Celebrating Life [Open]

[Isabella Alexandrine]

It was rare that Isabella was able to venture to the Palace, a rarity that plagued her. How could she be expected to do her duty securing and elevating her family's status if she never ventured to the Palace? The situation couldn't be helped; there had been other matters for Isabella to attend to.

The Celebration of Life had come and it was something Isabella was looking forward to. Her heart gave thanks for the blessings it had, knowing that many people were not fortunate enough to be born into a better class of society. Deep inside, she cringed at the thought of having to work as a servant in someone else's home.

As such, all those in attendance at the Palace would be servants in the home of the Empress. There was no irony to be lost on Isabella. She knew that to serve the State meant to serve the Empress as well, though the least of the Imperial staff lived in opulence, something the Alexandrine family claimed, but never by default.

Isabella made the most of the time leading up to the Celebration itself. She did nothing except prepare for the night's festivities. A proper invitation had been left, which she studied several times, taking in the delicate manufacture of the envelope, the watermark on the paper, and the seal of Empress Camille herself. Every feature made Isabella's heart beat a little faster. It all made her curious as to what she could do once she arrived. Her heart wanted nothing more than to take in the sight of the Palace and, if possible, the smell of its primary occupant.

Noting the requirements of the evening, a tailor had been commissioned to design and sew a new gown for Isabella. There would be only a few layers and, aside from the collar, it would have the lowest neckline Isabella had ever worn. New accessories would also be required, along with the best pampering and care Isabella could endure.

When that was through, she found herself feeling warm, sure that others near her would find her presence fragrant. Her hair had been steamed, then lightly curled so it would be more appealing than simply falling down her back and shoulders. A small tiara of gold flowers wrapped in red ribbons rested within her dark curls, accentuating the effect. Isabella's gown, firmly built of a shimmering gold fabric, was lined with red lace along all its primary seams and edges. A necklace with a long chain was linked behind Isabella's neck while someone else slipped a ring on her right hand. She held out her arms, allowing an embroidered shawl, woven in gold thread, to drape over her arms and behind her waist. With great care, she stepped into the shining shoes, specially ordered to match the gown and to make Isabella stand taller on her heels.

Feeling confident in her steps, Isabella made her way to the steam coach when it came. She stepped away from its fumes, careful to make sure her own fragrance wasn't spoiled by the vehicle. Graceful steps led her to her seat and she waited for the trip to the Palace to begin. Though the ride was bumpy in the mechanized wonder, Isabella arrived intact, ready to take in everything she could.

Isabella wanted to jump out of the coach, look out at the scene, and let her smile beam the pleasure of her arrival. But that would be imprudent, making a scene. Protocol demanded she restrain herself, creating a refined, demure aesthetic while she took part in the Celebration of Life. As the coach door opened and she took the offered hand to escort her from the vehicle, Isabella smiled a little at the restraint she had to show.

When her feet were firmly on the ground, she looked at the escort, still smiling. "Thank you," she said, keeping her tone soft. The only reply she was given was a calm nod forward; he had likely been given thanks all night.

From ahead, Isabella took in the sight of crimson light bathing her entry. Each step she took brought her closer to the warm glow. She felt it opening to her as she carried herself onward. The weight of her gown, pulling back not as a hindrance, but to reassure her she was moving the proper way. The night was young and she had just stepped into the wonders of the Palace of Elysium.

Just then, her named was called out, solidifying her arrival to those already present. "Isabella Rachelle Alexandrine!"

[Camille]

It’d been quite the night already for the young Empress of Elysia. Such a woman wasn’t so use to entertaining in such a manner. After all, she was quite the solitary woman, confining herself to a close-knit group of her two right-hand women, Harlow, and Natalia, she was never a particularily social woman, after all. Still, she quite enjoyed having such attention paid to her.

Not that anyone could ignore her existence. She had ruined what was probably hundreds, or even thousands of innocent life. Ah, such is life, it’s truly no skin off the young Empress’ pretty little nose.

She’d little care for the general public any longer. After years, and years of corruption by her simplistic council - the ones responsible for bringing Camille to the throne after that single Chaotic day, and the loss of the former empress. She was only young then, she’d seen no more than thirteen winters when suddenly she’d been handed the crown and forced to the throne. She was young, after all, and impressionable. Perhaps she couldn’t be blamed for the current state of the public; it was all the council’s fault. Though, she’d come to adapt, and fill the role nigh perfectly with a straight back and her pretty head held high - nose up.

Tonight seemed to be different though. Camille had climbed down from that ivory tower she’d been sitting in since she was thirteen years of old, and here she was, mingling amongst the common folk. Though to be fair most in attendance could be considered the “elite” of Elysia. After all, it took money to dress oneself for an event of this magnitude, sometimes even moreso for fair to get oneself to the steps of her grand Palace.

Camille was dressed almost smartly, and despite having demanded her guests to be bound in only shades of red and various golds, Camille, herself had managed into a simplistic black gown - strapless of course, with naught but that generous bust of hers holding that piece of fabric upon her thin, and almost sun kissed form. The froth of that almost mesh skirt met ankles, and dared not to brush upon the floorboards. Of course, this was Camille’s event, and as the empress she’d every right to dress exactly how she wanted to dress! The empress was never wrong, after all.

So, it’s with a generous sort of smile, and a glass of warm, and mulled wine balanced upon her palm, the stem settled neatly between the part of her fingers that Miss Ipres sweeps through the crowd - something relatively difficult to manage with nigh everyone bringing her to a halt to simply compliment her on her looks, or perhaps her décor. Either way, Camille couldn’t seem to find a moment to herself, and she seemed to be holding that same glass of wine for what was probably the entirety of the evening, only a sip or two had been drawn from that vaguely spiced and infused wine, it now only warmed by her palm instead of the slight heat bubbling away beneath the casks.

Her fingertips smoothes upon her brow for a short moment and once more she draws that berry-shaded liquid toward the swell of her pout to draw from such generously.

[Isabella Alexandrine]

The Empress appeared, stunning in her strapless black gown. The fullness of her figure was framed with simplicity and elegance, an image Isabella found more than appealing. Her uniqueness stood out among everyone in the Palace, which was her right as Empress. If I could sway her, Isabella thought, it would be wonderful, but her majesty does not sway that way. Perhaps there is another place where she could guide me. If I only had a pathway to make an introduction.

Isabella looked around the room, wanting to savor every bit of the party at hand. She took in all the smells and knew that this was much more lavish than anything she had ever experienced before. It was something she could easily get used to, with enough exposure.

For a moment, she glanced toward where the drinks were being served, but realized everyone was moving that way. So many people blindly following the path the Empress set, how could any of them hope to be noticed? Isabella would make it there soon enough, but she chose to wait, standing apart from the rest of the crowd.

She walked, looking through the opulence of the Palace. The large hall where the party was taking place was a celebration just to see. It was rare for so many to be able to idly walk through the Palace, so Isabella chose not to do such a thing. Acting like I belong here is one of the best ways to ensure I am given a chance to come back.

Thus she studied the decorations like a connoisseur of the arts, appreciating the inherent beauty of everything around her, but focusing for minutes at a time on small details. No gasping over how lovely things were, even though that was how she felt.

After a little while, the crowds had begun to mingle and scatter about the hall. Isabella saw her proper chance starting to form. She crossed to where glasses of berry liquid had been displayed, each row always perfect and in line with the glasses behind and in front. No glass had a lack of liquid or an abundance, building on the uniformity of the display. Without looking, Isabella took one of the glasses and brought it to her nose, taking in the flavor before drinking. It delighted her greatly, but she still repressed the astonishment it gave her, lest she be mistaken for someone who did not belong.

Taking a small sip, she was satisfied that the evening would be very entertaining. Her eyes took in many of the guests, seeing how they all blended in with each other, a mass of gold and red fabrics, warming throughout the room. A few of the guests were starting to take notice of each other, even though the night was still quite young. Isabella found a few eyes glancing at her for more than a token moment, something she tried not to react to greatly upon.

The Empress was a short distance away and Isabella decided she would hardly have a better opportunity to interact with the definition of beauty in Elysia. The path was clear and others had been able to approach her. What was stopping Isabella? With a graceful approach, Isabella looked at the Empress, offering a proper bow for the occasion. "Your Majesty, might I remark on the elegance not only of Your party, but also of Your attire? Both are truly exquisite."

[Camille]

Her wine glass was warm balanced within the palm of her hand. It’d been so for some time now, and despite being mulled wine and meant to be served piping hot with that slice of orange floating within the curve of the glass, the empress was displeased with such. It’d cooled to body temperature as opposed to being the simple sort of piping hot and steaming. Perhaps she should simply abandon this glass. The young girl with those strange, and foreign eyes peers upon the lip of her glass with that burgundy stain settled against the rim.

She was the empress, no one was going to call her out for abandoning her glass. Instead the small girl tugs aside a wayward member of the wait staff and settles the glass within his hand, “Another, please, this is no longer to my liking,” he dare not question Miss Ipres, instead he gives a short nod, accompanied with an “Of course, M’lady,” and with that he was off. Camille simply gives a nod of her own and folds tiny hands before her soft form, easily occupying fingertips for the time being.

Camille can’t help the smile pulling at the corners of her lips - it’s a pleased sort of look allover, she was glad to see all things running so smoothly in this moment. It was a refreshing sort of break altogether to have something run so seamlessly for once over the duration of her decade long rule.

In all truth this was no time to be showing her face in public. She shouldn’t be out and about and mingling with the people - heaven knew half of them hated her. And she shouldn’t be trusting some young waiter with her mulled wine, lest he return it with some fizzing capsule gurgling and coiling up bubbles of some noxious fume within the base of that wide-mouthed glass. Camille couldn’t trust anyone, and still, tonight she was. It was a time for pause, and for brief celebration, and if she were to be poisoned tonight. Well, the wine developing within the pit of her stomach made it hard for her to keep worried over such a trivial thing as her death.

Still, don’t think for even a moment that her death would go unpunished on tonight of all nights!

It’s then her attention is being drawn elsewhere. And her emptied hands are left offering palms upwards to this woman to take up her hands, “Evening, Love,” she coos sweetly - something miss Ipres isn’t exactly known for! Another of those smiles is taking that soft pout of hers - slow and almost warm before she comes to release this young woman’s warm palms, “You’re too kind,” Camille murmurs, tilting her own pretty head to peer over this girl’s attire, “Stunning,” she comments, slender fingertips brushing upon the hip of this lass’ gown delicately.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t catch your name?” Camille offers up, pressing teeth upon her lower lip delicately.

[Isabella Alexandrine]

The moment had finally come. Isabella found herself in the presence of the embodiment of the State itself, Her Majesty, the Empress. Every warning and teaching her mother had given her tried rushing into her mind all at once. The policies of decorum and proper conduct had thankfully become a matter of instinct, but it was still something that tried to overwhelm Isabella. Her manners kept her movements in check, allowing her to actually converse with the esteemed ruler, so long as Her Majesty chose.

A pair of hands reached down to Isabella. A most regal offer, as the Empress was reaching out to the young lady. Even this, most simple action was enough to elevate Isabella, along with the entire Alexandrine household, so long as everything remained both loyal and cordial.

Isabella noted the Empress had a cool touch, possibly from holding onto a glass of wine for so long. It was far from a cold sensation, just a few degrees off from what Isabella was used to. She allowed herself to stand, becoming the subject of Her Majesty's scrutiny, no matter how long it may or may not have continued.

The Royal Smile was unveiled, a rare expression from Her Majesty. Isabella knew the Empress was one to hold her emotions in tight reservation. It was the right, possibly the obligation of such a high post to make sure the masses could not easily interpret her subtleties, lest she be picked apart by anyone in her presence. Knowing how great the expression was, Isabella did not have to try to return the sentiment. She was pleased just to have a moment to speak with the Empress, even if there were only pleasantries to be traded.

But the smile and simple touch were not all Her Majesty had to offer. Isabella had to stand in place as she was visually examined, her every movement and unconscious glide being recorded by the Empress' vision. Isabella's gown came under the closest scrutiny as the Empress released her hands and provide a delicate brush of fingers through the shimmering golden fabric. It was a touch that not only showed satisfaction, but implied pleased acceptance at Isabella's efforts.

Her Majesty spoke. “I’m sorry if I didn’t catch your name?”

Isabella knew this is what she had been waiting for. To come into the presence of the Empress Herself was quite a surprise. Loyal, and bound to do her duty, Isabella offered her name as a gift to her benevolent ruler. "Isabella Rachelle Alexandrine, Your Majesty." Isabella lowered her head and curtsied as she introduced herself, a rare privilege for anyone not already a head of state. "It is my honor and pleasure to be in your presence, this evening, Your Majesty."

She wanted to say more. She wanted to offer her service to the Empress, but Isabella knew she did not have the station required to make such an offering unfounded. Should the Empress desire such a thing, it would be different, but this was a social gathering and the attentions of Her Majesty could not be controlled by anyone except for the Empress Herself.