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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on May 21, 2006 22:03:27 GMT -5
The Grand Staircase of the Opera Populaire looked significantly less grand at the moment than it did usually. Instead of dozens of the elegantly dressed Parisian elite, there was only one lone maid trudging up and down the steps. Thérèse had already swept them, thankful that at least they weren't muddy. This small relief did not make her any more enthusiastic at her current job of polishing the bannisters.
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on May 22, 2006 14:49:41 GMT -5
He was running late... Olivier flew down the staircase, not noticing the maid until he had knocked into her- sending the canvas under his arm flying.
His mind debated for a milli-second on whether to catch the girl or his precious canvas. He knew the answer as his arm flew out and grabbed the girl's wrist, "I'm sorry! I didn't see you there! Are you all right?"
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on May 22, 2006 18:35:53 GMT -5
Thérèse stumbled down the steps with a loud shriek, dropping her rag in an attempt to grab the bannister. Instead she caught the arm of the man who had knocked her down. She stood frozen for a moment, clutching him tightly, then exhaled quietly and unpried her fingers from his arm.
"I'm fine..." She murmured, instinctively smoothing out her skirts and hair, though they hadn't actually gotten that mussed. Her first reaction was to chastise the man, tell him to watch where he was going! But he had thus far been quite sympathetic, so she held her tongue and her face softened slightly. "You alright?" She asked.
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on May 22, 2006 23:16:57 GMT -5
"Um... yes, I'm fine," Olivier said, glancing a few steps down where his canvas had fallen. He slowly bent down and scooped it up. The corner had broken off of it and was hanging limply by a strand of material.
Immediately, sadness had flooded through him. He had worked so hard to paint the aristocrat's portrait. Now he would never buy it.
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on May 23, 2006 0:06:50 GMT -5
"I'm sorry about your painting..." Thérèse said lamely. "It still looks nice," she added guiltily, starting to feel it was her fault the canvas was ripped. "Monsieur..." She paused, then shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on May 23, 2006 23:17:10 GMT -5
"Olivier," He said, not really hearing her, "It's all right." Shaking his head, he threw the painting to the side.
"Ow!"
Olivier flinched slightly as he realized that he had cast the painting away only to hit a passerby, "Oh! Excusez moi! Je suis très desolé! I am very sorry!" He gave her an embarassed look.
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on May 23, 2006 23:20:47 GMT -5
"You have to be careful, Monsieur!" Thérèse said sharply, hurrying to retrieve the canvas more for the benfit of the passerby than any appreciation for the art. She shook her head and muttered something unpleasant under her breath. As she carried the canvas back to him she unrolled it to look at the painting.
"Who is that?" She asked, glancing over the painted figure.
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on May 24, 2006 12:46:24 GMT -5
Olivier looked at the ruined canvas, his view was upside down but he still thought he could have done better on it, "Lord something-or-other's wife. It was supposed to be an anniversary present for her from the Lord, but he won't buy it now- that's for sure."
Oh well, he didn't need supper anyways- it was a waste of time.
"So, you said your name was Thérèse?" He asked, suddenly realizing that he might as well take advantage of the moment and talk to the girl.
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on May 24, 2006 23:54:10 GMT -5
"Yes, Monsieur," she responded, still inspecting the painting. "I just do the cleaning and such around here. " She shrugged, she did not consider herself very interesting. She was, after all, just a maid, not the prima donna or even a chorus girl.
"And yourself, are you joining the painting crew? Or something else? It seems to me, judging by this," she tapped the canvas, "You have too much skill to be painting scenery."
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on May 26, 2006 22:14:48 GMT -5
Olivier couldn't help but smile at her compliment, "Merci, but I really am not that good of an artist. I paint portraits to pay the rent and bills. I should join the painting crew but I think I'm too proud, unfortunately." What he didn't say was that he only sold a painting about once a week, and was forced to spread his meals out to once a day at the most.
"I think," Olivier said pleasantly, "It's just a theory of mine, but I think that you believe that maids aren't important? Am I correct?"
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on May 27, 2006 0:06:25 GMT -5
"Well, we aren't," Thérèse replied simply. That was a plain and obvious fact of life. She bent down to pick up the rag she had dropped and began absent-mindedly polishing the bannister again. "What's your point?"
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on May 30, 2006 22:15:49 GMT -5
"Of course you're important," Olivier said cheerfully, "If it weren't for you, this whole place," He held his arms wide to exaggerated the 'whole place', "Would be disgusting and dirty and no one would ever come here because it smelled and they would have to wade through garbage to get to their seats."
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on Jun 4, 2006 14:23:28 GMT -5
"I'm just a maid," Thérèse repeated with a small smile. Trust an artist not to understand the way the world works. "Perhaps you might present yourself to some of the Opera's patrons... Or the owners themselves. No doubt they might desire the services of a portrait artist."
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Post by Cinnamon Sorbet on Jun 5, 2006 23:11:39 GMT -5
"And where would I find them?" Olivier asked, interested. Maybe it'd be a permanent job and he could afford to keep up with his rent for once. He had all ready gotten two notices on eviction, the next time he missed the rent- he was kicked out.
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Post by Thérèse Dupassé on Jun 6, 2006 18:55:41 GMT -5
Thérèse dutifully gave Olivier the address of the owners' apartment as best she could remember it. "Good luck with them. When you become a famous painter, don't you forget me though, alright?" She said with a joking smile, but was utterly serious. Any opportunity to get out of life as a maid was welcome, no matter how much she had to force herself into it.
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