MidReal Story
Paint a picture of a 16 year old aristocratic French
Scenario: Paint a picture of a 16-year-old aristocratic French girl from the 18th century. Dressed in the fashion of the time, she has blonde hair, wears a stunning gown, and gracefully sits on a garden swing adorned with sparkling diamond earrings and a timeless pearl necklace, depicting in the style of Genshin Impact animation.
Create my version of this story
The most important event of the Parisian social season was upon us.
All the most respected families in France had come to one city and would be here for quite some time.
The ball would be the first of many events to come—one could say it was the opening act of a season full of new friendships, alliances with other families, and even destruction of enemies who had dared to wrong you.
I felt an odd sense of excitement as I stood among them.
I was no longer a child, yet I was not quite an adult either.
But I wanted to be a part of this world so badly, to know the freedom of adulthood and the power that came with it.
To have young men vying for my hand in courtship.
I had always been told that I was quite pretty, but it wasn’t until now that I was really able to see how true that was.
My skin was fair, my lips were plump and pink, and my hair was an almost golden brown.
My eyes were a bright green that very few people had ever seen before.
I had been standing with my father near the entrance of the ballroom, waiting for him to finish talking with some other nobles, when I saw him.
He was tall and elegant with sharp features and piercing eyes.
He wasn’t talking to anyone at the moment, but he seemed to be staring at something in the distance, a small smile playing at his lips.
I was too far away to hear what he was saying, but everyone who passed him stopped and turned their heads to see what he was looking at.
He was so effortlessly charming that I couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
There were dozens of candles hanging along the walls of the grand ballroom, casting a warm yellow light over the room and illuminating everything in a soft glow.
Banners hung from the ceiling, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze, and there were flowers everywhere—on the walls, on the tables, and in vases scattered around the room.
The room itself was massive, with marble floors and a high domed ceiling that seemed to go on forever.
And the guests were just as impressive as the room itself.
People were talking and laughing and dancing all around me, their fine silks rustling as they moved.
There were young men trying to impress their fathers by talking politics and business, elderly women gossiping among themselves about their friends and family members, and young women giggling as they pinned flowers to their hair in an effort to catch the attention of a handsome bachelor.
“Are you not going to go say hello?”
I turned to look at my father.
He was staring at a group of young men near us, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Why would I do that?”
“They are your friends, are they not?”
I shrugged.
“Maybe when we were children, but I haven’t seen them in years.”
“Ah, I see.” He turned to face me, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Well, I suggest you go say hello before they forget all about you.”
I smiled back at him and squeezed his hand before slipping away.
The young men were still talking, their deep voices rising and falling as they argued with each other about something.
They were all wearing fine suits that had been tailored to fit them perfectly, and I could tell just by looking at them that they were all from wealthy, powerful families.
Their faces were handsome and distinguished, with sharp jawlines and piercing eyes, but they all looked so similar that it was hard to tell them apart.
That is, until I saw the man standing in the middle of them.
He was taller and more muscular than the others, with dark hair that was cut short and a square jaw that was covered in stubble.
He wasn’t as handsome as the others, but he had a rugged sort of charm that made him stand out from the rest.
I could tell just by looking at him that he was the sort of man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty or break the rules in order to get what he wanted.
And just like that, I knew who he was.
I had met him once before when we were just children, but I had never forgotten his name or his face.
He was my father’s best friend’s son and my childhood playmate—Henri Leclerc.
I walked over to where he was standing and cleared my throat softly.
He turned to face me and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Élise?” he said, smiling.
I nodded and curtsied.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
He took my hand and kissed it gently.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.
“It has been far too long since we last saw each other.”
I smiled at him, my cheeks growing warm.
“Yes,” I said.
“It certainly has.”
He turned to face the young men who were still standing around him, talking and laughing with each other.
“Allow me to introduce you to my good friend’s daughter,” he said, gesturing to me.
“This is Lady Élise Dubois.”
The young men all turned to face me and bowed deeply, their fine suits rustling as they moved.
“Mademoiselle,” they said in unison.
One of the young men—a fair-haired boy who looked to be about my age—straightened up and smiled at me.
“You have a lovely gown,” he said.
His eyes roved over me appreciatively, taking in the intricate beading and the delicate lace flowers that covered the fabric from top to bottom.
“It must have taken hours to make it.”
I blushed and curtsied again.
“Thank you,” I said.
“That is very kind of you to say.”
The others all nodded in agreement, and for a moment it seemed as if they had forgotten all about their conversation and their argument with each other over whatever it was they were discussing.
