Does this sound even faintly fluffy to anyone? *another scream from author*
I swear to God I'm not turning into a fluff writer!! Definitely going to
leave for a while and find out what the hell is going on with the muses.
*!*
There was the fact that she was a courtesan who sold her love to men in return for money, but he tended to overlook that. He liked to cast a blind eye towards the 'Sparkling Diamond', the 'Smoldering Temptress' and the 'Wilting Flower' personas and look only at Satine. Just Satine.
It made him laugh whenever she would stop and check herself over in a mirror, making sure all her makeup wasn't the slightest bit smudged and that her lipstick was painted on thick enough so her lips looked like they'd been dipped in blood. He assured her every time that she was just as or beautiful without makeup (or with smudged and messy makeup for that matter) than with it precisely and perfectly applied. She never believed him, of course.
She was perfect in every way in his eyes, not one flaw or fault in her looks or her personality. But in her own eyes she saw disasters all over the place; she had a dimple on one cheek but not the other when she smiled, one eye, she insisted, was bluer than the other, one finger was longer on one hand than it was on the other and the list went on. Silly things, he would say to her, not even worth mentioning.
The fact was, that with all her little so called 'flaws' he loved her all the more. It was the little imperfections she would find in herself everyday that amused him about her. He couldn't tell which eye was bluer (it's the left Christian, it's so obvious to see! She informed him in a fluster after he stared at her for a while looking from eye to eye) the same went with her fingers, that all looked roughly the same length to him and even though he could see that one cheek had a dimple and the other did not, he found it totally the opposite of the disaster she did.
'It makes you look cute,' he told her.
'The Sparkling Diamond is not 'cute' Christian,' she had said.
'You're not the Sparkling Diamond, you're Satine,'
He always had a thing about that. The 'Sparkling Diamond' was just a silly title she'd been given, it wasn't her name and it wasn't who she was. He was very firm about that; he wanted her to be only herself, not a pretender with a stage name nor the most lusted after courtesan. She was just Satine. With him she was just Satine, the woman he'd fallen in love with.
She died being 'just Satine' just his Satine with one eye bluer than the other.
*!*
There was the fact that she was a courtesan who sold her love to men in return for money, but he tended to overlook that. He liked to cast a blind eye towards the 'Sparkling Diamond', the 'Smoldering Temptress' and the 'Wilting Flower' personas and look only at Satine. Just Satine.
It made him laugh whenever she would stop and check herself over in a mirror, making sure all her makeup wasn't the slightest bit smudged and that her lipstick was painted on thick enough so her lips looked like they'd been dipped in blood. He assured her every time that she was just as or beautiful without makeup (or with smudged and messy makeup for that matter) than with it precisely and perfectly applied. She never believed him, of course.
She was perfect in every way in his eyes, not one flaw or fault in her looks or her personality. But in her own eyes she saw disasters all over the place; she had a dimple on one cheek but not the other when she smiled, one eye, she insisted, was bluer than the other, one finger was longer on one hand than it was on the other and the list went on. Silly things, he would say to her, not even worth mentioning.
The fact was, that with all her little so called 'flaws' he loved her all the more. It was the little imperfections she would find in herself everyday that amused him about her. He couldn't tell which eye was bluer (it's the left Christian, it's so obvious to see! She informed him in a fluster after he stared at her for a while looking from eye to eye) the same went with her fingers, that all looked roughly the same length to him and even though he could see that one cheek had a dimple and the other did not, he found it totally the opposite of the disaster she did.
'It makes you look cute,' he told her.
'The Sparkling Diamond is not 'cute' Christian,' she had said.
'You're not the Sparkling Diamond, you're Satine,'
He always had a thing about that. The 'Sparkling Diamond' was just a silly title she'd been given, it wasn't her name and it wasn't who she was. He was very firm about that; he wanted her to be only herself, not a pretender with a stage name nor the most lusted after courtesan. She was just Satine. With him she was just Satine, the woman he'd fallen in love with.
She died being 'just Satine' just his Satine with one eye bluer than the other.