Bridgerton | Official RP Thread


Created by @benitz786 and @Littlefeets

Lady Whistledown's Last Edition


Gather close, dear readers, for I am about to unveil a world where elegance dances hand in hand with scandal, where propriety hides countless secrets, and where love is a dangerous game played by those bound by society’s rules. Welcome to the intoxicating world of Bridgerton.

I, Lady Whistledown, your ever-watchful guide to the inner workings of the ton, shall regale you with the most tantalizing tales of the highborn and influential families that grace the grand ballrooms of London. It is a world where whispers carry more weight than words spoken aloud, and a single glance can set hearts ablaze or shatter dreams.

In this Regency era, where corsets are tight and social mores even tighter, the society is ruled by a web of connections, alliances, and unspoken desires. But fear not, for beneath the polished veneer of polite society lies a vibrant undercurrent of passion, ambition, and intrigue. Scandal lurks in every opulent corner, as love affairs bloom in the shadows and forbidden romances kindle under the watchful eyes of the ton.

Follow me as I delve into the lives of all the esteemed families this season, their triumphs, their heartaches, and their darkest secrets. As the anonymous chronicler of society’s scandals and secrets, I shall expose the truth behind the facades, peel away the layers of deception, and offer you a glimpse into the hearts of those who dwell in this gilded world. The ton may be a labyrinth of whispered rumors and hidden desires, but fear not, dear readers, for with me as your guide, no stone shall remain unturned.

So, step into the sumptuous ballrooms, where the music swells and the dance of intrigue begins. Immerse yourself in a world of forbidden love, breathtaking betrayals, and the eternal pursuit of happiness against all odds. For in the glittering realm of this society, where appearances are everything, the truth lies hidden beneath the shimmering surface, waiting to be revealed by none other by me, Lady Whistledown herself.

Yours Truly.

Welcome to the captivating world of Bridgerton! This RP takes place in Regency London, 1811, with a unique twist. The familiar characters like the Bridgertons and Featheringtons don’t exist here. Instead, it’s all about your characters, their families, and the dramas that unfold.

Our journey begins with the prestigious opening ball, where debutantes are presented to society. The Queen’s discerning eye will judge them, revealing their value in this year’s search for her diamond. This RP delves into the opulence of the ton, the dance of courtship, and the pursuit of status and love.

Craft your own narrative as headstrong debutantes, mysterious suitors, or members of the aristocracy. Explore a world of glamour, romance, and intrigue, where whispered rumors and stolen glances shape destinies. Welcome to the intoxicating realm of Regency London—it’s time for your story to unfold.

Forum and RP Regulations

PG-13 Bridgerton Rules (And honestly general forum rules):

  1. Language and Profanity:
  • Cursing is allowed, but please use * or blur certain letters to partially obscure strong language.
  • Avoid excessive or explicit profanity that goes beyond the PG-13 rating.
  1. Mature Content:
  • Romance and relationships are permitted, but keep scenes and descriptions within a PG-13 boundary.
  • Intimate scenes should be implied rather than explicit.
  • Graphic violence and explicit gore are not allowed.
  • No graphic/detailed descriptions related to sex, drugs, violence
  1. Respectful Behavior:
  • Treat all members with respect and courtesy both in-character and out-of-character.
  • No bullying, harassment, or hate speech will be tolerated.
  1. Sensitive Topics:
  • Handle sensitive themes (such as abuse, self-harm, mental health) with care and discretion.
  • Avoid explicit or triggering content related to sensitive topics.
  • Please place a warning before these topics are discussed
  1. Post Length and Quality:
  • Aim for well-written posts that contribute to the story.
  • While there’s no strict word count, avoid one-liner responses.
  • Aim for 6 WELL WRITTEN sentences per post.
  1. Non-Consensual Content:
  • All interactions must be consensual between characters and MUST be consensual between RPers.
  • Non-consensual or explicit content is not allowed.
  1. Character Limits:
  • Avoid overpowered or Mary Sue/Gary Stu characters.
  • Characters should have flaws and limitations.

Click here for Signups & Chat
Click here for Planning Form (to find RPers who want to plan secrets)
Click here for Face Claims
Click here for Relationship Slides
Click here for General Slides
Click here for Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers
Click here for Misc Thread
Click here for Event List

Question Threads

Madi’s Characters
Kristi’s Characters
Jass’ Characters
Kate’s Characters
Levi’s Characters

Group Tag: @TheBridgertonRP - Make sure to join if you haven’t already!




In the opulent ballroom of Buckingham Palace, the Queen reclined upon her ornate throne with an air of timeless elegance. Her regal presence, an embodiment of grace and authority, cast a commanding aura across the room. This was not her first time presiding over such gatherings, it would hardly be her last, and her poise exuded the calm confidence of one well-accustomed to the grandeur of high society.

As she awaited the debutantes, her thoughts danced through the annals of history. She had witnessed countless seasons, each unveiling a new tapestry of ambition, desire, and societal intricacies. This season, like those before it, held its own promises and secrets. But one thing remained the same - her art of picking a diamond. Usually, these diamonds had favorable matchings - proving the queen’s keen eye in such matters. Sometimes…. Only sometimes they disappointed her. But that was a rare occurrence.

The Queen’s gaze, though serene, concealed a keen and discerning spirit. Behind those ageless eyes lay the wisdom of a monarch who had navigated the intricate waters of the ton for decades. And now, as the young women readied themselves to approach her throne, she prepared to meet them with the same grace and composure that had defined her reign with her King.


It wasn’t long from the moment the queen took her throne - surrounded by members of the ton eagerly awaiting the start of the presentation - from when the first name was announced to meet her presence. After all, it was never wise to keep the queen waiting. For a second, her eyes graced the announcer, and then her ears were met with the girls who would be judged by her first.

“Miss Maisie Rutherford, and Miss Priti Mehta. Both presented by the right honorable Countess Addington.”

The Queen wasn’t dense - she had done her due diligence in learning about all the girls who were to be presented to her this season. And while usually, two girls being walked down by someone who was not their mother might raise eyebrows, it did not for the Queen. She, of course, knew all - and she knew that neither had a female family member to present them. Sorrows and prayers for their mother - hence relying on a family friend. Was it proper? Perhaps not - but was it understandable, yes. Especially with the respect the queen held for Countess Addington.

The queen’s eyes first fell upon a young lady, Maisie Rutherford, who was the daughter of an Earl. She watched as Maisie approached her throne with a sweet smile, one so infectious that it may have threatened to coax a grin from the Queen herself, if, of course, she wasn’t trained not to make any slight movement. After all, the ton was watching - as they should. But they weren’t privy to the Queen’s thoughts and opinions until she allowed them to be.

Maisie’s curtsy was executed with practiced precision, a testament to her upbringing. Something that even the layman’s eyes would have noticed. The Queen, ever keen on details, couldn’t help but notice the cream-colored dress Maisie wore. It was a dress that whispered of memories, of days long past. Her Majesty’s brow quirked slightly, but she made no comment, understanding the sentimental value such attire held. Especially if the dress had been her mother’s - a nod to a lost woman. But also an indication that perhaps this girl wasn’t ready to be on her own yet.

As Maisie began to speak, there was a momentary lapse, a fumble, an apology. The Queen’s observant eyes caught the subtle reddening of cheeks, the quiver in her hands, a sign of genuine nerves. She appreciated the display of vulnerability. It was a reminder that, despite the grandeur of the court, these were but young souls seeking approval and acceptance. But was she going to be her diamond? No. There was no doubt in her mind that this girl, while very trained, was not even close to receiving that honor.

“Breathe, my dear,” the Queen observed, her words soft yet commanding, commanding the rapt attention of all present. “Your mother, I am quite certain, would have assured you of your readiness for the season. Though youth may grace your countenance, there lies a great expanse of learning ahead. And I dare say, she would have been correct in her counsel.”

There was a sparkle in the girl’s eyes as she responded, a small voice indicative of the child she was.

“I can only hope that I am fortunate enough to find a husband who looks at me the way his Majesty looks at you.” And with the smallest of smiles - one that likely only Maisie could note - the queen turned her attention elsewhere.

Turning her attention to Priti Mehta, a name that hinted at a different culture, the Queen observed the confidence in her approach. Priti carried herself with poise and eloquence. Much like her name, Priti’s attire wove a unique blend of cultures, a tapestry that intrigued the Queen. She herself had always been an advocate of embracing differences, having paved the way for her people during what had been long forgotten as “The Great Experiment.”

Priti’s attire, a dark blue and gold dress, stood out amidst the more traditional gowns of the ton. The Queen admired this deviation, a celebration of diversity and a connection to Priti’s heritage. With her keen sense of curiosity and appreciation for various cultures, the Queen welcomed the fresh perspectives that Priti brought to her court.

As Maisie had done before her, Priti executed a flawless curtsy, though her voice held a distinctive quality as she addressed the Queen as “Your Majesty.” This deviation promised a refreshing change for the upcoming season, a subtle but welcomed shift. However, the Queen’s gaze lingered on Priti’s exposed scar, peeking out from the top of her glove on her right arm. It was a silent testament to an untold story, sparking the Queen’s curiosity. Despite this, Her Majesty refrained from prying, instead offering a warm smile to acknowledge the unspoken strength behind that scar.

“Such as your companion, I look forward to witnessing your presence in the ton this season, Miss Mehta,” the Queen remarked, her words carrying a subtle but unmistakable note of approval.

Then came the gift, a purple and gold dress - or, as she soon learned, a “saree” - from India. This thoughtful gesture did not escape the Queen’s notice. She expressed her gratitude with a nod, recognizing the profound bridge that such a gift represented between two distinct worlds.

Honestly, this was a good start. both presentations were a blend of tradition and individuality, each with its unique charm. As they departed, the Queen couldn’t help but appreciate the diversity of her court and the stories that each newcomer brought with them. While neither debutante had captured her heart entirely, they had made their mark, and the Queen would remember them as the evening’s festivities continued.


“Miss Belle Rose Fleur, presented by her aunt, the right honorable Duchess Raunch.”

There was a faint hint of distaste that passed over the Queen’s features at the knowledge of Belle’s mother’s absence. The delay by the French royal family had left an unsavory taste in her mouth, and the notion of choice weighed heavily. Nevertheless, as Belle entered her view, the Queen’s countenance remained composed, her expression as regal as ever. Belle’s beauty and grace were undeniable, a testament to her impeccable breeding.

The Queen appreciated the warm and respectful curtsy that accompanied Belle’s introduction, a reflection of her family’s aristocratic upbringing. But, as Belle bowed, a small mishap occurred – her bracelet catching on her dress as she uttered the words, “Your imperial grace.” It was a minor stumble, promptly acknowledged and brushed aside as Belle moved past it with admirable grace and candor.

“Even in the most seemingly perfect situations, it seems that nervousness can create imperfections that are out of control,” Belle offered, her words laced with humor and a touch of self-deprecation. The Queen couldn’t help but appreciate the candor and recovery, although she noted a slight downturn of her lips at the use of “Your imperial Grace,” a title not typically used for her over the years.

The Queen’s eyes then shifted to Belle’s attire, a handmade dress that bore evidence of care and attention to detail. It was a dress that whispered of individuality and a spirit unconfined by societal norms, qualities that both intrigued and raised questions. The Queen respected the audacity but harbored reservations about a Duke’s daughter designing her own attire.
Looking at Belle, the Queen inquired, “I do hope young Josephine is doing well? She was a testament to the charm of your family. Your debut has been much awaited, and I hope the future holds similar promise for you.”

The time came for Belle to present her gifts. Her Majesty accepted them graciously, acknowledging Belle’s offerings, which included a collection of poems and prose celebrating her reign’s elegance and grace, as well as a French amethyst and pearl necklace, each amethyst bearing her name - Queen Regina. The Queen’s eyes shimmered with appreciation as she spoke. “Your thoughtfulness and talent are most commendable, dear Belle. I shall treasure these gifts as a testament to your admiration.”

With a nod, she signaled for her staff to take hold of the offerings. Belle’s presentation, though not without its quirks, had left an impression. The Queen couldn’t deny the allure of a young debutante who dared to be different in a world that often demanded conformity. However, the question remained whether Belle could successfully navigate the fine line between daring and abhorrent.


"Miss Lilly Grace Axbridge, presented by….” The Queen listened, her attention waning as the procession continued. She subtly signaled her maid, indicating the need for a refreshing sip of water before her gaze returned to the front of the room.

Lilley entered the room, clad in an elegant dress that melded tradition with personal preference. Her poised curtsy and respectful address, a simple “Your Majesty,” garnered the Queen’s approval. Clearly, Lilley had been meticulously trained in the intricacies of such formal occasions, and her demeanor reflected her upbringing.

The young debutante was flanked by her mother and aunt, a display of familial support and unity that did not go unnoticed by the discerning eyes of the Queen.

Lilley’s attire was intriguing. Her dress, crafted from fabric steeped in history, featured delicate gold and silver roses and scholars intricately embroidered upon it. Hints of pink adorned the sleeves, while lace-trimmed hems added a touch of delicacy. The ensemble, while elegant, conveyed a sense of modesty and simplicity that seemed at odds with the grandeur of the occasion, raising an eyebrow in the Queen’s discerning gaze. Was it a prod from the girl that this was not the most important occasion of her life? Hm.

One detail, however, did catch the Queen’s interest—the vibrant color of Lilley’s hair. Its striking hue, in stark contrast to her mother’s, seemed to draw inspiration from her aunt’s rich locks. It was a striking and memorable feature.

Yet, despite Lilley’s grace and poise, she did not quite reach the status of the Queen’s diamond. Her presentation was flawless, yet it lacked the captivating allure required to leave a lasting impression. With a nod, Her Majesty gracefully acknowledged her and prepared to greet the next debutante.


“Miss Abigail Flora Brantley, presented by her aunt, the right honorable dowager Baroness Fitzroy.”

The Queen’s attention was piqued as another young lady, not known for her status, made her way to the throne. The Brantley family’s rapid rise from the working class to newfound wealth had stirred the Queen’s curiosity. It was, in a way, an experiment in social adaptation - a test of how seamlessly they could transition into their newfound station.

There was a discernible nervousness in the girl’s demeanor, something the Queen, with her seasoned gaze, could easily detect. As Abigail approached, a mix of nerves and something else, perhaps admiration or even fear, flickered beneath her smile.

With a practiced curtsy and the words “your majesty” on her lips, the Queen observed every move.

Abigail continued to speak, “I feel lucky to be presented to you today. It’s not often one has the chance to meet strong willed women in powerful positions, and there’s even less of a chance to meet one in such a powerful position as your own. I’m sure you’ve inspired many before me, and would continue to do so, I just wanted to express my gratitude. Thank you Ma’am.”

While it wasn’t entirely proper to speak without being addressed first, the sincerity in Abigail’s words resonated with the Queen, prompting a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

The Queen’s gaze then shifted to Abigail’s attire. Her pink amaranth dress, adorned with a distinctive cross-stitched pattern, was elegant yet modest—a fitting choice in the Queen’s eyes. The double pearl choker and white feather headpiece added a touch of refinement to her ensemble.

However, Lady Whistledown’s rumors about Abigail’s family lingered in the Queen’s mind—stories of cheating to gain wealth and power, whispers of embezzlement, and a clandestine affair. Despite this, the girl before her appeared sweet and innocent, embodying the qualities of a proper lady.

“I’m intrigued to observe how a young lady of your grace will navigate the season’s opportunities," the Queen stated with regal poise, her words carrying a subtle hint of approval tinged with a touch of reservation, “and possibly establish a foundation for your family’s presence at court in the years to come.”

Ultimately, Abigail’s presentation left an impression, but the Queen remained mindful of the shadows cast by the rumors.


“Miss Lydia Ophelia Ellis, presented by her sister, Miss. Aurelia Juliet Ellis, and their mother, the right honorable Dutchess Ellis.”

Now, this was a girl that the Queen was quite interested to see - and perhaps even the ton noticed, with her stature changing so that she could watch more closely. What could she say? She despised being wrong with her diamonds, and last year’s diamond was about to walk through those doors with her little sister. Of course, the Queen understood that misfortune could not be planned - and her diamond had sustained injuries that resulted in her early release from the season. But perhaps, if this child was as elegant as her sister had been the previous year, The Queen would have her diamond - one that she had yet to find as of yet.

Watching the doors closely, the Queen met her eyes on the previous diamond - a subtle smile on her lips and an elegance that rivaled her first presentation. She looked no longer hurt and recovering as the Queen had heard; rather, in front of her was a composed young lady who had grown yet another year.

Her sister, on the other hand, was another issue, however.

As Lydia made her way towards the Queen, her presentation was far from ideal. Unlike others who meticulously planned their introductions, their bows, their words, Lydia seemed to approach the Queen with an air of nonchalance, displaying an almost defiant attitude. The queen could sense it - see it in her eyes - and it brought a distaste to the queen’s lips - especially seeing as their mother was a close friend of hers. The Queen had expected better from her daughter.

Dressed in a striking emerald green gown that set her apart from the rest, at the very least, she looked the part of a diamond, despite not acting like it. With a subtle frown, the Queen leaned back on her throne - her previous interest diminished as she continued to watch the girl. Soon meeting the front, Lydia curtsied with a regal “Your Majesty,” with confidence… or perhaps a tinge of indifference. Walking by her side were her mother and Aurelia, the latter likely beaming with pride, while the former might have been concerned about Lydia’s unconventional approach. The Queen couldn’t help but feel a tinge of annoyance at Lydia’s lack of regard for the significance of the moment.

So, instead of directly talking to her, the Queen allowed her eyes to settle on someone that was far more interesting at the moment. Her sister - her former Diamond… and technically, she still partially was a diamond as her hand was not yet taken.

“Miss. Aurelia Ellis, your grace and poise continue to shine, despite the challenges of last season. It appears your injury has healed, and you shall serve as my former diamond in the quest for a favorable match this season,” the Queen acknowledged, her tone regal and appreciative.

Aurelia responded with a subtle yet graceful smile. “Of course, your majesty. I hope to bring honor to both you and my family this year.”

The Queen’s gaze then shifted to Lydia, her demeanor cool and composed as she delivered a subtle remark, “I do hope your sister’s impending marriage might inspire you towards a more… conventional path,” her words carrying a hint of disapproval. With a nod, she signaled for the two sisters and their mother to move along, making it clear she expected a higher level of decorum from Lydia in the future.

As Lydia’s unconventional presentation concluded, the Queen couldn’t deny the lingering annoyance. It was clear that Lydia had a rebellious streak, and her indifference toward societal norms might prove to be a challenge in the season ahead.


The grandeur of the presentation hall hung heavy in the air, anticipation mingling with the soft strains of classical music. Perhaps people understood that they were down to their last few debutantes, and the Queen had yet to choose her diamond. Though it was not unheard of for the Queen to delay her decision until the first ball, people were likely wondering when the announcement would come.

“Miss Adeline Grace Delaney, presented by her mother the right honorable Marchioness Delaney.”

As the next name was announced, the Queen waited in quiet anticipation and found Miss Delaney—a vision of grace and charm. Adeline made her way down the aisle, her every step imbued with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. Her emerald-green gown flowed with her movements, intricate lace and embroidery enhancing its already mesmerizing beauty.

Walking alongside her was her mother, Amelia Delaney, a prominent figure of her own debut season years ago, who had also been a debut diamond in her time. The weight of expectations likely rested heavily on Adeline’s shoulders as she followed in her mother’s prestigious footsteps, and it showed in her eyes. There was an unmistakable sense of determination that the Queen could see in the girl, and truly, the Queen liked it. Perhaps it was how lackluster the previous presentation had been, but Adeline was exuding an aura of “utter perfection” to her.

As she approached the Queen, the Queen observed for any missteps. However, with a graceful curtsy, her movements were elegant and respectful. The Queen heard her confidently address her as “Your Royal Highness,” and with a gentle smile, her voice was clear and respectful. Adeline’s eyes held a mixture of admiration and gratitude, meeting the Queen’s gaze with genuine appreciation for the honor of standing in the royal presence.

Adeline’s demeanor remained poised and confident as she rose from her curtsy, and there was an air of composure around her, perhaps a testament to her upbringing and her ability to handle the pressures of the Ton. A feeling welled up within the Queen, as it did every year, and she just knew, as she always did, that this was her diamond.

No words escaped her lips; instead, for the first time, the Queen rose from her throne, walking toward the girl as her staff attended to her gown. Approaching Adeline, the Queen locked eyes with her, a knowing smile playing on her lips as her hand gently lifted Adeline’s chin. “Flawless, my dear,” the Queen murmured in a tone audible only to the two of them. And with those words, the Queen brought her lips to her diamond’s forehead, placing a delicate, reverent kiss upon it—a gesture that spoke volumes to the Ton: the Queen had found her gem in Adeline.


While the Queen had found her diamond, that did not mean that there weren’t still girls to be seen. And, as for all ladies, the queen’s words mattered. Her simply brushing them off and waving them away meant that they were of no interest to her. Her talking to them meant that they meant something - at the very least, intrigue. And what she said in those words - those were gems themself - usually indicating who would have the best matches were met with who had the best words from the queen.

As the hall brimmed with the elegant rustle of silks and the soft murmur of hushed conversations over the diamond choosing, another name was read out - quieting the ton.

"Miss Bridget Willoughby, presented by her mother, the right honorable Vicountess Willoughby.”

The name caught the Queen’s attention, for it was a name she had heard much about - particularly for the one thing she lacked. A disability that, in the eyes of both the Queen and the Ton, did not make her the ideal debutante of the season. Nevertheless, the Queen remained open-minded, reserving judgment until she had seen the girl for herself.

Miss Willoughby stepped forth to present herself to the Queen, moving with a unique grace that suggested her body had memorized the path through countless rehearsals. Likely, it had. In a sea of radiant debutantes, Bridget’s attire and demeanor set her apart.

Her gown was not the typical opulent creation favored by most. Instead, she wore flowing, loose attire, a stark contrast to the tightly cinched corsets and voluminous skirts adorning her peers. Her choice of clothing seemed to echo the Queen’s own experiences in Greece, although this was far from Greece.

However, Bridget possessed a unique feature that was hidden from casual observers. Her seemingly ordinary eyes held secrets beneath their surface. While there was no glossiness or scarring in her irises, they retained a quiet, unspoken depth, indicating that the young lady could not see. It was a testament to her resilience, her ability to navigate a world she couldn’t see, or perhaps a challenge she would never truly overcome.

As Bridget approached, the Queen noted the soft quiver in her hand, a sign of hidden nervousness. Perhaps it was this nervousness that led to an omission, a subtle breach of etiquette as she bowed her head without addressing the Queen as “Your Majesty.”

The mystery in Bridget’s eyes stirred the Queen’s curiosity, a hint of intrigue and perhaps a touch of unease. She took a moment to observe, looking into those eyes with a depth of scrutiny that few would notice. A flicker of something passed through the Queen’s expression, a mix of intrigue and empathy.

In the end, the Queen offered a gentle, understanding smile and nod to the girl’s mother, before ushering Bridget along. It was clear that the young debutante stood apart. A brief moment of curiosity, a whisper of intrigue, and Bridget Willoughby continued on her path, leaving a subtle impression on the Queen’s mind. The Queen knew that this season would be filled with surprises, and Bridget might just be one of them.


"Miss Donatella Bianchi, presented by her mother, the right honorable Baroness Bianchi.”

The grand hall was still filled with an air of anticipation as Donatella Bianchi, adorned in a splendid green gown, walked gracefully towards the Queen. Her attire, a testament to her impeccable taste, was a vision of silk and elegance, long sleeves cascading gently down her arms. In her ensemble, she carried herself with poise and dignity, reflecting the upbringing she had received.

As she approached the Queen, Donatella performed a perfect curtsey, her eyes respectfully lowered. “Your Royal Highness,” she greeted, her voice soft and reverent, clearly displaying her respect for the Queen.

She was beautiful, possibly fit for a diamond. Her features, her hair adorned with flowers. Flawless in her own right. However, the Queen didn’t feel the same connection as she had with her chosen diamond. Yes, so far, this girl was flawless in her execution.

The Queen watched as the young lady presented a gift – a one-of-a-kind perfume from Florence, Italy. Described by the mother as a luxurious fragrance with delicate notes of gardenia and rose, a sensory experience that bespoke elegance and refinement.

However, fate took a different turn as the Queen graciously accepted the gift. Unbeknownst to Donatella, the perfume had taken an unfortunate turn during its journey. As the Queen took a whiff, her senses revolted, and her expression shifted from one of anticipation to discomfort.
She fought to maintain her composure but couldn’t hide the trace of disgust that crossed her features.

The Queen didn’t allow the girl to speak - to apologize, to even make note of the disgust on the Queen’s face for the mere second it was there. Rather, with a delicate wave of her hand, she ushered Donatella along, trying to maintain her dignity even as her queasy stomach rebelled against the noxious scent. As she turned her attention to the next debutante, her thoughts were dominated by a singular, overwhelming desire – to escape the overpowering aroma and find solace from the nausea that gripped her.


"Miss Phoebe Florence Willoughby, presented by her mother, the right honorable Baroness Willoughby.”

As Phoebe entered the grand hall, adorned in an elegant, red evening gown with exquisite embroidered floral motifs adorning the hems and bodice, she exuded grace and poise. The maroon red ribbon that adorned her hair was gorgeous, a flourish that added to her overall charm.

But the Queen was still dealing with the aftermath of a terrible whiff of perfume gone bad, and her mind was muddled. The scent seemed to cling to her senses, overwhelming her thoughts. She struggled to focus on the girl before her.

Though, taking a deep breath, the Queen forced herself to concentrate on Phoebe. With every step, Phoebe exuded confidence, her eyes locked on the Queen as she approached. She wore a gentle but unwavering smile, one that showcased her optimism and cheerfulness. The Queen noted that the girl’s hands were subtly intertwined, an oddity she didn’t question.

As Phoebe reached the Queen, she performed a perfect curtsey, her movements fluid and graceful. “Your Royal Highness,” she addressed the Queen with respect and formality, her voice clear and articulate.

She was perfect - similar to her diamond. And if the Queen had been in the right state of mind, perhaps she would have felt that same connection she had when she initially picked her diamond. But the only feeling she had was the nausea that still lingered in the hall from the earlier girl. Despite this, the Queen pushed through.

“Tell me, girl, I have heard whispers of your musical talents - a gift possibly passed on by your mother. I hope to hear you play sometime this season. What is your favorite composer?” She listened as Phoebe expressed her admiration for Franz Schubert, known for his lyrical and melodic compositions. And, she also mentioned her fondness for his “Impromptu in G-flat Major,” describing it as a charming and graceful piece.

Phoebe’s response was eloquent, and the Queen was intrigued. But with another whiff of the lingering, nauseating smell, the Queen abruptly stood, likely startling the girl. “Good, I will go now,” the Queen muttered, before swiftly exiting the hall.

The Queen’s departure was abrupt and left the staff in confusion, unsure of how to proceed with the remaining girls awaiting their audience with the Queen. The lingering scent of the perfume filled the air, and many speculated that it had contributed to the Queen’s sudden departure.



Date: November 1st, 1811

Location: The Palace

After an eventful day full of young ladies making their debut to society in their presentations to the queen, leading to a rather abrupt exit of the queen, comes a moment all have been waiting for. The first ball of the season, the Queen’s ball. An evening just as important as the earlier introductions. A chance for all of the young ladies in attendance to truly make their mark as someone ideal, even if they aren’t the year’s diamond. Each with their dance cards , it is a night of dancing and introductions that will truly set the stage for the season to come.

@TheBridgertonRP (props to Brooke for writing this)



Ilyas stirred from slumber, finding himself nestled within the familiar embrace of his childhood chamber. Solitude in this room didn’t displease him; in fact, he rather relished the solitary compared to the clamor of shared quarters with his fellow young gentlemen. Yet, a yearning for a few cherished friends tugged at his heart. An unusual hush enveloped the surroundings, a silence unbroken by the customary disturbances that had disturbed his nights—no jarring thuds, no creaking floorboards, and no laughter echoing from the distant corner of the chamber.

Merely twenty-four hours had elapsed since his return home, and already, he found himself thrust into the bustle of society. In truth, Ilyas had half-expected his mother to orchestrate a grand welcome-home celebration upon his arrival. However, he welcomed the modest gathering of close family and a select few friends that awaited him as his carriage pulled up to their townhouse. As he stepped inside, his gaze fell upon his sister, a sight that nearly eluded recognition. She had grown in stature, her flowing locks now cascading nearly to her waist. She was a far cry from the twelve-year-old girl etched into his memory from before his departure. His visits home had been rare, and often brief, each instance serving as a reminder of his preference to spend as much time away as possible. She, on the other hand, had always been diligent about sending him letters, and to those, he faithfully replied. It warmed his heart to know that someone within his family eagerly awaited his return with a smile and an anxious heart. He despised her a bit in all honesty. She was of age now, why was she not joining society? Why was it him? Why were all expectations always on him?

Descending the corridor and winding staircase leading to the dining room, his keen eyes absorbed the artworks adorning their crimson walls. A hue he had grown to cherish deeply, the very shade that marked the unmistakable Keats family color, well-known amidst the ton. Amongst the artworks, a number were creations of his mother’s hand, while others had been acquired through purchase or gifted by friends she had cultivated over the years. She boasted a wide circle of acquaintances, including several renowned artists, some of whom frequented their homes during their travels or the various gatherings she was fond of hosting. Yet, it was evident she was discerning about the guest list for such affairs.

The dining room was adorned with an exquisite chandelier suspended just above the dark oak table. Seated at one end, was his father. A fountain pen poised in hand, he perused a document spread out before him, briefly acknowledging Ilyas with a subtle nod as a morning greeting before returning to his work. On the opposite side, his mother and sister engaged in animated conversation, their voices carrying the anticipation of the evening’s upcoming festivities. They deliberated over the hues that might dominate the soirée dresses worn by the ladies while gossiping discreetly about whose attire might reveal a tad too much décolletage. Ilyas couldn’t help but secretly hope that it would be everyone.

Warm smiles greeted him as he took his place at the table, with his sister extending an inviting gesture to the seat beside her. He settled into the chair, and his mother inquired about his sentiments regarding the approaching evening, as well as his choice of suit that the maid had thoughtfully arranged for his selection. Meanwhile, his sister persistently advocated for the addition of a hat to his ensemble, to which he playfully retorted that such an accessory would never grace his head, even if it meant going to the grave without it.

With his mother departing for the market and his sister eagerly accompanying her to visit the Modiste, they set off on their excursion, two maids trailing closely behind. Now, only his father remained in the room with Ilyas. “I trust you shall uphold the honor of our family this evening,” his father remarked before taking a sip of the tea before him. His gaze, though not lingering, met Ilyas’s briefly, prompting a gulp and a tentative nod in response.

The weight of family interactions proved sufficient for Ilyas, prompting his polite withdrawal from the dining room with a small portion of food in hand. Since his return, he had been yearning to visit his favorite room in the house, and now the opportunity beckoned. He chose to traverse the outdoor route rather than meander through the entire estate, finally arriving at the sanctuary of the greenhouse.

Within, he found a trove of his mother’s art supplies and a designated corner he had claimed as his own, where he pursued his passion for sculpting. His fingers reverently grazed the dried wood. The surface bore the tactile remnants of dried clay and water-weathered finishes. He couldn’t help but notice the absence of fresh clay, as his nimble fingers instinctively traced every indentation. His gaze fixated on his work, making a mental note to ensure replenishment of supplies soon. Amidst the room’s contents lay a handful of his creations, interspersed with a few shattered pieces—a testament to the tumultuous exchanges with his father during his previous visits home.

The day seemed to go much faster than he had thought it would when he awoke. He soon found himself sitting in a carriage on his way to the ball. He had chosen the crimson red suit, instead of the maroon one. No hat was on his head and he had gotten a pouty look from his sister. They came upon the palace. His eyes looked at the architecture and it ever so slightly reminded him of the family bank. Inside there was already music playing from the band. They played a slower melody as everyone entered.

His discerning gaze roamed across the gathering, ultimately fixing upon a tall, slender figure with dark tresses that captivated his attention. Compelled by curiosity, his feet guided him in her direction. As he approached from behind, a sense of certainty washed over him; it was Miss Northwick, though not the one he had known five years ago.

Miss Northwick, it’s a delightful surprise to cross paths with you at this gathering, he greeted her warmly, his tone tinged with a subtle flirtatious undertone. His gaze sparkled with mischief. However, his tone faltered slightly as he recognized his mistake. Well, perhaps not exactly who I thought it was, and I’m sure the honor isn’t quite mutual, he quipped, seeking to alleviate any awkwardness that lingered in the air.

Standing before him was the twin sister of his previous acquaintance, her features adorned with a few more freckles—the telltale sign that he wasn’t conversing with the person he had hoped to encounter. Undeterred, he pressed on with curiosity, Is your sister attending tonight? His confidence not once faded from his words. His eyes involuntarily continued their once-familiar perusal of her form, a habit he had picked up, and was unsure would ever break. She wore a striking green dress, a choice that accentuated her dark eyes and other attributes. Her hair was elegantly fixed up, exposing her shoulders and collarbone, adorned with its own sprinkling of freckles. It suited her impeccably, though Ilyas was reluctant to admit it. Despite their shared lineage, it was evident that the sisters possessed distinct energies, leaving him eager to discover just how different they truly were.


╰┈➤ ◈━◈━◈━◈━◈𓆩♡𓆪◈━◈━◈━◈━◈𓆩♡𓆪◈━◈━◈━◈━◈◈━◈━◈━◈━◈𓆩♡𓆪

million dollar man

It was the loveliest season of the year, where ribbons and viels will reign and debutantes took center stage. Harrison found himself in a fancy slim fit black blazer with white ruffles on the front. His hair was like the sea filled with waves and his scar stood handsomely on his cheeks with his stubble bear. Aaah his scar, Harrison can still remember the day he got the scar that now decorated his cheeks like a mark. Such, a very memorable day and Harrison had not cared that he got scarred even though his mother wailed in distress, his sisters in worry and his brothers in surprise. Harrison had thought that the scar suited him perfectly, it created a visual of Harrison that it quite liked, it told a story and it did have a story so it told what it was supposed to tell. Besides, the ladies also seemed to like it.

He had a drink in his hand, as he was near a table, he stood and took a sip from it, waiting to see who he would first or have a last dance with, the diamond of course. But who shall be the diamond? Who shall the queen announced? It really made him think, hopefully not Angelina, his sister because she was debuted this year and now stood besides anxiously. He had hoped it was not Angelina, as it would be improper to dance with her but though if she was he would dance with dance with her in their gardens, but additionally he did not want her get much attention from the males here as Harrison deemed them unfit for his dear Angelina. Angelina, and his other sisters shall marry fine respectful males who Harrison could happily call ‘brother’ and his brothers shall marry fine women who he can call ‘sisters’ He would not make a pick for them of course, for neither his sisters or brothers as their choice of fiance was theirs and theirs alone, but if they were too…unfit then Harrison would not approve and as he was now the head of his house with his father far long gone, his words were more than final.

Talking about people, Harrison wondered of Ilyas, he had heard that his closest of friends had return and yet had not thought it would be proper to come see him. His eyes scanned the room and he saw Ilyas, Harrison wondered if he should approach him, confront him and demand for answers but he did not wish to create a scene on such a day, especially when to Angelina it was her day, her debut day, ah yes Harrison should be less of himself, Angelina and his mother had told him, don’t do too many scandalous things. Harrison had almost wanted to take offense to that, but he knew of it as the truth so he only did the rolling of eyes but a curve of the lips that curved into a smile had taken place. Aaah Harrison wondered who shall be the diamond? Of the ladies he knew debuting today that were not his sister, there was Lady Margo, a beautiful lady belonging to the Hastington family, though he could not see them right now where they perhaps late? There was lady Donatella, who would truthfully be Harrison choice for a diamond this season, she was as fair as day and her italian origins, which also existed in Harrison made drew him in. He was friends with her brothers too; Dean, Leon and Enzo, such fine names Harrison would say. Though, Harrison doubts that the lady would like the attention that will come from being a diamond. There was her highness Lady Belle Fleur, who seemed a likely choice if not for behavior that is at times considered improper, Harrison thought of her behavior as very proper though, she was unique and truly a Belle, so the question of would Lady Belle be the Belle of the season? Then again she could sabotage herself so she would not, Harrison knows hearing it all the time from Thomas and Louis, and seeing it himself that Belle’s opinions on marriages and men were less than favorable. There was lady Adeline, such a fine choice for a diamond, and she seemed like she would love but be flustered by the attention, yes Adeline would be his true pick but was not the youngest ellis making her debut this season as well? Her sister, Aurelia was a diamond before and Harrison had danced with her as tradition followed, so would the young Lady of the Ellis household be crowned diamond?

If Harrison had to assume who shall be diamond, even with non titled people making their wave in society this year (He thought of that as intriguing, and he agreed with it especially since the Brantley family would be coming. His mother would be so overjoyed, The brantleys were dear to her and as Harrison was an extension of his mother, it would not be wrong to say Harrison was fond of them too, though Ilyas did not like them much. The brantley family were the reason his maternal family did not have to suffer so he is thankful to them,.

He took another sip of his drink, watching each lady present and his sister, ah angelina fabolous as ever and still he hoped to dear God she was not the diamond. Lady Maisie was as gentle as ever in her presentation, Lady Belle as intruging as ever- he had never danced with her he wondered how it would be to dance with her? She would step on his foot a lot of times he guessed, amusinng. And adeline, Adeline was as graceful as day, blowing him in aah he knew it! She shall be diamond and he was right, for Adeline was diamond. He shall dance with her. He knew her already so there was not much to ask but teasing her while shes the diamond would be amusing. He loved riling her up, she was as gorgeous as any flower when she pouted. He looked towards Atlas, wondering how he felt about all this and then wondered, shall he dance with Adeline now or wait? He had to ask a favor from someone first after all.

He looked everywhere, and when he finally found her he smiled, making his way towards her. She was away from her family, her brother who Harrison had heard returned so this was perfect. He tapped on her shoulders, and as she turned he gave her a sly grin.

“My lady” he called her, putting a hand on his chest as he bowed, the smile never leaving his face. "it’s been long " he whispered, because really it has.
“i have completed what was asked of me and I have a thing to ask you. Shall we dance?” because if they simply stayed her and talked, it will draw the attention of many.

~orp: @benitz786 -Aurelia~

@Madilnel -ilyas
@sunflowerjm -Atlas and belle
@Mouschi - Donatella
@LunaticLeviTheSecond - the brantleys



When Bainbridge awoke the sky was still shrouded in darkness, yet he could not fall asleep again. His nerves got the better of him and he wasn’t able to do anything but pace around his room until the sun rose up, and with the sun, his sister came up to his room as well. As the door slowly creaked open, Bainbridge expected to see a maid but he was happier to see his sister. No word needed to be spoken, her body language was enough for him to know what to do. He marched over to her and hug her tightly. “Dear sister, I understand today you’re more nervous than any other lady presented to the Queen simply because you admire her so, but you’ve conquered harder battles and I have no doubt you will conquer this.” He loosened the hug enough for him to be able to tuck a stray hair behind her ear before he continued. “Now, put on that beautiful pink gown and show the world how awesome our family has become.” And he kissed her forhead before she left the room.

That was the last he saw of his sister before they met again outside the doors waiting for the staff to bring out the carriage, he wearing his tan and beige outfit with a dark blue coat, and her wearing her amaranth pink gown with her grandmother’s pearl necklace. Their aunt was already in the carriage as it arrived and they walked up there. As Abigail and their aunt were discussing what to say and calming each other down, Bainbridge kept silent, knowing he has no advice to give her sister that would be useful to her in this occassion, except something to help her calm down, but their aunt was already taking care of it and better at doing it since she was calm enough unlike Bainbridge and Abigail.

When they arrived they were parted again and he saw neither his sister nor his aunt until the moment they were presenting. He waited patiently, knowing nothing can be done now and that Abigail knows the basics already so she can’t do anything to make him as nervous as he was. Despite the fact he knew many of the ladies, he didn’t notice what was said about them as his mind was focused on his sister.
As she approached he could detect nerves acting up in her, but he was happy with how she presented. While walking down she shot a quick glance his way and he smiled at her letting her know everything was all right. They both sighed with relief as the Queen left the room.

When he entered the ballroom his eyes grazed the masses in hopes of finding his sister an congratulating her on a succesful appearance before the Queen, but when he noticed she was already talking with her best friend Bridget, he didn’t want to interfere in their discussion. Instead Bainbridge walked over to his aunt who was silently watching Abigail from afar.
“Auntie, what did you think of Abigail’s presentation?”
“Well it wasn’t the best, but considering it was her first presentation and the fact she wasn’t in society often after your mother died, she did far better than I would’ve thought her capable.”
“If only she were here to hear you.”
“She is hearing it from somebody else, no doubt. Who is that young lady?”
“That is Bridget Willoughby, her childhood friend.”
They started a conversation about Bridget, a topic which soon changed to others as the conversation kept flowing. Suddenly, the aunt suggested. “Why don’t you find a partner to dance? I know you’ve always been fond of dancing. I’ve half expected to see you on the dance floor already.”
“I couldn’t leave you alone.”
“Oh pish posh, I love observing the two of you having fun and living your lives now that you’re still youthful. Enjoy yourself, look how many beautiful young ladies stand alone waiting for a partner.” She gestured around the room, and Baibridge followed her gesticulation with his eyes only to stop them on a a trio of ladies. Two of them had red hair and one a beautiful brunette, but he was rather intriqued because he didn’t see them before hand and neither were introduced. He would’ve noticed beauties with red hair being introduced or in the same room as him, but no, they just walked in.
“Auntie, excuse me.” He said as he walked away from her and toward the ladies in question.

When he stopped in front of them, he gave them a small headbow as a greeting. “Welcome ladies, have all of you arrived just now?” He wondered. “Becuase I did not notice your presence beforehand.”

@Meekepeek - Joanne
@Bluecookies - Bridget


Purple Sky Profile Header (2)
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Louisa Brantley’s chamber. Sighing softly, she roused herself, begrudgingly getting dressed. Today was the Queen’s Ball, and Louisa would have much rather been kicked by a horse, than go to the ball. Yet, her mother was forcing her, as she had done for the two years prior. Exiting her chamber, she refrained from shooting her mother a cross look. The two of them ate breakfast in silence. Well, Louisa ate breakfast in silence, while Clotilde attempted to engage in conversation with her cross daughter. After they had finished eating, the two entered their carriage to travel to the ball. Once there, Louisa promptly glued herself to the wall, hovering around the food like a fly. Clotilde pretended she didn’t know her daughter.


Prince Magnus stood in the grand receiving room, awaiting the presentation of the debutantes to the queen. He stood up near the front near to his mother’s throne, but off to the side so as not to take too much of any of the ladies’ attention. He was dressed in a resplendent tailcoat of deep navy blue, intricately embroidered with golden thread, which exuded an air of regality as he waited for each lady to debut - and that wait for him always felt long and arduous.

Of course, he had attended this ceremony countless times before, but this year held a sense of dread and fear. As he knew deep down, that this was the year he had to settle. He had been told enough time to find a wife for him to obtain what was rightfully his, but he feared this year would be last chance. But whom would take that position next to him.

With each debutante’s name announced, Prince Magnus’s gaze focused on the young woman as she made her way towards the queen. He observed their poise, their grace, and the elegance with which they curtsied before Her Royal Highness. Some radiated confidence, their smiles bright and their eyes sparkling with excitement. Others displayed a touch of nervousness, which didn’t seem quite so endearing.

Prince Magnus found himself captivated by three of the sights he saw before him. Of two he knew, one of whom he knew overly well, while the third he had never met nor talked to. Then as the line of debutantes continued, Prince Magnus’s attention was suddenly drawn to a young woman near the end of the line. There was something about her, an understated elegance and a hint of mystery, that intrigued him. As she curtsied before the queen, her eyes briefly met his, and a spark of curiosity ignited within him.

After the presentation came swiftly to a close with the Queen’s quick departure, Prince Magnus had a few hours to himself before attending the ball. Retreating to his chambers, his mind filled with thoughts of the season held for him ahead. He pondered the possibilities, wondering if any of the ladies would live up to his standards and keep him interested long enough to tie him down. Probably not.

As the hours passed, Prince Magnus prepared himself for the evening ahead, changing into a in a tailored black and gold ensemble. The anticipation grew, as did a sickening feeling, knowing that he would soon have engage with the debutantes on a more personal level at the ball. That feeling of nauseous only grew when the time came to go speak with his mother, hear of the plan she had formatted for her son for this season… at least there was one thing he knew, the diamond, Miss Adeline Grace Delaney, would be atop her list.

Prince Magnus made his entrance amidst a hushed murmur that rippled through the crowd. He scanned the room, noticing the faces have a mix of excitement, nervousness, and disdain to be here. There was only one that Magnus agreed with. Debutantes, prepared to make their grand entrance into society, were the focal point of the evening, and Prince Magnus was eager to see who would captivate his attention.

With each step, Prince Magnus exuded a sense of confidence, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Scanning the faces for any of those he wished to talk with, all of whom were female, as the first ball upon only just walking in, was not one to immediately initiate conversation with male comrades. But which of those ladies would be see first?


The silence in the carriage on the way to the ball was as loud as the evening was going to be. Joane felt nervous, but certainly not as much as her twin sister who had been fidgeting with her gloves the entire ride. “Stop fidgeting Adel” Cicely says for the umpteenth time while she gently taps Adeline’s hands. “I can’t help it” Adeline sighs before she immediately starts again. “We were…I was expected to be the diamond of the season and we missed the presentation to the Queen,” she laments.
“Joane, help me out of here, calm down your sister” Cicely sighs.
“Adel, we can’t do anything about it happening, I personally think it’s unbecoming of for us to go to the ball at together after everything that’s happened. But we have to redeem ourselves.” Joane sighs before she continues. “It won’t be easy for us to earn you the title of the diamond. The first time they will see us will be belated, without papa and mama, and without Sigric, Marion and Olivia. We will immediately get the wrong first impression” she continues and Cicely scoffs.
“your motivational speech is missing the motivational aspect”
Joane sighs.
”But you are worthy of a diamond. You are an example of beauty, the leader in elegance. We all know that you deserve to be the next diamond, and this season we are going to prove that to the rest of the ton"
Joane continues as she takes her twins’ hands and smiles
. “you are going to claim your place as the diamond of the first water you are” she adds as the carriage comes to a stop.

With the help of the coachman, the ladies get out, Joane struggling with the dress that is too long for what she is used to. Her mother insisted that she look as good as her younger sister because it will also technically Joane’s debut. But even though Joane had made and designed the dress herself, she didn’t think she would be the one wear it. After all, it was designed for her sister. When they enter, it is clear that many eyes are on them. Some briefly inspecting who has entered, others long and judgmental. Joane could see a few mothers gossiping to each other as they looked in their direction and it made her blood boil. She feels her older sister’s hand on her shoulder and Cicely mumbles, “Keep your heads high and proud sisters, we are The Claimond Family and no one should have the nerve to talk about us", as she steps past Joane and leads the sisters inside.

While among the crowd, they were approached by a young man, Bainbridge Brantly, as Joane remembered during her lessons on the rising men and ladies of the season. “Sir Brantly, good evening” Cicely greeted him as all three ladies curtseyed to the gentleman. “We are sincerely sorry, but my youngest sister and I must urgently arrange something first. Would you be offended if we temporarily leave you with my sister Joane while we accompany some other ladies whom we need to speak to out of respect for our family?” Cicely asks as she walks away with Adeline to greet some family friends. Joane turns to Sir Brantly with an apologetic smile.

“I have to apologize for my sister, times are very hectic within the family at the moment and she is doing her best to keep us within the season as best as she can,” Joane explains. “It is also correct that we were regrettably unable to present ourselves before the Queen due to some unexpected family matters,” she added. “But we are here now and I can guarantee that my sister and I will be as active this season as we are expected to be," she promises before sighing. "We just have to survive tonight and we will be fine for the time being”, she mutters more to herself than to him. "Is there anything I can do in the meantime to entertain you Sir Brantly?" she then asks.

@LunaticLeviTheSecond - Bainbridge


“Make haste, cousin!” Orpheus tugged at his left shoe whose laces had been tangled underneath him. Finally managing to pull the shoe over his foot, he hobbled out of the dressing room into Corin’s bedchamber.
Corin had been sat up in bed all afternoon, charting a new route for a recent business agreement he had made in India, and very skillfully ignoring Orpheus’ whining.
“We cannot be late to the first event of the season, Corin. If I have to dress you myself, I shall.” Orpheus teased, tossing Corin’s dress clothes onto the bed.
“It is far too early for dressing, and you are wrinkling my coat. Can you not entertain yourself outside of my bedchamber, cousin? Or do you live only to taunt my every waking moment?” Corin smiled a half-smile, closing the map as he peered up at his very excitable younger cousin.
“If you do not dress now, all the ladies of the ton will have their dance cards full by our arrival, I shall never wed, and I will indeed irrevocably taunt your every waking moment for all eternity. Now…” Orpheus took a calming breath and narrowed his eyes in Corin’s direction as he held up the untouched suit. “Will you dress, or will you be my bride this season?” Orpheus raised a brow, catching his breath after his ramble.
Corin rolled his eyes as he tossed his feet over the side of the bed.
“Fine. Enough jest. I will prepare to leave. Go finish primping and preening and leave me be.” Corin chuckled, taking the all black suit from Orpheus and moving to his dressing room. In truth, Corin would much prefer for Orpheus to stay unwed. Then, perhaps, the burden of being the eldest could be staved off by them both for yet another year.
However, Corin was aware that time was hardly on his side, and misfortune struck their family more often than not. If he did not wed and produce an heir soon, all of the efforts of his father and grandfather could be in vain.
Corin quickly pulled himself into his attire, adjusting his hair in a perfectly swept back style. He glanced down at his shoes, a brand new black leather pair, perfectly crafted to his size, and he smiled. ‘Perhaps she would be there tonight too.’ He thought. As he finished preparing, he glanced in the mirror.
It took little for Corin to achieve the kind of stand-out attractiveness most men, like Orpheus, desperately sought. Despite minimal effort in his appearance, it was Corin’s cool allure that seemed to pull people in.
“We will be on time, Orpheus. Have the footmen pull the carriage around. Let us depart before your nerves burst your inseam.” Corin smiled to himself, moving toward the entrance with Orpheus.
“Boys.” A deep voice bellowed from the depths of the main foyer. Orpheus’ father, Ezra, stood at the back of the hall, cast in shadow. “I expect brilliant matches. You are responsible for continuing our line and ensuring our successes. Do not mess this up.” He finished his statement as the staff opened the doors to the estate showcasing the opulent carriage pulled to the front steps.
Corin and Orpheus looked to one another, one whose face was alight with hope and excitement, the other drawn pale from the thought of attending the event at all. Both, in desperate need of a match, whether desired or not.
They entered the carriage, speaking little as they rode toward the Queen’s opening ball.
As they stepped out, Orpheus could not help the awed gasp at the sight of the decor and the lights of the party inside. Even Corin looked on in amazement. Despite his travels and wealth, he had often stayed away from the grand events of the upper class.
“Come…Corin, come!” Orpheus tugged on Corin’s sleeve, pulling him forward and effectively snapping Corin out of his dazed stare. Corin had not been prepared for events such as these, and despite his disinterest, his anxiety was palpable.
Corin and Orpheus entered, their eyes scanning the crowd of people that had already formed.
Corin’s landing on only one person in particular.
“Ilyas…” Corin breathed, a smile deceiving the distain he felt at attending. Corin had not seen Ilyas since he had left France. Their communications were inconsistent and brief. Corin had often wondered what became of him after he had left, but he had never imagined they would reunite here.
Ilyas seemed most enthralled in a conversation with a young woman Corin did not recognize. Not wanting to disrupt, Corin tried to stable his mind and headed toward a corner of the ballroom.
“Go, Orpheus, enjoy your time. I shall keep watch from here.” Corin said, shooing his younger cousin away. Corin was well aware of Orpheus’ excitement, and could not let his own fears taint his cousin’s joy. However, the music, lights, and crowd were already becoming overwhelming for Corin. As he made his way to the corner of the room, he pulled a small flask from his pocket and took a sip. At events such as this, Corin was well aware the only provisions provided were likely wines and champagnes, all of which Corin had sworn off years ago. Instead, he brought a Korean herbal tea in his flask, one hailed in the East for soothing nerves. Corin had hoped it would work tonight.
“I will check in with you soon!” Orpheus promised as he ran off across the ballroom. Corin knew that would likely not be the case, but he appreciated the sentiment. Corin stood, alone, sipping his tea and observing the very unfamiliar scene play out in front of him.
Orpheus on the other hand could not be more in his element. Happily glancing around the ballroom at the people he had known for some time, he was looking for one woman in particular to dance with this evening. And he had just found her.
“Lia!” Orpheus, called, maneuvering over to Aurelia and her sister. As he approached he saw a man. Not any man, but Harrison Davis. A notorious rake and devilish conman of hearts.
Orpheus stopped in his tracks, his fists clenching at his sides.
‘How dare he approach her? With such a nonchalant, faux-suave countenance. Vile.’ Orpheus thought, his blood rising to his face out of anger. It should be known that Orpheus would court her again this season, as he had the last, and he did not take kindly to competition of any sort. Especially, involving matters of the heart.
As quickly as he had called, Orpheus spun on his heels and moved the way he came.
Orpheus made his way to the corner Corin stood in, his blood boiling.
Corin looked on in confusion, the shift in his cousin’s disposition having shifted drastically in a matter of seconds.
“Is there an issue, cousin?” Corin attempted to stifle his laughter, trying to scan the crowd for the cause of Orpheus’ mood change.
“No.” Orpheus said, grabbing two glasses of champagne from the table behind Corin and quickly downing both glasses. “No issue.” Orpheus hissed, averting his eyes and trying to breathe.
Corin forced a smile and gave Orpheus a pat on the back. It was time to mentor, Corin supposed. Which was, in fact, the very reason Corin had agreed to stay for the season at all, to guide Orpheus along the right path.
“There are many men present more experienced in the ways of the ton, and women, than you and I, cousin. Do not take slight to friendly competition. You are valiant at heart.” Corin attempted to motivate him. “Besides,” Corin continued, “Any woman worthy of your arm will come in time. We have many an event ahead of us this season. Fret not.” Corin took another swig of his tea. “Find a lady to dance with. Whether she holds your gaze or not. Have fun this first night, Orpheus. You have been looking forward to this. Do not let such petty convictions stray you from finding your heart.” Corin finished his motivational speech, and it did, in fact, seem to stir Orpheus once again.
“You are most wise, cousin.” Orpheus smiled, giving Corin a pat in return. “I only wish you would heed your own advice and relish in the festivities yourself. I’ll be off.” Orpheus said, moving back into the crowd, and leaving Corin alone in the corner once more.

both approachable
Ilyas @Madilnel
Harrison @Kristi
Aurelia @benitz786



Augustus gracefully greeted the first light of day. His desire was to commence the morning by witnessing the majestic sunrise. Accompanied by a retinue of loyal hounds and his treasured journal, he upheld a cherished tradition that had its origins when his elder sisters made their debuts into society. During those times, there were three of them, united in this ritual. Today, however, the field was graced solely by his presence.

Marcella, now a bride with an heir and another on the way, had moved into a different phase of life. Elvina, regrettably, was no longer amongst the living. Augustus foresaw that when his younger brother embarked upon the world of society, he would introduce him to this venerable custom. Yet, for this morning, he yearned for solitude in the midst of tranquility, a rare departure from his accustomed realm of clamor.

Augustus, who had grown accustomed to the constant company of his five siblings and a multitude of cousins, found solace in this solitary reverie. With quill in hand, he meticulously inscribed his thoughts upon the vellum pages of his journal, poised to embark upon the day’s agenda.

He recognized that he still had some responsibilities to fulfill on the family estate today. Technically, he didn’t have to involve himself in the day-to-day operations of the farm; there were always plenty of hired hands and skilled workers to handle the toil. However, he found a sense of purpose and satisfaction in contributing. Augustus had witnessed the steadfast work ethic of his father and his grandfather. They were not the type to merely sit back and issue commands. Instead, they were actively engaged, sharing the burdens and responsibilities of the farm as their own. The Hatcherman held an unwavering commitment to the land and the livelihood it provided. And so, despite his elevated status and the privileges that came with it, Augustus willingly joined the labor, determined to honor his family’s legacy of understanding the value of hard work.

He was incredibly excited for today. To see everyone with wide smiles as the season began and of course to dance. He loved to dance. He was pretty confident in his skills too. He had been taught by his mom, sisters, and cousins. They wanted to make sure he was able to not step on any toes in any way. Dancing or by coming off rude. He would never think of such a thing. He was also cautious about others’ feelings.

The prospect of the day filled the boy with immense anticipation. It marked the beginning of a new season, a time when everyone’s spirits would be lifted, and the ton would come alive with joyous faces. But what excited him the most was the promise of dancing. Augustus had an ardent love for dance, and he carried a quiet confidence in his skills. His dance education was an affair conducted with meticulous care, overseen by his mother, sisters, and attentive cousins. Their aim was not only to refine his dance moves but also to instill in him the grace and tact of a true gentleman. They wanted to ensure that he glided through the ballroom without ever stepping on toes, either in the literal sense or through any unintended rudeness. Augustus held himself to a high standard of courtesy and consideration for others’ feelings. The notion of causing offense or discomfort was threatening to his character.

At the ball, Augustus mingled with some family friends, he couldn’t help but overhear the hushed conversations regarding who had been anointed the “Diamond of the Season.” A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pondered what would happen if the roles were reversed, with men competing for that coveted title. Inwardly, he allowed himself a modest hope that perhaps he would have been among the contenders, though he bore no resentment should the honor fall to another gentleman.

In truth, Augustus recognized the significance of being chosen as the “Diamond.” Such a distinction implied not only the favor of society but also the admiration of the queen herself. A man who won the heart of the Diamond of the Season was unquestionably a victor in the eyes of all, for the Diamond was deemed virtually perfect, a paragon of grace, beauty, and charm. And who, indeed, would dare to dispute the queen’s judgment in such matters?

As Duke Jameson Ellis turned his attention toward Augustus and addressed him directly, a sense of duty and courtesy washed over the boy. The Duke requested that Augustus engage in conversation with Lydia, a young debutante experiencing her first season in society. With a subtle nod from his mother, a toothy grin, and a final adjustment to his tie, Augustus gracefully obliged. He recognized the importance of being friendly and making connections in the social circles of Regency society, not only for himself but also as a show of respect toward Lydia’s family, known for their more stringent customs. Augustus had been friends with Aurelia before her unfortunate injury and was pleased to hear she had returned to society. He made a mental note to congratulate her on her recovery while also being cautious not to inadvertently cross paths with her brother, Cassian.

With a characteristic hop in his stride and an ever-present air of happiness, Augustus made his way toward the young woman, Lady Lydia. His joyful disposition was contagious, and he couldn’t help but radiate warmth and friendliness as he approached her, despite the small squeak of his unbroken-in shoes with each step. Lydia’s beauty didn’t escape his notice, and he appreciated the delicate charm that seemed to envelop her, from her blushing smile to her petite stature. He likened her to a small mouse, in the most endearing way, but decided to keep that observation to himself, mindful of how it might be received.

As he drew nearer, Augustus greeted her with a sincere smile, his cheeks slightly flushed with anticipation. Lady Lydia, he began with polite deference, How are you this evening? His voice was warm and inviting. Can you believe it’s already the season? Time has a way of flying, doesn’t it? And speaking of time, the weather should be turning soon. Are you a fan of snow? He inquired, genuinely interested in her response and ready to engage in amiable conversation. He knew his sister would be yelling at him to stop rambling.



“Good evening to you as well ladies. I wish I would know your names as you seem to already know mine.” He believed them knowing his name was a bad sign, and as they asked to be pardoned he felt as if they were leaving to mock his family behind his back, but when they apologized for leaving him he was as galant as ever. “Of course, I won’t keep you if you’re needed elsewere.”

The remaining lady started talking and in her words she explained she was in fact absent before. "What a shame you weren’t here for the introduction for I’m sure you would’ve been picked for the diamond. In your absence the next best lady was picked..
She continued by saying she is here tonight and that she only needs to survive this night to which Bainbridge chuckled. "I’m sorry, it’s just those words are almost a replica of what my sister has been saying for days. We only need to survive the introduction, that’s the hardest part. He reminded himself that the night isn’t over, but Abigail has done her introduction and she did good enough. Considering she didn’t plan on marrying yet, he felt it wasn’t necessary for her to be perfect and he preffered the event to go this way anyways. The beautiful redhead spoke to him again.
“Is there anything I can do in the meantime to entertain you Sir Brantly?” He smiled. “Well, your name will do.” he noted how she holds all the cards in this interaction already having known his name and he still has yet to find out what hers is.

@Meekepeek - Joane



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Against all her family’s wishes, the last thing Lydia Ophelia Ellis wanted was to become the diamond. To be the girl that the Queen declared most desirable, and likely to marry in that season. It’s not that Lydia was completely against marriage. When it was with the right person, whom she found on her own terms, and married in her own time - but that’s not the kind that her parents were picturing for her. For them it was whoever had the better status, and whoever could get it done the fastest. Therefore, being the diamond would make that job far easier for them - and that’s why Lydia had been dreading this day.

Placed in the middle of the line, Lydia watched around her at the visible anxiety on the other’s faces, with hopes to impress the Queen. On her shoulders there should be the weight of her Majesty’s opinion and her families expectations, instead her heart held a desire that lifted that. The only thing Lydia wanted was to hide that uncontrollable charm she had acquired from her sister, to present herself as indifferent as possible. Though Lydia couldn’t start yet, not when her mother was talking in her ear about how to act in every second of the next few moments. No, she had to start when it was too late to stop her.

When the moment had finally arrived, Lydia took no thought to the steps she took, the expression on her face nor the manner in which she bowed as her mother had told her to. “Your Majesty,” She announced, seemingly compliant - though to anyone watching closely, and there were few, was an undertone of nonchalance. A subtle display of disinterest that no fitting diamond would dare show the Queen.

The frown the Queen had given was almost as missable as Lydia’s attitude. But she didn’t miss it. Lydia had to compress her victory into just the smallest gleam in her eyes, that the Queen didn’t even give herself the chance of catching, as she had already turned to her sister. Even better.

With all the focus Lydia’s mother had demanded she give to this day, Lydia had hardly been able to acknowledge her sister, Aurelia. It was only this moment where she was being addressed by the Queen could Lydia let herself turn to her older sister. Her sister, role model, and influence on the beliefs she held. The beliefs that dictated her actions today. She had hoped Aurelia would understand her presentation today, if no one else did.

Just as they were about to leave, the Queen made it certain that she had picked up on Lydia’s demeanour through her final statement to her. The only loss Lydia felt with that was knowing she could no longer dismiss her parents concerns on her presentation as just ‘overthinking’ on their part - for now they had been verbally acknowledged, removing any ambiguity. But, she knew that had been a risk from the start, and it had been worth taking to see the rejecting look on the Queen’s face, a certainty that she wouldn’t be presented that title.


Once the presentations commenced, Lydia took this time to finally converse with her sister - and to make a subtle escape from her mother’s inevitable wrath. The pair advanced across the ballroom, stopping with Aurelia when they had found a ‘safe’ space. Though it seemed Aurelia had engaged in the conversation with different intentions, “Whatever possessed your thoughts, sister?” She asked in similar distaste to what the Queen had shown her - however this one held a hint of concern too. “I never aspired to be the ‘coveted gem’ of the season,” Lydia fumbled her words in surprise at where this scolding had come from. Her parents, of course, her brother, maybe, but her sister? “This you must know?”

“You best be careful, as mother won’t take lightly to that,” Aurelia told her with a warning look. Of course Lydia had thought of that, and she knew what was coming. “Why dwell on things out of our control now?” She brushed off, trying to turn the conversation more towards what she had intended. “Why don’t we talk about how much you’ve missed your sister?” Lydia asked her, with hope that she responded agreeingly— “Almost as dearly as I have missed mine?” She continued, with an eagerness she could only shamelessly show to Aurelia.

Aurelia’s features softened, confirming a successful change in conversation tone. “Of course I have, Lydia, in the most unbearable manner,” She told her genuinely, lifting the only weight that had been on Lydia’s shoulders today. When Lydia had been told about Aurelia’s accident, all she wanted was to see her right away, but then she was sent on a retreat. Then even when Aurelia had returned, Lydia’s wishes to see her had been diminished by her parents insistence on Lia getting the rest she still needed. Today had been the first real day Lydia had been able to see her, and the smile on her face didn’t begin to express how she felt about that.

“I ask that you tell me everything I have been absent to witness, Dia,” Aurelia lightheartedly told her, as if a catch-up of the last year could be summarised in a short conversation. Though she had tried to keep her sister up to date through the method of writing letters, it was still difficult to share every detail as she had once been able to.

When Aurelia asked her this question now, all her mind went to was a certain memorable person she had met before Lia left. While it had just been a friendship with Atlas Delaney, over the last few months it had possibly developed into something else. Lydia had gotten to know all about him, how he possessed a spirit almost as free and adventurous as her own, and how he could provide a beacon of light even on her worst days of missing her sister and dealing with her parents. Their status remained mainly unspoken, but Lydia still couldn’t help being slightly hopeful for what the future held.

So with that thought in mind, Lydia turned excitedly to her awaiting sister - “You must tell me what you make of Lord Atlas,” Lydia told Aurelia. While she was certain about her feelings, the most important thing for Lydia was the approval of her sister. She trusted that her sister knew best.

“Lydia,” A third voice entered. She couldn’t escape her mother for too long. Here she was now, interrupting the conversation, ridding her of the excitement she had been displaying before. “While your shameful behaviour is most certainly to be addressed later,” She told her, in the familiar stern voice she always addressed them with. “There is an individual I wish for you to become acquainted with.” Though her wording would always make it sound like an offer, like there was a choice in the matter, Lydia knew better. She had done enough rebelling for one day, and complied with her wishes.

══✿══╡ dance 1 with augustus ╞══✿══

In comparison to some of the questionable and problematic suitors her parents had presented her in the past, Augustus Hatcherman was certainly more a breath of fresh air, Lydia must admit. As much as it pained her to be satisfying her parents by engaging, Lydia didn’t mind passing time with some meaningless conversation with this man. “Lord Augustus, pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” Lydia greeted. “I must apologise for the interruption to your evening caused by my father,” She lightly told him with a genuine smile when her parents were out of sight, addressing their highly orchestrated interaction. While it was no matter to her, Lydia would also take pity on the other person, who wound up in a conversation with someone less interested than most would be.

Regardless, Augustus continued their discussion, letting it direct towards the subject of weather, to which Lydia gave a smile of amusement at how it ended up on that. “I would say so, I think that strolls are certainly enhanced when they are taken amidst the snow. And you?” She responded, before trying to hide the sarcasm in her next remark, “Time does have a way of… moving forward, I must agree,” Lydia told him with a gleam of entertainment in her eyes. His efforts were admirable, and Lydia did appreciate them. “Tell me, what is your favourite time of the day?” She asked him.

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@Madilnel Augustus Hatcherman
@benitz786 Aurelia Ellis
@sunflowerjm Atlas Delaney mentioned


Beige Vintage Traveler Twitter Header


~~Flourescent Adolescent
To most women, the dream, the most important day of their lives is their wedding day- white wedding gowns, white ribbons, a feast and then some weeks months or perhaps years later a babe to cradle. But Belle, Belle was among the women whose dreams precede such silly things. She had other dreams, better dreams, dreams of furthering her education, becoming an inventor or a fashion designer- after all who knows what type of outfits will suit women but a woman? She dreamt of helping being a spinster, living with Louis if she would have to because she was as attached as a baby to the mother’s womb when it came to the Fleur’s house.

Unfortunately, to Belle’s mother, such a dream- a dream of being a spinster was more of a nightmare. It was improper, her mother would say brushing her hair, for the daughter of a duchess who can trace ancestry to the royal line to be a spinster. Her mother was fine with her wanting to be educated, she loved her designs and embroidery and would often ask Belle to make her dresses so she can be the most fashionable in her older ladies parties. Her mother was fine with a lot of things, but Belle’s scandalous behavior? Belle dislike of marriage? Oh no, her mother was not fond of that. She despised it in fact, Belle was too carefree her mother would say, she should be more proper, like Josephine. The thing was though, Belle was not Josephine nor did she ever want to be.

Moreover, today Belle will make her debut in society in England. Why not France? Some might ask, after all, her family was French, she was French, and it would only be normal for her to debut in French society. All true, but due to relations between England and France being a little bit hectic, in order to strengthen relations, Belle was made to debut in England, especially since her mother thought that Belle’s dislike of marriage was due to the fact she founded the men in France, which was less than favorable. ‘England may have your type,’ her mother said, ‘a lot of diverse people are going to be there; you shall find a groom in England, and thus you shall debut in England,’ Such high hopes her mother had, high hopes for something that will never happen. Belle was bound to be a spinster as she liked.

No matter what her Mother or aunt wanted. She had no wish to be courted, the thought of someone having romantic feelings towards her, desiring her made her feel ill. She did not want to be perceived by such people in society, she did not want to find herself carrying a child of anyone, nor did she want to draw so much more attention to her that she would already have due to her parentage, so she was happy she was not a diamond, she knew that the queen would disapprove of the royal family of france delaying her parents so she was fortunate that happened. Though, it would lead to serious misunderstandings, Belle knew though that her parents would clear any misunderstandings.

Lady Adeline, her dear friend was such a good choice for a diamond in the meanwhile, she was everything Belle expected a diamond to be and Belle knew Adeline desired such silly things as marriage,
so the position suited her. Though, she could not help worrying about Atlas. She knew that Atlas would be less than pleased about the attention Atlas would get, simply because he was not the most fond of people. Having people in his household would be quite awkward, especially since he and Adeline did not talk much lately. Belle had tried pushing him into talking with her more, she was his sister after all no matter anything and Adeline was one of the kindest soul she had met, she deserved brotherly support, she needed it, especially since she had no sisters or any other brothers.

Her aunt began to go on a rant quietly so that only Belle and her family (her two brothers and Cousin Svet) ears could hear, while Svet searched for someone, for who Belle presumed Harrison. Such a shame, she still seemed as plagued by him as ever, and she knew that men like Harrison did not care. There was something, something deeply scandalous that her aunt said that made Belle’s gasp, the queen could not hear of course, because if she did then, it would be less than favorable for her ears. “Dearest aunt, one cannot but refrain from uttering such sentiments, for we are tasked with maintaining the serene tides of international accord between England and our cherished homeland. We, the illustrious Fleur family,” her aunt, once a French noble but now wedded to a German gentleman, and now belonging to a german duchy, “bear solemn responsibilities to the royal lineage of France. Here in England, we serve as their envoys, the progeny of the esteemed Duke and Duchess.” Belle was not only defending the queen from her aunt’s tongue because of that but because she agreed with the queen’s choice and saw it as quite favorable, as long as Belle was not the diamond, any pick was favorable, but Adeline was especially favorable. Belle was fond of the girl, a true friend and sure not as close as Louisa but close nonetheless. Belle wished she could be with Louisa at this time, but she could not as she had to debut, Louisa being older had debuted before, and it was now Belle’s turn.

“You should go and dance,” Her aunt said pushing Belle to the crowd while Belle shook her head and tried to not sigh out loud. See, Belle had already written fake names that her aunt had not seen in her dance card. So, no man shall ask her to dance but she knew that she had to dance at least once so her aunt could see that she had danced, so she went to the the most possible name she had written under her dance card, Lord Atlas, one of her dearest friend. He was currently talking with someone, though when the someone saw her they nodded their heads and left and Belle had the chance to speak with Atlas. “Lord Atlas, I have missed you” Belle said, extending her hand so Atlas could take it. “My aunt, she wishes for me to dance but I do not wish to dance, so shall you be a gentleman and help a friend out?” Belle asked, a smile on her face as she knew Atlas all to well and knew he would say yes, he was always so helpful, why couldn’t all men be like him? such a lovely friend, the woman he shall marry, as silly as marriage is, Belle thinks shall be the luckiest woman. “You know…” Belle began as Atlas took her hand and they danced, and she had a smile on her face, one she only showed those she was fond of. Most people thought of her as cold, as that was the reputation Belle wanted to keep people off, ‘a thorn among roses’ they would say, and how Belle liked that phrase about her, yes anything that would make her seem like an unsuitable marriage partner was perfect in her eyes and the expression was amusing and beautiful as it made her think of her black cat named Thorne. “Your sister, she got crowned diamond and she is the fairest lady in here but what do you think? She is your sister after all.” No matter how much he tries to push her away.

orp: @sunflowerjm - Atlas


@Ouijaloveletters - Louisa
@sunflowerjm - Adeline


drunken love

cigarettes after s*x

(it was hard to pick a good one. I’m short on time so here’s two songs lmao)

As Orpheus made his way through the crowd of faces he spotted his favorite of all the noble ladies, and from what he hears, the Queen’s favorite as well.
“Addie!” Orpheus tried not to squeal as he approached her. Refraining from hugging her, he knew their talk would have to be far removed from the public ear.
“We must speak later. As diamond-“ Orpheus dripped the word dramatically from his lips, “Your dance card must be expensive real estate, but do save me a dance, love.” Orpheus smiled, gingerly giving Adeline a kiss on the top of her hand before swirling away through the crowd again.
Although unsure of his exact direction, Orpheus was simply looking for someone to dance with. As his cousin stated, perhaps any woman would do. Even a woman he did not-
Orpheus stopped dead in his tracks, a familiar brush of dark blonde hair sweeping across his vision. His heartbeat quickened, and his palms grew sweaty, as he turned, he was met by the same piercing glare he had seen so many times before.
Only instead of in his bed, she was standing before him at the Queen’s ball, her gown as radiant as her fair complexion.
She was here as a guest.
Having already met eyes, Orpheus could not turn away, although his feet prevented him from moving an inch further.
Azucena Osuna stood before him, a woman he had not seen in some weeks after calling off their…visitations. A woman, he had thought, of low birth.
Slowly, Orpheus made his way over to her, taking a deep breath as he attempted to speak.
”Blue…” Orpheus started, his eyes searching hers. How was she here? Had she been invited? If that were the case then she would be a noble lady, and he would have defiled her through and through. The thought alone sent Orpheus into a panic.
“How are you-“ He could not bring himself to finish his sentence.
In all honesty, he was simply happy to see her.
Azucena and Orpheus had met in the summer prior to the start of the season. Having lost his brother and the woman he loved, Orpheus was in a vulnerable position. One night after a long drinking spell, Orpheus stumbled upon a woman who seemed in similar spirits.
After talking the whole night through with their shared scorned love stories and heart broken states, the two moved to an inn close to the bar where they spent the night together. What started as a one night fling turned into two nights, then three, until the two were meeting on a regular occasion to discuss their lives and relieve the stresses they were burdened with. Soon, a sort of friendship blossomed through bedsheets and burnt out cigarettes.
However, after it was announced that Aurelia would be rejoining this season, Orpheus had cut ties with Azucena to prevent any future heartbreak for either of them. Being a Duke, he needed a noble woman to marry, and she needed a man who would not break her heart like her last had. Orpheus could not promise her that.
Although, seeing her tonight made him question his decision. He had truly missed her company.
“You look lovely…” Orpheus, for once, was at a loss for words.

mentioned :
@raviola Azucena
@benitz786 Aurelia


She looked different.

Perhaps that was one of the many thoughts clouding her mind in recent days, trapped in her ivory tower. Normally, she wasn’t one to obsess over her appearance. At least, she thought she wasn’t. Or was she? Everything felt so very different now. Her body seemed foreign, yet strangely familiar. Currently, Aure found herself caught in an endless loop of yearning, a desperate need to rediscover herself amidst elusive memories. Fragments of ideas danced just beyond her mental grasp, slipping away every time she reached for them. And maybe… just maybe her reflection was the easiest thing for her broken mind to understand.

The notion on her mind at the moment was rather simple: she looked different. Older. Lost. Perhaps a little broken. It was disconcerting, almost unsettling, to witness someone staring back at her in the mirror, yet that person was entirely unrecognizable.

In Germany, where Aure could conveniently avoid confronting her reflection, life seemed simpler. Her handmaidens took care of her grooming, sparing her the sight of the stranger who stared back at her from the mirror, silently pleading for memories to return. Her focus was on her studies, and surprisingly, it was easier the second time around, even if her first attempt was now a hazy recollection.

Etiquette came naturally to her, as did dance, piano, and embroidery. Relearning German was a necessity, but it also jogged her memory of the French language. Horseback riding, however, was a different matter. Her family was adamant about keeping her away from horses, and Aure, partly in agreement, had no desire to repeat whatever had transpired during her fall from a horse, even if the details eluded her. She was making progress in Germany, and, truth be told, she would have preferred to stay there.

Though some days blurred into one another, following her recovery from a coma, she was adapting to society once more. Yet, this reentry was far easier than returning to a world that existed in her mind only as fragments. London was a familiar place inhabited by different people, people who remembered a version of her that felt foreign to Aurelia herself.

Nevertheless, duty beckoned, and as tradition demanded, she had returned. Her goal now was to secure a marriage that would compensate for the disappointing setback of the previous season. She yearned for it, needed it, craved a sense of purpose, something to reaffirm her identity. If that something meant embracing the role of the diamond she had once been chosen to be, then so be it.

For a mere second, Aure’s hand extended towards her reflection, but before it could make contact with the surface, her ivory tower was unlocked. Like clockwork, handmaidens streamed into the room, bustling with activity to help her prepare for the ball. Once more, Aure deliberately turned her back on the stranger who seemed to stare back at her from the looking glass.

It had been a long day, or perhaps even a long month, year? Time felt elusive to Aurelia as she stepped into the grand ballroom, her loyal maid close at hand. Unlike her siblings, she had traveled in a separate carriage, a decision made by her mother to limit mental excitement before the ball. In her carriage, it had been just her mother, her maid, and herself.

As she engaged in a fleeting conversation with her mother in the carriage, Aure couldn’t help but acknowledge the wisdom in her words. While she did attempt to defend her sister’s actions… as… disruptive as they were. Her mother’s "Hush now, Aurelia. Think of what is best for your sister, was enough to remind her of the truth of the situation. After the rather eventful introduction earlier in the day, it was clear that Aurelia needed to set an example for her younger sister, Lydia. She understood the gravity of the situation, knowing that her actions could influence Lydia’s prospects in the marriage market. Her mother’s counsel resonated deeply; in this world, marriage was the currency of social standing, and it was, after all, what Aure had always desired. A happy family of her own was her ultimate goal, and she hoped for the same for her beloved sister.

That’s precisely why, the moment she arrived at the event, Aure sought out her sister. Although she dearly missed her little sibling, the brief glimpses of Lydia she’d had in the past two days since her return to England made one thing clear: Lydia needed a serious conversation. One that they started to have - soon turning into a heartfelt talk about the two. She did, after all, miss Lydia in the most unbearable manner. The girl was everything to Aure, as was her brother - another individual she had yet to have a true conversation with.

As she nodded in response to her sister’s words, Aure caught a subtle glance from her mother who had joined the two, indicating that she should walk away, and Aure soon complied. She made her way toward the refreshments, all the while feeling the weight of curious gazes from the other guests. The rumors of her injury had clearly spread through the masses, and Aure couldn’t help but be aware of the watchful eyes upon her.

Aurelia couldn’t help but feel a subtle shock at the presence that had tapped her shoulder, although she made sure not to display it on her face. Such reactions were not considered ladylike, after all. Nevertheless, a faint hint of confusion did register in her expression as Lord Harrison spoke. “It’s been long,” he said, and Aurelia found herself pondering the meaning behind his words. It was clear he was referencing her absence from the season, but why was he speaking to her? Both of them were well aware of the longstanding animosity between their families, which dictated that they shouldn’t be conversing, especially not in public.

Lord Harrison’s statement, “I have completed what was asked of me,” only deepened Aurelia’s confusion. What had he completed, and who had requested it? Certainly not her. She had no desire to engage with a member of the Davis family, given the long-standing feud between their families. Despite her strong inclination to refuse the dance, she was acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying her family’s wishes. It simply wasn’t proper. Therefore, with a simple nod and an attempt to avoid causing a scene, Aurelia complied. She discreetly added Lord Harrison’s name to her dance card, marking him as her first dance partner for the evening, and followed him onto the dance floor.

However, it wasn’t long into the dance that Aure met his gaze and uttered her first words to him, her tone laced with formality and restraint “Lord Harrison, I must confess, I find myself perplexed by your decision to approach me in such a public manner. It appears there may be a misunderstanding, for our families, as you are surely aware, harbor a longstanding enmity. I must express my disapproval of your actions, which seem to disregard the potential consequences for my reputation, and by extension, your own.”


@novella - Lydia
@Cerealkiller - Cassian (Briefly)


Location: Willoughby estate
Time: 2 hours before the Queen’s ball

Bridget’s favorite violin practice

Bridget opened her eyes, and gently set her violin down on the stand. Her thoughts drifted to the Queen’s presentation earlier that day as she turned her head to feel the breeze gently dancing through the cracked open window, she had recalled hearing the announcement, feeling the swell of her chest as she had taken a deep breath and heard the powerful oak doors swing open as well as the hush that befell the crowd, all seeing eyes were on her. A gentle shiver ran down her spine as she could feel the stares of the entire ton watching, waiting to pass silent judgement, but of course only one person’s judgement mattered today, the Queen. Her body began to move rather gracefully forward as if on it’s own though her mind was unsure of where she was headed, she remembered her mother subtly whispering of what was directly in front of her even though her path remained clear as it had many times before, she was ever so grateful for continued assistance . As she passed through, She could smell the myriad of scents that flooded her nose from the perfume of the women and hear the ever so subtle whispers of the ton. She internally fought every natural instinct within her to turn her head and investigate every new scent or sound. Her face remained forward as she approached, counting the remaining paces left before she had to stop, in her head. Bridget’s right hand quivered slightly, yes, she was nervous why wouldn’t she be, the slightest provocation from the Queen could deem her an eligible match, or completely worthless…well, more than she already was anyway. She had stopped before the Queen and bowed her head, staying silent, unworthy in the presence of Her Majesty. It felt an eternity…no, much longer than that until her mother guided her along.

A sudden opening of her door and the subtle hug of a rather familiar scent filled her lungs snapped her from her recollection, rosewater & ivy, though a simple scent it held much meaning to her. A soft smile adorned her face “Good afternoon, Mother.” Bridget said without turning around, her eyes still staring blankly ahead upon the empty stand. Her mother smiled softly in return, “How do you manage to do that every single time someone enters the room?” Bridget giggled and simply shrugged, "I suppose it must be the soap one uses. Her mother shook her head, “As you know, the Queen’s ball is tonight, and I believe we have picked out a most exquisite dress that will go well with you.” Bridget stood up and faced her mother, smiling softly as she felt the fabric of the gown, “Though I cannot see, I choose to believe you would not lead me astray and have picked a most beautiful dress, indeed.”


Bridget took a deep breath, once more feeling her chest rise and fall. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, after all she knew the odds of a man willing to court her, much less dance with her given her…condition. She entered the ball, with her mother on her left and her elder brother, Edmund on her right. Come, dear sister, we must make our rounds. He escorted her around the room until he saw Lady Abigail approaching them. Bridget smiled softly upon smelling her favorite scented ivory soap, lavender. “Brother, may Abigail please escort me?” Edmund was silent for a moment before replying, "Very well, however I shall be but a moment away if you need me.

@LunaticLeviTheSecond ~ Abigail

(should anyone wish to converse with her in the meantime, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.)



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Piling a plate with desserts, Louisa couldn’t care less if people stared at her. She was made to come to this ball, so she figured she might as well have one glimmer of enjoyment by eating. Scanning the ballroom, she spotted her cousin Abigail, making her way over. At least she knew someone here, and wouldn’t have to hide in the corner like a ghost. Approaching her cousin, she spotted another young lady approaching. Louisa sighed softly, realizing the girl was the blind one her mother had told her about. Not that she would ever discriminate, she just didn’t feel like talking. Well, looks like she had to. Stopping in front of the girl, she made sure to make a bit of noise, so the blind girl could figure out where she was. “Hello. May I ask your name? My name is Louisa Brantley.” As she moved, her violet perfume wafted up. It was just enough to leave a pleasant smell, but not enough to assault the senses.
@Bluecookies - Bridget


Somehow Joane was pleased that the gentleman seemed friendly and gentle. He did do the usual sweettalk of calling her a diamond so she smiled. “you flatter me but I assure you that position would go to my dear sister Adeline. She is the calm and reserved one of us two.” she explained.
When he started laughing at her mumble, she felt a bit embarrassed that he heard and could feel her cheeks peek. With a small cough she spoke, “I’m sure, the first dance is where you give your first impression to the Queen, its no promanade through the park, I assure you” she explained and sighed. “All the more reason I don’t want to be here” she joked although there was a centre of truth in it.

It wasn’t until he pointed it out that Joane realized she had never introduced herself. " oh most certainly, apologies for not giving it sooner" she spoke and did another curtsey, however due to the haste of it, it wasn’t refined like her previous one and could better be described as a person trying to find balance on a slippery surface. “My name is Joane Claimond” she introduced herself. “Second daughter of Lord Claimond” she added.




I wouldn’t dare comment on your calmness or reserve since I don’t know a thing about it. I named you diamond only appearance wise becuase that is what I can observe and comment on. You mentioned your sister’s name is Adeline, would this be the Lady Adeline Grace Delaney? She seemed to have an impression on the Queen already.**

“I’m sure, the first dance is where you give your first impression to the Queen, its no promanade through the park, I assure you”
“No need to assure me of that, I already felt the immense anxiety caused by it’s approach. Between me and my sister I’m sure we would’ve both flubbed it weren’t if for our ever so calm aunt. She managed all this in the mids of planning a wedding for my cousin, can you imagine how many things she has on her plate?”
He watched as she curtsied before introducing herself. “Lord Claimond? A Marquess? That would make you a Marchioness. With such a high status as yourself, why curtsy in front of a plain non titled gentleman as myself?”

@Meekepeek - Joane