Where: Les Jardins Empressian. When: The Night of the Masquerade, During the Fireworks. Who: @lianetouissant
If the gardens had been designed expressly with the purpose of including an infinite amount of spots obscured from sight but open to sound so that one could eavesdrop with maximum efficiency, it should not have surprised Gisele in the least. There was no shortage of sanctums for an active mind to seek out. Between the manicured hedges of Les Jardins Empressian, sculpted into eerie eternal perfection by means both mundane and magical, the shadows adhered to no order, running wild, tangled, deepest black, stretching every which way under the light of the fireworks. Amoung them, Gisele had long ago identified a specific clearing of choice: fairly well situated for overhearing gossip, but not so convenient as for anyone else to bother with it. Or, at least, so she thought. On this particular night, she has come to find her favourite little refuge is already occupied by Liane Touissaint, loveliest of all the court’s shadows. Something about the woman carries a heady draw, even the shallowest of their interactions staying with Gisele, nibbling at her imagination for days on end.
Was Liane here with the same intention as Gisele? It would make sense, fitting neatly into line with some suspicions Gisele had developed about her. Gisele herself wasn’t often in the habit of snooping, really, but with a night as active as this one, the courtiers were practically molting leverageable information like old birds did their feathers-- one barely had to try very hard at all to gather fistfuls at a time. The political plays of the night had seemingly settled into an uneasy intermission, leaving Gisele without an active goal beyond preparing her position for resumption, and, so deprived of the mobility of chaos, she felt dim and shuttered, a prop left offstage, the stick under the puppet. Covertly collecting gossip, as good a diversion as any, is what lured her to this spot in the first place, but the opportunity that presents itself is one that stirs her interest a great deal more. The allure of mystery, the latent potential pleasure of riddling Liane out, all too much for Gisele to resist. She knows there is no solving Liane in a night, just as she knows the perils of placing herself in the line of fire for a woman clearly masterful at the choreography of intrigue, but all the same she cannot deny herself the chance to possibly grasp even the vaguest of clues about her. Silent as can be, Gisele drifts further into the clearing, until she is only a few steps from Liane.
“Mademoiselle Toussaint, how positively surprising to find you here,” Gisele says, keeping her voice deliberately feather soft, just in case, “Are you waiting for someone? Or merely enjoying the relative quiet?”