Porcelain

01

People were always coming and going from the Opera Populaire. Some more excited than others. On one such day, a young woman found herself being pulled along by the arm. "We're going to be late." The blonde doing the pulling said in a small huff, running late wasn't what she had aspired to be this morning.

"It's your fault."

"Fleurette I'm the one who suggested getting a carriage."

"Actually no you're not." The younger of the two women stated and set her green eyes on the blonde tugging her along. "I don't even want to go." It sounded childish to her own ears, surely it was the same to her sister, but it was the truth. Fleurette didn't want to go to the ostentatious building, the theatre was grand, yes, but also imposing. She could only imagine those within were equally the same as the building they resided within; ruthless even to aspire to the top and be the best. Fleurette wasn't a competitive person, not really.

"Father is going to be there."

"Eleanor I don't care. I don't want to be there." Fleurette said determinedly while snatching her arm from the clutches of her sister. She didn't think Eleanor could grip onto her more than she already was, it was a struggle to get free. Fleurette let out a small huff from the effort, Eleanor just stared at her for the action. The streets were busy, not that she could part ways from her sister when she was right beside her, but Eleanor wouldn't put it past Fleurette to slip into the crowd and disappear within it.

"Look," Eleanor turned and set her blue eyed gaze on her younger sister. They were so vastly different yet so similar. Eleanor was the eldest by two years, where Fleurette had short auburn coloured hair and green eyes. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. The only thing their appearances had in common was they looked the same just with different coloured hair and eyes. That and they both had slightly curly hair.

"Mother is gone, father is working there. There are openings for dancers, you're good and so am I. He suggested the idea." Eleanor paused to remove her hands from her sisters shoulders. "If we do not turn up he will be mad. I do not wish to be on the receiving end of his temper, nor do you of that I am sure." Fleurette hung her head and started walking again. Eleanor sighed and walked briskly after her sister. She didn't wish or want to lecture, to appear that way alone was painful to Eleanor, but it sometimes was the only way to get through to her sister. Eleanor was only twenty-two and yet she seemed to have slipped into the role of their late mother. Fleurette was a little immature for a woman of twenty but she couldn't comment. When both left to their own devices they were both as immature as the nearest child.

——

Lucien Bousquet awaited with his violin in hand, to see the arrival of his daughters. They were late and this angered him slightly. He gave them the time and the date and all they had to do was turn up. Auditions were already happening and if they weren't careful they'd both miss out. The only reason why the middle aged man had suggested this idea was to get them both out of the house. Eleanor had other priorities like her soon to be engagement, but Fleurette just spent most of her time sitting around reading. She did not take interest in suitors, she didn't even seem to wish to leave the family home.

He honestly didn't mind his youngest taking an interest in the wonders of the written world. But she wouldn't be able to put it to any good use, if she didn't get out and share whatever knowledge it was that she had within her head. Fleurette was a smart girl, they were both smart, it would be a shame to leave and let that wither away within their home and not be put to use somewhere or somehow. Snapping out of his thoughts when he saw a familiar if not a slightly moping looking redhead, he walked briskly over. "You're late." His tone was clipped, borderline hostile sounding in a way too. It wasn't that he was a frigidly cold person, but life hadn't been the easiest, and losing his wife was a grief that had scorched a path in his heart that was never going to heal.