Poofy: A serial story full of silliness, part 1...

She had always been raised to think of others...to be what they expected her to be. To smile charmingly, to put others at ease. To become entertaining, witty, clever, lovely as a spring Paris morning. To wear a demure smile as her shield and armor.

To never raise her voice, or show anger or pique. And to never, ever give up what she knew...



Her mother and her "uncle" had been thorough about her training. Dancing, harpsichord, singing, painting, languages, literature, etiquette. She had mastered them all handily. And then her mother started to give her special instruction at the end of her day. Garroting. Poisons. Daggers. Hand to hand combat. Secret codes. She applied herself to her new studies as eagerly as she had her other lessons. And it pleased her mother immensely.



As a child, she and her mother had been taken to a fortune-teller. The fortune-teller whispered, "Your child shall be greatly loved by the king." And her mother did everything in her power to make the fortune a reality. Her powers were a little beyond the normal French merchant's wife, after all...



When the King started frequenting a nearby park for his hunting, mother and daughter would ride by slowly in a carriage, giving right of way to the royal party. As the king rode by, tilting his head to see the young lady better, her mother would whisper, "There. That is your future. You will be his paramour. And the bodyguard he'll never know about..."



Her name was Jeannette Antoinette Poisson, eventually to become the Marquise de Pompadour. And eventually to become a Flower of Death...