"Oh dear!" or "Oh my!" is Winter's catchphrase. I'm sorry that you guys didn't understand it! Once again, I'm so sorry.
Well, at least you have this to read! Enjoy!
Chapter 8: The Blood-Feathered Hawk
Ideal songs to listen to whilst reading this chapter:
Sarah Vaughan- Stairway to the Stars
Glenn Miller- A String of Pearls
"I'm sorry, Ms. Castafiore, but that dress is a little too, err…a bit showy, I might say…" Winter said in a flustered tone.
Bianca Castafiore slumped and flicked a finger to the woman who was holding up the black lacey dress that purposely showed cleavage. Winter looked down, feeling guilty because of denying ten dresses in a row. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Castafiore, but can I just wear what I'm wearing right now at the moment? It is a dress after all…" She muttered, staring at the mint-colored casual.
"Deary, non!" Bianca screeched, standing up instantly and shaking her head slightly. "I saw this simple-looking dress in the back. Maybe you'll like it…" The somewhat plump lady strode over to a cart behind all of the flashy dresses. A pearly-white dress was hung alone and looked like it was there for a long time.
Winter's eyes brightened quickly as she ran over to the perfect article of clothing and snatched it. "This is amazing, Ms. Castafiore! I will gladly wear this." She yelled happily, waddling to the changing room. Without giving a second glance back at the woman, Winter pulled the drapes to cover the dressing room. She gave a delightful beam at the dress. It was satin and all white, with puffed sleeves and two moderately sized bows sitting on each shoulder. It had a somewhat wide, round opening in the front (though it did not show much cleavage, to Winter's satisfaction), and a white sash was wrapped around the waist right under the bosom. The sash ended in a bow on the back and left two long leftover strands of cloth to tumble down. The dress gracefully flowed down all the way to her ankles, and it did not poof out or have any multiple layers under. It was just a normal, typical, and simple dress that reminded Winter of a nightgown.
Winter quickly wore it and pushed aside the curtains. Ms. Castafiore stood up in awe and clapped her hands as if she had just watched a wonderful opera. "Bravo, Winter Rose, bravo! You look magnificent in that dress…!" She said, giggling and clapping her hands.
Winter laughed and scratched her head while turning red. "Thank you, Ms. Castafiore… So, am I done yet? Can I go…?"
Bianca shook her head and rested a hand on Winter's shoulder, slowly pushing her to a sanity. "Sit down, sit down! I need to do your hair first. Also to find your shoes." She said, pulling down the maroon ribbon that pulled back Winter's hair. She pulled out a brown comb with roses delicately painted on its front and began to brush.
Silence developed loudly, ringing in their ears and around the room. Ms. Castafiore, who never could keep quiet for more than a second, quickly talked.
"…Are you thinking of marrying yet?" said Bianca. Winter was about to pull back with a horrified expression, but remembered that Ms. Castafiore was doing her hair and was to remain undisturbed. "Err, I haven't thought about that… I'm only sixteen." Winter said reluctantly in a quiet tone. She flattened down her pearly white dress in a scruffy manner as Bianca spoke.
"You know, Winter… This is the first time I've seen him bond with a… a girl."
Winter scrunched up her face in confusion. "Him…? Him who?"
"You know very well who I am talking about, petite abeille." Ms. Castafiore said as a matter-of-factly. "…I… know there is something about his past that made him so, well, adult-like. I precisely remember Capitaine Haddock mumbling and rumbling about Tintin being a lone boy walking around the streets with a shaggy small terrier."
Winter pursed her mouth and stared at Ms. Castafiore through the mirror. "Did he mutter anything else?" She asked curiously. The woman wove the young girl's hair in a bun and used a rubber band to tighten it. "I also distinctly heard something. Something having to with a month… I forgot if it was April… Or it could be August… Or October… Oh dear, my head's hurting again. Ah! We're finally finished." Ms. Castafiore said, shooing Winter from the chair and out to the staircase leading down to the party.
"There is a glass door leading out to the garden. There will be the party! It seems that Tintin will perform on stage any minute now. It is exactly eight o'clock," She said, hearing the grandfather clock chime. "Now, vite, my darling! You musn't be late!"
-x-
"No thank you, erm, I don't drink alcohol." Winter denied, pushing away a glass cup. A young gentleman wearing a red elaborate mask shrugged his shoulders and walked away briskly to court other more-willing girls. Winter cleared her throat nervously and brought a cup of orange juice to her mouth. "Oh dear, why am I so awkward…?" She asked herself.
Winter looked around her surroundings. It was already ten minutes, and she still could not find Tintin anywhere at all. Of course, she thought, she wouldn't be able to spot him since he would be wearing a mask (like every other young man did).
Her thoughts were suddenly disrupted by an announcement voiced by a flirtatious and feminine woman. Though it was spoken in French, Winter heard the lady say a familiar name.
"Mesdames et Messieurs! S'il vous plaît bienvenue à notre invité beau qui est prête à jouer son saxophone pour nous ce soir! Donnez Tintin une salve d'applaudissements!"
"…Tintin?" Winter whispered, walking toward the crowd near the stage to get a better look. There he was, standing erect and smiling handsomely and proudly at the spectators.
"Je vous remercie, mes belles amies," He said, bowing down politely. The crowd's clapping and shouts eventually died down, and the music started. The violins, the flutes, and the trombones- everything played in perfect harmony. Winter smirked and quietly observed Tintin who was smiling widely, still not noticing her.
"Let's see how long you are going to be clueless, quiff-boy." She scoffed, crossing her arms.
-x-
A raven-haired and rather young-looking girl walked briskly among the crowds, trying to get a better look at the boy on the stage. Her eyes were a cloudy grey, big and mentioned as 'adorable' from the spectators who had first met her. Her hair swiveled down in curls and was quite long indeed and looked like it had been nurtured and cared for very well.
"Move out of my way- Move!" She said, scrunching her face in fury. "I said MOVE!"
The men and women watching glanced back for a moment, sighed, and stepped to the side to let the girl get through. "That was about time," She said, scoffing. "Now why does that boy look so familiar?"
He began to play his solo, the notes hitting the exact tone and his movements flowing with the beat of the music. His saxophone shined brilliantly in the limelight and twinkled with a merry tone. The girl smiled widely and cupped her hands up to her powdered cheeks. "Oh, what a fine-looking gentleman." She whispered.
She watched with awe until a burly man came behind her and cleared his throat. "Ahem… Young Mistress Valerie, your father Mr. Lanav wants you to see him right now."
She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. "Valerie this, Valerie that," she whined furiously. "When does he leave me alone?"
The man, in response, backed away while looking at the floor in a fancy manner and quietly walked away. Valerie took one more glance at the ginger and thought while clacking away. 'I'm sure I've met him somewhere before…'
-x-
"I never knew you played the saxophone!" Winter said exasperatedly. "That's amazing!"
Tintin laughed happily as he straightened his sky-blue mask with diligence. "I wouldn't think you would be interested in such things."
Winter stared at him earnestly and smiled. She then suddenly remembered the purpose of being at the masquerade. "…Hey, did you spot Lanav yet?" Winter asked, darting her eyes to every man she could see. Tintin shook his head thinned his lips. "Nope. No clue, yet." He then widened his blue-green eyes in amazement and whispered in a deathly tone. "Winter, look over there. I think it's him!"
She whipped around and smiled happily. "Do you have a plan to get that scrap of paper back?" Winter whispered. Tintin licked his lips in thought and spotted Bianca laughing loudly next to her friends. He started to nod his head slowly. He then looked at a young-looking girl next to Lanav with rich black hair and a very fancy ball gown. She seemed grumpy while the man seemingly lectured her. Tintin nodded again quickly.
"Winter, do you think that girl next to him is his daughter?" He questioned, staring. Winter moved her eyes to the figure and shrugged her shoulders. "Probably. Their conversation kind of proves the point." She sighed, chuckling. The man and girl's voices became louder and louder by the second; audibly clear for Winter and Tintin to listen.
"I DON'T WANT TO MEET ANY BOYS—"
"Valerie, don't scream at me! You are already fourteen. You need to find a—"
"JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE MY FATHER DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO ORDER ME AROUND—"
"VALERIE! Calm down. You'll be a blasted single if you keep being like this— Primrose!" Lanav suddenly called. A melodic "Yeees?" sounded out from a group of rich-looking women, and a lady with ebony hair walked out with an elaborate violet gown.
'How peculiar…' Winter thought. The woman triggered a memory far back in her head. A women by the name—
"Mrs. Lloyd!"
Tintin glanced at Winter confusingly. "What?"
Winter smirked profusely. "Never mind your plan, Tintin. I think it's my turn to have some action."
Goodness, I have only been gone for a few months and there are so many new fanfics! Excellent! Well, this chapter is a bit short I might say. Fixed chapters and new ones coming up this week!
See you on chapter 9! :)