(🧸🎀The first song, Morricone - The falls particularly pertains to this chapter. Also, Tw: eating disorder.)
Chp.7
As the play begin, a few characters inaugurate onto the stage with a wardrobe of rococo influences. Rosalaine leaks no effort to divulge this to Louis, whom she assumes has been pilfered by an aristocrat in tedious converse. She rather sit there regarding a potent inability to focus enough to stand or walk properly now that she is aware; Louis is no fond of her like she is of him & therefore what reason is there for her to associate with him any longer? She fills with ecstasy when receiving even the slightest answer from his shell pink, heart lips. And yet, she must stomach this recognition for what it is truly. To the benefit of Louis, and herself. Calming her storm, Rosalaine has made a choice to go retrieve Louis from inside the grandeur palace. Though surprisingly, as she lifts from off her bottom and turns around to the way of the chateau, the Louis is there agape; bewitched in the splendor & lustrous beauty of the art executing ahead of him on that great, enormous stage. Filled with characters, All whom superbly express their individual roles. Rosalaine is beaming with tired eyes as she sees this; for when he smiles, she too finds herself doing the exact.
One final time, she walks by him hoping sanguinely that he may altogether embrace her at this moment of pure blithe. But, oh!—how she is woefully mistaken.
"Goodbye my dear, Louis."
—
The furtive Monica evades the guards through the unfiltered loyalty of her dependable compadres. She rejoices! She has made it!
Laurence stays behind despondent; he is not exempt to watch & be present at this very pivotal performance for Monica. This moment of hers, for her, that he has to miss. The ebullience of Monica that swoons him so much, he will be absent from seeing. He imagines her ardor smile as she accomplishes this step in her wild ambition, following , Laurence feels his heart race abnormally. He is annoyed and irate. Unexpectedly, Laurence senses the hand of his considerate best friend, Hans, on his shoulder. "Hurry & run your way to her. We do not need you here that bad." He grins an innocent grin. Laurence nods & without much hesitation at all, bolts into the bushes maneuvering his flesh all the way into where it is all happening. Just in exemplary time, Monica enters into a exquisite Grand Jete. Her leap is marvelous & flawless to the eyes, with exceptional flow & grace. Her form is splendid & firm. One can be convinced she is a witch, afloat from off the floor. The muscles of her legs flex firmly, and the toes of her feet point sharply as she gracefully hops and covers ground across the stage, her hands too wave about in an harmonious rhythm agreeing to the pattern of her other limbs. In front of a plethora of people, Monica optimistically embraces her beautiful style that borders on utter perfection with an High head, shoulders and arched back, and mostly potently a bright smile.
Laurence, whose numbness tingles of astonishment, is notably proud of Monica already, & exalts her even more than before. "What will I do if I ever have to leave you?"
—
Louis's wide eyes vehemently scan the dancers on stage as a gleeful, pure kid who, for the first time, felt how it felt to be alive. The costumes so colorful and vibrant, pranced along the quick-moving bodies of the dancers making them all the more alluring. Such enthralling dramatics of expressions depicted by the actors makes Louis's heart flutter with an overwhelming excitement he knows not what to do with! Then, the fortuitous act of a girl frisk merrily with great frolic and controlled enthusiasm in each of her movements.
This sudden apogee in the play has profoundly galvanized & impressed Louis. A superior move executed so phenomenally deserves his soundless praise. This brown girl, Whom is she? To who's prince does she belong to? Louis studies the young lady studiously. Her brown face is comparable to the heavens; oh dear—stunning—she is. He is disturbed by such beauty—such beauty that has engulfed him entirely into its alluring nature. Her lips curve pink & plump. Her legs exceedingly thin but muscle remains, in the calves especially. The entirely of her, looks to be malnourished and very attenuate, quite peasant—like. A dancer that tells through their appearance of their profession proves great bias to Louis. Her breast are small from the size of the chest section of her busk, and her shoulders round with visible thick arms of strength. The hazel, wide eyes on her face curve a bit & when she smiles the puffiness of her eyes grow a bottom layer that does so too. She is a porcelain beauty & her existence lone is enchantingly unreal! Her nose is not slim or big but rather ordinarily sized. Her jaw is visibly structured into a v, but still young and cheeks full of fat. Her eyebrows thick of hair with a natural, perfect shape. Her height, petite & miniature.
These individuals in France seem to consist of only a bit of French society. Scarcely does Louis see any, that not including the palace's servants. It is in his suspicion that she perhaps may be a peasant.
It is Louis's devoir, & afresh idea to stalk after the young danseuse. If Louis let free of this opportunity, how soon will it be where he may see her with another soulmate? Most significantly, how long will he wait to find another who dances as her?
It is requisite that the girl know who he is!
—
Monica reminisces, the countenance of the others on stage has her flurried. For what was then on their minds, And what now? Has anyone, especially those who are significant in worthiness, been alarmed or apprised of this plan—of her friends. Her friends!
Having tangled herself in the strings of her thoughts & feelings, what should have not been forgotten has been. However, Monica is shudders not—she insist she will get back to them all regardless of what the future veils.
As of now, Monica's mental potency has her sprinting through the exhaustion & throes, from out of the party & quickly to where she first left her friends. Her section in the play, purposefully short & stimulating, meaningfully incorporating bold & unblemished moves that ensnared the audience's complete attention! Moves she bled, busted, and strenuously fought for everyday with nothing in her stomach to fill her up, no sleep to keep the body in motion, and hours worth of burdensome labour in maddening weather, heat and freezing cold. What Monica attempted to gift the audience that is worth waiting for is, her! "See me dance in skin you may have never seen before, outdo so many of your own dancers." Monica asides. She hopes & intends for them all to ignore her talent not, & to acknowledge the great potential, over the many performances of her to come! Even if they must concede! They will, they must!
Monica approaches the front of the Palace where she last lay eyes on her friends. She sights them & with relief, glad that they are safe, she smiles wide. As do they. Monica's heart beats frantically realising, fully, that she has done it! Her friends deserve her appreciation & approval. They are too great for her! Monica's eyes become foggy and like an ocean. "Why so faithful & good, are they to me?!" Monica wonders. And though her eyes water of tears, her smile glows of joy. This great euphoria has Monica feeling lighter than she already is every step she takes, as she runs over to her dearest friends.
"Am I alive, genuinely? This reality of mine, is it true? These people who are my only friends, care for me so much & with my proficiency we have succeeded?"
".......I shall see!"
"And wholeheartedly I love them, Whatever they wish of, let me be the one to do it for them! They build me up, I must do the same." To herself, she speaks.
They have found each other with each other again. The 5 are inseparable and unable to be severed. However, A jovial Monica fails to understand where Laurence is. Did he leave? Reasonably so. Monica looks around the palace as they all stand on the sidewalk. Expeditiously after, Lawrence emerges from those thick, dark green bushes smiling a smile of a thousand proud faces at Monica. She smiles back notwithstanding, the slight antipathy mixed with an overflow of honour. Laurence swallows air. Of course, Monica is ignorant of true love. More often than not, Monica after every act of love, she seemingly takes such acts as if Laurence has transgressed her. Monica fixes her face, "If I must be yours Laurence to make you happy then I will! For you deserve it because you have helped me!" Monica asides. Laurence does not know of this dishonest love that Monica has vowed upon him, will he ever?
—
Louis needs not to demonstrate to any soul of his superlative dancing. Especially those that fall under him. "But, let this girl be the first of none—who will see me dance with complete exertion, to my fullest potential." Louis proclaims!
By this time, the play has ended & Louis endeavors
to find the ballerina that the universe has made exchange presences with him with intention!
Upon entering the dining room, Louis's mouth salivates & he grows ravenous. The distractions the play and the girl had on him allowed for him to think little of food this day, but now—he must confront it. This restriction has abandoned him & made him gluttonous. And while he can dart his eyes from off the chocolate fountain, patterned with a pyramid of colorful fruit, with his mind he can not. How torturous, and demeaning it is to know how much he craves to eat. Louis starts to swirl his tongue on the inside. He can not avoid the images conjuring in his head of these delectable appetizers. It is hard to deny what will soon be in front of him; those piquant meals of meat & sugar. "Oh my! Why must things be this way for me?!" Louis complains to himself.
At the long, opulent table sits many nobles. On the end round corners, opposite to another, Monsieur Le Dauphin of France & his father King Louis XIV sit facing each other. King Louis ponders & speaks to his valet who appears mystified. Louis pays no close attention though—Instead, he analyses how he must and will refrain from eating the tempting food. Food is femme fatale; it is very tempestuous & in the end one is always left abashed & considerably repentant! What happiness will I face those long hours after I eat this, if I do? The moment may be great but the regret & pain afterwards will be greater! Louis attempts to convince himself.
After lengthy minutes of intermission, Dinner is served! Much to Louis's dismay; Louis glances away from the food. In his belief, he is undeserving of such delicacies & if one taste of any meal travels between his lips and into his mouth, Louis knows most that he will gorge berserkly.
Just then is Louis reminded of the brown girl. Yes—that girl. Louis, do you not plan to dance for her? with her!? He questions to himself. What shall she believe of you when you present yourself to her stout & unhappy? Do not self sabotage! Food—your worst enemy, Louis. You know you are only joyful when depleted. You know you are only perfect, & feel perfect when you are deficient. It hurts to eat—Food has only ever been a pain. Throw it away Louis; get rid of the pain Louis, so that you will be content.
"Take it, & give to someone else who wants it most." Louis demands the servant in red clothing before the plate is set before him. During this extreme period of emancipation, Louis is infrequently happy and, frequently weak. And most often, his will to dance dissipates. Eyeing the table, Louis smiles at this accomplishment he himself believes he has made. "Louis, it is very possible to be more beautiful to the eye. Be thinner & cadaverous. After the tough weeks of discipline, think of how diaphanous you will be! More graceful & slender you will be! You will look how you have always long to appear....onstage and off."
After fervent thinking, Louis looks up before him and notices his father is absent from the room. The folk of high echelon speak amongst each other still as they selfishly indulge in the meats, fruit & wine but even still, conspicuously, a certain confusion & worry lingers upon them all. What has happened? Or rather, what is happening? Louis clearly interprets these wandering & undirected eyes looking anywhere and everywhere; trying to understand. The king is not here to dine! A rare sight. "Monsieur de France, Louis.." a noblewoman bows to Louis side, "Of your dad's absentee, shall you confide in me where he may be?" She bends slightly over to somewhat reach the lower height of a sitting Louis, expressing concern. Louis motionless, turning to his side to look at her. "Most definitely is there a problem, nevertheless, I know not a thing of my father's whereabouts."
The woman smiles, appreciatively. "Thank you, Monsieur Louis." She bows and exits from his sight. A mistress? Louis asks himself. One of the many, perhaps she be? Regardless, where his father may be, his girl avails in significance above all other. Let her be the object that grants him success!
Almost slyly, Louis removes himself from the dining area and follows his pursuit. The girl he will find & take by his side to dance with;
So that they may dance together.
***