Thread: Paradise Isle  (Fades & Good Girls)

Money can't buy you happiness. That's what people who desperately wanted more money liked to say, anyway. And any number of people who made millions upon millions of dollars could even probably lay claim to saying that while seeming a little bit out of touch to those who were less fortunate than themselves given the sheer number of people in the public eye who tended to crash and burn spectacularly due to their various demons and vices. The human mind was incredible at finding ways in which more would never be enough. But more money than you could ever spend in a hundred lifetimes? It might not buy happiness , but it sure as hell could buy a considerable amount of peace of mind. Four Hundred Billion was the kind of mind-boggling non-number that when attributed to a single person nobody could quite imagine what they would do with that much. It might as well have been a child with a jojillion dollars. Never mind that it was Innovation that was, technically, valued at that particular sum -- when corporations were people, the people were their corporations after all. And when it was in fact one person's sum to spend for all practical purposes, well! That's when people were whatever you wanted them to be. What could have lead to this, though? Yes, in the broad sense, the idea that there were women and not desperate, impoverished, hopeless women who would have signed away everything they had and were just for a shot at their family getting to make it on without them, but famous , successful women who seemed to have nothing to lose willing to put their lives in the hands of others wasn't so far fetched. How many young ladies married for status or security more than strictly for love? But there were divorces. There were insurance scams and accidental tumbles down the stairs. There were ways out . From the way Jeffrey Tremonti's proposal had spread across the media, there were no doubt individuals who genuinely believed that if he were to drop dead of a heart attack tomorrow, then anyone stupid enough to have signed up for this game of his would end up buried alive in his coffin alongside him like the pharaohs of old. One hundred years was a lifetime for anyone who wasn't currently a little too young for the sort of status being sought, after all. So why on Earth would any woman who in comparison to so many others had everything that she ever could have asked for sign her life away? Her very personhood? Why would Emilia Clarke ? Write up the think pieces now Solo was the least hyped Star Wars movie in franchise history, Terminator Genisys was one more nail in the coffin of that series, and the sole cash cow to which she was tethered was taking its final bow. Bomb after bomb after bomb, followed by the singular success of her career? The desperate slut was going to grasp at whatever relevance she could find. Sure, she was a name , but in many folks eyes, the writing was on the wall from the first click of her heel on stage. She couldn't even finish the first turn of her wave before paragraphs were cemented in stone about how this grand experiment had been a honeypot for actresses on the cusp of failure grasping for whatever lifeline they might have seen dangled in their direction. But she certainly didn't look desperate. If anything, her smile was positively beaming, not quite enough to look nervous or manic, and just more than usual enough to seem a touch overwhelmed. Taken aback by the sheer amount of flashbulbs and mic-muted chattering to have her off her game, but .. well, ever so British enough to take it all in stride just the same, with each stride elegantly rippling the curtain of her gown around her unseen heels which made their presence known as much with the sound of them against the stage as they did by the tiniest bit of elevation to her height. The heels, the sleek contours of her gown, and the pull of her hair all lent a certain elegance to her approach from the wings, giving her that crucial something that always made it seem as though the screen could magnify a performer's presence. Here, there was nothing but herself to magnify that presence, and given the circumstances, she looked as though she were twice her height. She was not desperate, defeated, or unwanted. She took to the stage proudly, but with a humble patience in the way she clasped her hands in front of her and waited for the initial furor and picture snapping to die down. She was wrong, she didn't fall on her bum the minute she got out there , hissed a whisper in curtains to another hidden away for her turn. Too bad , the same whisper decided after a heartbeat of silence for effect. But then, Emilia's dress and careful posture did little to show off what she was more certain an utterly imbalanced quaking in her legs, which might well have purely been in her own mind come to think of it. To all gathered, she seemed like she was there for the red carpet gala, and not what was a massive violation of human rights in the minds of so many already. I can only imagine that there are a number of questions about what had lead me to stand up on this stage here today, and what could have possibly convinced me to sign my life away as so many have put it already. But I actually think it's important that I make a distinction about that right now, if it's alright for me to do so on Mr. Tremonti's behalf. It's not only that I myself, nor the other three women who may be taking this stage alongside me today, have not been pressured by him, his company, or anyone else in my own professional or private life to sign a contract that would for all intents and purposes leave my future entirely in the hands of this .. mind-bogglingly audacious individual, she said, her professional, almost casually disclosure-agreement style reading of her own introduction giving way to a bit of a broader grin as she lifted her clasped hands and gingerly used them to point in Jeffrey's direction while she stifled a laugh at her own description of him and this entirely mad escapade she had found herself a part of. Just a little bit of broken ice, and the wobble in her knees felt much more manageable. But I want to make it clear it's that I haven't. I haven't signed any such thing. There is nothing coercing or forcing me to stand here before you, legally or otherwise, and introduce myself as the first to accept Mr. Tremonti's ludicrous offer , she continued with precisely the same smile that spoke of just how much she was in on the insanity of it all with each of his greatest detractors and, frankly, many of those who believed in him as well because the simple fact of the matter is that I haven't accepted it yet. There is nothing to stop me from walking right over there and through the backstage exit, she added, pointing to the side of the stage behind her benefactor's podium, should I change my mind. And now you're all tap tapping away on your phones about how he set the event up expertly to force us to set up that both he and we are of sound mind, she added with a little bit of a wiggle of her thumbs pantomiming the expected tweets about her opening statements. Laughter was good. She warmed up, both with a slight shift of her shoulders and the tiniest addition of ruddiness to her cheeks. But I'm not going to change my mind, she said, as firmly as she could. I have come here today to request that Jeffrey Tremonti not only make a donation to the Anima Foundation in my name, a charity dedicated to nurses and doctors specializing in injury and trauma to the brain, but that he sees to it that my every last fungible asset be used to secure ongoing funding and expenses for the foundation for as long as my worth will allow. I have not come to this stage to be a curiosity or a headline for those attending, but to use my privilege and my wealth to insure that those who can best use my material assets will be able to do so to truly help others now and in the future. I know that there are those of you who will cluck your tongues at the flash in the pan actress who's best role has come to an end, and I welcome you to draw your own conclusions on my career and how it relates to my decision today. After all, to most of you, I will and would never be anything but Khaleesi. Her smile was as easy as it had been since she'd taken to the stage, the tiniest bit of a spark of satisfied amusement dancing in her rich blue eyes. She reached up then, looping her hands up behind her neck and into her hair, where she undid the clasping barrette keeping her brunette locks in place until they came spilling gently down against the side of her neck and her shoulders with the tiniest shake of her chin. But that's not the totality of who I am, she said. Mother of dragons, breaker of chains. One role, many roles. A daughter, a sister, an actress, a friend, I've been so many things. Still holding the barrette balanced against her thumb and index finger, Emilia continued to fidget ever so slightly as she removed each of her earrings one on daughter, the other on actress and then left all three pieces of jewelry held lightly in one palm. What I want to say is that today, with this opportunity, I can be one more thing, she continued as she gently but deftly pulled off her rings from her balancing hand and added them to the small handful of accouterments. Everyone gathered here, to shoot this, to write about this, to question this, or to simply recognize this as an interesting way to spend the day, you have something in your head about who I am to you, and what it means for me to be a part of this. But it's not quite true. I'm Emilia, she said, partially by way of correction and partially by way of long-belated introduction. She rolled her jewelry loosely, able to hold it all in one palm, though the sounds it may have made did not pick up on the mic. Surprisingly, her other hand singing the zipper at her back with a single tiny, short tug did. The prayer that so often held up red carpet gowns gave way to a reality without model gum or double sided tape, and with a much quieter whisper, Miss Clarke's matching cream colored heels were revealed above the sudden elegant rippling of her dress down into a silken puddle on the stage. And without those heels, well, someone might have even made the claim that she was naked . And I reject that, she decided, a period not just on her introduction, but her existence. She even managed to swoop down elegantly, nary a shimmy of her naked breasts unintentional in their motion as she bent just enough to recover her dropped dress onto the edge of her fingers and let it join her jewelry all clutched in her right hand. Some might have argued that she'd been overworking her personal trainer just for this moment -- there were surely going to be countless frame by frame comparisons and questions and arguments about the actress on stage now versus the last time she had seen sit to do a nude scene on television, and how much better or worse each metric might have been -- but none could argue that the stage lights didn't favor the pale peach of bare skin to give it just the right light, from the delicate kiss of lipstick setting her mouth off to the strikingly similar color of her nipples, peaked playfully whether from the nerves and adrenaline or the chill in the air with none particularly in a position to argue the cause when they could instead be capturing the effect with their too-lavish cell phone cameras. No doubt there would even be those who questioned if any particular shine around the well-kempt brunette curls beneath her abdomen was just a trick of the light. Click! Click! Click! Both cameras and her heels as Emilia strode across the stage, her legs held sculpted and high in her seemingly uncomfortable footwear and the rest of her held with equal height as she locked eyes with Jeffrey and gave not a single look or thought to anyone else .. even as she made a humblebrag of her own existence by way of showcasing her sideways silhouette the better for every angle for the tabloids, perhaps when she bent at the waist in front of his podium and unstrapped too her heels, slipping easily out of them and managing to bring them up each on a finger, until everything she had been wearing genuinely fit in one hand. Let me sign your contract, and I will be nothing except what you make of me, she told him. I will have nothing except that which you give me, she said, and with a forceful thunk , she nearly as an afterthought threw her entire beautiful ensemble directly into the trash bin next to his podium without removing her eyes from his. I, being of sound body and mind, she said with a glimmer of a grin at the corner of her lips as she made certain to re-emphasize her consent in this entire affair, would like nothing more than to sell you my body and mind for any amount that you might think them worth. .. it would have been just too cruel to low-ball her a sum given those terms! Last edited Feb 5, 2019