𝙰 𝚑𝚘𝚊𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒂 & 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔

❧𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦e, 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬!☙

Laurence, wretched & desperate, walks up equally to Monica and looks at her from his side. "Tell me, Monica, the reason why you approach us this way." He urges. Monica knows not what to do—for she has zilch been probed about her emotions, what she is feeling or has felt. Resultantly, she rubs the irritant off. " There is no reason." She replies, disturbed. "If you want to keep following me, please follow me silently."

—

Returning to the Palace Versailles, as the carriage strolls through the manor, Louis arrives to the Palace flooded in embellishments & fine decor. His mouth open wide & his head leaning outside of the landau. "Oh, how—beautiful." He feels he can faint easily at this moment. The weather is pleasing as well. How blessed Louis is, for such a day to be for him. When the carriage pauses in motion officially, Louis promptly exits. "Forget of my valet & personal helpers. You, Lead me to where the ballet shall take place." He commands the carriage driver. "Excuse me, Monsieur Le Dauphin, but I am no servant of yours. That is not my role. Must I go against your Father, the King?" The driver is out of the carriage as well, bowing to the Dauphin. Louis looks around & crosses his arms. "Mhm. Fine, you are correct, but I do wish my valet's driver was another you." Louis compliments. The driver smiles, and his eyes widen. " My highness, your valet is present." Louis turns his head to the back of him, and is greatly overjoyed. "Finally, have you made it here." Louis snarks. "My apologies, sir." The valet bows. "Yes, let us go to where the ballet rendition may be shall we, Thierry."

Minutes later, the couple arrive to the garden of chateau de Versailles. Louis eyes espy the wide rake stage. The stage is fairly large in size, and wide in width. Louis imagines himself prancing on it in his most vivacious costume yet. He smiles exhilaratingly. There by the tall salutary, trimmed set of bushes were a few of the mass aristocrats & noblemen whom patronize the chateau. There too, loiter Rosalaine in her stay she worn tightly around & over her waist. Her baroque dress is the color of light forest green. Her cheeks & lips glow of pink dust. Her hair let down in a twist, & over her hair is positioned an extravagant feathered hat. Too soon before Louis looks away, her eagle eyes spot him. She beams, then begins to walk his way. "Monsieur Le Dauphin, Louis." She bows. "Your father is a priest, of low rank. How ever did you get here?" To confess, such words struck that precious heart of Rosalaine. Regardless, his clueless, harsh tendency of expressing his ideas was much understood by her as if the personality was her very own. "Do you not know that your father and my father are great companions?" She laughs. "Oh—yes. I do remember now." Louis nods. "Rosalaine." He steps closer to her. "Yes, Monsieur Louis." She steps even closer. Their noses could touch. "Do you know when the play will begin?"
Rosalaine snickers. Out of impatience Rosalaine is awfully zealous over this intermission of their relationship, where fate is much too incalculable for her to be comfortable with. "No, Louis. No, I know nothing." Her eyes follows every where his head does. Do something to me Louis. Please. Rosalaine asides, pleadingly. "Excuse me then, Rosalaine. I shall go scout for myself." Louis departs, using his finger to comb his hair back, with Thierry, his valet.
How devoid of noise Thierry was, so much Rosalaine did not recognize him. Rosalaine rather than move anywhere, she only stands still. Her eyes & mind, likewise.

—

Monica has massive incentive, & has devised her strategy that she has overthought all until now, and even in these short moments. A perturbed Monica raveningly tears off the tip of her finger nails, and the skin on the side as she proceeds to mentally scrutinize her ideas repeatedly. The silence of the group is noticeable to Monica, but also is it irrelevant. She is more shuddered by the future than she is now. Though she does wonder, why do Jocè hush &  Dosá not speak at all? Having said that, she reverts back to her perennial thinking; the voice in her head that never stops. When the children approach the estate, they collectively gawk in awe at the winsome land. The impressive scenery cause Monica's nail biting to halt. "It is beautiful but what is more beautiful is my goal so we need to keep going." Monica tries to curve a smile onto her face. Wholeheartedly, Dosá & Jocè smile accordingly. Though, Laurence & Hans relate not to these smiles and ideas. Laurence is engrossed within Monica as Hans catches view of him intensely. As if Hans is expecting a signal or subtle message so that he may flawlessly perceive the honest issue between Lawrence & Monica. Hans is met with savvy to which a damning realization slaps across his puffy cheek! Monica has captured Laurence's heart!

Monica on her pursuit makes way to the 2 guards whom dress in there representative charms & aureate aiguillettes. Laurence watches this event before him & is genuinely perplexed. Does Monica believe that she will succeed with this appalling plan?

There is no other person who can achieve my aspirations. My aspiration is my aspiration; This fantasy, only I vision. And I must help myself to attain for myself. Therefore, it is mandatory and well within my interest to surmount the predicament I inflicted upon Laurence and myself, and ask him for help. I need to ask all of them for help, and leave what is behind me, behind me. If this cannot be done then how can anything else far above it be?

Monica walks away, "Please follow me." Monica entreats as emphatic sincerity draw on her face.  Monica's fidus Achates accompanies Monica, following her entreat. As they all merge into the woods, Monica speaks. "Do not think that I am using you all like—bottom shoe filth." She says, more than what is needed though none of them believe such a thing. "I wish for you all to distract the guards just for some moment, nothing more. Allow me to leave without being seen by them." Monica must be stealthy with her plan, for what could this cost her—and most importantly her friends if she were seized & apprehended? Monica is overwhelmed with the instant realization of these incredibly possible & consequential, conclusions. She has been silent. "I agree to your plan." Jocè speaks up. "Is that all you want from me? I am your friend. I knowingly do this. I am no naive little girl. It is fine to use us, else we would be of no use as friends." Dosa approves. Hans avow, "Of course Monica. No matter the situation, I too am your pal." He lightheartedly dramatizes. "Do you fancy for me to jump the fences, the bushes?"

Monica beams her wide & vibrant grin. The rest, as well. And while all seems fine now, the group foolishly ignores the trepidation of their hearts warning of the dread the future delays solely for their company. "Thank you all, deeply." She affectionately affirms, & with pure gratitude "Well then, let us embark on this arousing odyssey!" she shouts!

***