#madamemoreau

[luciennepicou]

🍻 “have you ever told a lie that helped someone?”

All the time. Haven’t you? It’s the truest act of love.

Here’s the thing about lies, kid. They’re easier to track if they aren’t lies at all. Or if they’re not yours. It depends. Either way, the less you say, the more they make up, and the less you have to remember. 

And that is how you run a criminal empire at 25. 

I need to ask Elio to take me home now, thank you.

[maeflcwers]

📺- Living room/lounge

📺- Living room/lounge

Truth be told, Maelie’s apartment barely even has a living room. However, what she does have is a round coffee table with a few seats around it, mostly comfortable chairs. On the table sits a pot of flowers, usually along with the latest newspaper. Next to one of the chairs, her favourite, in fact, she has a side table with two shelves. The top shelf usually has a novel or two, while the second shelf is dedicated to magazines that she currently finds useful, whether it be for flowers, or for design ideas for events, or even just a fashion magazine. 

also requested by @capitaineconor

[pythcnidae]

closed starter for @madamemoreau

With a paper bag of fruit in her arm, Carmen walked from the market stalls a little aimlessly that morning. She had gotten minimal sleep but at least she hadn’t drunk a huge amount last night owing to a particularly handsy client she preferred being more sober to keep an eye on. The lack of a morning-after was as good as any to actually get out of L’Enfer, ensuring to get an extra large bag of strawberries for Luci as well as the peaches and plums she had gotten for herself.

She paid no attention to most people until she bumped into an older woman, causing the brown bag to slip, though she caught it just in time.

“Hey! Watch where you’re-” She cut herself off as she squinted a little in recognition. “You were at Anthony’s hotel party.” Carmen commented, readjusting the bag in her arm as she noticed just how frivolously the woman appeared to have been behaving. “Are you okay?”

[luciennepicou]

🍎- The kind of food they store in the kitchen

(also asked by an adorable little anon thanks anon!)

This is a trap question isn’t it? Oh alright she definitely steals from L’Ortolan’s kitchen, especially the pastries. It’s quicker than going to the market and a lot of the things she can’t get there anyways. 

The Creole holy trinity (bell pepper, onion, and celery) of course. Loads of rice and options for stock. Fresh seafood if she has the means and time to get it. Roux components (flour and butter or another kind of fat.) Sausages (andouille, chaurice, and boudin), pasta in case the boss comes over. She’s not as good a cook as her chefs or her parents, but she gets by. Comes from being home alone a lot as a kid.

You eating that?

[nettyfawn-blog]

Notre-Dame!

Is there something you feel on the inside that you can’t tell anyone?

Annette does her best to keep her fear of abandonment as close to the chest as possible. It’s a mix of having a dead mother and an unkown (to her at least) father. It started as a fleeting thing, but magnified as Lusine disappeared and then as the brothel disbanded and she lost homes and friends to war and the unfortunate side effects of life on the streets. Annette often has nightmares about running through an endless graveyard until she, breathless and exhausted, joins them all in the ground. Years of being a courtesan, left alone after giving of herself night after night, have certainly not helped. But no one likes a clingy showgirl, so she does her best to never let on.

[nettyfawn-blog]

P & W!

P = Pace: [Answered]W = Wild Card:  Charlotte gave Annette her first orgasm.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[mxmmon]

closed starter for @madamemoreau

It was much, much past the witching hour. The end of yet another lavish party filled with empty people. The glasses had been clinked, the drinks imbibed, the food devoured. Left were just the stragglers with loosened bow ties, carefully coiffed hair falling haphazardly on shoulders and the stumbled footsteps of those retiring for the evening.

Anthony’s head was heavy with alcohol as he steadied himself on the wall, sliding with each languid step until he reached the overly indulgent ballroom. He had long discarded a half drunken glass and it was far too late for another, though he did so wish he had it in his hand then. Entering the room he hoped there was a leftover champagne tower, or pre-prepared cocktails of hours past and turning to the bar, he appeared to be in luck as he found a half glass of now flat champagne. Bringing it to his lips to satisfy a non-existent thirst, he took in the room around him and, in the corner of the room at a table was a familiar face. It took little time for him to begin an arduous crossing of the room over to her, seating himself unceremoniously beside her.

“My darling Vivienne.” He started as he placed the coupe down before them and reached out for her hand. “Where have you been all night?”

[josettethejester]

☂ : Does your muse have a favourite sort of weather? A least favourite?

“I absolutely loathe cold, wet weather! Snow, rain, sleet- they ruin my favorite outfits and keep patrons out of Le Gnome Qui Rit. Is it any wonder that I prefer sunshine and starry nights to cloudy days and storms?”