Bound by the Barre [Genie] - Elsewhere…

8 Sep 2025, 13:06

date: 7/7/2025
location: Elsewhere, Paris

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Geneviève Caussade

For generations, De Varenne had cultivated the arts and performance scene in France, and in some instances, even the world. Their prestigious schools produce dancers and artists of the highest quality, people that end up leaving their mark for future generations to come. For a young, aspiring Ballerina, being allowed to attend one of these schools would be considered one of the biggest opportunities for her future career. Of course, not everyone can succeed, but with the resources available, the stakes are high. For decades, the De Varenne name had been synonymous with excellence, producing renowned artists across the world. Yet, to the family’s frustrations, none of the family’s own blood had shown any promise to rise to such heights in generations. Everyone that came and gone after Matilde De Varenne, a revolutionary for her time, had been a flop. Alain De Varennes, the head of this dynasty, talents favored business management and numbers. His two oldest children lacked the natural talent, charisma and presence to captivate an audience, as well as general interest. Until Camille came along, that was. It was a running joke among the family, anytime Alain wasn't in the picture, that he'd been their last shot at producing a song-bird, several years younger than his siblings.

Newly turned eleven, Camille was already on his rise to the type of recognition and fame his father had desired for years. He’d been drilled at the barre, vocal coaching and acting lessons since he was old enough to walk and talk. Talent alone did not spare him from the hard work required: daily classes, public displays at his father’s flashy events, and during the summers, ballet incentives at one of the family’s prestigious schools. A way to hone and develop his skills as much as networking and showcasing himself to his peers. Representing his family, the name of this legacy was just as important — if not more— than just mastering the art. Bearing the name of the school itself came with a fair share of expectations.

This summer was especially important, the incentive a preparation for his first stage debut at one of his fathers exclusive hosted galas. His father had a plan and strict rules for the young Camille, even Camille knew that this was considered a milestone in his career, though he was currently bothered with more practical inconveniences. For example, why the school in Nice didn’t offer incentives, why he had to go all the way to Paris for the next few weeks. While he was used to traveling on his father’s whims, he preferred the comforts of not having to move a muscle. Summers, in his eyes, were meant for lounging by the beach in Côte d’Azur, perhaps play with a girl or two, and not traveling across the country for work.

Alas, with bags packed for a month long vacation rather than two weeks of dancing a few hours away from their house in Cap D'Antibes, Camille was dragged off to Paris in the beginning of July. The school, both inside and out designed in Beaux-Arts style, sat in the heart of the city, magically concealed beside the Palais Garnier from the eyes of wandering muggles. Yet, the streets were buzzing with peuple magique, children in various ages eager to spend the next few weeks dancing ballet and learning from the masters of one of the country’s finest institutions. For some, it was merely a way to brush up on their skills over the summer, experience what it's like to perform on stage; others hoped to earn a spot at the school. Camille, on the other hand, regardless of what his father's goal with this incentive was, was mostly there to show off. Which didn't require much on his end, since one step into the building, he was accosted by several giggling fans who had expected his arrival.

Camille’s family had their own estate in Paris in close proximity to the school, meaning he did not need to lodge with the other students. A school of this prestige and status offered nothing less than top-class accommodation for their students, for the people traveling far for the occasion. Anything else would have been unacceptable. After chatting for a while about nothing of importance, except himself, everyone else was escorted to their rooms to settle in before orientation. Despite himself and being known in these circles, it was the first time he sat his foot inside this building.

Arranging personal escort back later tonight with his brother, they said goodbye and Camille retorted to wait, to his impatient dismay, in the school cafeteria. The standards in terms of interior design and food lived up to the same standard as the rest of the institution. Spotting freshly baked pain au chocolates behind the counter, chocolate oozing at the folds, Camille allowed himself to excuse the wait.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

8 Sep 2025, 17:15

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Date: 07/07/25 | Time: Early Summer | CC:#FFFDD0

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The art of Ballet was one practice that had sweetly intertwined itself within the psyche of the young Caussade heiress. The gracefulness of the moving form had been something she was always reaching for, given that she didn't amount to much in an academic steadiness. It kept her from truly diving headfirst into a spiral of inadequacy compared to her older siblings who had graduated school with honors and accolades. Her older brothers, who desprately tried to keep her interested with books and knowledge, who spent their free days studying theory with and tutoring her in history, who kept encouraging her despite her excessive struggle to maintain the 'O's that she was earning if only because she was straining herself too far. The mental sickness that her brain felt from the stress and exertion had matched the frailness of spring, forcing her body to recover her mind by taking a slight leave from the public for the first week of summer.

But the mercy of movement had embraced her soon after, day after day, while keeping her tethered to a feeling of consistency. Something she wasn't sure that her fragile world could focus without. And so, like every other summer since she had entered her second decade of life, she found herself in the city of Paris for the summer to attend a summer Ballet intensive in where she hoped that her usual position as a principle would reemerge as a truth. While she might not have prevailed in any sense intellectually, she still had her movement and her ballet slippers.

Her doting brothers had accompanied her to the edge of the Magical border between worlds before wishing her well and reminding her to mind her manners and keep her delicate head out of trouble as the three of them vanished into a summer of debauchary no doubt. Men...

The nerve.

Geneviève was not at all suprised or taken aback by the bustling magical half of the city though to an unawares indivdual, it was distracting to say the least. As much as she'd love to take an excursion and shop until her bank account had emptied sufficiently, she knew it was not her purpose for walking the city this month. She could perhaps look after the intensive days had ended, or send for an Owl with an updated order of fashion catalouges for some light reading and perhaps some ordering. However as she pushed her way into the doors of the school and made her way towards the cafeteria for a light snack. She had requested a green juice mixture that morning of apples, bananas, kale and blueberries, but the Paris heat was undeniable and she at least needed some water to quench her parchness.

The buzz of excitement, mostly of the French vernacular, immersed itself within her ears as she moved elegantly and gracefully through the room. With kind eyes, and gentle hand waves she greeted those who knew her and introduced herself to the few that approached her with nothing short of awe and interest in her aplomb. It wasn't a secret that she belonged to the Caussade family, it was her last name after all, but it did separate her from the general populace which always felt darndedly lonely. Geneviève was subjected to her own room, mostly for safety, and to allow her the decency of privacy. Something that without- it was fair game to guess that her days would be bombarded with endless questions and buttering that she did not need.

It was lonely at the top, and she wished for someone who really didn't know who she was or cared.

As she walked through the cafeteria trying to find her peace, she smelled a delicious wafting of pain au chocolat and her stomach could not control itself, fashioning a makshift kidnapping of her feet and steering her towards the crispy, wafery baked good. It seemed another student, a younger boy by the looks of it, had also been entranced by the delectable treat.

"These desserts are almost like a last meal, no? We'll be sugar-free for a long time from then on." Geneviève spoke with the floral lilt of her tongue in an effort to be both amusing and polite. She gently accepted a warm serving from the worker with a polite "thank you" falling from her mouth like sugar on strawberries.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @ | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Camille De Varenne|
| Abilities: | Lovely Creature, Perfectionist, Prodigal Transfiguration Learner |
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Siobhan McCarty -PC-
━⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅━
Geneviève Caussade -iNPC-

14 Sep 2025, 22:34

date: 7/7/2025
location: Elsewhere, Paris

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Geneviève Caussade

Drawn in by the smell of his favourite indulgence, Camille strode over to the counter, mouth practically watering. Back home in his usual ballet school, bearing his family name and crest all the same, the boy never had to pay for anything as far as lunch and materials went. The logistics behind the operation was not in his interest. All he cared for was that he could come and go as he wished, without having to worry about payment and other, boring details. For all he knew, it might be managed by his family, put on the company card or he was simply handed freebies for bearing his face. He didn’t know if it was a general custom, that the students got provided for without cost, or if it was only him. Expecting nothing different this time around, Camille decided between a few pastries in particular that he wanted, the ones with extra chocolate. He might as well indulge, the few times he had the opportunity.

Before he had the chance to place his order at all, a girl that spoke with girly flourish, had joined him by the glass counter. "These desserts are almost like a last meal, no? We'll be sugar-free for a long time from then on." Regardless of her seeming hesitation to the sugary pastry, the server handed her one, one of the pastries he’d been eyeing, without asking for anything in return. Suppose that answered one of his questions, though it left him with one less option to pick and choose from. Eyes narrowing a bit in negative surprise, he glanced side-ways to the newcomer. A blonde, older girl that, besides carrying an unmistakable aura of hyper-femininity– from her fashion, makeup and to the way she spoke– possessed a casual confidence that suggested either familiarity to her surroundings, or someone who was used to being adored wherever she went. Camille could not confirm either of those statements, except that she was indeed pretty.

Slightly annoyed to have been robbed of one of his top options, and before another one could be stolen from him right in front of his eyes, Camille pointed at another pain au chocolat through the glass that oozed of chocolate. “I’ll have that one.”

Once handed, carefully folded between a napkin to avoid making a mess, the boy turned to the blonde girl properly to assess her and where to place her in the social hierarchy, whether he could charm his way with her, or if she would dismiss her as too young a silly. It hadn't stopped him before, coming out successful most of the times, but Camille suspected the latter. With his status, he assumed, at worst, that she was some rich man's daughter that got whatever she pointed her finger at. Including a place at one of the most prestigious ballet schools. At best, she happened to be pretty, entitled (to his pastry) and possessing enough talent to have paved her own way here. Ironically, she had a lot in common with Camille in the “spoiled and entitled” regard.

“Some exceptions are worth it. Besides, I’ll have it burned off in no time.” Shrugging with no visible concern, for he had none, he bit into the edge of the pastry.

On top of the countless hours of ballet training, at eleven years old and still growing rapidly, Camille had not yet reached a point where he had to worry about maintaining his figure. Everything he ate, including the sugar-filled, calorie high pastry at this current stage, seemed to disappear into thin air as soon as it entered his body. Granted, Camille didn’t eat sugary treats that often, but yet not due to body image issues. Perhaps it was different for girls, though looking at the older dancer beside him, he didn’t think she had much to worry about. Yet, anyway. That was only based on what he saw, the actual biology of the human bodies, especially when it came to girls, was too far out of his limited source of knowledge to speak upon accurately. The overly-confident boy might still speak his mind on things with confidence beyond him, though the truth to his words was debatable. In this case, he said nothing.

“Are you here for orientation? I assume it’s not your first time.” Camille commented, eyeing her from top to bottom. Everything about her presentation, though he could not judge her based on ballet technique, spoke of previous experience inside these very halls.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

22 Sep 2025, 18:08

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Date: 07/07/25 | Time: Early Summer | CC:#FFFDD0

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The Caussade gem shook her head as the boy inquired about whether she was joining the school for her first summer intensive with them. It was her third or fourth if she was counting correctly, but any intensive was important to her. She watched with interest as the boy's eyes searched her own face for an explanation as to whatever question was wandering through his head. It was obvious as she looked in his eyes. The questioning gaze many had whenever they encountered her and her patterns for the first time. It wasn't something that bothered her, she wanted to be mysterious but at the same time- those who were able to know things about her without her having to explain anything was always a treat.

Smiling politely, and with the courtesy and grace that an Heiress was expected to posses, Geneviève gently outstretched her hand in an offer for a handshake. Dainty, but with a purposeful grip so as to demonstrate respect for her new acquaintence.

"My name is Geneviève Caussade. It is a duly noted pleasure to meet you. What is your name?" She spoke politely and with a smile that started in her eyes. She found it was always good to ensure that when meeting new people, her smile radiated around all her features. It was easy to trust those who knew how to keep their emotions stable but still expressable.

"It's not my first time here no. I have been dancing at this institution for four years now? I have been attending the intensives since my first year at Beauxbatons. I am a third year now." She spoke as they continued to stand near the pastries. She gestured to a table adjacent to where they spoke. "Would you care to sit and chat?"

Geneviève's shoulder was beginning to ache as she continued to talk to this new individual in her presence. While there wasn't anything heavy in the bag that was causing such pain, it was rubbing against her skin in an uncomfortable manner and she gently repositioned the bag to the other side as she remained responsive and polite in her talkings.

"Considering that this Ballet school is one of magical heritage, I would assume you are heading into school yourself? Will you also be attending Beauxbatons?" Geneviève inquired with a polite question at the end of her statement. While she knew people at school, her list of friends was very short. Very limited. She was known, but nobody, aside from one particular Hogwarts bound boy named Alphonse, really knew her. It was fatiguing as she moved through life, attempting to foster relationships and friendships that had to be kept at arms length due to her status and her wealth.

It would be quite a feat if she was able to truly bond with someone and remain in contact with them, aside from simple greetings in the hall and within letters. Of course, while she was limited in her knowledge of the boy before her- it didn't mean that they couldn't find something that they shared an interest in. After all, they were present at a prestigious dance intensive and would likely have more than a fair share of meetings.

"I am looking forward to our work this summer. I have been working on my pointe technique over the year and hoping that I will rise to the occasion within our classmates here. Though I do need to darn these new shoes. I procured a new pair before today to ensure that I was ready for the the floors. Though I suspect these will only last me a week or so depending on how rigourous the choreography is this year." Geneviève spoke as they continued to find commonalities between them.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @ | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Camille De Varenne|
| Abilities: | Lovely Creature, Perfectionist, Prodigal Transfiguration Learner |
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Siobhan McCarty -PC-
━⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅━
Geneviève Caussade -iNPC-

2 Oct 2025, 23:54

date: 7/7/2025
location: Elsewhere, Paris

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Geneviève Caussade

Camille was not the most culturally well-versed person when it came to influential families, though even he recognised the name Cassaude to some degree, another French, noble family when she told him her name. While it wasn’t everyday he met a heiress, or whatever title she may possess, he wasn’t surprised to find her here; ballet was, after all, possibly one of the most common interests for a classy young lady with the money to spend on a spot at this institution. Nor did he regret dissecting her before learning her name. A few things caused him regret, some may say nothing at all. For all he knew, money could be one reason she was allowed to return year upon year, but still, the air shifted slightly as he accepted her hand, his expression going softer and less haughty. Despite himself, a boy like him did enjoy pretty and classy girls in his company.

“Camille De Varenne.” He introduced himself with enough importance to get the point across that he was, without an heir title of his own, not some insignificant low-life himself, though with no need to explain himself further. The name, in this context, spoke enough, he thought.

“Pleasure to meet you, Geneviève.” Camille offered her a smile.

At her suggestion, they sat at a nearby table to finish their pastries and wait for orientation to begin. Camille took another bite of his pain au chocolat while Genie inquired more about his magical background, and told him about her expectations for the summer. The usual burdens ballerinas had to deal with, things that a male ballerino like himself did not have to waste his time on; darning pointe shoes, breaking in said shoes to be usable, and— he licked some powdered sugar off his lips, reminding him of the previous topic of conversation— worry about his figure.

He sighed an “I wish,” imagining the French academy to be far more refined in all of its aspects, compared to the English school he was forced to attend instead. However, he had yet to set his foot inside the castle, giving the school the benefit of the doubt. For now.

“I’ll be at Hogwarts this fall. We moved a year or so ago, I’m only spending summers in France, nowadays…” The younger boy grimaced. Windsor wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t his home, no matter how long he stayed. “For as long as my father is trying to make it big in the UK, at least.” Revealing his displeasure over the current arrangements, the boy added with an unconvincing smile from across the table, “We’re expanding.” That was the old man's goal.

During their little chat, the cafeteria had filled up with more students that had finished settling into their rooms. Some of them were waiting for the same reason as them, he reckoned. Many of them seemed to carry more nervosity in their posture, something he himself could not relate to. However, there were still no signs of anyone of authority. He briefly glanced around himself, albeit nothing caught his interest, so he turned his attention back to Genie. Though Camille wouldn’t have recognized a face in the crowd regardless, which brought him to his next point.

“This is my first intensive here in Paris,” Camille shifted the conversation to the school. Although it was his first time here, he was definitely not a novice when it came to actual dancing. Obviously.

“I was drilled back in Nice, but they don’t offer intensives there anymore. Since you have been here quite a few times, what can I expect?” His tone didn't suggest worry in the slightest, it was just slightly humorous at the prospect of teacher gossip, and conversational with the sole goal of getting to know her better.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

24 Oct 2025, 16:49

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Date: 07/07/25 | Time: Early Summer | CC:#FFFDD0

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Geneviève pursed her lips gently as she listened to the woes of Camille over his impending attendance at Hogwarts. The poor boy seemed rather disheartened to enter the Scottish Highlands for schooling rather than the French Mountains where the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic resided. She could understand why in a sense, the boy seemed as though he was reluctant to leave somewhere he was more comfortable.

"You shouldn't feel too worried. Hogwarts is quite beautiful, the castle is goregeous and very well kept while the grounds and lake have a cerrtain beauty that one can only find there. I think you'll find quite a home at Hogwarts once you settle in. If you'd like I can write to my... friend there- he'll be a third year like myself but he's very kind and he too is joining Hogwarts for the first time." Geneviève spoke kindly. She didn't want to assume that Camille wouldn't, but with the minimal time she had spent at Hogwarts -before the fire- she had quite enjoyed wandering the campus on her own.

Beauxbatons had things about it that Hogwarts didn't of course. She believed it to be far more refined and less medieval. However Hogwarts had it's own natural beauty that could not be forgotten about. She often wondered what it would be like if she was to transfer to Hogwarts. She could be with her friends, and the darling Hatian Toussaint boy who had enamoured her. She sighed dreamily as she thought about the Highlands in general before turning her attention back to Camille.

The two had struck up conversation that revolved around their dance histories. Camille stated that he was new to the Paris academy for the summer intensives but that he had been training in Nice originally. Geneviève nodded along with a face of active listening as he spoke. As for what to expect? She thought about it before she chose her words with precision and tactfulness.

"The Madame is quite strict. She expects punctuality and demands correctness. When the first class occurs, she will divide everyone up based on skill level- but take care to stand out well. She applauds technique and abhors sloppiness." Geneviève explained as she pointed out the Madame of the Academy who was talking with a group of teachers. The buzz around them had created a difficulty to hear, but it was clear from her face that the weathered old woman was still speaking with the sharpness of tongue that only a younger girl could have had. The impeccably tight bun atop her head was adorned with a marble hairclip and she carried a walking stick that she would tap along the ground to explain the tempo of the music.

Geneviève looked around at their cohorts. It wasn't unusual for the majority of the students present at these intensives to come from money. New money, or Old money- it truly did not matter here. There were a few students on scholarship, and others who paid out the nose to even set foot in the studios. This was where the best trained, and while money didn't define ability and skill- it definitely opened doors.

"In terms of gossip I'm afraid I can offer none. I am not particularly close with much of the student body. They see me as an achievement in terms of friendship and I do not like it. But you seem like you and I would get along well. Perhaps we will be paired up as partners. I typically find myself in a soloist position when the end of semester performace comes, though I would be fond of a pas de deux." Geneviève smiled sweetly.

"Do you have a favorite ballet of your own? I'm quite partial to Swan Lake. I do also love Don Quioxte." She probed, wanting to get to know the boy a bit better.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @ | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Camille De Varenne|
| Abilities: | Lovely Creature, Perfectionist, Prodigal Transfiguration Learner |
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Siobhan McCarty -PC-
━⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅━
Geneviève Caussade -iNPC-

9 Nov 2025, 22:31

date: 7/7/2025
location: Elsewhere, Paris

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Geneviève Caussade

Geneviève spoke highly of Hogwarts, assuring him that he had things to look forward to even if it wasn’t Beauxbatons, even going so far to offer networking opportunities. He watched her from across the table, carefully dissecting his pain au chocolat. A glazed expression briefly washed over her delicate features as she reminisced, leaving him to wonder whether it was only the gorgeous castle she missed, or if more personal reasons lay behind her daydream. Camille was not interested enough to pry into her private life, nor was it his place to discover if her so-called friend was merely a friend… or a lover. The boy suspected the latter. Borrowing someone else’s friends in lieu of his own was too embarrassing to attempt, even if he didn’t doubt her “friend” had plenty of redeemable qualities. Camille might keep it in mind, though if nothing else, it was still a kind offer.

"The Madame is quite strict. She expects punctuality and demands correctness. When the first class occurs, she will divide everyone up based on skill level- but take care to stand out well. She applauds technique and abhors sloppiness." The older girl explained with a careful tone, perhaps in consciousness that someone might overhear them. Camille gazed in the direction where she pointed out the teacher among a group of ladies and a single, younger gentleman, a stern looking lady with hair pulled together in a painfully tight hair bun, held in place with a marble hairclip. The sudden appearance of authority must signal that the orientation was fast approaching, this being the first time he’d noticed them.

In terms of expectations, he’d reckoned she was not much different from the ballet teachers he had encountered. The only difference this time was that he had yet not earned the teachers favor, like back home in his usual studio. Confident enough in his prodigious abilities that he’d rise to his rightful spot in no time, he thought he would outshine all the boys in his age-group, and most of the girls too, though cross-gender competition was less direct due to different specialties—and this being only an intensive, it wasn’t that serious. Boys didn’t need to do pointe, for example. Meanwhile some jumps and lifts were exclusively in the boy’s arena.

“Sounds like the regular, ever so pleasant ballet instructors,” Camille commented with light-hearted irony, turning back to Genie with an easy smile. Sloppiness was not even in his vocabulary, especially not when it came to dancing, even though his punctuality was sometimes… questionable. Being scrutinized was nothing that intimidated him, either, which was obvious in his relaxed and confident posture.

Despite being a regular dancer at this institution, Genie had not yet made any lasting friendships, suffering from success being the daughter of a baron, who also happened to be a talented (enough) ballerina. Camille nodded sympathetically as he listened to her struggles. Although he could relate to being admired— and envied— for his status and talents, he cared little if his dancing peers adhered to him or not. In his mind, it was best to not mix friendship and business from the start, to avoid the disappointments of inevitable rivalry. Granted, Camille’s social circle was limited outside of the studio, as well. At least one thing was certain, he’d never kiss the ground she walked on, having no reason to climb his way to the top when he was already comfortably there. The sweetness in her smile caught him slightly off guard, though he was not opposed to a pas de deux at the end of the intensive. More likely than not, he’d be expected to play such a part regardless. And if Genevieve was the main candidate for soloist among the girls, as promised, it would only be the obvious choice to do it with her.

“I understand, it’s difficult to find… real friends sometimes. Though, a pas de deux would be wonderful,” Camille said earnestly, using the napkin he received with the pastry to wipe his fingers clean, after he’d finished eating. The used napkin was later thrown in a nearby trashcan. “I’ve done a few recitals before, though they were all younger, more novice ballerinas.” What he left unsaid, but remained readable between the lines, was that he’d felt held back by his previous partners when it came to options for variations. Being a few years older and soloist at these intensives, he reckoned Genie had mastered more advanced technique already.

“Swan Lake is, of course, a classic. If we’re granted, I’d be interested in doing Bluebird and Princess Florentine.” Well, Camille didn’t have much choice regardless. As well as preparing him for his performance at his father’s events a month later, which was the main reason he was here, it would showcase both of their skills on stage.

“The bedroom scene in Manon in act one also speaks to me, but that might be more appropriate in the future.” He tilted his head, thoughtfully. “That would probably be my favorite ballet, yes.”

Admittedly, that was quite a mature ballet, for someone his age. Resting his gaze somewhere over Genie’s shoulder, his mind drifted. Camille hadn’t considered what that said about him, except that he’d always felt older than his age. Perhaps there was something morbidly appealing in being destroyed by love, even if the loneliness that came with betrayal was haunting, yet something about it felt so familiar and relatable in a way that he could not place. Maybe he admired that kind of tragedy because it mirrored the way his parents had shown their love: quietly, dangerously, all or nothing. The murmurs and collective echo of footsteps reminded him of where he was. Camille blinked, remembering himself as he met Genie’s eyes. He couldn’t tell if she’d noticed his wandering mind, offering her a disarming smile regardless, in hopes of redirecting any probing questions. Drawn in by the increase in activity, he glanced around the cafeteria. Everyone gathered around one of the teachers, a younger lady than the madame Genie had pointed out to him prior, but no less serious, which must be their cue to join the rest.

“I’d love to continue our conversation after orientation,” he said, pushed his chair back and stood up from his seat. Before he walked over to the group, he paused, waiting for the girl to walk with him.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

3 Feb 2026, 20:33

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Date: 07/07/25 | Time: Early Summer | CC:#FFFDD0

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Geneviève smiled brightly as Camille agreed with her over the choice of her dream pas de deux. She was getting to both the age and height where she was expected to audition and be chosen for said honors and while she had already made her debut as the Snow Queen in the Nutcracker that previous December, she was vying for the honor of Sugar Plum the next. But being of the French Noble ranks, however lightly eroded off the tapestry of the original aristocratic line, it only made sense that her credits included titles of Princess within the dancing world.

"Why Camille, what a pas de deux to recommend! The Bluebird and Princess Florine is quite the work of art. I would be honored to dance the part of Princess Florine. She moves with such grace and poise.

Geneviève loosely threw a curl of hers over her shoulder as she followed the glancing gaze of Camille around the cafeteria. She remembered how she had felt when she had been in his shoes years and years ago. The nervousness you dare not dictate to the public in fear that they will chew you up and spit you out. Though if he was truly nervous, she knew not and admired that about this companion she had made in the company of so few true people.

"I do believe continuing our conversation is a must. I am looking forward to seeing if your skills are up to snuff with the rest of us. Though I would think for someone as well versed as you would be able to withstand this summer intensive." she meant sincerely as she stood with him and dusted the crumbs from her skirts. It wouldn't be too long now before the first of the evening classes would occur and it would separate the talent from the talk. While she felt bad for them, Geneviève was not here to play. These intensives and her dedication throughout the year where meant to drive her further into the eyes of L'Opera de Ballet Paris. Not to merely graduate her with a gift of dance however beautiful the form may be. Dance was her life- music was her soul. If such a skill and activity did not exist she feared she would not know who she was entirely.

For most of the attendants of this dance intensive, this was merely for poise and practice. Those of the more pure-blooded society were expected to have a fine skills hobby such as dance. For the few muggle-borns from non-magique society, they were here to assert their worth. And every year Geneviève found herself more than surprised at their level of dedication to the craft and life that was Ballet.

Though soon it was time for the two of them to turn their attention towards the orientation that was occuring and she placed her hand upon Camille's shoulder.

"Let's meet for breakfast in the morning. We can discuss how your first class has gone with us here at the conservatory." Geneviève offered as she gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Though I'm afraid I must be off to my group level. As a new student, you'll want to sit in front. Let the Madame see you but come across humble. Best of luck."

And with that Geneviève separated from Camille thinking to herself how lucky she was of her own to have made a real friend, someone who was not after her for the sake of saying they were friends but more so because they truly could be.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @ | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Camille De Varenne|
| Abilities: | Lovely Creature, Perfectionist, Prodigal Transfiguration Learner |
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Siobhan McCarty -PC-
━⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅━
Geneviève Caussade -iNPC-

13 Feb 2026, 20:09

date: 7/7/2025
location: Elsewhere, Paris

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Geneviève Caussade

The new students were separated by age and spent the first day going through placement class, out of formality. There, some would remain for the duration of the intensive; meanwhile, others would move up to their rightful level based on skill. Camille was confident that he’d only spend the first day in the lower ranks, preparing to move up the next day or so. There ought to be jealousy along the way, as he had experienced previously. Back home, he was the youngest in his class in both technique, center and allegro. Some people thought it was nepotism, but the De Varenne name could not discredit the full weeks of work he’d committed to the last seven years. If things went according to plan, he’d be practicing barre and center with Genie and her peers in a few days, but first, he’d have to showcase his advancement to Madame. Being new in this field did not grant him the usual perks that came with being the founder and owner's son. However, even if he technically was new, he did expect to receive extra attention, for better or worse: more corrections and opportunities alike, given the expectations that followed his name.

Following well-meant advice, the older girl gave him a light squeeze on the shoulder and a promise to catch up next morning, wishing him the best of luck on his first day. “I’d look forward to it,” Camille said with a nod and smile just enthusiastic enough to convey sincerity, warm but not eager, before they separated into their respective groups to continue with orientation.

The new students followed one of the younger ladies, who was tailed by a magical spreadsheet and quill that ticked off their attendance. When his name was called out, several curious— and judgemental— faces glanced in his direction. Unfazed by the scrutiny, he confidently confirmed his participation, finding a small sense of satisfaction from being recognized. With Genie’s gentle reminder of seeming humble, whether he was or not, Camille remained otherwise neutral even when given an opportunity to preen.

Apart from a physical tour of the facility and different rehearsal rooms, costume fittings and pointe shoe room for those applicable, there were plenty of administrative details to go through: timetables, instructors and policies for both meals and class. Punctuality was expected, as well as presentable behavior both in class and outside of it. Familiar with the routine since before, Camille listened with one ear, while the other gauged the crowd. When he heard the quiet sniffs of one girl, presumably one of those that was here on scholarship alone and had everything to lose, Camille felt even more misplaced among the rookies than before. If they couldn’t handle the pressure of an intensive, was this truly the right place for them? he wondered. Subtly shaking his head at the dramatics, he was relieved when the rest of the group moved on to uniform fittings—teal leotards and skirts for the girls, and teal tights and t-shirts for the boys—leaving him behind with his own uniform already prepared.

When all the logistics were out of the way, they were sent off to the locker rooms to get changed for the various dancing classes ahead of them. Camille picked a strategic spot by the barre, where he was granted full visibility by the Madame, to let his technique and presence speak for itself. Holding the barre with one elegant hand, he shifted into a proper turned-out fifth position. Everything surrounding strategy and competition faded away for him when the music for the first plié repertoire began, leaving the only thing on his mind the music and his lines. The instances when he was made aware of the assessment were a few exercises into the class, during adagio, the Madame sided up with him during his arabesque and penché. “You can go higher.” Camille lifted his leg further, maintaining perfect turnout, and she gave a subtle nod behind her stoic face. Glancing at his classmates, his assumptions were quietly confirmed: he was leagues above them. He had better turnout, extensions, musicality, and control over his body and emotions, or so he believed, casting a critical eye at the sobbing girl from earlier. In comparison, she crumbled beneath his gaze in ways only a trained eye could discern, her technique and presentation stiffening awkwardly. Camille almost pitied her. However, he would have been stupid to slack just because he was comfortably at the top.

After the last demanding combination in center was over, his damp shirt stuck to his back. They were dismissed, and on his way out, he locked eyes with the Madame, who gestured him over to one corner of the room. “Vous vous croyez au-dessus d’eux. Ça se voit.”¹ Those were the first words the Madame gave him. Feeling a sting of embarrassment creep up his cheeks, Camille blinked, taken aback. Bluntness was nothing unfamiliar, yet Camille was not certain how to respond to the observation, nor was he certain how she’d noticed, since the words he’d exchanged with the other dancers today were next to none. “...mais pas sans talent. Vous rejoindrez la classe intermédiaire avancée demain. Elle conviendra à votre niveau. Elle sera plus exigeante et technique, mais vous saurez la gérer,”² the woman added, the corner of her mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Merci, Madame. Je ne vous décevrai pas.”³ Bending into an elegant bow, Camille left, already imagining the prosperous news he’d share with his upperclass acquaintance the next morning.

1. You believe you're better than the others. It shows.
2. but not without talent. You'll join the upper intermediate class tomorrow. It will suit your level. It will be more demanding and technical, but I think you will handle it.
3. Thank you, Madame. I won't disappoint you.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny