Bridgerton Miscellaneous Thread


Created by @benitz786 and @Littlefeets

Hello everybody! Welcome to the Miscellaneous, or as its often called the Misc, thread!

This is a thread that can be used for any scenes that do not fit with the current events of the official thread. It can be flashbacks, unfinished conversations, alternate realities, or conversations between NPCs. Just remember this thread is not for any future events. Please keep this thread to past events only.

Additionally, please make sure every post is titled to indicate when it takes place, what the situation is! Feel free to go wild and use this to develop your characters and their backstories further!


Signups & Chat
Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers



Flashback :sparkles: 5 years ago
somewhere in france

Belle was engrossed in the pages of a captivating book, whilst her sister Josephine paced restlessly within the chamber. “What if no callers grace our threshold? What if not a soul arrives, dear Belle?” Josephine’s words bore nervousness as her gown swished with each nervous step.

Unfazed by the fretful pacing, Belle continued to peruse her book, occasionally sipping from her cup of peppermint infusion. Placing the cup with a delicate clink! upon the table, her reading was abruptly interrupted by Josephine, as Josephine snatched the book from her grasp. “I was reading that,” Belle’s protest sounded as she swiftly retrieved her possession, sitting up with an annoyed look.

“Could you pause the reason, if only for a moment? I need counsel, dear sister.” The reasons behind Josephine’s persistent concerns remained a mystery to Belle. Her sister’s constant fretting seemed very misplaced- for if she should worry, it should be about the fact she will get many callers. After all, she was Duke Gabriel’s eldest daughter, the notion that suitors would abstain from her company was nothing short of comical.

“If you want counsel, go to mother, she can tell you all that is needed to be known,” Belle said, rolling her eyes, “There’s nothing I know that I can tell you.” Her gaze returned to the pages of her book. Josephine settled beside her, giving Belle an annoyed look.

“You may not have enjoyed my worry,Belle,”

“What ever is there to enjoy? Not being able to focus because of your constant pacing around?”

“But one day, you too shall need to care about all of this and then you will be in my position.” Belle laughed at that, giving her sister an incredulous look.

“Me? in your position?” Belle laughed, her hand on her mouth, seeing that Josephine was not laughing along, Belle seized her laughing eyeing Josephine. “Oh, you’re serious. You need to stop being so imaginative, people might think you mad or as a witch.”

“The witch trials have already seen their end Belle, and how can I be the mad one when you exist?” Josephine put her hand on Belle’s knees, “One day you too shall need to find love. Perhaps if we are all lucky it would be as pure and beautiful as dear Mama and Papa.”

“Maybe in another universe.”

“One day, you will look back to all this and laugh.”

“And when I do that Josephine, you have the right to strike my face.” Josephine gave her a look before sighing. There was no use arguing with Belle- she was just so Belle, and could not understand there was more to life than books, embroidery and all the other hobbies Belle has- sure all those were fun but did Belle not want to find love?

“I just wish my own sister would be so considerate of my feelings, You know how long i’ve been waiting to get married.” Something Belle would never understand, what was so good in marriage- a marriage where the bride will have to give up her dreams and aspirations to fulfill her husband’s dreams and aspirations, that Josephine wanted. Sure, her parents were not like that, and Belle honestly felt more sorry for her father than her mother, because as much as Belle loved her mother, her mother was so her, but her parents were an odd exception. “And what if I would have to wait even longer?” Belle ignored her flipping pages through her book, “Belle come on, please.”

Belle sighs sitting up front. “Josephine, you will get callers. You are too beautiful, the daughter of Duke Gabriel and Duchess Margot. Our family is praised throughout France, thousands wish for you as a daughter because of your personality, do you truly think you will have no callers?”

Josephine paused, and was about to say something when a maid interrupted them to tell them that a lot of callers had come. Josephine stood up excitedly as Belle went up to call their parents and brothers. Belle was going to spend a very long day in her bedroom it seems.


Flashback 5 years ago at Oxford
Harrison Flashback #1

Harrison Davis was many things, but OK was not one of them. How could he say ‘ok’ when his father was dead on the ground? While he had fled to an Oxford boarding school to deal with the anguish, he was not poised to ascend the ladder of aristocracy; becoming a titled man, an earl. He was ill-prepared for the weight of obligations that clung to such a station, but the inevitability of responsibilities weighed upon him with a leaden hand; he knew that trying to escape it was futile.

It was not possible and the small escape he had right now was nothing but a fantasy, he would have to return– take his rightful position as Earl Davis and deal with the responsibilities. He would no longer be a freed man.

What a shame, losing his freedom when he was nothing but a boy-a mere 19 winters had graced him- a season caught between the last gasp of innocence (then again Harrison was anything but innocent) and the initial breath of experience. He was a boy, a boy who needed to take responsibilities.


Such a dull word. He disliked it, but he needed it- it was what he was born for. He was born an heir and he will be the heir. There was no stepping down, he could not let his brothers deal with the responsibility. He could give it to Angelina, though she was a lady and such a thing would be frowned upon. He would support her and speak against anyone who speaks against her- though he also could not do that because he could push his sister to the dogs like that.

High society was everything but favorable.

He delved into his pockets and drew forth a cigar. His friend drew out fire and with a flick brought his cig to life as it sparked. Fun.

“Smoking is an affront,” said his companion- the second son to a baron family, Ethan Filish, as they both smoked. Ethan was right- smoking was forbidden here, strictly forbidding, after all this was a school to groom men into becoming proper lords of society, not for behaviors such as this.

“Indeed,” Harrison agreed, exhaling tendrils of smoke as if freeing the weight of convention from his chest. “Most undoubtedly should not.”

“We shall invite the storm,” the friend mused as he blew out a puff in the air.

“Let it unfurl,” Harrison’s response was a chuckle, puffing into the air as well. “I plan on leaving the school,”

“Another escapade?” The words dripped with obvious amusement. “Did you not escape from here mere days ago? Yet again, my friend, you seek the embrace of darkness?”

“Aye,” Harrison laughed, his eyes smiling with him. “I met a woman, she’s quite easy on the eyes.”

“You’re sneaking out for a woman?” Harrison nodded with a puff, “Of course you are, Harrison Davis, of course you are. Go on, define her beauty then, I wish to know the lady of today’s fascination.”

“Her skin, hardened by labor, her eyes haunting, the type of eyes that would scare a child, but her lips – her lips are of silk.” Harrison described, “I’m fascinated by her.”

"She’s a beauty and yet all you list are affiliations, except for the lips.” The friend jested, his cigarette relinquished to the couch near him.

“Those are not afflictions,” Harrison asserted, as he dropped his cigarette lightly to sit up and stare at his dear friend. “It is in the imperfections, that beauty is found, that its essence is unearthed. Beauty is frightening, it can be horrific, but the point is beauty should frighten you in a way.” He continued, “A beauty that holds terror with its allure is the kind that demands to be praised. You see, my dear friend, you are still a boy so you don’t understand but her beauty was harsh- it was all up in my face, unpredictable at first but when I looked closer I saw how horrific it was. If you would have seen her, you would have thought the same.”

Ethan rolled his eyes at the boy’s comment, “And you, are you a man?”

“I’m a boy with experience, a boy with an eye for beauty.” Harrison chuckled as he exhaled his cig once more. “Though I’ve seen 19 winters and you have only seen 17, so that is probably why I know a lot more than you.”

Ethan rolled his eyes once more but did not disagree, “Then her lips,” Ethan inquired, “Are they truly that soft?”

“I would not know,” Harrison admitted, “We are yet to kiss because my reputation precedes me.”


“The lady, she thinks of me as wicked-perhaps I agree with her, perhaps I don’t- but she says that I am the devil in the bible. She shall not kiss a devil as she is quite holy, she says.” Harrison tone was amused as he described the girl’s opinions of him.

"Why persist then? Why go meeting her like a little kid?”

“Ah, she had a change of heart.” Harrison laughter was a synonym of audacity and enjoyment. “I am no devil, I am more like a fallen angel, and she wishes to be kissed by a fallen angel to see how it is in order for her heart to be guarded in the future. She also wishes to kiss a noble.”

“And you will kiss her?”

“I will.”

The smoke filled the air, as they exhaled in. Done, they threw it out the window and opened it to let fresh air enter and take the smoke out. As Harrison laid on the bed- he could not help but to think of his family, how were they? He should have written a note and so he did. He stood up as his friend gave him a question look as he took out a quill.

“Dearest of the Dearest, the Davis family,
I thought of you guys throughout school,
Are you guys ok? Do you perhaps need me back?
And dear mother, please do not let my sister’s debut yet,
I wish to be there for their debut and spend more time with them
Before they are married off, I hope my brothers are doing well with their studies.
Tell them, if not, I will strike them with my sword upon returning.
Tell them too that I miss them, and my sisters say the same.

With love,
Harrison Davis.”

“I miss my family,” He told his friend, “I always miss them when I am far away from them.”

“Then why do you go far away from them?”

Harrison stiffened at that, “I have responsibilities, let’s say, things to do and I want to see the world before it’s late.”

“Yet you say you don’t like responsibilities, my dear friend you are a contradictor.”

If there was a drink, they would cheer for that. But they had finished the wine another young gentleman had sneaked in days ago, to celebrate… to celebrate? What were they celebrating again Harrison could not remember but they celebrated something.

"Am I a contradictor? Perhaps, after all, I am a canvas painted with conflicting shades- not a single shade or color, and each color drastically different from the other, none the same. I am vast, wide, and unpredictable. I contain a lot of things.”

“Indeed you are growing wide,” His friend jested,

“It is muscle I put on.”

“I know but are muscles not also wide?” His friend retorted with a smile.

“True but how would you know when all you are bones?”

“Ouch my friend, you wound me. You have striked me with your sword, Harrison! Humors! Cruel! Demon! A fallen angel, My family should be truly sad at my injury.”

Harrison chuckled at that but he could not help but to sigh as well. He missed his father, gone too soon- his father was only 40 seasons old, and sure men die younger but his father was perfectly healthy, he should have been alive a little more, seen Leonarada grow up to be a beautiful lady Harrison is sure she will grow into. He should have been here too, to walk his daughters through the aisle- it should not be Harrison, who would bear the responsibility of walking them through the aisle, it should have been his father.

His father had always talked about how he would love to do that and now he could not. Life was truly a joke, a joke that Harrison was tired of. Maybe, he should make his return home soon. He wishes to visit his father’s grave and leave some flowers. In a week maybe.

“We should throw a party,” Harrison said, “Wine and all sorts of alcohol and pastries.”

“What would be the occasion.”

“My friend, the joys of friendship is our occasion. The joys of freedom,” He laughed patting his friend on his back, “Our occasion is the reason we are here no? Freedom, we shall cheer for freedom.”

Using their hands to create fake wine glasses, they raised it up and clicked their hands together with laughter. Ah the joys of freedom, what a shame it could not last only a little more. What a shame, especially since he had to do things.


Blackwood Manor
November 15th, 1805
Corin’s 16th Birthday

“Sebastian, release your grip!” Corin whined in a teasing tone as he trudged forward with his younger brother on his leg. Sebastian had a proclivity for adhering to his elder brother, particularly on occasions of import, and today was no ordinary day in the Blackwood house. Today marked Corin’s sixteenth year of life, and Sebastian had decided the greatest gift of all was, of course, his own attachment to Corin’s right leg.
“No! I am your gift! See?” Sebastian said, gesturing to a diminutive pink bow which his mother had affixed upon his head. Corin couldn’t help but laugh, and swiftly scooped the toddler from his leg, tickling Sebastian until his face turned a shy rose color.
“I possess a plethora of fine pairs of boots, Sebastian. I hardly require human restraints upon my ankles as well. I would much prefer to celebrate my day with my favorite brother." Corin uttered, a smile overcoming him as he lovingly regarded the pair of vibrant hazel eyes gazing up at him. Sebastian and Corin had been inseparable since Sebastian’s birth. Despite a notable age gap, Corin reveled in having a sibling within the household. Sebastian equally adored his older brother, and if he wasn’t clinging to Corin’s leg, he was often riding his brother’s coattails wherever Corin ventured. “Besides,” Corin said, “Who else would help me craft a cake for the picnic…?” Corin’s smirk broadened as he quickly dropped his brother to his feet and darted toward the kitchen. Both boys went bounding through the expansive dual doors, their laughter resonating within the manor.
The cook, Pierre, was engaged in preparations for the large picnic baskets which were already toppling with stale breads, pastries, fruits, cheeses, and traditional Korean dishes. Seung-Jae, Corin’s father, had procured an assortment of rice cakes, and annually, he meticulously hand-fashioned 만두 (dumplings) and persimmon punch for the boys’ birth days.
“I’ve been waiting for you boys for hours! The firewood is nearly entirely consumed!” Pierre exclaimed, bustling around the now considerably heated hearth.
“We’re ready!” Sebastian said, positioning himself atop a small stool so he could reach the counter. Corin was already fast at work combining the flour and sugar in a large, wooden mixing bowl.
“Let me!” Sebastian whined, reaching for the spoon to stir. Corin smiled and moved behind his little brother to help him stir the large pot. “I wish to add the eggs myself this time!” Sebastian said proudly, reaching toward the neat row of eggs sitting nearby.
“Oh, no,” Corin lurched across him, pulling the eggs out of Sebastian’s reach. “Last time you cracked the eggs you dropped shells in the pastry. I’ll crack them, and you can pour them, alright?” Corin spoke softly as to not perturb his little brother, and he slowly began cracking and passing the eggs so Sebastian could dump them into the mixing bowl. The giddy smile on Sebastian’s face made Corin’s heart soar. The affection Corin held for his brother was unparalleled, and even upon a day of his own commemoration, Corin felt compelled to fulfill Sebastian’s every desire.
“Let me stir on my own!” Sebastian whined, tugging at the bowl. Corin’s grasp faltered, and some of the bowls contents went spilling all over Sebastian’s shirt. Corin burst into laughter, slowly attempting to dust off his brother. Sebastian’s eyes began to fill with tears, and Corin looked down at him with an apologetic smile. Without a second thought, Corin grabbed a handful of the dry mixture and tossed it atop his own head, rendering his hair a resplendent shade of white.
“Look, it’s snowing!” Corin exclaimed, sprinkling the powder around in the air. Sebastian began giggling as well and cast more white powder onto the front of Corin’s apron. Soon the pair were covered head to toe in flour.
“That is enough from you two!” Pierre exclaimed, aghast at the powder-covered scene in front of him. Pierre snatched the bowl and ushered the boys toward the door. “Your father will be here soon anyway. Shoo! Go!” Pierre called, swatting at them with a kitchen cloth.
“Will you call us when it’s risen? We’d like to add some cream!” Corin called, lifting his brother back into his arms. Corin barely had time to finish his sentence before Pierre slammed the kitchen doors in his face. Giggling and sneezing from nostrils filled with assorted cake ingredients, the boys stumbled through the halls.
“Boys!” Corin heard his mom yell from the entryway. They bounded over to their mother whose hands were filled with an array of assorted decorations in hues of green—Corin’s favorite. “What on earth happened to the two of you?” She exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock at the sight of her sons covered in flour.
“Never mind, we don’t have time. Go get cleaned up and help me arrange these in the garden.” She instructed, dispensing ribbons, blankets, and cushions into the boys’ arms. Despite the presence of numerous servants, the Blackwood family was accustomed to orchestrating private, familial affairs on their own.
The boys dropped the supplies in the garden before running up the stairs toward their respective rooms to change and wash up. Marie, sighing from mental strain at the thought of the mess they made for Pierre, made her way to the kitchens to assess the damage and finalize the food preparations.
Seung-Jae eventually arrived home from his trade meeting just in time to finish up his dumplings and help his wife, Marie, finish packing the provisions for the picnic.
“Bonjour, 나의 사랑 (my love).” Seung-Jae said, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist from behind, his lips tenderly grazing her nape as she sealed the lid of the final basket.
Pierre cleared his throat loudly out of discomfort while putting the finishing touches on the cake Corin and Sebastian had nearly ruined just hours prior.
Seung-Jae straightened, “Ah, Pierre, thank you for your help. You are dismissed. I believe my family and I would like to continue the festivities…in private.” He had barely glanced over at Pierre as he spoke, his eyes fixated upon his wife. Marie smiled and turned to face her husband, the sun’s luminance casting his hair in a radiant glow.
“Hello…” She smirked, leaning in for a kiss. Before their lips could meet, Seung-Jae pressed his finger to her bottom lip.
“As much as I’d prefer this, I believe we have some hungry boys waiting in the garden for us.” He smiled brilliantly down at the woman he loved. It took every ounce of strength to force himself to reach around her and grab the picnic baskets instead of her waist again. “Let’s go celebrate our son.” He said, reaching out his hand for hers as they walked toward the garden together. The fervent affection of the Blackwood couple was no secret to those around them. Though their tale of love and their encounter remained shrouded in mystery, the devotion between them was palpable.
The sun was beginning to set as the family finally finished up their birthday preparations. As Corin and Sebastian elatedly arranged the picnic setting upon a grassy patch in their garden, their parents both walked out, bearing baskets brimming with treats. The boys watched with bated breath as an unending succession of trays laden with confections and customary Korean foods, amassed before them.
“생일축하해 창우야 (Happy birthday, Chang-Woo)” Corin’s dad said, patting his son’s hair lovingly.
“Make a wish, my love.” His mother held out a small, misshapen birthday cake with a singular, green candle in the center. Corin looked around at the smiling faces of his family, everything glowing a soft orange from the sun’s setting haze.
With unwavering resolve, Corin made his wish: for every birthday to be exactly like this one.


some years ago, Belle’s first crush and last crush

Somewhere in france- at the fleur manor

Belle’s memory of how these feelings began with Augustus was hazy. Augustus was older, a man she regarded almost as kin, a close and familiar figure in her life. He was older by a mere 5 years, a similar age gap she shared with her brothers and like Belle said Augustus was like a brother to her.

So why then these feelings? Sure, He possessed a certain handsomeness, kindness that shone through his lovely smiles, and he was the exact kind of gentleman Belle believed men should aspire to be – a far cry from the rakes that populated L’Europe. They were all of the same cloth too—not remarkable, not kind enough, not handsome enough, not intelligent enough—just men with big egos.

And Belle had a tendency to prick at their inflated egos, relishing the label of “intense” or “insane” that some of them bestowed upon her. She was called Thorny Belle, a well earned nickname, she liked the nickname so much she named the cat her mother had given to her as a birthday gift Thorne. The nickname seriously mused her as she found amusement in stirring the discomfort of men, well aware of the whispered rumors about her eccentricity. Her intention was clear – she intended to remain unburdened by suitors, strike fears in their heart so they would think less to pursue her when she debuts and Belle will have a lovely debut season with no suitors, and it would continue and continue like that till her mother gives up and let belle enjoy her life.

Alas, such a beautiful outcome seemed unlikely. With her father being Grand Duke Gabriel, soon to be eligible suitors will perceive Belle as a desirable catch. That notion repulsed her; marriage was far from her agenda. Fortunately, her father supported her in her defiance against such a nightmare. She cherished him for his understanding and affection, while her mother sang a different tune.

Duchess Margot, her mother, whom Belle loved but did not like. If not for the familial connection, Belle would avoid her. A caring woman, yes-depending on your definition of caring, but one driven by the desire of marrying Belle off to a suitable match. A match that ticked all the boxes of what her mother thought was Belle ideal type: a nice age, title, handsomeness, kindness- Belle did not care for title but her mother did so she included it.

Where was Belle again? Right, she couldn’t fathom her attraction to him. Her heart had fluttered just like the maids have described it would when he had sent her a letter, but why did it? Why him?

Was it his agreeable personality? After all he was who Belle deemed as ideal for women who sought marriage- women who were not her. But if that was the case then why did she not have feelings for Atlas? After all, he checked a lot of her boxes for the ideal gentlemen for women who were not her.

Perhaps it was because Augustus was more expressive, open with his feelings compared to Atlas.

Belle could not help but to thank the fact that Augustus was not a Frenchman, he lived in England, meaning Belle did not have to see him daily. She feels like he would discover her feelings for him if that was the case.

The mere thought of Augustus discovering her feelings sent shivers down her spine. She dreaded the idea of his awareness- Belle could not have feelings for anyone. She just could not. She refused to confront this emotional entanglement, for it was a labyrinth she had no wish to navigate in. She contemplated seeking counsel from dear Josephine, but Josephine would give her useless advice about marriage too or tell her mother. There was Kat, her younger sister, but what would Kat know about feelings such as this? She was too inexperienced. The idea of revealing her affections to her best friend, Louisa, seemed equally daunting, especially if she pressed for a name or if she feels betrayed that Belle has feelings. She could not confide in her mother nor brothers, she could confide in the maids- they were caring, but maybe they would be too busy for this silly thing.

Frustration gripped her, as she made her way down to her father’s study door. She knocked on it and with permission granted she entered and took a seat.

“Father, when you met Mother, what were your first impressions? How did you feel?” Her father dropped his papers, raising a brow as he stared at her, a curious look on his face.

“Why do you wonder, dear daughter.”

“I just do,”

Her father held the papers back in his hand arranging them as he removed his bifocals to smile at his young innocent daughter. “As you know, my mother’s union was arranged by our parents. I found her beautiful of course and agreed to it, just like she did but I was nervous around her.”

“Why?” Though Belle didn’t really have to wonder how or why. Her mother was terrifying at times.

“Come and sit in my lap, it’s time for story time.”

“Father, I am 13 winters old, such a thing is inappropriate.”

“When did you care for that?” Belle smiled at these words as she nodded and sat at her old man’s lap, arms crossed as she stared into his eyes.

“Well, how should I begin? When I met your mother I knew she disliked me even if it was just a little- I think she was in love with someone else or hated the idea of an arranged marriage. So, when she stares at me, she will give me the looks you will see in nightmares.”

“Was mother that scary?”

“Most terrifying, she was beautiful and stricken at the same time. She made my heart beat whenever I was around her- of both love and fear, fear that she might one day poison me. I don’t quite remember when our first kiss happened, our first kiss outside our wedding day that she initiated but she had smiled at me giving me a hug. I think she began to get comfortable with me by then and I had loved her by then.”

“Astonishing, that sounds truly astonishing.” Young Belle said.

“Did you perform your marital duties?” Belle’s father coughed at that and Belle cocked her head to the side wondering what she said wrong, she had heard maids whispering about some marital duties.

“What do you know about Marital duties?”

Belle paused, “I don’t quite know, the books I read do not mention that in detail just that they hold hands.” Her dad coughed uncomfortably.

“Right, we did hold hands. Belle it’s getting late, you should rest.” He kissed her forehead, “Call you brother Thomas for me, I have something to discuss with him.” Belle kissed her father on the cheek as she stepped down his lap.

“Ok, Father.” She curtsies, “I’ll make sure to call my brother,”

Belle exited the study room and went looking for Brother Thomas, but Thomas was not in his room. Astonishing, she went downstairs again and went to a door that read ‘do not enter’ . She knocked on it and nothing, when she opened it, she was horrified at what she was seeing.

Her brother and a maid. Young Belle stood frightened not moving, Thomas turned to her and his eyes widened. He quickly got dressed and sent the maid away.

“What are you doing here,” He hissed, “Can’t you read the door, you’re a good reader for your age so I know that’s not the case.”

Belle blinked, “F…father, father is calling you.” Belle said uncomfortable as her lips trembled, “W-what what were you doing?”

Her brother coughed shifting uncomfortably, “Nothing Belle, I was doing nothing.”

“But you were doing something and that was why you were so ashamed when I came and the maid was equally as horrified, why was she without clothes?”

Thomas stared at her, scratching his neck- he was trying to come up with a tale, a lie and so Belle quickly said, “Do not lie to me or I will tell father what you were doing.”

“You would not,” Thomas said and He was right,s he would not,

“I will, just watch.”

“Belle…. Fine, I will tell you since you insist so much,” Belle smiled, still quite shaken at the horrific thing she saw.

“Well…” Thomas started before he began to tell her the most terrifying thing she had heard. She had fled there and in two days her feelings for Augustus had gone, that whole talk making her uncomfortable.

@sunflowerjm - Atlas
@Madilnel - Augustus- well most of this was about augustus
@Ouijaloveletters - Louisa


1748, Selewyn Manor
Florence Cropper
Florence has just woken up with a pit in her stomach. She knew today was the first of many when she would feel like this. She most definitely looked at her room with adoration, but knowing that soon enough it would be the last time she would do so made her unhappy and anxious. She’s lived in this house her whole life and she always loved how old it was becuase it had history and charm. She knew that whoever would buy it would probably take a lot of it down and replace it with a newer fashion or new furniture. She put on her dress and forced a smile before going downstairs. Her father has already been talking to a few of the men interested as she stared at them from the top of the staircase. Noticing her, father asked her to come down and introduced her to the men.
“This is my charming daughter, Florence.”
“Does she come with the house?” Joked one man. In the bunch of man also stood Harold Brantley, but he hasn’t caught her eye, nor did she catch his, as he was more interested in the question he just asked, waiting for it’s answer.
“Florence, why don’t you give a tour to the men.” He proposed hoping she would say yes. He knew one of two things. She loves this house so if she talks about it with love the men might think it’s worth more than it actually is, and he thought maybe allowing her to show love for this house might get some of the men to want the same and maybe they might save them by marrying her. If they have enough money to consider buy this whole house and estate then they’ve probably got enough to save them.
“Florence really loves this house and with good reason.”
“I would love to, Father. What have you seen already?” She started talking to the men before leading them to the closest room to boast about the intricate designs of it, while Brantley was still trying to ask the question, only ready for the tour once it’s asked.
“Sir, can I just ask when this house was built? I don’t mean the year but the era.” He wanted to know everything about the house he would soon buy. Florence hear the question and waited to see if her father would know it. “It wasn’t built in my lifetime.” He said, not wanting to have it sound old, but he knew everybody could tell it wasn’t new so he didnt’ want to say that either, but by saying it wasn’t built in his lifetime he also wasn’t lying. Florence smiled and said “Excuse me, I’ve heard your question and I can safely say the house was built during the Jacobean era, however the furnitute was replaced since.”
Harold turned to her. “Thank you miss. The Jacobean era, you said? When James Stuart was king?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Hmm … I have to say, although Jacobites have lost, the architecture looks great.” Although paying the house a compliment and satisfying Florence with it, his facial expression didn’t show happiness. It was an odd response, and even though it was just a facial expression, it made Florence wonder. Wonder why he made such a face after learning the era. She sighed, thinking he was just put off by learning how old it was. She thought maybe her father was right in hiding the age when it was built.

Suddenly, her father pulled her aside. “Good riddance my girl, thank you.” Which left her perplexed.
“That man you spoke to, he hasn’t got any family, nor connections. I’ve heard he stole his money or earn it doing illegal activity, and I don’t want to sell the house to a man like that. Did you see that unpleasant face he made when he realized how old it was? That’s good, I just hope the others aren’t as unhappy about it as he is.”
What her father told her answered some questions she had, but posed a few more. Why would he feel so strongly about the age of the house if he earned the money illegally? Beggers cannot be choosers, except if there was some sinister reason behind him disliking it.

During the tour she kept turning her head and sneaking glances at Harold to see the way he acts and what he does. He would show he’s listening to her, very intently actually, but he was also intetly watching the furninture as if looking for something amongst it.

After it ended, she turned to her father and whispered “Leave me alone with him, I want to try something.” And he listened. To her surprise, after she turned around he was gone.

Harold Brantley

After the tour, he was quick to walk downstairs where he noticed a window overlooking into the nature. He was enjoying the view, imagining a future he knew he couldn’t possibly have, but also something else was heavy on his mind. This was distrupted by somebody appraoching him from behind, and although the person tried their best not to be heard, he was atuned to that kind of thing and heard them loud and clear. The wrinkling of the dress, the silent wood creaking the taps of the shoes. He turned around to face her, letting her know he knows she’s there.

She wanted to say something, but nothing came to her mind. “You do not like jacobean architecture?” She asked.
“No, quite the contrary. I love it.” He assured her. “It’s just the fact that a few years ago I’ve killed a few Jacobites. See I was a soldier placed in Scotland where people wanted a Stuart on the throne again. Knowing this was from the era where a Stuart ruled reminded me of the deaths of the men I killed.”
“Oh.” She muttered. Her face fell in embarrasement but he couldn’t tell she thought poorly about him based on what her father told her.
“That is the one thing I hated about going to war. Those deaths will haunt me, I fear, for the rest of my life. Maybe this house will always remind me of that.”
“I am sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Had you known would you lie to me?” He teased and she sunk her head down.
“That would’ve been the sweetest reason to lie, wouldn’t it.”
“Yes. We’ve been talking for a while, and you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Oh of course, how could I have been this forward withouth so much as an introduction. Miss Florence Cropper, I am Harold Brantley. It was a delight meeting you.”
Florence was surprised at his manners considering what her father told her.
“You keep looking at me as if you have a question for me.” He noticed, unnerved.
Ashamed she mentioned. “It’s only … I’ve heard some rumors …” She started talking, to which Harold replied with a knowing nod.
“Oh trust me, I know what you heard. It’s not true at all. But some of it is.” Florence was wondering which bit of the rumor was true.
“It’s true that my father had no money. I’ve actually been lucky and when a man gambled away his fortune and some of his land I was the one at the end of the table collecting it. I would still feel sorry for the man, had I not been to the war.” She kept silent.
“You heard from the bankowners in town, that I cheated, no doubt. Now that is a fabrication. I’ve never needed to cheat in cards. Not when I was a child, nor now.”
He turned back to the window.
“I noticed in this window that you could see a bit of the land I won that night.” She came closer to him so she could see it over his shoulder.
“Oh wow … So you’re the man I’ve heard about in a few years back. But if you won such fortune and property, why go to war? Or why buy a house?”
“Oh I went to war for two reasons … I was afraid the man who lost all his fortune would seek me out and try to get his money back. Life gave me lemons and I was afraid it would dangle a good life in front of my eyes and then take it away as soon as I thought I could have it. The second reason was to earn some respect, I hoped buying myself a commision would allow me to prove myself as good enough to deserve the property and money I won. When it comes to the house I was planning of having one built on my land, but when I noticed this house was for sale right next to my land, I thougth it would be better to buy it. As old as it may be, I find older things charming. It feels more like a home and less like a place you buy and decorate to show off how new it is.”
“Exactly … Some of the homes of my friends are all very nice and very new … But a lot like a woman’s dress, you like the design and you love the colors, but it’s hard to breathe in.” She said with a newfound gleam in her eyes. She started out the conversation scared of what the man was capable of, and ended it by admiring his words.
“Would you like to walk? Your property isn’t far off from what it seems and I would like to see what you’ve done with the land so far.”
“I’ve barely done anything, except I made a cabin. But I doubt …” She cut him off by saying “I would, I would like to see it.” She said. They both walked out and headed towards his plot of land.

That is how Harold and Florence Brantley first met.


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The marriage of Duke Gabriel and Duchess Margot- Belle’s parent. pt 1 their story
Location: France

imagine this whole convo in french

Duke Gabriel found himself seated across from the queen, casually sipping the tea he was giving as she regarded him thoughtfully. The transition from his father’s reign as Duke to his own hadn’t been long, so he understood her curiosity about him. No one knows why his father had decided to step down and give Gabriel his title, not even Gabriel himself, but his father worked in mysterious ways so he did bother with questions.

“Duke Gabriel,” the Queen began, her tone measured as she kept analyzing him, “when do you intend to take a wife?”

He nearly choked on his tea at the question, “Your Majesty, I do plan to marry and fulfill my duties but it’s a bit to early for that.”

“Is that so?” The queen took a composed sip as her other hand caressed her dog’s fur, “You’re neither too young to be uninterested in marriage and granted you are also not too old to not be interested in settling down but you are no rake so you not being to old is of no meaning. So what’s the hesitation?”

Before he could respond, The queen held up her hand, “Are there any ladies that interested you?”

Duke Gabriel was not quite interested in ladies, it was not because he did not wish to marry he did but he did not have the time to stand and follow ladies when he had his education and duties to focus on.

“Between my studies and new responsibilities, I hardly have time to have a wandering eye for romantic pursuits, your majesty…”

“No need to wander far to find a suitable bride, my dear, my daughter who is close to your age is available and after all, producing heirs is part of your duty, as you well know.”

Gabriel coughed, uncomfortable, “I have no wish to tie my hands with a relative,”

The queen rolled her eyes playfully, “We’re not as closely related as before, but I respect your preference. The eldest daughter of Marquis Alarie is in search of a husband.”

Gabriel had seen Lady Margot quite at various gatherings, always creating a buzz. He had to admit she was rather striking when he thought about it, but he wasn’t sure if he envisioned himself with her.

“But isn’t the lady to young, your majesty?”

“She’s 19, and you’re a mere 20. A suitable match would you not say?”

Gabriel thought of it for a moment, “If the lady is willing to the idea, I have no objects to making her a bride and becoming a groom.” He bowed his head.

The queen chuckled warmly, “Oh, she’ll be more than willing, Duke Gabriel. You truly are a man of honor, much like a son to me. If only my own sons could be as cooperative and timely in their marital choices.”

Lady Margot was not as willing as Duke Gabriel would have hoped, instead she disliked him. There were times when Duke Gabriel was sure she would poison him, but she had to be around him to do that to his meals. It’s been some months since they have gotten married and Lady Margot could not stand to be around him. She would not have meals with him as she said ‘he gives me a headache’ nor did they share a bed together, her choosing to sleep in a separate room completely. In addition, Lady Margot disliked for him was quite strike that once she find out that the Duke liked long hair after he had complimented her hair, she had cut it short.

When he agreed to marriage, he never thought this is what it would be like- but he had to admit, his wife habits did amuse him, she was very head strong and for some reason he liked it, if only she would speak with him but alas, Lady Margot held no affection for him. He had no wished for this- if Lady Margot did agree to the arranged marriage he would not have married her, after all the marriage was both of their choices.

He was sitting down in his study room, going through papers written by his dukedoms of complains and suggestions, when his wife barged into his study room without a knock. He stood up a she entered crossed arms, and with a hand on his chest he bowed, “Lady Margot, what brings-”

He stood up in his tracks when he saw that she stood frozen as she faced him, her hands playing with her dress before she left just as abruptly as she came, slamming the door behind her.


He sighed, his marriage life was truly something else. He hoped that someday, she might warm up to him- but he doubt that someday might come. He wondered how his dear friend Lord Beumont was doing, he should certainly visit soon.

Another month had passed, and lady Margot was not showing any signs of warming up to him unfortunately. He decided he will go horse riding, he knew that Lady Margot liked to roam the estate when he was not around but when he was she would stay confined to her rooms as to not bump into him- so he was leaving to give her chance to roam around.

But before he could that, his butler had told him that a lady was here. Lady Coqutte, a lady who had previously tried to get his attention and from what Duke Gabriel had heard is married now. “Is her husband there with her?” The butler shook his head, “Strange, then what’s the reason for such a visit?”

He went to the parlor were the Lady sat, enjoying some fresh baked goods he had ordered to be giving to her. Sitting down he took a sip of his tea as he stared at her with curiosity, "Lady Coquette, it’s been quite long has it not? " Very long that he wondered why the lady was insisting on visiting him, she was married after all.

“I wish to see your face,”

He chuckled softly, the corners of his mouth quirking upward. “If your husband were to hear that, he might misconstrue your intentions, Lady Coquette.” Despite the years that had passed, her flirtatious nature seemed unchanged.

She simply smiled in response and continued nibbling on a macaroon, her demeanor both playful and calculating. “How fares your wife these days?”

“She is great.” At that, her smile dropped.

“Is she really?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Was all he responded. The lady did not say anything as she ate a macaroon,

“Why is she not down with us right now?” She asked.

He titled his head amused, “Did you not ask for it to be just the two of us to my butler?” She hummed. Standing up she took a closer sit next to Duke Gabriel who regarded her with curiosity.

“Duke Gabriel,” She began patting his shoulders, “You truly are-”

Before she could continue, a door had swung open with quick forced as a Duchess Margot stormed downstairs, smacking the hands’f of Coquette away from her husbands shoulders.

“Get your filthy hands off my husband,” Lady Margot said, her voice carrying a blend of anger and accusation. Duke Gabriel cocked his head to stare at her…

Lady Coquette recoiled, her cheek were flushed from the harsh impact, and she trembled a bit… Duke Gabriel’s was still trying to comprehend this moment.

“Leave this house at once or I shall have the guards escort you out,” Was Lady Margot next words. With a shaky expression, she nodded as she left the house. Lady Margot turned to her husband not saying a word as she sat next to him- this was the first time since their wedding that she was standing side by side with him.

“I wish to go horse riding,” She murmured, “I don’t know how to ride.” Gabriel just stared at her blinking, she was talking to him or was he imagining things? “I heard you were going riding, take me with you. I can’t stand to be in my room any longer” He nodded, worried that she might change her mind, he rushed to tell the butlers to prepare the horse as quick as possible.

Lady Margot only gave a smile in response


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pt 2

Duke Gabriel was irritating, he vexed Margot a lot. He was so- so him! He had not even bothered to talk to her since she came here, granted she would have turned him down, close the door in his face or ignore his words but she would have given in if he tried, if he just tried to show that he cared even just a little she might have talked to him once. But Duke Gabriel was heartless- no he was not heartless he was… the word for him seemed to not exist right now and it vexed her even more.

If Margot had not already cut her hair short, she would cut it again and again just to show Duke Gabriel how much she did not care for him, how much she despised this marriage that her parents forced on her to agree too. But Margot did not really despise the Duke, he was just quite annoying at times with his white flag self- always coming in peace, never angry, it’s like he was not human. Margot had never seen the duke angry or react with resent towards her actions, it vexed her how perfect he seemed and how imperfect she seemed that she wanted to keep making him mad till he snapped and dropped the facade but the more she did it the less it seemed like a facade.

She was tired of this, of not speaking to her husband, because no matter what, even if Margot did not like it she would have to give birth to a heir for him, it was part of the contract and Margot could not get a divorce, because that would be quite shameful and Margot had a reputation she wanted to uphold, so it would do her good to at least try and get to know the man she married. So one day she barged into his study room, even with the butler telling her not to and when she stood in front of him she froze. He was quite handsome, very tall- 6’0 to her 5’7 height, and his shoulders were quite broad and muscles bulged through the shirt he was wearing as he bowed. She flushed- bad thoughts, bad thoughts, Margot was a proper well bred lady she should not be thinking such things. So she rushed away, closing the door with as much force as she did when she opened it.

She wondered what the Grand Duke thought of her- probably nothing remarkable. She sighed, she was very upset when that filthy low birth Lady Coquette had dared to touch her husband- just because Margot was not talking to him meant nothing- Duke Gabriel was still her husband and Margot was the lady of the Fleur house, it was of high level of disrespectful for a woman to come into her household and try to seduce her husband, and why had Duke Gabriel not slap the filthy woman’s hand away? She knew he was nice- too nice for her liking but he needed to be less.

Though, it would be a lie to say that Margot did not thank Lady Coquette for doing that because it unexpectedly got her closer to her husband. Draw a portrait of this- her husband and her on a horse together, her hands wrapped around his waist because she did not wish to fall. She had not ridden a horse before, a carriage yes but a horse personally, no? And Duke Gabriel seemed to be excellent in that. “Slow down,” She said laughing- it was the first time Duke Gabriel had heard her laugh since she came here and he could not help but laugh along, her laugh was truly beautiful. “I’m trying to, i’m trying to.” He said with a laugh. When he halted the horse, Margot almost fell over, till Duke Gabriel grabbed her with his muscles, she stared at him and he stared back and it seemed like they were about to kiss till Margot pulled away and just nuzzled in his back as they made their way back to the manor.

As Duke Gabriel helped her out of the horse, Margot could not help but to smile, “I quite enjoyed myself, thank you.” Was all she said as she kissed his forehead and ran back inside embarrassed, Duke Gabriel stood stunned and blinking. Though it was not a lock of the lips, this was technically the second kiss they have ever shared since their wedding day. When they consummated their marriage, Margot could not even bear the thought of kissing him or looking him in the eye.

The next set of days, Margot had decided to share meals with him. She did not talk to him but just ate as she stared at him, analyzing him, watching his every move, which made the duke very uncomfortable. He felt like she was trying to find flaws of him- which technically he was not so wrong about that but Margot also just wanted to see him, watch his face.

“Is anything the matter?” Duke Gabriel finally asked as he took a bite of his meat.

“Mmmm,” Was all Margot said as she took a sip of her wine, “Duke Gabriel have you ever been in love?”

Wiping his lips with a napkin, Gabriel looked at her with a shock, “Pardon?”

“You heard me, have you ever been in love Duke?” She held her fine china glass in her hand as she moved it in circles, curious to see his answer. Seeing that Duke Gabriel was confused, and he was not going to answer that, she added, "Do you love me, Duke Gabriel?’

“Just call me Gabriel, and yes. I do love you,” He said sincerely, because quite frankly even if she did not love him- he loved her body mind and soul, it was one of the only things he was sure about.

Margot did not say anything she just stared back at him and at the food and ate. What a strange man he was- how could he love her even with? She shook her head, she had truly married a strange man and as much as she would not admit it yet, she liked that. Duke Gabriel was interesting to be around.

“Can I ask you a question, my lady?”

“Go ahead, Gabriel.” Gabriel smiled at the way she called his name. He had thought she would ignore him telling her to simply call him Gabriel.

“When you lock yourself up in your room, what do you do? There does not seem to be many enjoyable things up there unless I’m wrong.”

“I read,” She answered truthfully, “I like to read and sing, they are both two things I’m good at.”

pt 3???

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Azucena and Harrison ‘engagement’

Harrison, at the age of 22, has established himself as a man of responsibility. A year had gone since his return from boarding school, and the weight of his newfound responsibilities as an earl pressed like the pages of an ancient tome upon him. The attraction of travel called, a siren’s call he wanted to answer, yet reality bound him to his estate like ivy to the walls of his family house. With a sigh, he sent a loyal servant to travel on his behalf, bringing back fascinating tales of distant locations for him to immerse himself in through the ink strokes of another’s quill.

Harrison’s dedication to his duty became a mantle of heavy brocade, a garment that seemed to envelop him more fully than his own flesh, when he accepted his job as an earl at the early age of 22. The engrossed countenance that wrapped her kid, hiding him from her gaze, was recognized by his mother’s acute eyes. The loss of his presence hurt her severely, as if he had become an apparition within the hallways of Davis Manor.

And so, with the wisdom of a concerned mother, she set her sights on a potential match for her son- The Marquis Osuna’s daughter, Azucena. At first, Harrison had thought of her as unremarkable- she had a pretty face but she was just like any lady in the ton, without opinions of her own, and without any real hobbies of her own so he was reluctant till he actually got to know her.

Azucena was truly a remarkable lady indeed, her pursuit for poetry captivated him, but not in a romantic sense but more of pure curiosity. He was curious to see how far she could go with her poetry and passion and was very disappointed to find out it was not very far. She was hesitant, he could tell but he wanted to help her, he needed to help her whether it be a heroic complex he had or just because he had a thing for beauty- the arts, but he had to help her and nonetheless he courted her as his mother had wished.

Throughout the courting, Harrison found himself captivated by her presence, even if the captivation was not adorned with romantic red roses but more of flowers that bloomed friendship. Courting her provided a glimpse of another world, perhaps because even with him debuting since he was 20, he was the first lady he had ever actually officially courted to say the least and like many people Harrison was a curious man with a curious mother and thus he wanted to see how it was.

Though with Harrison not having any real romantic feelings for her and yet still being captivated by her face and personality, he wanted to kiss her. See how it felt to kiss the person he was courting, and whether it would raise any romantic affections in him.

But he remembered his mother’s words- Azucena should be different than all the ladies he had unofficially been with, and it was funnier to tease her than to think of her in such a way- Azucena was a sweet girl so when he had to had to break off the engagement- a mutual break up, Azucena and him were not as perfect as a match as his mother thought and Azucena knew that, so when they had to break the engagement, he felt a sense of remorse as he stood before her, his gaze steady and his words gentle. “Azucena,” he murmured, his voice a silken thread woven through the tapestry of the moment, “our paths may diverge, but know this - my friendship and support will never cease to be there for you.” Even if we both take different paths, you will always find a dependable friend in me."

Though with the engagement break off that was quite the talk of the ton for a while- the ton seemed to not have much business of their own to mind and especially since Azucena’s next season went unsuccessfully and Harrison did not court anyone again, they were still on favorable terms with each other.

But the question is why did they truly both decide it was best to break it off and neither held a grudge towards it, the answer was simple- they were just civilized people of intelligence.

“Brother, out of all the women you have been with, have you loved any of them truly, who was more favorable in your eyes?” Leonarda his youngest kin had asked,

“What a strange question. Why do you ask?”

“I want to know what love feels like.” Harrison chuckled at that,

“You’re too young for that but when I find out, I’ll tell you.” He ruffled her hair, “But everyone is favorable compared to the other to some degree.”

“How so?”

“Get me a glass of wine and perhaps I might tell you.” Leonarda rolled her eyes.

“You are unamusing ” His sister said before she stormed out and Harrison looked taken aback, now what did do?

His sister reappeared, a slender glass of water clutched delicately in her hand, her face with a frown… Harrison arched an eyebrow, his amusement evident as curled his lips. “Might you be attempting to perform a miracle, my dear sister?” he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes, “Turning water into wine, akin to the miracles of Jesus?”

“Reid finished the wine,” Leonarda confessed, making Harrison tumble.

“My wine?” “That young lad managed to consume my cherished wine?” Harrison’s voice was filled with amazement, his visage a mix of incredulity and mild wrath. Blast it all, who thinks that cheeky little rascal is? I wasn’t stealing my elder brother’s booze at his age!"

“That’s because you’re the oldest Harrison.”

“Oldest or not, that does not matter, maybe I shall send him to boarding school, he’s 19 after all.”

“Mother won’t allow that, now tell me Harry, do you want to fall in love?”

Harrison paused as he stared at his 12 year old sister, a hand under his chin, “Why would I not? After all, I find the aesthetic of love very, how do I say this- eye catching. I am very obsessive in nature and I want someone who will consume my mind, love is very terrifying and beauty is too and so the aesthetic of falling in love, losing control pleases me.”

Leonarda blinked, “I did not understand anything you said, but ok. Will you marry for love then?”

“Yes and all of you in this house will too.”

Leonardo tilted her head, “I still don’t understand why you like the idea of losing control badly.”

“I don’t have a deep yearning for it, to be quite honest, but there’s an undeniable allure in its elegance. The concept of a love that consumes me entirely intrigues me, a passion so intense that it borders on obsession. If it doesn’t set me ablaze, my dearest sister, then I find myself disinterested. Now, do oblige and summon Reid to our company.”

“You’re truly vexed,” she noted, a hint of amusement lacing her words.

“Perhaps I am, perhaps I’m not,” he mused with a nonchalant shrug.

“You know, it’s rather astounding to fathom that you, of all people, are the head of our family,” she remarked, a laugh escaping her as she saw his reaction, his hand instinctively pressing against his stomach.

“Honestly, I find it quite amusing as well,” Harrison admitted, chuckling softly, “Mother, without a doubt, wields more influence over the family than I do. At present, I’m merely the designated earl. But if not me or mother, then who else shall don the mantle of the family’s leadership?”

“Me.” Leonarda said confidently, causing Harrison to almost choke on the water he was drinking with a smile. “I will leave all the paperwork to you, you will be my servant but I will be the head of the house by everything else and the earl.”

“That’s a very interesting mindset you have,” Harrison said amused, “What if I cause a revolt?”

“You won’t.”

“Why won’t I?”

“Because I’m the youngest and you love me.” Harrison arched a brow at that and Leonarda rolled her eyes, “You know you love me, I am the sibling you love the most.”

“You are the sibling who is filled with the most delusion.” Leonarda pouted, quivering her lips and Harrison playfully covered his eyes, making Leonarda remove his hands from his eyes. Harrison laughed, “Fine fine fine you are my favorite sibling, do not tell the others.”

“I’m going to tell them.” Leonarda said as she ran out of the room as Harrison shook his head with laughter. How cute, he definitely wanted a child of his own.

@raviola - Azucena mentioned


Azucena: The Engagement

Diary Entry #304

If this were to be a monologue of joy, and a love that lasted, the opening line would be a metaphor. The words would flow like freshly bought honey onto freshly baked bread. However they slow, and they quiver, like tea from the pot of a fearful servant. I have come so close to it, running after the horizon in all of it’s color as I felt the grass under my feet pull me closer to the fine line setting me into the daylight.

But when I reach the rising sun, the earth stops, and the stars shine below me under the plane I believed to be a hopeful sphere, an orb of light discovered by science perpetuating us into a bright future. However, that three dimensional star, so close to reaching its potential did not exist. Instead, I could only reach the corner of the square, rigid and disappointing. My theories have been dough-rolled, reducing me to be cut into perfectly shaped cookies for someone else to enjoy. And it is because of you.

Harrison sat at the dining table with me, on the opposite head. Both appearing powerful, but lacking the strength to come close. He has read my poems, but he has not immersed himself into the meaning of my words. A jumbled mess they appeared, comparing myself to moonlight in a world always waiting for tomorrow. He was a stronghold, a fortress of negotiation and alliance. I was a wishing well, watching his soldiers take buckets of water without noticing the stardust blended into it. We were convenient appliances, playing pieces who seemed harmonious in our parents’ game. Drink from my waters, I’ll turn your fort into a home. Never throw in a coin, never wait for benefits not written on the contract. Was I not intriguing enough to make a wish on?

We smile apathetically, no words to exchange between our chapped lips. I pick a fork at my meal, at a loss for an appetite. “Azucena.” He says. “Yes?” I reply, encouragedly taking a bite out of my food as I prepare to listen. “I apologize, but I do not believe this compromise to be fruitful.” I dropped my fork, the metal clanking on the table before resting down on the floor, sinking with the memories and visions she was stitching in her mind.

I walked down the aisle in a white dress, I stepped before him as we shared vows we had grown to mean, doves soared, and people cheered as flower petals flew over them. Our many children played in the fields together, picking dandelions to give one another, telling us that they didn’t want to go home when it was time to go because they loved it so much. I walked into our piano room to watch him compose, sitting on the bench beside him as he sung me the melody he played. That vision was timeless, he lived in it now, and when his hair grayed, back when he was a boy too. In all of the pictures, I was beside him.

This entry did not start with one, but it will end with a metaphor. Our love was a house, we constructed it from the ground. We laid out the blueprint, nailed the wood together, paved the bricks, it seemed complete. But you moved out before we could finish it’s construction, Harrison. And I resent you for it. So now I sit on the floor, breathing in the scent of potential woven into each piece of oak.

I understand your reasons, I did not like you when I met you. My conversation was small, and my joy was fake enough for you to notice. You were everything I was supposed to love, and I despised that truth. I hated your discipline, and your image, I hated how happy you made the enemies I keep close. When you stepped toward me, my feet tugged me back from you, the sheer symbol for everything I stood against. If I let your figure close enough to mine, I would lose my balance and fall for you. Just like I was intended to. Just like I did not want to.

Your presence was a weight on my chest, but it took my breath away, and when I noticed you start to leave I wished you’d come back. I yearned to fight for you, but I respected myself too much to let you in. So when you tell me you wish to be set free, I will be your well. Your desires are my duty, and so you may leave. Perhaps one day I will succumb to the pressure and reel you back in, perhaps one day you will understand me like I tried to make you. Until then, it is best we stay civil, even if I dread it.

“Of course.” I feigned a sympathetic smile. “We may not be married, but that does not imply you are my enemy. I have the same respect for you, my lord. If you ever need someone to confide in, any favor, come to me.” I clasped his hand, my kind eyes sincere when I saw his eyes meet mine.

@Kristi harrison mentioned


Selewyn manor, 1768
“The arrangement” :

Selewyn manor stayed the same mostly the same as when Harold bought it, and when he married, he and his wife made no changes but they did fix it up a lot. The wood would’ve rotten and the walls would’ve cracked hadn’t they fixed it, and they even brought out some Jacobean era furniture that was catching dust in the attic and placed it in Harold’s study room. One of his “souvenirs” from his time serving against Jacobites was placed in the room. It was more like Harold was paying tribute to the few Jacobites he killed, knowing they aren’t his enemies because they found themselves on the other side of the battle, and he didn’t see them as evil people just becasue they’re Scottish.

Casimir was sitting down on a Jacobean couch in this very room, looking out of the window. It was his favorite room since he was a child because the furniture somehow looked like it fit with the rest of the house, whereas the furniture in other rooms was too new to fit with the way the house looked. The furniture never cluttered with the house, but in this study everything just fit together more than in any of the other rooms.

Mr and Mrs. Brantley’s footsteps were approaching the study and suddenly stopped as the door was reached. Silently, you could hear Harold’s words through the door “I believe we’ll find him in here, he’s always in here.” and he followed his words with three soft knocks on the door.

“Come in” Said Casimir.

Harold and his wife entered and settled on the chairs. “Casimir, my boy, we’ve got news for you.”
“What is it?” Asked Casimir, wondering why his parents seemed happy and couldn’t wait for them to share the good news.
“Remeber how you said if you weren’t wed by your 18th birthday, and we needed an heir, you’d allow us to find you a wife.”
Suddenly Casimir didn’t feel like smiling as he realized his whole life could change with the wrong wife. When he made that promise to his parents he believed by the age of 18 he would be more serious and act more adult and mature. He thought by the time he would be 18 he’d be more serious about his heritage and inheritance. He never felt pressured by his mother or father, but his grandfathers pressured him greatly, and he wanted to postpone it as long as he could … He promised them he would court whichever woman they find for him, and he would keep this promise, but he also didn’t want to decieve his parents and grandparents by courting withouth the intent to propose marriage to the woman sometime. He did court before, but it wasn’t serious, and there was no love in it, it was more out of curiosity and pressure that they ever courted, and neither ever wanted marriage.
Casimir sighed, but assured himself that though his grandparents might pick somebody in the interest of the inheritance or title, his parents would make sure for the woman to be acceptable to him, as in, him being able to respect and maybe love her.
“What is her name?” He asked, hoping he heard of her before. That way he could know what kind of person he is being set up with.
“She is the middle child, second daughter to a gentleman of our acquintance, Mr. Alvarez. Her name is Beatrice.” Said the mother, gleaming with joy that her son is considering keeping his promise. “Should I arrange a meeting with the family?” She asked, to which Casimir answered with a less than enthusiastic nod to her.
The mother leaving allowed Harold to express his feelings on the matter. “Your mother is happy to have found somebody she thinks you will like. I hope you can forgive me for not beeing braver in my youth whenI first met your mother … If I hadn’t complied so easily to a certain request this wouldn’t be neccessary.”
“Father … Don’t say that. If you hadn’t complied there is a possibility you never would’ve married mother. Don’t regret the past when it brought you more than the other possibility could’ve.” Casimir stood up from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me father, I’ll take a walk … I have a lot to consider.” To which his father replied with “Would you also be so kind as to consider being civil and courteous with lady Beatrice?” Casimir nodded and said he would, before saying goodbye to his father and leaving.

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Harold’s cabin in the woods, 1748
Pt. 2. of the love story

It has been a week since Harold and Florence met and both of them keep thinking about the interacion they had that followed the decision to walk off together towards his cabin. Harold was sitting on the bed in the morning, watching out of the window towards the infamous creek. He recalls how he was so deep in conversation with Florence that he almost forgot about the creek and she almost feel victim to it. Thankfully Harolld grabbed her by the arm when he realized she lost her balance. Suddenly they were in an embrace. Having not known eachother yet, they felt the embrace was awkward so the pulled away as quickly as they could and Florence felt embarrased she almost fell. Once he saw her become red in the face Harold knew she wasn’t blushing because of the embrace, but because she felt stupid for not noticing it and reacting accordingly or swiftly enough to avoid it. In order to make her feel less embarrased about it he tried to comfort her.
“I wish I had the same abillity to hide and stay hidden like this creek does. Would’ve done me well in the service.” He chuckled and she smiled, feeling a bit relieved.
“When I first walked through this land I actually did fall in the creek and it soaked the back of my pants. It looked like I didn’t know how to use the privy.” The way he said it made her laugh.
He softly took hold of her and said “Try not to laugh so hard, we’re so close to the edge we might fall in.” Smiling away, she nodded, and withouth a word the walked to a safer path.

“I wonder why you don’t know about the creek since it’s right outside your land.”
“Well in order to get to what is now your estate, I wouldn’t exactly jump the fence like we did just now. I’d enter at the entrance of the house. Why are you buying your house so close to yours?”
“Oh I didn’t get the house, I’ve only earned the land. I suppose I could build something on this land, but I find your home more charming. It reminds me of a home I used to admire. It was a lot more humble than your manor, but somehow your very big manor gives me the feeling the humble house of my father’s employers used to give me.”
Florence was confused by this. “You were allowed into the home of your father’s employer? On more than one occasion?”
“Yes … My father’s employer had but one son, and they were cut off from society. When I was young it was my job to entertain the young boy and not make him feel as lonely. The family made me feel as if I was part of their family as well. I was lucky enough to know the love of two father, two mother and a brother due to it.”
“That sounds like a perfect childhood.”
“What can I say but agree with you. It was a perfect childhood. I actually have the family to thank for my wealth now. See, when I was young they would host card games. It would be for a few shillings or less than that. In order to teach us how to properly use our money, and basic mathematics, the family would give us a montly amount of money, and then we would have to gamble with the family. It’s because of these early lessons I could outplay your neighbor and win all this.” He gestured to the woods. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s still land, and land earns money.
“Good for you, Mr. Brantley, to give credit where credit is due.” She smiled as she placed her hand underneath his, telling him she trust him enough to link her hand with his.
For a few seconds nobody uttered a word, only the crinkling of their footsteps on the leaves and the grass could be heard. To avoid awkward silence, Harold mentioned the creek.
“I was hoping to build a bridge over the creek so nobody could fall so easily in it, but half of it is on your land.” He said.
“What stopped you?”
“I realized half of it is on your land and I couldn’t start building something withouth the permission of your father. Then I also realized I probably shouldn’t walk over the creek since it leads to the back of your family house and that would surely stirr gossip.” They chuckled.
“Well, if I had the authority, I’d allow it.” She smiled, knowing that statement is true. “We could build one together?” She joked. She never did manual labor in her life and to a rich landowner this would also be a joke, but Harold didn’t see it like that. No, he took it seriously.
“I would take you up on that offer, Miss, but considering you’re selling the house, I fear it might be taken down if the new owner is somebody other than myself … Which mostly likely will happen.”
“Why do you think that?” She asked as they reached the cabin. She stopped in front of him until he answered the question.
“It is your father’s decision? I could tell he didn’t like me. I knew those rumors would cause me to not be able to buy the house, but no matter, I still have this land here to build mine.” She turned around to look at a small cabin around barren land.
“You haven’t started to build anything.”
“Yes, I still left a little bit of hope towards buying your house, and I was postponing the build until I actually have to.”
Harold and Florence stood outside the cabin not knowing what to do next.
Suddenly she spoke “Will you not invite me in?” She asked.
“What unchaperoned?” He asked, suddenly coming into his head they were alone surrounded by a thich patch of trees, with too much privacy for your, unmarried teenagers.
"Well … " His words made her realize it too, except it felt more dreadful to her, being a woman.
He realized she must feel unnerved and wanted to make her feel comfortable in his presence. He turned his head towards her house and said. “Look Miss Cropper. I can make out your manor from the clearing in the trees.” He noted. She looked over and he noted. “I bet if you ran fast you could reach it in under a minute.” Which statement she mocked. “No you couldn’t.”
“I could.”
“Well I know you could. In trousers. But I couldn’t, in this wide dress and those shoes that make my feet ache even when resting.”
“Forgive me. I should’ve realized you’re limited by your fashion.”
While she was calculating how long it would take her to run over it wearing her dress and heels and corset, Harold was thiking hard.
“Miss. Cropper?”
“Have you heard of a the game of hand-in-cap?”
“How could I not, I’ve played it once.”
“Then you know what it’s about?”
“Of course, it’s about making two items equal, if one is of a lower value either it’s value is increased or the value of the other item is decreased so it’s an equal trade.” Harold smiled.
“Then you understand what I’m proposing.” She realized what he meant, and couldn’t stop a smile from spreading on her face. He entered his cabin withouth a word and came out shortly after with male shoes with a heel and clean bandages. She smiled and asked “What is this supposed to repressent.”
“Well, the heels, which are apparently also popular with men, are meant to slow me down just as yours do, and the bandages that would restrict my breathing just as your undergarments do.” She laughed at his idea.
She laughed. “Are you laughing at me?” He asked, not offended, on the verge of laughing with her.
“Oh yes. I’ve never met a man who would so decidedly put themself in a bandage corset. I must tell you though, I’m not wearing a corset.” She made it sound dirty deliberately to get a reaction out of him, which she was given as his eyes went wide with realization.
“I’m wearing stays.” He laughed at her final reveal.
“Well it’s the same, isn’t it?”
“A bit less restrictive.”
“I was afraid my bandages might be less restrictive than a corset would be, never wearing one myself, so I’m glad you told me.” He opened the door to his cabin. “Would you be so kind as to allow me a bit of privacy while I put these bandages on?” She nodded.
When he walked out in shiny, blue, fancy heeled shoes she laughed at the notion of wearing it outdoors in such circumstances. It was unusual and that’s what made it funny.
They started the race and within a minute they reached the broken bit of fence and jumped over it. Harold was heading towards the place they came from, but she stopped him, saying “Harold, no! Over here.” She changed her course and he followed until they reached the servants entrance. She was the first to reach it and proudly shouted.
“Heh I win!” She put her arms up in victory while he smiled proudly at her. She then softly hit his shoulder, which was more like a nudge.
“What was that for?” He asked.
“You let me win.” She noticed.
“Now how could you figure that out?”
“Are you telling me that if I had male garments, I, a woman who hasn’t exercised a day in her life except just now, would outrun a soldier whose been training hard for days?”
“That’s where you’re wrong Miss. In the army I made myself a promise not to run faster than anybody, because I didn’t want to leave anybody behind. I didn’t intend to break the promise now.”
She blushed again, but this time she wasn’t embarrased. Again they were silent, but this time it wasn’t awkward and they enjoyed the silence. Underneath the arch of the door they were standing, breathing heavily from running so fast while gazing into each other’s eyes. Even though they weren’t in any embrace and they didn’t touch each other, like that did acidentally in the woods, their pierced each other with their gaze, which felt more private and sensual than anything that happened before. Who knows if they would’ve embraced each other had it not been for the maid who oppened the door. When this happened they were both flustered and with a rushed goodbye she escaped inside, while he trotted off towards his cabin.

@Kristi - I know you’re interested in their story :slight_smile:
Hope you like it


Blackwood Manor
November 15th, 1806
Corin’s 17th Birthday

“Mind your fingers, dear.” Marie, Corin’s mother, said as she helped Sebastian place an assortment of macarons atop the hearth.

The three of them had spent all afternoon baking treats for Corin’s seventeenth year celebration. This year was going to be slightly different. Although the Blackwoods typically celebrated Corin’s birth with large masses of food and drink in the chilly comfort of the outdoors, this year, the weather had crashed their usual garden party. Outside, the grounds of Blackwood Manor had been covered in a thin sheet of snow, and their small pond down the center courtyard had frozen over entirely.

So, they decided to pile their grand salon high with all sorts of international provisions and sweets. In early years, Corin became fascinated by the foreign lands scattered across his father’s desk and the remote locations mounted on the walls of his study. He would watch his father chart trade routes and build world maps from scratch for hours on end. Eventually, a blank map sheet was bestowed upon Corin, initiating his independent voyage into mapcraft.

As a child, he would sketch maps for the garden, listing every creature’s habitat as a new land and marking their travels across the ‘kingdoms’. As he grew older, his father began showing him the in’s and out’s of their trade business and how to map trade routes efficiently.

This year’s present was a testimony to Corin’s cartographical prowess. Corin and his father spent hours building a world map of sufficient demension to cover the floor of the grand salon. Over the months, his father imported rare and unheard of delicacies hailing from each realm etched upon their chart. For his birthday this year, Corin would get to taste the world.

“Come, dears, the salon is almost set with provisions. Let us allow Pierre to finish his work in peace.” Marie said, ushering her boys out of the kitchens and toward the grand salon.

The three of them swung open the doors to see a large map covering the wood floors underneath, and foods piled high on trays in each of the locations marked along a winding red ink trail. Sebastian squealed with delight and ran over to the first country on the food tour, France.

“Look, mama, our manor is first!” Sebastian said, using his finger to liberate the cream atop a lemon cake that sat upon the outskirts of Paris.

“Don’t touch, Sebastian. We must wait for your father. Sit.” She said, pulling the cushions on the side for the boys to sit on as they stared at the food in front of them.

“I think Pierre’s outdone himself this year.” Corin said, smiling excitedly at the array of treats. “I’ve never seen such an assortment.” He slowly reached toward the lemon cream as well only to have his hand swatted away by his mother.

“It was not Pierre, but your father, that arranged this. Be sure to thank him once he arrives.” Marie gave a stern stare and sat next to the boys just as the grand salon doors swung open. Seung-Jae walked in looking more disheveled than usual. A peculiar restlessness briefly clouded his demeanor, yet he promptly dispelled it upon entering and witnessing his sons’ smiles.

“Appa!” Sebastian cried, bounding into his father’s embrace. Seung-Jae laughed, twirling him in joyful circles.

“Now this is a celebration indeed!” Seung-Jae gestured to the trays. “Why are we not eating? Come!” Seung-Jae sat Sebastian back on his cushion and joined his wife on the floor.

“Why is it arranged in this pattern though, Appa?” Corin asked, his gaze drifting to the lines that traversed each country upon the map.

“This delineates our trade route,” Seung-Jae began. “Your present spans beyond mere confections, Corin. One day, you will govern these routes and all of the goods that pass through them. However, testing your product is one of the benefits of trade.” Seung-Jae smirked as he, too, extracted cream from the lemon cake. Marie chided her husband’s manners, yet found herself unable to suppress a smile at the likenesses her sons shared to him.

“Yes, decades from now maybe…” Corin rolled his eyes as he began to tuck into the treats laid out in the French section. The notion of assuming command over such an extensive enterprise appeared not only daunting, but highly unlikely, as his father was more than particular about how the business was run.

A look of pained irritation crossed Seung-Jae’s face only briefly. Long enough, however, for his wife to glean there was news he was not sharing.

“Boys, why don’t we finish these treats later? I should think you’d like to play in the snow before the sun sets. Run along.” Marie said, her eyes fixed on her husband’s dark expression.

Corin parted his lips to protest, but his mother quickly pushed both him and Sebastian toward the doors without another word. Confused, and somewhat irked by the fact he had been denied his birthday wish, Corin clasped his brother’s hand and guided him to the rear entrance. He gently moved his brother’s arms into a small woolen coat and fastened a scarf around his neck.

“Mittens.” Corin stated, holding the glove slightly ajar for Sebastian to slide his hands into. Sebastian grumbled as he worked his hands into the gloves.

“You know I hate the mittens, Rinny.” Sebastian mumbled as he tugged at the neck of his scarf.

“And you’ll detest frostbite more so, dear brother.” Corin chuckled as he donned his own coat and helped Sebastian down to the garden.

A pristine layer of snow lay untouched, reflecting the gentle sunlight in a shimmering expanse of white.

“Let’s build a snowman!” Sebastian ran into the snow nearly toppling head first into a peony plant as his feet pulled behind him.

Corin and Sebastian quickly rolled large mounds of snow, Corin stacking them neatly atop one another. The snow figure bore an uncanny resemblance to their failed attempt at cake the year prior, slightly too mushy, and leaning to one side. Yet, the brothers could scarce suppress their laughter as they adorned the lopsided creation with a medley of stones and twigs, crafting its rudimentary features.

“He’s perfect.” Corin said, standing back to admire their work.

She needs a flower.” Sebastian said, rummaging through the bare flower bushes looking for a stray petal or dying bud. He perched a minuscule, withering leaf atop the snowwomans head and smiled. “Now she’s perfect.” He giggled and bounced around at the sight of their work.

Corin clasped his younger sibling in an affectionate embrace before lowering himself onto the snow-covered ground. Sebastian emitted a delighted squeal, squirming as the cold embraced him, yet Corin held him steadfast.

“Hold on!” Corin said exasperatedly as he pulled a small box from his pocket. “I want to show you something.” Corin slowly slid the box apart and pulled out a singular matchstick.

“The fire!” Sebastian said, suddenly scooting in even closer to get a better view.

“You wanted to learn how to light your candles all on your own, so what better place than in a field surrounded by snow? Nothing for you to catch on fire.” Corin laughed, striking the match against the box. A small flame slowly emerged with a hiss and Corin handed it to Sebastian who watched it with awe.

Corin had always carried a small box of matches in his pocket. A strange habit he had picked up from his father who was a habitual smoker.

Around the age of 10, when he went off to school, Corin’s father gifted the small matchbox alongside his cartographic compass, symbolizing a means to “illuminate the dark and chart your own course,” as he his father said. An old compilation of Korean sayings Corin barely took heed too. Instead, Corin often fiddled with the box when he was nervous, something to anchor his mind when it threatened to roam elsewhere. This ritual appeared to soothe Sebastian as well.

As an infant, Sebastian would cry for hours on end. The only thing that seemed to lull him was the gentle crackle of a flame. Corin would often light a candle and watch over Sebastian until he fell back asleep. Sebastian was never allowed to play with the matches, of course, but that didn’t stop Corin from showing off or allowing him to light his own candles in private.

“Give it a try. Six years is nearly old enough to try your hand at it.” Corin said as he tossed the lit match into the snow and passed the box to Sebastian.

Sebastian tried over and over to no avail and slumped back into the snow, defeated.

“You’ll get there one day. Appa will give you your own box with your name on it and everything.” Corin said, tracing the engraving on the front of the box.

Corin lit one final match and smiled over at his brother who laid on his side, staring at Corin.

“Time for my birthday wish, Seb.” Corin stared at the match, wondering if his wish should always be the same.

“Let me make your wish, Rinny!” Sebastian pleaded, tugging at Corin’s coat sleeve. Corin smiled, lovingly extending the match to Sebastian.

“Make it worthy then.” Corin encouraged, his gaze fixed upon Sebastian’s contemplative visage, seeking a glimpse of the wish that lay within those pensive thoughts.

Sebastian blew the match out and scooted into the crook of Corin’s arm, smiling brightly.

“Well?” Corin asked, raising a brow, “What did you wish for?” He asked.

Sebastian tugged Corin’s ear down lower, using his hand to shield his voice from the world as if he was telling an important secret.

“I wished for you to always be happy on your birthday…” Sebastian said, giggling as he spoke.

“With you here? Always.” Corin replied, a grin adorning his face as he pulled his brother closer.

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Warning: Very long post ahead :sob:

Svet was an enigma of imperfections, a mosaic of traits that colored her existence. Svet was fair headed, a heiress, tall in both stature and rank, perhaps some might say naive, but perfect was something she was… Thus, it was the allure of the unattainable perfection that beckoned her heart toward a grander devotion—toward Harrison Davis, the future English earl. In the tapestry of his being, she saw all that she was not—free, charming, elegantly and expressive… A sonnet spun of eloquence.

Svet, always a connoisseur of accents, found her penchant for British inflections ignited in Harrison’s company. British men were not her ideal type- a departure from her norm as though they had lovely accents she found them boring, American men were more in her allure, they were mysterious as she had never met them and it made her curious. She knew not the taste of an American, yet she knew of their liberation and how free they were.

Harrison, the embodiment of what Svet imagined the realm across the Atlantic to be- the very definition of an American man while being british- unfettered, passionate, charismatic, strode through life as a traveler through boundless seas. Attributes Svet herself dared not possess, bound as she was to her legacy as a heiress. Her parents, though seemingly indifferent, had whispered promises of her inheritance. And so, she dared not tread with abandon; she was the heiress-in-waiting.

Awestruck by him, in love with him, or was it rather the emancipation he bestowed upon her that captivated her soul? Harrison was not entwined in the same adoration, oblivious to her ardor, perhaps her feelings eluding his perception. For Harrison, love’s nuances were puzzles beyond his purview, a sentiment felt and overlooked. Thus, Svet cast aside the veil, bared her feelings with a query for a kiss, the stolen innocence of first touch, a communion of shared innocence.

Their kiss felt like freedom, Svet was flying everytime Harrison was with her. They had to marry- it was only right they should, he was her first kiss and she was his. They have shared lips on lips, meaning that they should share a ring.

“Svet, come down” his laughter carried on the wind as she perched atop a rock, an ethereal figure against the sky. “For fear of a torn dress, come down,” young Harrison’s voice implored.

“Should I fall, would you catch me, then?” Her words danced in the breeze, mingling with her laughter.

“I would, but you mustn’t fall. Come down,” he cajoled.

“But I wish to be a bird for the day, let me take flight, I don’t want to come down” , arms outstretched, she dared to emulate flight, a silhouette against the sunlit heavens. ‘I don’t want to,’ a declaration of choice, a declaration of free will, of freedom.

“Yet, you must land with me, do you not wish to be by my side?” His voice, tender, was a whisper in the wind.

“You’re so prideful, why would I want to be by your side? Do not hold yourself in such esteem,” she countered, though within her beat the desire to be wherever he was. A pout danced upon Harrison’s lips, a playful grimace in response.

“You wound me, Svetlana,” Harrison chided, jest playing in his voice. “Good boys such as I deserve kinder treatment.”

“Good?” Svet chuckled, his laughter weaving with her own like a delicate symphony, a fleeting harmony that danced between them. Harrison’s rejoinder was a laugh that sang in unison, a shared crescendo.

“You’re a tough critic, Svetlana,” his words held a whimsical cadence, a playful melody that hung in the air. A moment of reprieve before her perch gave way, the rock a treacherous precipice. Harrison’s reflexes sprung into action, a dancer’s grace guiding his steps, his arms finding her form as she tumbled.

“I told you you will fall,” Harrison said, holding Svet tightly.

“And I knew- I knew you shall catch me,”

“I shouldn’t have, teach you a lesson perhaps.” He jested as Svet ran her fingers through his face, touching him, his face was so smooth, so fresh, not yet grown to have a beard. He was 15, after all, and she was 14.

She wrapped her arms around him as he was about to drop her, leaning in, she kissed him hard on the lips. Harrison had paused, before he sat down on the grass, her on his lap and kissed back. They pulled away, just laughing as they stared into the sky, and Svet did not notice her father behind them till he pulled her away.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Her father raged, his anger palpable and his knife gleaming in the sunlight. Harrison instinctively took a step back, his heart pounding with fear. He glanced at Svet, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and apprehension. Her sudden declaration had caught him off guard, and he found himself in a precarious situation.

Svet stepped in front of Harrison, her arms outstretched as if to shield him from her father’s anger. Her voice was surprisingly steady as she spoke, her words daring and defiant. “He is to be my fiancé,” she announced, her gaze never leaving her father’s. Harrison looked at her as if she had lost her mind. This was not part of their plan, not at all.

Her father’s expression turned incredulous, a mix of surprise and anger. “You will marry my daughter then?” he demanded, his tone laced with skepticism. Harrison’s lips pursed as he struggled to find the right words. This was not how he had envisioned any of this unfolding.

As the weight of the situation settled over them, Svet turned her gaze towards Harrison, searching for a sign, for something that would reassure her that everything would be fine. But to her dismay, Harrison remained silent, his gaze averted. It was a deafening silence that spoke volumes.

“You shall marry me?” Svet’s voice trembled slightly, a mix of desperation and hope in her eyes. She wanted him to say something, anything that would make sense of this chaotic moment. She had thought they were connected, destined to be together, their souls intertwined.

Harrison’s gaze flickered towards her, a fleeting glance that held a depth of emotion he struggled to put into words. But instead of answering her directly, he looked away, his gaze distant. “If the Lord sees to it,” he finally said, his voice barely audible.

Svet’s heart sank at his response. She had expected a definitive answer, a resolute declaration of his feelings for her. But his words felt like a dismissal, a way to avoid the question without outright rejecting her. She wished he could say yes, wished he could tell her that they would face whatever challenges came their way together.

Her father’s voice cut through her thoughts, his demand for them to marry by the following day. Harrison’s body tensed as her father’s hands gripped his arms, effectively silencing any potential protest. Svet could see the disdain in her father’s eyes, and it stung. This was not how she had imagined her love story unfolding, and the reality was far more complicated than the dreams she had cherished.

With Harrison by her side, silent yet strangely present, Svet felt a mixture of emotions swirling within her. Uncertainty, fear, and a glimmer of hope tangled together as she faced the impending marriage her father had ordained.

With her father’s command hanging heavily in the air, Svet couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down upon her. She turned her gaze back to Harrison, a mix of anticipation and trepidation in her eyes. She desperately wanted him to reassure her, to give her some sort of indication that their connection was strong enough to weather this storm. But the silence that lingered between them was deafening.

Harrison’s expression was a mixture of distress and something she couldn’t quite decipher. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, held a distant look as if he was grappling with his own thoughts and emotions. Svet’s heart ached at the sight. Had she truly misread their connection? No, she had not, Harrison was just confused, Harrison loved her, he had too, she loved him, they had been each other’s firsts.

“Svetlana,” Harrison’s voice finally broke through the silence, and she turned her attention to him, her gaze searching for some semblance of understanding. “I am honored by your sentiment on marrying me, but marriage is a serious commitment, one that requires time and consideration.” His voice was gentle, tinged with a hint of frustration. “I am too young for such a step and times for such marriages have passed.”

Svet gave him a look that could not quite be deciphered, she knew what he was suggesting- he was going to leave her, leave them. He was going to leave her to rot in this house, to be lonely to have no one while he will have all in the world because he was so free, he had been the one to ask for a second and third kiss, he had been the one to run his hands through her hair- to call her beauty, to kiss her forehead and when he had called him her he had not deny it- only smiled.

“Younger than us have been made wives and husbands already,” Svet replied, her voice laced with determination. “And besides, age matters little when it comes to matters of the heart. We are meant to be, Harrison. Can you not feel it?”

Harrison’s gaze met hers, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something soften in his eyes. But just as quickly, his expression became guarded again. He didn’t respond, and Svet felt a pang of frustration. She had expected him to embrace their connection wholeheartedly, to see the possibilities as clearly as she did.

“And those who married young are ruined in both mind and soul,” Harrison replied,

“You can’t leave,” Svet said again, “Make a promise, do not leave,” She begged, “If you do, I’ll jump off a mountain.”

“No, you won’t,” His voice was gentle, a mix of concern and disbelief.

“Please stay, don’t go. Tell me you love me,”

Harrison looked away at that- Harrison disliked lying much, especially when it came to love. He did not take the word, ‘love’ in vain and he was still so young, he had not lived his life.

“I am fond of you,” Is what he said instead, “You’re passionate,” He said as he kissed her forehead,

She smiled, she wanted to believe that for once in her life she was loved and free, and Harrison had just confirmed he loved her- he was fond of her, meaning that he loved her. “We will get wed then? I can convince my father to stall the wedding till we are of age, but you will be my fiance?”

“Tell your father to postpone the wedding,” Is what Harrison said and Svet nodded, wrapping her arms around him, she brought him to a kiss on the lips. Harrison did not kiss back this time, he was still, kind of cold but his lips were as soft as ever. “I love you Harrison,”

“That’s lovely,” Harrison said,

“I can’t wait to be your bride,”

“A wonderful dream indeed.” Harrison coughed, “Go and tell your father to postpone it, I might wait here.” Svet nodded, as she left she stared at Harrison once last time giving him a smile.

Svet had gone to tell her father and shockingly he agreed after the mother convinced him too, once she went back to the garden to tell Harrison. Harrison had gone, disappeared, and there was a note.

‘Svet, my sincere apologies, but I’ve caught a type of illness and passed out on the ground. A servant had come to pick me up and brought me to my house so I can heal. Have a good life, Svetlana.’

Svet held onto the letter, her heart sinking as she read Harrison’s words. A feeling of emptiness spread through her chest, and tears welled up in her eyes. She had been so close, so hopeful, and now he was gone. The weight of disappointment and loss bore down on her, and she sank to the ground, clutching the letter to her chest as she cried.

Days turned into weeks, and Svet struggled to come to terms with Harrison’s sudden disappearance. She couldn’t believe that he was just gone, that their plans for the future had been shattered so abruptly. She searched for any news of him, asking servants and inquiring with friends, but there was no trace of him. It was as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.

As the months passed, the truth slowly unraveled. It was a cold and rainy day when Svet received the news she had been dreading. A servant had come from the Davis, bearing a somber expression. She hesitated before speaking, her voice gentle but laden with sorrow.

“Duke and Duchess Raunch, and Lady Raunch, I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this,” The servant began, his eyes filled with empathy, “But Harrison… he didn’t just fall ill. He passed away.”

Svet’s heart stopped. The words reverberated through her, leaving an ache that cut deep into her soul. She felt as if the ground had been ripped from beneath her feet, and the pain was suffocating. She could hardly comprehend it – Harrison, the one she had grown so fond of, the one she had dared to dream of a future with, was no longer a part of this world.

Her tears flowed uncontrollably as she absorbed the truth. The pain was overwhelming, an agony that consumed her entirely. She remembered the times they had shared, the moments when she believed they had something special. And now, it was all gone, leaving her with nothing but memories and heartache.

In the following months, Svet retreated from the world. The garden that had once been a place of hope and possibility now seemed like a graveyard of broken dreams. She wore her grief like a heavy shroud, isolating herself from those around her. The days were a blur of tears, sleepless nights, and an unrelenting ache in her heart.

She held onto the letter Harrison had left her, reading it over and over again, as if the words would somehow bring him back. She found solace in the memory of his kiss on her forehead, in the fleeting moments of tenderness they had shared. But the pain of his absence was a constant reminder of what could have been.

It was worse that her father had decided to abandon their home country with shame, moved to Germany.

“Svetlana, what are you thinking of?” Belle asked her cousin who had come to visit all the way from Germany as they drank tea.

“Do you know a man by the name Harrison, Harrison Davis?” He was an englishman but maybe Belle might have heard of him.

“You mean Earl Harrison Davis?” Svet blinked, “Tall, curly haired, brown eyed. I know him, his mother is friends with mine, they talk business often.”

“He is an earl already, you’re telling me, he has not passed away?”

Belle laughed like Svet had said something incredulous, “I wish that was the case but no, any problems?”

Something in Svet expression shifted as she stared at Belle.

“He’s engaged, engaged to a friend of mine, Lady Azucena. She’s quite lovely,” Belle expressed with fondness in her voice, as Svet stared in disgust.

“I don’t like Lady Azucena.” Svet replied and Belle raised her brow. “Do you even know Lady Azucena? No so how come you don’t like her?”

“Her name, it displeases me.”

“Really? I think you guys would make the best of friends. Perhaps someday I shall have you meet.” Belle said giving Svet a look, like she knew something but looked the other way.

@raviola - Azucena mentioned


December 1805
Christmas Day
Ilyas and Corin’s first holiday

Reaching around, eyes closed, he uttered a low moan as a cascade of shivers coursed through him, rousing his senses. Gradually, he ascended from his sleep, propping himself up in bed. With a bleary gaze, he cast his eyes downward to discover his blanket had somehow ended up on the floor. There he sat, now fully aware, upon the modest twin bed, casting his gaze about the encircling array of vacant beds. In the heart of the room, a diminutive hearth of metal cradled the waning embers of the timber he had placed in there the night before. The brilliant shades of the school’s blue’s adorned the canopy above, the standards, and the bedding itself. A color, Corin thought, quite fitting for the winter storm outside.
His eyes drifted to the bed to his right where the only other occupant still laid, sound asleep.
Ilyas Keats snored lightly while he slept. It was often quite annoying, but on this particular morning, Corin couldn’t help but smile at his friend who slept so peacefully. As quietly as the creaking boards would allow, Corin crept down from his lofty bed and into the common room. It was Christmas break at the academy, and the only sound throughout the large, empty space of the blue walls was Corin’s own breathing.
Still shivering from the winter chill that seemed to seep in through every crack in the old stone building, Corin quickly added more wood to the common room fireplace. He pulled out a small matchbox from his pocket and ran his finger along the engraving on the front ‘너의 길을 밝혀라, 당신의 코스를 계획하세요, 창우‘.
Smiling at the reminder, Corin flicked a match to help aid the wood in rekindling. After the fire held its own, he wandered toward the window to see the grounds outside covered in a full sheet of snow.
Part of him regretted not making the short ride home to his family on Christmas Day, however, he knew he would have many more Christmas’ with them in the future. Whereas, Ilyas would need the company this year, and Corin was not about to let him stay at academy alone during holiday. Corin was well aware of Ilyas’ lack of choice surrounding attending the academy at all, on top of his distaste for holiday seasons. And despite knowing each other for a short six months, they had grown quite close. Therefore, Corin committed to making this Christmas the best holiday they could possibly spend together.
Corin smiled, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a long sigh. He would have to start working quickly if he was going to finish before Ilyas woke up. Thankfully, the other boys had already set a Christmas tree in the center of the common room and decorated it with wild colors of bright ribbon and dried fruits. Underneath it, multiple gifts wrapped in brilliant papers and bows already sat, labeled with one of two names: Corin and Ilyas.
Of course, the gifts were the most important aspect of any proper Christmas morning, and such is the Blackwood way, Corin was never short on delivering. Corin moved toward a bookcase on the far wall of the common room where he had hidden his gifts for Ilyas.
Corin had written to his family months ago, as soon as he heard Ilyas would be staying, and asked them if it would be alright to wait until the new year to visit home. In response, Corin’s parents sent multiple large presents for both Ilyas and himself, those of which currently sat under the tree. Even Sebastian pitched in his own present, a painting of Ilyas, Corin, and himself, not-so-neatly wrapped, and scribbled on with black ink.
However, Corin had planned a separate special gift for Ilyas. One that he had been preparing for quite some time as importing goods such as these without his father’s knowledge took great care. Corin plucked the gifts and wrappings carefully from the drawer and slowly began to assemble the present. An assortment of wines and liquors obtained from every country the Blackwood’s conduct trade with, aged, and sealed in ornate glass bottles indicative of their country of origin, sat in a neat row on the common room floor. Corin gently, as to not make a sound, placed them into the large ice chest which had been adorned with a leather casing alongside other metal embellishments. Tucked neatly in front of the bottles, he placed a small leather drinking flask which bore details of Asian architecture and design as well as a burned name along the bottom of the front face, ‘Ilyas’.
He wrapped the entire box in Ilyas’ favorite shade of deep maroon red, and topped it off with a black bow to mark it was from him.
“Now that is a proper gift.” Corin smiled, scrawling Ilyas’ name on a small name card he had attached to the bow. Corin gently placed it under the tree and stood in awe of the number of presents he and his family had prepared. Ilyas would, if Corin had any say in it, have a Christmas to remember.
Just as he places the gift, a low growl erupted around the common room, shocking even Corin. The sound seemed to be coming from his stomach.
“I suppose preparing a small meal to break fast would be quite nice as well…” Corin trailed off, already heading down to the dining commons. As he swung open the large wooden doors to the dining hall he saw it was as empty as the days before. Most of the staff had even left the academy to celebrate with family.
Corin made his way to the kitchens hoping to speak to Viola, the only remaining cook, about fixing up something worthy of a Christmas meal. As he rounded the corner he saw that Viola was gone as well. In her usual place at the bread counter sat a small plate of blueberry muffins. Corin read the note attached, ‘I shall be back by dinner tonight. Eat well. -Viola’. Corin sighed, grabbing a muffin and taking a bite. His mouth opened in protest before he could process the taste, and the muffin rolled off of his tongue onto the floor. Viola was never the best baker, and was known to confuse sugar and salt in her recipes.
“I suppose morning meal is up to me.” Corin spoke to himself as he rolled the edge of his sleeves up to his forearms. He moved to the ice chest to see what items might be left. A thinly sliced beef cut lay in the center of the chest, and Corin took it out to examine it.
‘It looks fresh enough.’ He thought to himself. He figured something meaty and warm would be best to fight the chill. Slowly, he began combining flour and salt, smiling at the memory of Sebastian and himself making pastries in his home kitchen.
He spent the next hour mashing potatoes, frying meats, and baking a thin crispy pastry layer to fill out a shepherd’s pie. Although not traditional, Corin very much preferred his with pastry separating the potatoes from the meat. He also managed to mimic his mother’s macaron recipe, find some stale bread and jam, and gather enough fruits to fill a small basket. The spread would be more than enough for the two boys. Corin filled nearby baskets in the kitchen with the provisions he had built and headed back to the common room, making one small stop on his way back to grab a necessary tool in awaking Ilyas.
Aside from the eager desire to comfort and please his best friend, Corin was also riddled with excitement at the prospect of opening their presents. As he reached the common room, Corin laid the meal out around the fire to keep it warm, and walked slowly back to the sleeping quarters. He held the object he had just gathered loosely in his hand, wriggling his fingers about around it.
Ilyas laid still, sleeping as soundly as he had hours prior. The sun was beginning to peak through the dorm windows, so Corin felt less bad about waking Ilyas. Corin crept to the side of Ilyas’ mattress, and a cool smirk spread across his face as he pulled the snowball out from behind his back. In one swift motion, Corin crashed the snow down onto Ilyas’ head.
“Merry Christmas!” Corin yelled, jumping on the bed as he snow littered Ilyas’ sheets.

mentioned: Ilyas @Madilnel


Baylor in Scotland
1 out 3

Baylor stood at the edge of the vast Scottish field, today was his first day out seeing the horses he had heard about so much. His keen eyes immediately were fixed on the majestic Clydesdale horses that roamed freely before him. His presence amidst this serene scene was a rare privilege, one he had secured through a web of connections and favors. As a representative of a long line of horse breeders, he had ventured to Scotland with the intent of studying these remarkable creatures. The Clydesdales possessed qualities that he believed could enhance the family’s bloodline of prized horses, ensuring their legacy endured for generations.

Armed with a leather-bound notebook and a pencil tucked behind his ear, Baylor approached the task at hand with meticulous precision. His first order of business was to sketch a rough layout of the field, marking the positions of each Clydesdale and any distinctive features of the landscape. It was essential to capture their spatial relationships accurately, a map that would serve as a valuable reference for future considerations. With his map in place, Baylor’s gaze moved from one magnificent creature to another. He noted their individual stature, the way their powerful legs moved, and the distinct conformation that set them apart. Every detail was vital, and he recorded them in a systematic manner, his observations organized not only by the horses’ physical attributes but also by their age, gender, and any peculiar behaviors he noticed. This thorough approach was essential in assessing their potential influence on the family’s breeding program.

The horses grazed gracefully, their massive frames exuding strength and dignity. Baylor marveled at their muscular build, a testament to what generations of careful breeding had not been able to achieve. Each Clydesdale seemed to carry a sense of regal pride, as if they were aware of their own magnificence. It was this inherent confidence that he caught his attention. In the distance, a stallion, its chestnut coat gleaming in the sunlight, led the herd. Baylor was particularly drawn to this magnificent creature. He observed the stallion’s powerful shoulders and sturdy legs, attributes he sought to instill in his family’s line of horses. With a practiced eye, he methodically jotted down notes on the stallion’s physical attributes, mentally cataloging them for future reference.

As the hours passed, Baylor’s initial intent to purely study the Clydesdales began to evolve. He found himself captivated not only by their physical prowess but also by their behavior. The herd moved together with a sense of unity, a harmonious dance that spoke of their close-knit bonds. Baylor understood the importance of not only the horses’ individual qualities but also their ability to work as a collective force.
Baylor couldn’t help but feel a sense of reverence for these creatures. They embodied the very essence of nature’s perfection. In more than one way, this natural breed had been more flawless than any human breed could become. In that moment, he understood that this experience was more than a pursuit of knowledge; it was a communion with the natural world, a connection that transcended the boundaries of human understanding.

With a final, appreciative glance at the Clydesdales, Baylor closed his notebook and took a step back. He knew that the insight he had gained from this encounter would prove invaluable in maintaining and improving the family’s horse breeding legacy. Yet, beyond the pursuit of expertise, he carried with him a newfound respect for the horses and the profound connection they had allowed him to forge with the world around him. It was a journey that held the promise of not only enhancing his family’s legacy but also bringing them pride in the generations to come.



December 1805
Christmas Day
Metz, France

Half a year, six months, a span of a hundred and eighty-three days, equating to four thousand three hundred and ninety-two hours. Regardless of the configuration, the duration since Ilyas last graced his familial abode stands resolute. In full transparency, he enjoyed the time away. He was having a good time at school, as hard are it is to admit that. The only thing that was a downer about boardingn school was the fact that it was all boys. Luckily, the girls school was just across the way. The frigid embrace of the chamber cradled Ilyas in slumber’s gentle clasp on this night. His mind embarked on a journey through fleeting dreams, a tapestry woven with recurring threads.

Invariably, Ilyas finds himself within the familiar confines of the ancestral bank, a realm he is destined to one day inherit. It was always dimly lit and there was an echo that he could hear coming from one of the hallways. The echo never resembled a voice, it was more of a clanking. He always found himself running towards the vault, but the faster he ran, the longer the hallway became. The higher up the stairs he found himself. The clanking sounding further and further away. Soon, he is ensconced within his father’s sanctum The office that Ilyas was expected to call his own someday. The office that had a balcony just over the grand entrance. The balcony he stood on as he watched robbers run away with all the money from the bank. He leaned over the railing. There was always someone walking behind the robbers, dangling a set of keys off their finger. That same clanking now coming from the figure below him as the keys hit each other.

As the dream tore through his mind, he tossed and turned in his bed. In no time he found a comfortable position nustled deep in his blanket. The air in the room felt crisp thanks to the drafty windows. When the room was filled with the rest of his classmates, it seemed to stay quite a bit warmer, but with just Ilyas and Corin here for the entirety of winter break it seemed chillier than usual. The winter storm not doing any help for them either. He hated to admit he missed his room back home. At school, he was a far distance from the small fireplace at the end of the room, but at his home estate, his bed was strategically placed. The fireplace right at his feet. He always thought he had the best room back home, possibly even better than his parents suite.

Bloody devil! Ilyas shouted as he sat straight up. His head covered in snow, that was now also falling onto his shoulders. He shook it off quickly and stood as fast as he possibly could. Corin you damn bootlicker, Merry Christmas, he offers, the phrase familiar, though the excitement understated.

Ilyas was never one to enjoy holidays, really any at all. It was mostly his mother fault. She tended to go all out for holidays adn well Ilyas usually ended up ruinign them in someway. Then he would get a stirn talking to from his father about how much of a disappointment he was and he needed to apologize to his mother. Then the evening ended with him in the greenhouse and his pottery. He could always hear the laughter and music bustling from the dancing hall. The ball or gathering his mother was throwing, not missing Ilyas at all.

Ilyas’s feet trugged a few paces behind Corin. Ilyas had a small smile on his face. Was he giddy? The companionship he shares with Corin alleviates the chill, fostering a realm wherein his inner boyhood is rekindled, shielded from the accelerated maturation expected of him. What is all this… An opulent sight awaits them beyond the chamber—gifts abound, accompanied by an exquisite spread of sustenance. Got me feeling like a gigglemug. He started to wonder when the h*ll Corin woke up to do this all and how hard was Ilyas himself sleeping! There was enough food to feed a group of sailers. Had Corin made this all himself? What a keeper.

A sense of vulnerability swells within Ilyas. Ilyas felt his shoulders drop ad he put one of his hand on his waist. He held up a finger to motion, give me a moment. He walked back to the bedroom in silence, listening intentley to the creaking under his feet from the old wood. He sat on his bed, taking in a sharp breath. He had never had anyone care this much for him. Especially not someone he had only known for 6 months. Half a year. 6 months. 183 days. 4392 hours. He slumped over a bit, letting his elbows rest on his knees and his head fell into his hands. Why did Corin even like Ilyas’s presence. It really puzzled him honestly. He wouldn’t let himself cry, he couldn’t even if he wanted to but in this moment a normal person would’ve cried tears of joy. Tears for a pure, loving friendship. Instead he reached down under the bed, pulling out a hat box that once belonged to his sister. He kept his dear items in here. He sighed in relief as he pulled out a piece of fabric that contained what he would gift his friend. Why hadn’t he thought of christmas presents? What an idiot. He mentally scoled himself. He stood almost too quickly that he stumbled to find his footing.

He turned on his heels as he searched through the rest of his things for anything to wrap the metal item in. An old letter crumpled around, a lacey piece of pale pink ribbon, that had come home with him after a night out, and a lopsided bow. It was not nearly as beautiful as Corin’s gifts, but it was all he had. He carried it in his hands, almost resemblinng the way you would carry a wounded bird. “Eh, it’s not much, afterall you have done this morning.” Ilyas told Corin as he outstretched his hands. Ilyas was proud of it though and hoped his friend would like it. Ilyas had been back to Germany only a few weeks ago. While he wasn’t there long, it was long enough to find a brass pocket compass. It was suited with a small carving of some wheat and hung on a heavy chain. He had been told it was a hutners compass, but hoped that wouldn’t make a difference.

“Now, no more warm and fuzzies. He gave his friend a nudge with his elbow as he walked past him and over to the food that was drawing him in. How was he not drooling yet? His fingers grasped a delicate macaroon. Had he told Corin they were his favorties. Ilyas smriekd as he took a bite. Letting the sweet taste take over his mouth. Not that I enjoy the snow, but I have never built a snowman. He told his friend with a raised brow, almost as a challenge. What else did they have to do? Might as well try adn enjoy the snow sicne they had a few feet of it now outside by the looks of it.


age 14- 15, girls boarding school in France

Belle had gone back to boarding school and her elder sister was married. The year that Josephine Fleur- Sorry, Josephine Blanc got married was on a day Belle was back to the house from holidays, perhaps the worst holidays to date because Josephine kept posturing her about how much she wanted to find the
best match.

Belle sighs as she reads a book in her dorms, maybe she was being a little harsh on her elder sister. Though Belle did not agree with most of her choices, she was still her sister who was simply product of her society. Last she heard from the newspaper that the students would sneak into the school- Josephine was pregnant.

How disgusting,

Was her first thought, after all that was way too early then again was it really? Hopefully the children were cute and Marquis Antoine Blanc was a good man, she did not have time to really meet him. What a shame. Probably because Josephine did not let her near him for a while, ‘you will intimidate him with questions’ was what mother and Josephine said. How funny, they did not have faith in dear Belle, she would just invite him for some tea and chat with him. She was a really sweet sweet girl after all. The sweetest girl in town perhaps- Belle laughed at that.

Tucking her doll beside her, Belle stared at her best friend Louisa who had come to board with her and they even got to be roommates. Well, that was not shocking, Belle made sure her father had a talk with the directeur.

“Louisa, are you roused?” She asked as she shakes Louisa. No response, if it was anyone else and not Louisa, Belle would have assumed that maybe it was true they were asleep but Belle knew Louisa well and the movements they were making in the bed showed that they were truly not asleep, so Belle pulled the covers off. “Awake and radiate,” Belle said laughing as Louisa gave her a look. “Come, let’s go and explore,”



Purple Sky Profile Header (2)
Fifteen year old Louisa Brantley was “sound asleep”. Suddenly, one of her eyes cracked open, revealing that the girl was in fact, very awake. At the words of her best friend, she snickered, fully opening her eyes. “Alright, alright. Halt your fire. I have awoken.” She sat up, smiling wryly at her friend. Pushing back the covers, she stood up, turning to make her bed. After making her bed, she crossed the cold floor to her trunk, pulling out a day dress. Asking Belle to turn around, she slipped off her nightgown, slipping on her day dress. Once she was dressed, she turned to her friend, regarding her with skeptical brown eyes. “Please tell me that we will not end up getting in trouble while we explore…?” She asked, sighing slightly. While Louisa herself was rather free spirited, not caring about societal norms, she really wasn’t a fan of getting in trouble. The last time she’d gone along with one of Belle’s plans, she nearly fell out of a window. Slipping on a pair of shoes, she straightened up, sighing. She braced herself for whatever Belle had planned. While she was her best friend, Belle Fleur could definitely be…a bit much.
@Kristi - Belle
I gave Regency era speak a try. Keyword being try.


Belle cast a rather sneaky look, her lips curving into a smile, “We won’t,” She said to Louisa’s worry of getting in trouble. There was no need to worry as they seldom could in trouble, it was only once they were caught being awake when they should not have but they had an excuse- studying so they were excused. “Our venture won’t be quite distant,” Belle assured. She simply wished to return a book she had taken without telling the liberian before they realized it was gone. Belle tended to do this often- in the school, there was a ‘restricted’ section that Belle tended to be curious about, what made the books forbidden and if they were so forbidden then why were they in the school’s library? Was it in an effort to tempt them? If so, the temptation was working for Belle, she was a curious being after all-* she could not help being curious, in the same way that curiosity could not help being her mother. “I’m returning a book from the forbidden section again, and I want to read more of pregnancy, Josephine is with a babe.” Belle confirmed as she pursued her lips.

Her sister being with a babe, still disturbed her, she was quite young still in Belle’s mind and on labor day then Belle shall be an aunt. Truthfully she thought, if she shall be an aunt at this ripe age then it shall come from Thomas certainly not Louis though he was the eldest and heir to the Duke title and not Kat because she was too young and had a mind quite similar to Belle (Belle had been her tutor after all) for that, she had not expected it from Josephine too though she knew she will marry before Thomas or Louis. “The idea of being an aunt does not please me much,especially since I don’t know Marquis Antoine well. Can you believe, my sister refuses to have me conversant with her husband. She fears I will make him uncomfortable with questions, I don’t know where does ideas came from.” Belle said with a pout, “I just wanted to see if he shall truly be a good match for Josephine but it seems as long as the man face is handsome and he is of a good title, either ways Josephine would see him as a good match for herself. Almost all the elder kin in my life lifestyle displeases me- my cousin, perhaps one of my favorite people in the world she’s still lovesick over a man who left her some years ago, my mother loves me but does not like me much and I feel her sentiment. I love my mother but I dislike her at the same time, My Aunt Camille is perhaps more sensible compared to Mother butf I dislike her treatment towards my cousin.” Belle ranted.