s even talk that her company isn’t earned by title or connections, but instead what you might be willing to offer for a private performance. Despite such talk circulating, Mme Alarie seems far from shamed - instead, she carries on with her head held high through the streets of Paris and is often seen in the company of the likewise scandalous John Reuel Kerr Lambton. Perhaps they’re a match made in le ciel itself?
ABOUT:
It was always so dependent on control. Her mother wanted her to be the perfect daughter, to curtsey just so, to know exactly the right thing to say, to be able to remember the smallest detail in order to bring it up in a later conversation, to follow every little thing her instructors showed. Show she’d been paying attention, that she cared. Her father, on the other hand, wanted a sweet and obedient daughter to be able to show off. A living and breathing doll, filled with kind words, pretty songs, or perfect dancing if needed.
The moment she was released from them, however, Odette loved the freedom - loved to test her own limits, to climb trees simply because her parents told her that ladies didn’t do such things. She was always very careful, however, not to let any trace of her little freedoms ever be noticeable - if a rip was torn into her skirt from the climb, well, sometimes the maids were kind enough to sew it quickly or provide another dress. Kindness, Odette learned, often allowed for kindness in return - so she would learn each of their names, the names of their family, what treats they liked, etc.
As she got older, the kinds of boundaries she pushed grew along with her - dirty songs were a particular favorite to learn, trips to a bar in town, dancing that was decidedly unladylike, books that had to be stashed away under a loose floorboard that no one knew about, kisses from the stable boy… rebellions that continued to grow and escalate, especially with her partner in crime. Her childhood friend was a companion in her escapades, as often as they were brought together - something Odette always appreciated, having someone else to help provide cover and excuses, while enjoying these glimpses of freedom from the tops of trees or in less rich clothing at a bar in town. It peaked in the one time Odette was decidedly less than careful with her partner in crime, being caught in the arms of one Jack Reuel with her legs around his waist and her undergarments about a foot away.
She didn’t hold any illusions of everlasting love or marriage - which, really, seemed to only cement the disappointment from her parents. In truth, Odette was very curious to experience some of the things her books described, or that the barmaids in town whispered about to her. So far as she was concerned, there was no need to tell her parents about the fact that it was far from the first time they’d been together. Might very well give her poor father a heart attack.
Her parents considered her a disgrace, a failure, despite the fact that she was still that perfectly poised woman they’d managed to mould. Just a little more… flawed, perhaps, than they’d intended in her. More human than doll, she liked to think. But with her parents paying such close attention, it was hard to slip from their grasp and do what she wanted - she was kept close, instead. Which worked well enough for Odette, as being close just meant it would be easier to play at being that perfect doll long enough to regain their trust.
And slip back through the bars of the cage they liked to keep their prize in as soon as she had the opportunity. As soon as she managed to convince them that of course her indiscretions had long since been forgotten - and really, it was Paris! She would be far from the only woman there who had such rumors floating about in her past.
Once in Paris, the letters could simply… taper off. Certain details she thought they couldn’t possibly need to know, as Odette pushed her boundaries further and further, attending salons and clubs and dancing, the dancing here was even better than what she’d learned. She fell headlong into the nightlife of Paris, entranced by everything she saw. Especially the women - those who were so much of what she longed to be, who seemed in control of who they were and what they wanted. Who demanded respect, especially from all the men who couldn’t take their eyes off of them. There was freedom in that, there was power in it.
The bigger surprise, really, was how happily the nightlife of Paris embraced Odette in return. And she relished in it, stepping into one of the headline acts of Le Ciel for her singing and the dances she would perform. She earned money for herself, enough so that when her parents inevitably found out about her profession, Odette could still keep herself afloat with the gifts from her patrons and the money she made.
Perhaps some of the whispers were right, that she had long since fallen from grace and should feel nothing but shame. But Odette preferred to think of it in less narrow terms - she liked to think she was flying unfettered, exactly where she chose to be.
CONNECTIONS:
The Ballerina: You knew her back in your younger years, sharing an obsession with dance. You were shocked to see her come into Le Ciel, and as much as it fills you with nostalgia to see an old friend, you’re slightly ambivalent about your past and present colliding like this.
The Austere: You have sympathy for someone like them, who fell from grace so suddenly and unexpectedly - after all, you took time to prepare for your fall, to build yourself wings. You have less sympathy for their attitude, the unwillingness to look beyond what they’ve lost to see what they have the potential to gain, to see everything that Paris could offer. But you're willing to at least try to lend a sympathetic ear.
The Sycophant: Something about them gets to you - perhaps the fact that they’ve attempted to surround themselves with so much attention, with no apparent talent. You’ve been brought along to many of their parties recently, and you can’t help catching a look, wondering how all that spark works, and what may – or may not – lie beneath it.
Faceclaim & Pronouns: Gemma Chan, she/her
The Angel is taken by Eve, she/her.