Prepare your calender’s for the weekend of May 27-30 for the birthday celebration of Philippe Duc d’Orleans, and Louis le Roi, which also honors the moon, and the night. Its an extravagant nighttime masquerade. For more info watch this blog and track the tag {

silver nights }. Also read this and this for what to expect from decorations. A mutuals only event.



« Hysterical? Rather, I am genuinely concerned for you! »  Planting her hands on her waist she pouted, « Yes, I am not obligated to care, but I do! It is the noble thing! If it were the costumer or stagehand or even Madeleine himself I would be just as alarmed at unannounced leaves! »

Priscilla sighed, collecting herself as she was appeased with the primary portion of his explanation – though his offensiveness, to her, was entirely uncalled for. At least it was comforting to know he wasn’t caught in some Parisian street from a heroic brawl – such vain imaginings! (she wouldn’t address her own hypocrisy, but that’s beside the point). She was about to shrug her shoulders if not commend the search (another tenor or alto would be appreciated) but his last vindictive words unfortunately triggered her for the worst.

« You wouldn’t dare!» She snapped at him under her breath as eyes that once were frustrated in concern now burned with indignation. It shouldn’t have bothered her – but it did. Presently, there was nothing more unnerving to Priscilla than the threat of being replaced – replaced from the position that she worked so hard to attain.  There was always that lingering dreaded reality that her golden reign as prima donna would eventually come to an end – whether at Madeleine’s theatre or acting in general. She was in the business long enough to know that. It was rare any diva would reach such elite status to not lose sleep from this. 

Unfortunately what made this reaction more volatile was she knew she wasn’t getting any younger. Her third decade of existence in this life was inevitably approaching. Accompanied by a glass of wine she would confess to anyone it was becoming a bit of a complex. However her intensive work kept her preoccupied enough to not allow this crisis to become an obsession. She had to assure herself she held a strong place – and she would fight to keep it. 

 « Well Monsieur! »

She couldn’t give away the scent of her insecurity, but was now too lost in sarcasm.

When she was particularly passively furious she wouldn’t even fully address him.   « I am grateful to know all is well and you may proceed on your merry way with searches and economics and forget this passing conversation ever took place. – –  Perhaps next time the only one with enough heart to be even aware of your absence will be your new cash register – at least it rings. »


It was a strange thing and did not sit exactly right with Javert to have someone actually concerned for his wellbeing. That his absence should be noted, well, he should hope so. After all, he had striven to work at the highest level of competence, so that no one had cause to criticize. That made him difficult to replace, easy to miss. Still, he was mollified to hear at least he was not unique in being subjected to her worry.

“I announced it, just not to you,” he pointed out. “Madeleine knew where I was. Next time ask him.” One corner of lips twitched upwards treacherously. To do so would risk revealing an unusual interest in the producer when the two had little reason for direct contact. She wouldn’t want that, not when Madeleine wanted her for himself and she owed her position to him. Then, Javert suspected, the human, jealous side would appear. He wouldn’t mind seeing that. Madeleine, ruffled. Imperfect. Unkind.

At last her words affected him, in confusion rather than consternation. He’d struck a nerve not even knowing it was there. He blinked, meeting her gaze without flinching. “Yes, that’s what I said,” he shot back with a touch of impatience. “If you listened instead of pirouetting between conclusions without the benefit of logic, you’d know it, too. You’re aware Madeleine is determined to keep you. Why do you think I included myself in that same ‘if’, hm?” When they more often were butting heads.

He knew it was a worry with the man. Whether from general weakness or specific sentiment Madeleine would keep her past when he should. However, that also lay in the future. Javert didn’t need to have an ear for artistry to know that, he could tell just from a glance at the ledgers. She had several years here, probably more, if she wanted them. That fact left him indignant in turn at her outburst. She turned her back; so did he, leaving them chatting vehemently to the surrounding walls.

“Did I ask you to gnaw at your neatly groomed claws for me? No. If they’re ragged now, don’t lay the blame at my feet.” He sucked a breath in through his teeth, the beat restoring some of his calm. “My cash register…” For this he wheeled to face her. “—also only speaks when necessary. No idle prattle or half-baked, all-wrong ideas. Do you understand? I will be searching but what I won’t find is a replacement.”

To ask Madeleine of his whereabouts – outrageous! Tempting it may be, she wouldn’t dare! Though Priscilla already held said unusual interest and shamelessly revealed it to the titan without thought for consequence, but allowing Madeleine to catch wind of this… that was out of the question. She owed everything to Madeleine, even knowing it near impossible to ever fully repay him. Her thoughts clouded in a strange conflicting pull between the two men, thought it lasted only long enough for her to flinch in agitation as her cage was rattled again.

Claws! The nerve! « You had better watch your own bark and bite. You snap at anyone who ever tries to come near you! You know continuing to gnaw at slippers will leave you with nothing left eventually! » Fueled by fury and intolerance for each other, their spars battled like gladiators, thrashing back as tempestuous waves. 

Oh, how he made her blood boil.

She huffed, whisking her fan out and flapping it vehemently in her face. Like a dance partner she too spun around to meet him once more, standing on her tiptoes to appear taller, leaning forward & shaking her fan at him, threateningly. « I understand fully, so don’t come knocking on my door later when you find your dreary self yearning for idle prattle from a soft voice after being so thoroughly consumed by your own oxen stubbornness! »

Ugh, just hearing the word replacement again regardless of context made her pristine tiny curls tucked on the nape of her neck stand straight. To prevent herself from lashing out at him again she snorted a terse exhale. « Well good! Do not even let so much as a thought of that reside for even a moment! »

Her booted heels retreated from their height and came in contact with the ground once more as she glared at him silently for some seconds. How exhausting! Once catching her breath her pouting lips gave way to a seductive smirk. Her emotions couldn’t decide whether to settle on brooding pessimism or pride, but at least they all had something in common: she was passionate. (Passionately a hand-full). « Deny it all you want the fact is I’m irresistible~ » Typical. Self preening as self-assurance to suppress her underlying nerves & complex. « And you know it~ »

@myxcentxstage arrives




« Tut-tut! I don’t take no orders from just anyone. Not unless I ‘ear it from the capt’n’s ears ‘imself! » In all honesty the poor woman was terrified beyond her own comprehension. It was difficult enough masking her pedigree, her voice, now her concern was staying alive in general.

« If ye were me, an’ aye was you, wouldn’t ye do the same? »

The pirate let out an irritated grunt. He had followed the orders. He had been polite. He had warned her. She wouldn’t cooperate still? Fine.

My way then.

Koehler grabbed his pistol from his belt and pointed it at the young woman facing him – there were few things more annoying than a big-mouthed wench.

If I were ye, I’d keep my trap shut. You’ll ‘ave all the time to speak to the Cap’n when you meet ‘im in the flesh. Now move.”


Shoot. She had made a misstep in her dance of charming way to her escape plan… or well, at least trying to buy herself more time. But now time was up. And now she was staring at the barrel of a pistol… again

Those eyes of blue that once before this whole bane of existence shined bright and captured stars, were now dull and panic-stricken. Priscilla was no wench, no pirate, a lost soul. No longer able to find her tongue, she simply glared at Koehler and stepped forward, stopping at each footstep.