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Chapter Text

Ladies Nova and Regina, Zia Addy, Zia Duchess, and even Zia Chiara had said that it was now *TIME*, given she was now fourteen years of age. She had gone through the five months and day of Full/Deep Mourning whenever she happened to be in public- then Slight Mourning (meaning she relinquished the protective face-veil, but still wore all-black clothing) for four months, and then the final three months of Half-Mourning in shades of grey, mauve or violet, brown, deep scarlet, and white while taking part in small inconspicuous activities such as tea with female friends -well, more *Madame Bonfamille's* female friends; but semantics-. And now that all stages of mourning were finished before and after further training, 'twas time to emerge from the dark 'comforting shelter' of the mourning period and back into a bright social world both familiar and not.
Now that she was old enough, it was time for Signorina/Mademoiselle Pinocchio Benjamina Seth Belmagio-Bonfamille-Tommaso to be officially introduced into society. How?? Why, by *a COMING-OUT BALL*, of course!

Traditionally, a virgin debutante wore an all-white or mostly-white gown whether she was the subject of a private or public ball or no. But Madame Adelaide Hermione Catherina Bonfamille-Tommaso was an unconventional woman for all that she was well-mannered, and she knew that 'Nocchi', before and after Mourning (if she simply that day just felt like wearing 'quieter' colors), more often than not was clad in bright vibrant shades. Regina and Nova agreed, as did Duchess- though Marie sniffed and *DIS-agreed*.

So on the night of her Official Debut, Pinocchio was dressed in a beautiful soft chiffon and gossamer-fine silk ballgown both somewhat old-fashioned and simple-styled yet more 'modern' in different shades of warm rich pale cerulean-blue, turquoise, lavender, and blush-pink that lightly sparkled with the help of a sprinkling of faerie star-dust. The neckline was modest yet reached her collarbone and *just* bared the tops of her shoulders, slightly ruffled and lightly covered with delicately/softly-hued butterflies. The sleeves were short and slight(ish)ly puffed, and the billowing floaty skirt half-voluminous.
A blush/rose-shaded cashmere shawl was loosely draped about her thin arms and small slender back, her stockings were pure white silk, and on her small feet, courtesy of Regina and Nova, she wore shining rainbow-reflective crystal-cut glass slippers (YES- *REALLY TRULY*!!) with delicate pale golden butterflies on the toes that were as comfortable as worn house shoes. ("My old teacher in magic Rumple once said that 'Every story needs *a memorable detail*, dearie!'") -Though to the 'rabble', Edgar, and Elvira, they were simply nice pretty silvery slippers; only the Bonfamilles, the Rose Faerie, and would-have-been Evil Queen truly knew what those lovely shoes were made of.

Her long semi-waves of raven-black hair were pulled back in a half chignon lightly sprinkled here and there with sparkling white sapphire and quartz hairpins where lavender and cerulean chiffon ribbons weren't tied into the dark satiny tresses, her elbow-length pure white gloves were still fingerless, and she still wore her silver half-locket around her neck. She only needed faint touches of makeup at her eyelids, cheeks, and lips in order to enhance her gorgeous eyes, pretty face, and sweet-lipped expressive mouth. -She was the 'belle of the ball', but she didn't really feel like it.

Surely, such a thing would be more suitably attributed to either Lady Nova, resplendent in sparkling rose-pink chiffon and satin herself complete with her usual pink-flowered necklace and a small matching tiara, former Princess Regina, clad in a silk-velvet dress of the deepest red embroidered with a lavish pattern of blackbirds and bejeweled with smoky black crystals that sparkled in the light with her own long dark hair pulled up, back, and adorned with more melanoid crystals, or Zia Adelaide, who tonight was arrayed in a long sleek dress of fine peridot-green satin accented/topped off with long golden gloves alongside the jewels winking from her delicate slender neck and shells of ears, a single fiery plume of a feather adorning her own snowy chignoned locks! THEY were classically/traditionally beautiful- she was *absolutely NOT*, by ANY means.

She said nothing of any of this, of course, as she did not want to upset anyone or hurt their feelings. -Oliver and Berlioz to a point sensed it, though.

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She was publicly announced via Mr. Edgar- she had given a deep curtsy to her audience before nervously gliding down the stairs, nervously gliding into the foray of high and middle-class society as the (half)orphaned ward of Madame Bonfamille and niece of renowned former opera star Adelaide. Many young and young-ish men and some women of the same swarmed around the strikingly-unique young beauty with an odd quaint almost fae-like charm of her own as opposed to common conventional fairy-tale princess prettiness like bees in the vicinity of a particularly lovely nectar-laden flower- here besetting her with requests for a dance, there offering her either a cup of punch or a plate of tiny sandwiches if not chocolate bonbons. The usual sparkling liveliness of her character was no more than a faint glimmer of the North Star through a thick mist, now replaced with the air of being constantly absorbed in some beautiful but sad dream- not that this deterred would-be-suitors any.
They could sense that she usually laughed a joyous ringing of Notre Dame or playful tinkling of wind-chimes if not Christmas bells, sang like a bird flying free and high in the sky, and danced akin to either a merry Gypsy or a swan gliding along the water. They saw the genuine warmth and kindness in her big blue orbs for eyes fringed with long ink-dark tassels of lashes, and KNEW that she was as beautiful *IN-side* as she unconventionally was on the out. -She would be kind, courteous, and friendly to the wallflowers as much as other belles and swells, but not be one of the former herself...

Little did those 'garcons et filles' know that Mademoiselle Pinocchio *DID yet feel* like a wallflower- a modest violet still rather than a blooming hot-house rose even as she slowly came to filling her dance card, and made polite small talk and even occasional jokes with 'donnas' and 'signors' who wanted to court her *just because*- for JUST *HERSELF*, and not because she was the ward and niece of famed wealthy former opera singer Madame Adelaide Bonfamille. They did not laugh or make fun of her elongated-button nose, say that it was horridly out of proportion with her big baby-blues and doll-face, or call her many different forms of 'ugly' or 'homely'; *more than willingly* shared a plate of delicacies, lightly clinked a glass of punch, or swept around the dance floor with her...

"VERY *nice* weather we're having for this time of year- yes, my lady?"

"-'Si'. 'S almost like being back home in Pariva, some days..."

"*Ahem*! Your ladyship, pray pardon my slipping into personal territory, but- your ladyship looks in tolerable good health!"

"'Merci beaucoup', your grace. And you look much the same."

"What do you like doing in your spare time, Mademoiselle Tommaso?"

"M-Many things, 'signore'."

"Like what, pray tell, sweet lady??"

"W-Well, I- I'm quite fond of reading and telling stories alongside singing, dancing, and occasionally playacting."

"Play... Do you play any instruments, Lady Pina?"

"'Si'. Piano or harpsichord, the harp itself, the lute, and the flute."

"I *LOVE* to bake or cook! Do you?"

"O-Oh, *YES*! Ab-Absolutely."

"Gardening?"

"N-Now and then, 'signorina'."

"Have you ever been traveling? To the mountains or the lake, at least, if not out of the country?"

"J-Just from Pariva to here in Paris, France after- a-after ...something that I'd really rather not relate, 's 'il vous plait'."

"Of course- of course. My- *OUR sincerest apologies*, 'Piccola Signorina' Pina!"

"It's- It's alright. But- But thank you; I- I do appreciate it, all the same. -'Pina'. That's a new one I haven't heard before, when it comes to nicknames..."

"'Pardon, ma cherie'- your full name is unique and lovely, 'tis true. -But for some if not most, 'tis QUITE *a MOUTHFUL*!"

"-Oh. I see. Just- Just please don't semi-deadname me and call me 'Pinocchia' in full. I- I don't really care for that."

"*Certainly not*, if that is Mademoiselle/Signorina Pinocchio's wish!"

"-'Grazie, signore mio'."

Soon her fellow and non-fellow peers also sensed that she was growing a little dizzy and fatigued, so they politely backed off with a bow or curtsy and a knuckle lip-brush or two, now conversing, joking, drinking, and eating in each others' company instead. Pinocchio was *VERY glad* for it, since a wet aching pressure was starting to grow behind her quivering hot eyes as her half-empty heart constantly paid heed to the painfully-obvious gap, the empty space where *he and she* should have been. What had been there before, and what SHOULD HAVE been there before but hadn't ever truly been...

She wondered both sadly and sympathetically if *THIS* was just how Geppetto had felt all those years ago during and after the loss of his *TRUE wife* and son- so very isolated in the midst of a large cheerful gathering with loneliness lurking behind your eyes and your face feeling stiff and cold while your heart wrenched painfully even if your smile was warm and bright for others' sakes. -*Away*. She *HAD TO get away*, now, before she unintentionally caused a scene with Ilaria-esque drama; no thank you!!

Blindly, Pinocchio darted quietly through the doorway into the entrance hall, near-striding away down to the conservatory leading into the outside gardens. "*Oh 'GRAZIE A DIO'*..." she gasped wetly once she'd inhaled and exhaled a blast of bracing early summer air with a hand to her cheek and her other one clinched her slender waist, a couple of tears leaking from her eyes and trickling down her face as a wave of sheer melancholy and grief near pulled her under again.

In a near-perfect world, Paris would only have been a visit to see her other 'tante' whom Father so dearly loved- a visit for The Season. Geppetto would have proudly, lovingly, and watchfully been by her side, sharing the first dance with his own 'little princess'- her 'madre', either Stepmama Constanza or Mamma Ilaria, would have done the same alongside big brother Carlo; each and every one of them plus Zia Chiara carefully vetting every single would-be-suitor. Mamma would have been PROUD, *pleased*, and *so HAPPY* to call her 'beloved child'- 'dear daughter'- 'my darling girl'; Father, every time he would come home, would shout jovially, ~"*Pinocchio*! Where's my girls- my *BEAUTIFUL girls*?! *Where are my darlings*...?"~
There would have been a family beloved by all: a King, a Queen, a Noble Lady tall and fair, two Princesses, and a Prince plus a Princely cat...

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared before Pinocchio and jolted her from bittersweet dreams of what could *NEVER* be- not anywhere near towering over her, but certainly not quite what one would call 'tall' either. She froze in utter surprise and trembled a little, unsure what this below-average-height man could want with her- though she soon found out when *she* chirruped in a slightly reedy trill that was slightly laced with a Scots burr, "Took yer sweet, sweet time gettin' here, didn't ya, dearie? Dinna ye know that 'tis *RUDE* *AS rude* to keep a lady waiting, whether one is a man or another 'donna'?? Surely, yer mama taught ye better..."

Pinocchio flushed bright crimson and coughed while stumbling back even as that smooth-ish musical voice faintly rang a bell at the back of her mind. The elder 'donna' thought that she was someone else- someone who was *VERY late* for a romantic rendezvous, apparently. "I'm- I'm awful sorry, S-Signora!" she stammered. "But- But I'm n-not-,"

But any further words were crushed into silence when the semi-stranger reached inside, took a gentle yet firm hold of Pinocchio's upper arms, and pulled the younger female towards her. Her small startled cry was hushed as well as her slim nicely-shaped mouth covered Pinocchio's fuller slightly softer own. 'Little Woodenhead' jerked in startled reaction- she was afraid for a moment, but then most of it burned away in a blaze of sensation and simmering curiosity.

Only in penny dreadfuls and slightly more daring novels had she read about and was now experiencing *THIS type* of kiss- the kind of ardent lip-locking that Romeo and Juliet had surely engaged in once the 'pilgrim small talk' was completed, both in the ballroom and later on Juliet's balcony! Her mouth was plum-sweet and *warm*- almost hot, gently pressing and demanding until Pinocchio's lips were pried apart and the other female could taste her with her tongue. She shivered, but didn't recoil, eventually finding herself relaxing against the other's lean slight body just faintly curved in the 'right' places; accepting the tender ravishment of her kiss, and even replying to the explorations of her tongue with timid touches of her own as she reached around the elder lady's neck and felt both the marble-smooth nape and the semi-thin silken locks of coiled hair against her fingertips while sliding palm to silken cheek...

Just then, a horrified and startled gasp caused them to break away from their kiss- but it wasn't coming from Pinocchio's own now-moist and kiss-softened mouth. Instead, it was coming from the charming stranger's own.

Instinctively, Pinocchio snapped her fingers, and a bright glowing light like the flame of a candle but more white or pale gold than orange-red appeared above her fingertips. And there, now trembling and near-cowering herself from a vestige of shame, sadness, and fright but now much less green, longer-haired, and more human-esque ...was Lady Jiminy Hadriana Sebastian Cricket, her former conscience and still dear beloved friend, who was now sharply berating herself.

"*FINE conscience* YOU turned t' be ...*NOT*!! What kinda High Keeper, Counselor, and Guide *kisses* their former ward *like THAT*??! *NONE*, that's what!
"Oh, Pinocchio sweetheart- Pinoke, *I'm so sorry*...!"

Alright- enough was enough. "*Stop*- *PLEASE*," she demanded yet pleaded complete with raised hand and hard Look locking big cerulean-blue orbs for eyes with deep dark violet ones.
"*I* *kissed YOU* too, y' know. I've- I never kissed anyone before, I was curious, and- and I wanted to try it out since I'm now old enough...!"

"I *ASSAULTED you*!"

"You thought that I was someone else- someone who was apparently not able to keep her promises. *BAD form*, as actually Mr. Smee would say! We- We must look an awful lot alike, for- for you to mistake us like that..."

"-You didn't mind?"

"The kiss?? *Uh-uh*; n-not at all!"

"I- I- I *can't BELIEVE* I'm askin' this of ya! But ...w-would you -wanna do it again?"

"-I shouldn't. Fairly soon, either my mother AKA Aunt Adelaide will crave a word if my nurse doesn't call for me anon."

"You're right. For- For what it's worth ...I'm sorry I stole your first kiss."

"*Silly*- you have *NOTHIN'* t' apologize for! You're- You're, um... Y-You're a very good kisser. Pr-Practice?"

"With guys and girls- but never a still literal livin' doll until now! Not- Not b-bad yourself for a beginner- heh...!"

"I should go, now. Do- Do you wanna call on me tomorrow?"

"-I'd love nothin' more. 'Buono notte' until then, Signorina Pinocchio."

"B-'Buono notte, L-Lady Jiminy."

"...You look *BEAUTIFUL* by th' way."

"'Grazie'. -So d' you, in your own charmin' kind way."