Down the stairs and through the cellar, the music that was so out of place with the surface beckoned. The back of the cellar turned into the long corridor of a reinforced bunker with many doors. All doors were closed with electronic locks - the lights red - except for one door which was wide open... and lead right into the auditorium of the Palais Garnier in mid-performance of a production of Swan Lake.
The ballerina dancing the part of Odile was incredibly skilled and seemed to dance effortlessly. There was something familiar about her, but the production continued on, the audience cheering at the end, all dancers having bright smiles on their face during curtain call. The scene quickly shifted to a dressing room, the ballerina that had been the black swan, Odile, out of costume in a white robe, sitting before her vanity as she brushed out her mid-length dark hair that held the slightest tinge of blue. Pale skin and warm honey colored eyes, she looked up when there was a knock on the door and another dancer came in.
"Amélie," she said in an excited voice (in French which all could understand in this mindscape), barely pushing the door closed behind her. "There's a man that wants to meet you."
"There always is on Saturdays," Amélie, the woman that would one day become Widowmaker, replied. "You know I don't bother with them, Lucienne. Be polite, but give my regards and excuses."
Lucienne smirked a bit and leaned against the door, making it click properly shut. "He says he's an Overwatch agent."
There was a momentary pause in Amélie's hand, the brush stilling, as her eyebrows rose. "Now is he..."
The other woman's smirk grew a bit. "I see that caught your attention. He's handsome, too."
A light snort came as Amélie set the brush down and started refreshing her makeup. "He's probably just saying he's Overwatch to get my attention. Those kind of men are all alike - making up stories to impress the pretty girl, when all we want is someone genuine. Not worth my time."
"...then why are you fixing your makeup?" Lucienne moved over to meet Amélie's eyes in the reflection, prompting her to get a tube of lipstick thrown at her.
"Shut up." But Amélie knew she was more intrigued by the potential of a real Overwatch agent than she was willing to admit. "Tell him he can buy me one drink at the bar downstairs. One." A pause. "Did he bother to give a name?"
"Gérard Lacroix."
[ooc: I will give the memory in chunks, letting it unfold for the characters that visit. No posting order required!]
Once Upon a Time - OTA
The ballerina dancing the part of Odile was incredibly skilled and seemed to dance effortlessly. There was something familiar about her, but the production continued on, the audience cheering at the end, all dancers having bright smiles on their face during curtain call. The scene quickly shifted to a dressing room, the ballerina that had been the black swan, Odile, out of costume in a white robe, sitting before her vanity as she brushed out her mid-length dark hair that held the slightest tinge of blue. Pale skin and warm honey colored eyes, she looked up when there was a knock on the door and another dancer came in.
"Amélie," she said in an excited voice (in French which all could understand in this mindscape), barely pushing the door closed behind her. "There's a man that wants to meet you."
"There always is on Saturdays," Amélie, the woman that would one day become Widowmaker, replied. "You know I don't bother with them, Lucienne. Be polite, but give my regards and excuses."
Lucienne smirked a bit and leaned against the door, making it click properly shut. "He says he's an Overwatch agent."
There was a momentary pause in Amélie's hand, the brush stilling, as her eyebrows rose. "Now is he..."
The other woman's smirk grew a bit. "I see that caught your attention. He's handsome, too."
A light snort came as Amélie set the brush down and started refreshing her makeup. "He's probably just saying he's Overwatch to get my attention. Those kind of men are all alike - making up stories to impress the pretty girl, when all we want is someone genuine. Not worth my time."
"...then why are you fixing your makeup?" Lucienne moved over to meet Amélie's eyes in the reflection, prompting her to get a tube of lipstick thrown at her.
"Shut up." But Amélie knew she was more intrigued by the potential of a real Overwatch agent than she was willing to admit. "Tell him he can buy me one drink at the bar downstairs. One." A pause. "Did he bother to give a name?"
"Gérard Lacroix."
[ooc: I will give the memory in chunks, letting it unfold for the characters that visit. No posting order required!]