Franz Xaver Winterhalter (1805-1873)
“Countess Alexander Nikolaevitch Lamsdorff” (1859)
Oil on canvas
Located in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, New York, United States
The twenty-four-year-old countess depicted here was the wife of Alexander Nikolaevitch Lamsdorff, a Russian aristocrat and Francophile. The book of English poetry in her lap is thought to be a reference to her father, Ivan Alexandrovitch Beck, a poet and translator. Her choice of a fashionable day dress may have been suggested by Winterhalter, who is known to have advised his sitters on their wardrobe and posed them to their best advantage in his studio.
Can I request a scenario where there's a fanalis aristocratic (not Muu of course lol) who's hardcore flirting with Lo'lo's fem!s/o? Thanks, love!
No problem, sweetheart. ;D
Do you guys ever think I write too much on requests?
You grumbled a few curse words as you shifted the skirt of the dress around, anyone’s eyes that landed on your figure could obviously see that you weren’t enjoying the gold-accented f/c dress. Frankly, you missed wearing pants.
You stopped your grumbling and looked up to see Lo’lo gazing down at you with a concerned look on his face.
You sighed, “I’m fine. I just don’t like wearing dresses, but thanks to Sheherazade and Myron I’m stuck wearing this thing.” You glared at the two culprits, but they only smiled at you and waved.
Lo’lo chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist, “if it’s any consolation, I think you look good. “
You smirked and wrapped an arm around his hips, “just good?” You teased.
He soon began to laugh and brought you closer, “you look amazing.”
“That’s better.” You giggled.
Your smile soon faded as you looked around the small banquet, “can’t wait for this to be over,” you said with a bored tone. Lo’lo gave a grunt in acknowledgment.
Sheherazade soon beckoned you over, probably to introduce to the guest they set this all up for. Standing next to her was a man with red tied into a low ponytail with a ribbon.
You looked to Lo’lo, “I’ll be back.”
Before he could answer, you had already walked away to meet the man. Lo’lo knew who it was and he didn’t like him one bit.
The biggest reason was because he was an intelligentsia Fanalis, which aggravated him. Not to mention, he was one to flirt and as he caught wind of you laughing, he growled.
As you went up to Sheherazade, she smiled, “Y/N, this is Wolfe. Wolfe this is Y/N, she’s one of our best magicians.”
Wolfe turned to you and grabbed your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to is, “charmed.”
You blushed and giggled, “nice to meet you as well.”
He chuckled and let go of your hand, “I can say that your dress is almost as beautiful as you. You laughed and waved your hand.
“Oh, you flatter me.”
He chuckled once more,”if you don’t mind me asking, would you care for a drink?” He asked, holding out his hand for you to take it.
Your face exploded into a blush, “o-oh, of course. Thank you.” As you were about to lay your hand on his someone else grabbed it.
As you looked up to see who it was, you recognized the head of red hair straight away, it was Lo’lo and he was too busy glaring at Wolfe to see your surprised expression.
Wolfe blinked in surprise, but soon recovered, “oh, Lo’lo. How nice it is to see you again.” It was obvious that he was lying, but it made you curious as to why.
Lo’lo only continued glaring at him and after what seemed like hours, he began to drag you outside.
Once the two of you were outside, you rubbed your arms as the cold air nipped at your bare skin. Lo’lo only stared down at you and made no move to warm you up.
You noticed this and frowned, “Lo’lo, what’s wrong?”
He only stayed quiet and you weren’t lying when you thought this was the longest you’d seen him quiet. You got on your tiptoes and pressed your nose against his, “come on, tell me.”
Lo’lo only turned from you and grumbled a few incoherent words. You crossed your arms and glared at his toned back, “you know I hate it when you grumble, now tell me-” you turned him around- “what is the problem?”
Lo’lo’s stoic stare soon turned to a glare. You stepped back as you were slightly taken aback, this was the first he ever glared at you.
You rested a hand on his arm and trailed it down to grab his hand. You lifted it and pressed a kiss to his fingers, “I think I know why you’re upset.”
He tried his best to ignore your small kiss, “why?”
You smiled and held his hand to your chest, “because Wolfe was flirting with me and I didn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”
Lo’lo only humphed and looked away from your eyes, “would you?” He asked, referring if you would fall for Wolfe.
All he got in response was you melodic laugh, “he may be polite, rich, and handsome.-” Lo’lo cringed as you said his positive attributes- “but I already have an idiot I wanna spend the rest of my life with.”
Lo’lo was about to ask, but he immediately realized you were talking about him. “Hey!” He exclaimed, offended.
You shrugged, “it’s true. You’re my idiot.”
Lo’lo rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around you. You hummed as you were wrapped in his warm embrace, “hey, let’s go sleep. I’m tired…”
Lo’lo smiled and nodded when you were about to walk you were stopped because Lo’lo picked you up and held you bridal style. You shrieked and wrapped your arms around his neck, “warn me next time!”
“Nah, I like seeing how surprised you look when I do that.”
You only crossed your arms and rolled your eyes playfully, you really would never trade this man for anything.
Unfortunately, in an ironic twist of God, my brother was and always would be a germaphobe. Anything remotely gross had him heaving. So you can imagine how disgusted he was that we were posing as aristocrats and there I was in my rattiest clothes knee deep on shit and intestines.
So he’d tell me jewels like:
“Dietrich we have perfectly clean corpses at the estate let’s go.”
“Oh god I feel the diseases touching me.”
“Dietrich Strider you stop playing with that ass and eat it already I want to go home.”
“One should defend virtue against the preachers of virtue, for they are its worst enemies and teach virtue as an ideal for everyone. They take from virtue the charm of its rareness, inimitableness, and the aristocratic magic of its exceptionalness.”
—F. Nietzsche, The Will to Power, §317 (edited excerpt).