Bridgerton | Official RP Thread

AbigailBrantley

Stars - Les Miserables

Mr. Armstrong, thank you for the compliments, but I assure you they’re not desrved. It is not good nature that brought me to be friends with Bridget, it is the fact I am attracted to smart and hardworking people, and she has proved herself so exceptional for trying her best despite society disregarding her, and I find her to be much more good natured than me to be able to still have fight in her after that. If I choose to lift her spirits by being her friend, I chose it becuase I admire her as a person. She continued and wanted to continue dancing, but as she soon realized time passes quickly when you’re enjoying yourself. Thankfully, Mr. Armstrong accepted her proposition to go outside, so with a smile she nodded once signaling yes to his ‘Shall we?’ question and followed him outside.
As soon as Abigail stepped out she felt the chill but also the freshness of the cold air on her exposes hands, and the music from inside becoming more silent with each step. The sounds of birds and crickets are loudest now and her headache didn’t have time to form before she removed herself from the loud noises and people. It wouldn’t have taken long for her to stop enjoying herself. She breathed in the fresh air before turning back to face Bruce and with the sight of him she could also see the party going on through the doors from which they left. She chuckled at the sight. "The party looks almost tolerable from here. Seems everything gets worse when I’m inovled in it. She joked

@Bluecookies - Bruce

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Purple Sky Profile Header (2)
Standing in front of Bridget, she wondered if she could also hear the footsteps that approached. Most likely, as one of her other senses was gone. Hearing the voice behind her, she turned, meeting the eyes of her other cousin, Bainbridge. “Hello, cousin. It could certainly be better, yet also worse. I had earlier been speaking with your sister, but she went off to dance, I believe.The food here is rather nice, if you wish to partake. I enjoyed the sandwiches. Louisa had never been known to speak so much to one person, yet she was more comfortable around her cousins, therefore she became more talkative. “Pray tell, how are you, Bainbridge?” Louisa asked, regarding her cousin with a small smile. She had been wanting to leave this whole time, but seeing her cousins rejuvenated her a bit. Just a little, but that was better than nothing, she supposed. She was very ready to go home and sleep, never waking up. Sadly, here she was.
@LunaticLeviTheSecond - Bainbridge

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86f66602d08dc77a6f57dbbe1fba133f0a635fbe_2_690x203

“Letters? You’ve received letters?” Harrison exclaimed, his words hanging in the air like a reproachful reminder. His gaze was fixed squarely on Ilyas, and the question resonated with unspoken expectations that were inherent to their social circle. Ilyas couldn’t deny the truth of Harrison’s inquiry. His correspondence had been lacking, particularly in the meticulous art of written communication. He knew he should have penned more, extended more invitations, and diligently nurtured the vital connections within his small close kinships. In truth, he had become somewhat negligent, with his sister being the primary recipient of his letters, while the bonds with his closest friends had grown somewhat dormant.

The realization of his dwindling circle of friends weighed heavily on Ilyas. He understood that this was largely his own doing, a result of his choices and priorities. Yet, the thought of reconnecting with anything from his life back home only deepened his disdain for the place. It was a reminder of the suffocating expectations and rigid traditions that had driven him away, causing him to resent it all the more.

Ilyas was brought back to the present as Corin began recounting the story of their first meeting, a tale that had unfolded during a particularly eventful, if somewhat inebriated, night. It was a memory that still elicited a chuckle from him, despite the passage of time. As Corin narrated the escapades of that fateful second day at school, Ilyas couldn’t help but smile at the nostalgia. Or what he could remember. It had been a daring act to sneak out, a bold move that had led to an unexpected friendship.

Corin’s role in that escapade had been nothing short of heroic. He had taken charge, practically assuming a maternal role, ensuring that Ilyas made it through the night safely despite his inebriated state. The memories of that morning after were a mix of haze and embarrassment for Ilyas. The pounding headache served as a harsh reminder of the previous night’s excesses. He recalled waking up to the strange markings on his neck, a mystery he couldn’t quite unravel. There had been a faint recollection of a blurry encounter, a mistaken identity, and the absurd notion that Corin was a girl attempting to sneak into his bed. It was all a jumbled mess, compounded by his disoriented state.

In his sober confusion, Ilyas had acted according to his usual rule – never allowing his flings to spend the night. He remembered pushing Corin away, utterly convinced that he was thwarting the advances of an unknown woman. It was a humorous and rather humiliating memory, one that had solidified their friendship in the most unconventional of ways.

Harrison’s words about the eldest daughter of the Ellis family echoed in Ilyas’s mind, and they carried a weight. “I must take my leave,” Ilyas announced to his friends, not meeting their gazes as he patted Harrison’s shoulder. “We shall continue our reunion later. Feel free to discuss my exceptional looks once I depart, but please don’t linger too long on my backside.” He added a touch of humor to lighten the mood, but his eyes were already scanning the room, drawn to the dark-haired figure with a petite frame that his his mind racing.

Ilyas approached the woman from behind, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. There was something oddly familiar about this encounter, reminiscent of a earlier encounter that had not ended well. “Lia?” he whispered, his hand gently wrapping around her wrist. “Shrimpy?” Ilyas couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his eyes roamed over her form. Not in a way of checking her out but more so confused why she was here. Shocked. “What are you doing here? I thought… you aren’t dea—clearly— here you are, small as ever but here…” His voice was a mix of surprise and amusement as he addressed the woman before him, a hint of affection in his gaze. “Did you actually shrink?” He added with a playful glint in his eye, teasing her as if they had never been apart.

@Kristi Harrison
@DandelionKate Corin
@benitz786 shrimpy
@Jass sorta mentioned

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BainbridgeBrantley-min

As Louisa talked, Bain was looking for something in his coat while listening to what she has to say. “Really? Abigail is dancing with somebody? I wonder who.” He looked at the dance floor but was unable to make out where his sister was. "It doesn’t look like she is there. Anyways … " He turned back to face Louisa as he pulled out a perfume bottle and gave it to her with the words "Talking of Abigail, she told me to give you this scent, said you needed to try it tonight. However he ended that sentence with a slight wink.f Try tonight indeed, it was actually an old emptied out perfume bottle in which he poured her favorite liqour. The next thing he did was slip a cigarette into her hand withouth anything noticing. In a hushed tone he said “The bottle doesn’t contain perfume, just so you know.” After giving her what he thought she needed to feel relaxed, he continued “Cousin, I’ve just made a business arangement and I need your help too. I’ve been thinking of getting myself into the whole project to build a railway system in England and I need to buy iron from your factory. What would be the going price?”

@Ouijaloveletters - Louisa

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Purple Sky Profile Header (2)
Louisa also glanced around for her cousin, trying to spot her. Unable to find her, she turned back to Bainbridge. “I do not see her either, but I am sure she is here. I would not worry about her. She’s certainly here somewhere.” Dropping the subject, she raised a brow, taking the bottle that her cousin had handed to her. Unsure if he was winking or had something in his eye, she blinked. What exactly was he doing? Luckily for her, he soon explained why he handed her the bottle. Also, it had seemed he was actually winking. Well, that was a bit awkward. When told the bottle did not contain perfume, she nodded, deciding she’d look at it later. After stowing away the bottle, Bainbridge then got down to business. Louisa nodded as he spoke, waiting for him to finish before she spoke. “That should be about 200 shillings per ton, if you wish to buy from the factory. Why not think it over and send a letter or come call on me once you reach your verdict. I wish you the best on your business endeavor, whichever you decide.” She meant every word, she really did. She wished her cousin the best, though she was not sure how it would turn out for him. Louisa was not a positive person.
@LunaticLeviTheSecond - Bainbridge

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bloodline- Ariana Grande


Dance #2: Future Duke Orpheus


Orpheus smiled at her thread and Belle wanted to wipe his smile of his face. Why was he smiling? What was there to smile about? She scoffed when he had assumed that her steps would be light-they were not, she had practiced from stepping on her brother Thomas everytime he had frustrated her mind with his talking when her mother and tutors would make them practice ‘dancing’ and etiquettes. She had onced stepped on him really hard when she had caught him, staring intimately at one of the maids while they were dancing and Thomas had well reported her to Louis, their much older brother and future heir who had stopped buying books for her for a week, and told their father to do the same and restricted her from leaving the house. Though, Louis had felt bad and bought her a book or two during her ‘punishment’ time. Moreover, Belle knew that she had a lot of strength in her legs

She looked around seeing if anyone was watching and stepped on Orpheus as he gave her permission to do so, her lips curving into a little half smile at his expression. “Was that light, Lord Orpheus?” Belle asked, her voice lowering and in the same tone she had used to warn him.

This was quite literally the first time Belle had actually had a full conversation with Lord Orpheus and there was definitely a reason she did not talk much with him. He was frustrating, incredible, especially when drunk Belle noted. But he was also quite a good dancer, even while drunk. Belle would admit, she enjoyed dancing with him because he took the lead, relaxing the pressure from Belle as she just followed his movements. He had twirled her, a move that was not in sync right now and Belle had raised a brow at that but did not say anything because she was currently in her soul thinking. Thinking of the questions she had asked him, the decisions she had made, and everything that did not require much thought to it because Belle always liked to think of even the most unimportant things, after all everything can affect her in the future. Everything could either make her or fall or stand.

She fired her questions and she noticed Orpheus biting his lips- an amused look on his face and she gave a look. What was so funny? She did not think she had said anything worth laughing at. Bele had always said he was strange and it seemed the alcohol made him even stranger. She was about to ask him what was to funny that he was laughing till he he began to speak. Answering the question she had giving him. As she listened to his words, and felt his touch on the edge of her hands, Belle had blinked, turning away as her face became flush- embarrassment, she would say it was. She had never been good with handling flattery when in such close proximity. “Flattery gets you nowhere,” She told him as suddenly his hands on her’s felt warm. “Josephine, Josephine she speaks to you proper because she was born and raised to be the ideal lady of France, the nation’s wife,” That was true. Upon birth from what Belle had heard, Josephine was taken for the monarchy of france to gaze upon her and they had taken her to the church blessing her and in France- her country, Josephine was always called the ‘nation’s wife,’ she was supposed to represent the ideals and lifestyle every high class lady she follow, what every lady should strive to be. And Belle, yes was also brought to be that way as everyone expected her to be a second Josephine at birth but Belle had always been a strong willed child and she will always be that, after all she was more of her father’s child than her mother’s she liked to think. “While I prefer to live for myself,” She said, her lips curling and her eyebrows scrunching as she thought, as she thought of her upbringing and Josephine’s upbringing and her relations with her mother compared to her father. “And that is why it would be in your best interests, to prefer the dandelion to the rose. Dandelions are what represents hope, you need more hope in life than passion, Lord Orpheus,” Belle told him her hands still feeling warm in his. “Passion can be cruel,”


@DandelionKate

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dance two: albina northwick


Atlas could only offer an apologetic smile to Albina. He hated how society limited women to certain things; he knew all too well that they were capable of more. He instantly thought of Belle and remembered all the times she would tell him about the things she wanted to do in her life. Atlas couldn’t blame Belle for not wanting her only choice in life to be marriage; she had so much potential for greater things than to just become someone’s housewife. “Yes. It is indeed a complicated matter, and I do hope that one day you are able to achieve what it is you are looking for in life, Lady Albina.” He said as he continued to dance with her. Atlas looked into her eyes and noticed how they glowed more as the light touched them. Albina was someone he had just met, but for some reason, he felt compelled to watch out for her.

Your words seem to surprise me every time, Lady Albina. I must admit, I do find you quite intriguing." Atlas said with a small smile as he looked down for a bit after hearing her answer about what she would look for in a potential lover. What is that warm feeling forming on my cheeks? Atlas shook his head before it could betray his growing fondness for Albina. He didn’t want to let his emotions get the best of him, especially since they had only just met. She was, however, the type of woman Atlas would typically pursue. She is Adeline’s friend. He thought. Atlas could never have anything with Albina; it would just make it harder for Atlas to be away from Adeline. “I do not seek a wife, Lady Albina, but in order not to leave your question unanswered, I will say that I desire a woman who possesses intelligence, wit, and a strong sense of independence. I am drawn to someone who challenges me intellectually and shares my passion for adventure and exploration. To me, physical beauty is just a bonus, but it is the inner qualities that truly captivate me.” He spoke softly as he continued to look at her, realizing he was essentially describing the same qualities she had mentioned before. Atlas cleared his throat, quickly losing eye contact with her as he tried to change the subject. “Anyways… May I ask where you would most like to travel?”


orp: @Jass albina

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ORP: Sorry for not answering sooner I was bsessing over finding scenes for the video, which I might not even make

BainbridgeBrantley-min

Bainbridge meant to ask his cousin if she could check in at the office some day to see how much it costs and he certainly didn’t expect for her to know the price on top of her head. He smiled at her like as if he was her proud brother, and said “I believe grandfather was right in leaving you the factory. He saw something in you we were all too blind to notice. Now, thank you for this, it seems a bit more affordable than I thought.” He looked at her, not wanting to end the conversation there, so he suggested “Why don’t you join? The speculation I mean. Put in some money and you’ll have some in return. I promise you it’s not only going to be profitable to invest in railroads, I also know it would be good for the type of transport of raw materials to you and from you if you should ever sell in bulk. What do you say, cousin?”

@Ouijaloveletters - Louisa

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Dance number two Atlas Delaney


While Atlas had not verbally reacted to what Albina had said about her disadvantages as a lady, the apologetic smile he had given her conveyed more than any words could have done. She was not quite sure what thoughts went through his mind, but she felt like he was understanding her frustrations, at least to some degree. “Thank you for your thoughtful words, Lord Atlas.” she smiled at him “Let’s trust that life has a way of leading us to our dreams, one step at a time. May I inquire what is it you dream for your life, for your future?”

As Atlas spoke how he found her intriguing, those words surprised yet excited her: “You flatter me, my lord. I must warn you, though - for there are still many far more intriguing aspects of my character left to discover.” she chuckled before saying: “Do you believe yourself capable of managing such a prospect, familiarising yourself with a most intriguing lady?” she made direct eye contact with him as she spoke those words. She enjoyed teasing and challenging him. The way he replied to this however, it was almost a test to see whether he could handle her. She wanted people around her who could handle her.

Albina could feel herself turning redder and redder underneath the layer of powder she was wearing, as with every word he spoke about what he wanted in a lady, she recognised herself in those words more and more. Intelligent, a sense of humour, independent, not afraid to challenge and be challenged, adventurous, all things she would consider herself as. This realisation made her heart beat faster. Before she could say anything however, she saw how he broke their eye contact, cleared his throat and made an attempt to change the topic. Maybe the same thing Albina had just realised herself, had made him uncomfortable. She however, was not capable of shutting her mouth and respecting the clear signs he gave her that he was not fully comfortable talking about it. “My lord, your preferences bear a striking resemblance to my own character. It’s almost as if you’ve just described the lady standing before you.” she said in a playful manner with a soft chuckle, there certainly was a serious undertone to her words however. “But to answer your inquiry, Lord Atlas, I’ve always possessed a wanderlust in my heart, desiring to explore every corner of this vast world if I could. Yet, if I were to choose a specific destination, Egypt would be at the top of my list. Its rich history, the mysteries of the pyramids, and the allure of the Nile have always called to me. To explore the ancient wonders of that great civilization would be a dream come true.”, her gaze was lost to the distance, thinking about how wonderful such an experience would be, to travel to a country like Egypt. "How about you? Do you have a destination that speaks to your adventurous spirit, or even better, any remote locations you have already had the pleasure of visiting yourself?


@sunflowerjm - Atlas

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rose among dandelions


Dance #2.5 : Lady Belle Rose (@Kristi) ~ongoing~


Belle slammed her foot down onto Orpheus’ shoe, a movement almost believably in step if anyone were to notice from the outside. Orpheus could not help the pained expression and shock that washed over his face, causing his eyes to go wide and well slightly with tears. Orpheus let out a small whimper, barely audible even to Belle, despite her proximity.
However, his smile remained, forced, but fixated on his expression. A twisted sort of smile that held the strength of the pains that rose from his leg. However, he would not let any onlookers know their time together was any less than perfect. So he forced the smile wider.
“Was that light, Lord Orpheus?” Belle inquired, the same lowly depth to her voice that it had held once before. The pain seemed to simmer away as he listened to her words. Something about her numbed his senses.
“I hope you are quite satisfied, Miss Rose.” Orpheus maintained his grin, never breaking her gaze. Suddenly, Belle’s eyes diverted from his, a subtle blush playing on her cheeks. A rosy sort of color that Orpheus had never seen on her expression, not even in the summer heats in the gardens. His head tilted slightly to try to meet her hidden eyes, but Belle continued to speak apart from his gaze.
“…the nation’s wife, while I prefer to live for myself.” She stated, a familiar scrunch on her face causing Orpheus to bite his lip from laughter again. She seemed so small to him now. A pup whose bark died down, and whose bite was nowhere to be found. Except, perhaps…in his toes.
“She is someone’s wife, indeed. A man, who I hear, treats her well and loves her deeply. You speak of your sister as if she is so distanced from you through this marriage, yet you are not so removed, dear Rose.” Orpheus felt a pang of pity come over him as he continued to study her concentrated expression. He wondered what thoughts might race through her mind that she could not share. What pain did she hold with her in her cage of silver and gold?
“How jarring it must have felt at such a young age to lose the person you admired most to another…it is a pain I know very personally, so I understand your hesitations. But, unlike my relationship, yours is not beyond repair. Did you heed my advice and speak with her? You both have much to say, I am sure.” Orpheus offered, his smile lightening to be more reassuring and warm; the fake, pained expression dissolving from behind his eyes.
Josephine had often talked of her longing for her sister and the relationship they once held. How it felt as if her life had fallen into place apart from the very piece she held most dear: her sister. It pained Orpheus to hear his friend talk of such pains when he knew Belle sat in the garden desiring the same closeness once again.
For a moment, they danced in silence, their eyes never meeting. Orpheus allowed his eyes wander over her for the first time since they had begun their dance. Her light blue dress affixed with flower lacing, bringing the perfect mixture of complimentary colors and beautiful symbolism to her gown. Each petal seemed hand stitched, and Orpheus could not help but admire the details of her work.
“…It would be in your best interests, to prefer the dandelion to the rose…Passion can be cruel.” Belle stated, her eyes still lost to his, yet he could sense a subtle pain in her words. A vulnerability of sorts that had not been there before.
Orpheus took a pause before responding, attempting to gather the scattered thoughts of his drunken mind in a way that would pull her from her own thoughts as well.
“And hope is often lost, little flower.” Orpheus began, a soft smile filling his face despite the pained heart he currently carried at the discussion of the topic. “All things that bloom fade in time. so with the time I have, I shall garden a thousand roses to fill my days. For, I have found that hope without love is as needless as a dandelion without a petal to wish on. Love and passion are the end goals of all hope, are they not? So why settle for less than a rose? I simply would not.” Orpheus’ smile grew, and his hand left hers momentarily to guide her face back toward his own, their eyes meeting again.
“Why is it that we nurture roses in the garden despite its many thorns? Because it is worth the pain. Perhaps, you are equally worth the reach, little flower. Although, presently, my toes might argue the contrary.” Orpheus laughed, his face burning a soft pink from the alcohol…or the heat of the conversation, who’s to say?
“I have quite readied myself for another question, if you have more to inquire about. If I had known curiosity is all it would take, I would have divulged my secrets long ago to witness you in such a state. I think our time is much worth the scandal we might accrue.” Orpheus smiled a genuine smile, his eyes soft and light from the release of the pains of the night.
As if witnessing a sunrise after an endlessly stormy sky, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders as he looked on at her, happily.
A word not often associated with the emotions that raced through his mind. But he was. Truly, happy.


mentioned :
Belle (@Kristi)
Finch (@Caticorn)

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Pre-Dance 2: Talking with Lady Dorothea (@CerealKiller).

As distance increased between Adeline and Magnus once they had finished their dance, an unexpected sensation of warmth washed over him, enveloping his entire being. It wasn’t physical warmth but something deeper and more profound. It seemed that during his dance with Lady Adeline, Magnus had felt a connection, a spark of something inexplicable. It was as if a small candle had been lit within him and it cast a soft glow illuminating his thoughts and emotions.

The candle was quickly extinguished, however, suddenly being consumed by a surge of irritation as he was unexpectedly bumped into once again. His patience was wearing thin. “Is there a contest for clumsiness that I’m unaware of? If there is, you’ve certainly secured your place as the reigning champion,” he quipped, distain lacing his deep voice. He turned to face the young woman responsible for the collision, assuming it could only be the bothersome Viscount’s daughter once more.

It wasn’t. Unable to stop a laugh almost explode from his lips as he saw whom the woman was. Although, it wasn’t to stop his annoyance fuelling his words. “Lady Addington. I feel obliged to tell you how impressive it is to see your lack of awareness and grace here.” Magnus briefly paused before continuing just as sarcastically. “One would think that basic motor skills would be a given, but I suppose some people are just destined to be walking disasters.”
Taking in Dorothea’s disbelief in what she had done, he realised that she had also used profanity in his presence. Although annoyed, Magnus couldn’t help be amused by the situation. Listening to her quickly apologise, his irritation softened slightly. “Well, it is good to know that you’re aware of your actions,” he retorted with a wry smile. “And rest assured, Lady Addington, I didn’t expect you to be the one attempting to knock me down tonight, let alone show me such colourful language you use.”


Mentions:
@sunflowerjm - Adeline
@Bexs - Emma (sorry)

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let me down slowly


Harrison awaited a response from Ilyas that never graced his ears. Ah, Ilyas, forever trapped in the silent maze of his own thoughts- never as good with words as Harrison or persons he the cat had caught his tongue like the expression goes. Well, Harrison sought solace in the heaven- praying the gods or God that Ilyas would speak soon because Harrison did not have the patience or time right now with his anger to become a mind reader. He needed answers, not games, and Harrison was usually a man of games.

With an exasperated glance, Harrison turned to Corin, offering Ilyas an opportunity to conjure a response, to provide justification for his lack of letters and of words. When Corin had mentioned that Ilyas had taken many extracurricular activities during their time at the academy, Harrison had aheed- of course, Ilyas was busy bedding women, was that why he could not send a letter? Because he was too busy with the acts of bedding? That could not be it, Ilyas had bedded so many woman here in England and he still found the time to chat with Harrison so what was it? Where the women of France truly that special? Possible but that was not the answer and Harrison knew it."This situation would almost be shocking if it weren’t for the fact that Ilyas has always been, well, a bit of a rabbit. One wonders how he hasn’t already sired any illegitimate heirs " Harrison said a smirk on his face, till the smirk had fallen down then gotten back up remembering that Corin was here. Wait, could it be that Ilyas had an illegitimate heir he was taking care of during his stay at the academy and that was why he had never sent a letter? But Corin did mention that Ilyas sent him a letter and yet could not be bothered sending one to his friend since the youthful days, still it seemed quite fitting for Ilyas to birth illegitimate heirs but at the same time no. Harrison would like to believe if that was the case then he would have known, there would be something in Ilyas expression that would remind him of that of a father- marking him as one but there was nothing.

It was just the old expression of his friend who had let him down with his lacks of letters. Harrison listened as Corin retold how he and Ilyas met, his lips curling into an ohed expression- Well that was certainty an introduction. “Ilyas does have a habit of making relations through strange encounters. Did you know that I and him had met when we were younger from a race? I was winning because of course I am after all I am Harrison, but to keep myself as humble as I am, I shall continue, well I was at the head of the race and Ilyas had decided he would like to be a cheater and somehow he had tripped on a stick and had held me, dragging me down with him. I had called him a cheater,” Harrison said turning to face Ilyas with fondess as he recounted their tale, till he realized that It was Ilyas he was looking at not the ilyas he knew who would not have dared to not send later, and he eyed him before returning back to Corin, “While we were having our disagreement, we saw the other boys coming over but we wished to win, we both did so we helped each other win and we might or may not have found a way to delay the other ones so we both could somehow come out first.” Yes, that was truthfully the story of how they met as chaotic as it may sound, and perhaps if you were there during that time it happened, it would have looked even more chaotic than it sounded. Especially since that was exactly what made them close to one another. Ever since then, Harrison was truly fond of the rascal, and they had developed a closer friendship, with Harrison teasing him because Harrison was taller than him and most of the boys his age or older and the fact Harrison was also older.

Morever, that was enough positive about Ilyas because really all Harrison wanted to do right now is- and he will not be blamed for his actions if he did was to slam his fist into Ilyas face. Ilyas had called the Ellis girl multifiaced, asked for an answer to Ilyas neglect of him and then Ilyas had just gone, gone to talk to exact same girl Harrison had called multifaced. What type of horse shxt was that? “How would you feel if I was to punch your friend?” Harrison asked turning to Corin, “As much as I do want to leave a postive impact on you, I do not think i can hold my anger for much longer. Ilyas is truly getting in my last nerves, I truly wonder what had possessed me to be friend him and what is possessing me right now to still consider the traitor a friend.” Harrison said his lips curling into a snarl as he watched Ilyas approach the Ellis girl- for as long as their friendship has lasted, Harrison had truly never expected something like this, he had never expected there would come a time he would be so angry with Ilyas he would wish to slam his fist into his face especially as he talked about the backside he did not have.


@DandelionKate - Corin
@Madilnel - Ilya s(mentioned)
@benitz786 - Aurelia (mentioned if you squint)

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Emma Wycliff


Emma could hear the music from where she was in the garden. She missed the first dance, and now the second one was starting.

Emma decided she had enough moping and feeling sorry for herself. Even if she didn’t want to be the one to walk down the aisle in a white dress, she still had to make an appearance, do something, at least long enough until she could get away.

Emma got up and quickly wiped away her tears before she began to briskly walk, almost march-like, back into the ballroom.

She quickly looked around, for anyone. Someone who wasn’t dancing, who was free.

Then…Emma saw him. He was on the side of the room, talking to an older person. He was…kind of tall to say the least. At least a foot taller than her, but Emma didn’t notice that until she was already halfway over to him. Before Emma could even think about turning around to go back, the man looked up, and they made eye contact.

A pit formed in Emma’s stomach and she gulped. It was too late now.

After hesitating for a second, Emma walked over to him.

“Pardon me, sir. I have a very important question to ask this gentleman you are talking to.” Emma interrupted the conversation, giving a slight curstey to him before turning to look up at the taller gentleman.

“May I have this dance?” She asked him, holding out her dance card to him while also fighting the urge to just pull him onto the dance floor just so she could say she got one dance over with.


@Ouijaloveletters - Edgar >.<

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Dance 1: Edmund Wycliff


The start of the social season in England meant the start of a new adventure for Priti. She and her brother had journeyed her from their home in India, hoping to find their future spouses. Priti was preparing for the Queen’s Presentation, flaking off the dried henna she had done on herself the night before, revealing the design that was stained on her skin. It would be hidden under her gloves during the presentation and the ball but it comforted her to have a reminder of home. A more blatant display of her nationality came in the form of her dress, which she had made to emulate the English style but using the fabric which would typically be used for a saree back home. She also accessorized herself with gold and diamond bangles over her gloves.

At the Queen’s Presentation, both Priti and Maisie, one of the Mehtas’ gracious hosts, were presented by the Countess Addington, neither girl having a female relative to present them. She curtsied in front of the queen, keeping herself poised as she stood in front of her. She had met people of importance before but the English queen had a quality to her that put her in a category of her own. Already Priti knew that she admired and respected this woman. Knowing that she would be, in a way, an ambassador of her country and thus had to make a good first impression, she had brought a gift for Her Majesty, a gold and purple saree. She felt relieved when the queen seemed to appreciate her gift and when her turn had passed, despite not being named the diamond of the season, Priti felt she had been successful in her presentation.

Then came the ball. Priti’s eyes lit up as she entered the room, escorted by her older brother. The ball was everything she could’ve imagined and more. Any nervousness she had held was now gone, replaced by excitement. Not long after she made her entrance into the ball, she was approached by a man who looked to be around the same age as her brother. She greeted him with a quick curtsy.

“Miss Mehta, you look lovely this evening. Might you honour me with the pleasure of a dance?”

“Thank you.” She responded, acknowledging his complement. This was her first dance of the evening and she was determined to have it go as smoothly as possible. “I would be delighted to dance with you.” She responded, offering him her hand.


@Littlefeets - Edmund

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Edgar had risen at his usual time, intending to read for a while before getting ready for the Queen’s ball. He truly hoped he would be able to marry this time, but being a realist, he sadly doubted it. Trying not to start the day off on a sour note, he engrossed himself in a book, before his father came to ask him to get ready for the ball. Placing his book down, he did so, dressing in a nice suit, and adding a small bit of cologne. Heading to the ball, he arrived with his father, conversing with Victor for a while. They had somehow missed the first dance due to their discussion, and Edgar was brought out of his thoughts by approaching footsteps. Glancing down, he spotted a petite(well, to him)blonde haired girl, making her way towards him. That was strangely convenient. He turned towards her, bowing, and reaching for her dance card.* ”Please don’t apologize for the interruption. I would be more than happy to dance with you. I seem to have missed the first dance, as embarrassing as it is to admit…” After signing her dance card, he offered her his hand to lead her to the floor. “Auf wiedersehen, vater.” He bid to Victor, gently leading the girl on the floor. “May I know the name of the lovely woman I am to dance with? My name is Edgar.”He bent, bringing her hand to his lips, gently kissing her hand.
@Bexs - Emma

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His voice soothed her, reassuring that Azucena had not upset this man in falling into his arms. As a lady of the queen’s court, Azu found it admittedly difficult to court in a manner that was so dully conservative. Unfortunately for herself, he made it even harder to stick to the routine and present herself as usual. She should have stood up to bow in some way, and describe herself, title and all. Instead, she let him hold her a bit longer. After all, one did not come across a pair of biceps like his very often.

“If you believed it to be an act my lord, you would have let me go.” She smiled with a hint of mischief, allowing him to pull her up and let her stand again. She faced him then, seeing as he stood a few inches taller than her; enough to have to tilt her head a bit when they spoke. It was then she supposed she must introduce herself normally. She curtsied, “Lady Azucena, Marchioness of Spain.” The girl said, as she believed they had not met before. Then Azucena reminded herself to be polite as always. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

@CerealKiller

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There are five crucial things that one should know about Ambrose Ramsbury. Well, technically there are many things, many lovely things to know about the man, but at this current moment, there are five things in particular that really matter.

  1. Today, in the grand scheme of “Terrible days,” is taking the top spot in Ambrose’s personal rankings. The reasons behind this are… irrelevant. Okay… not irrelevant to Ambrose, but irrelevant nonetheless. Suffice to say, today, is exceptionally, impressively terrible. What is that saying? Today takes the fcking Cake.
  2. Speaking of “cakes,” the thought of such (even out of context) suddenly ignited a raging hunger within the man. Damn it. Ironically, however, it did entice the man to want to go to the ball far more than he had wanted to previously.
  3. At this very moment, Ambrose Ramsbury is barefoot. No questions will be answered at this point in time, thank you. Unless it’s about food… those questions might be answered. Again, Ambrose is starving.
  4. While initially looking forward to today, recent events have cast a foreboding shadow over Ambrose’s disposition, changing his outlook significantly. Suffice to say; besides the food, he truly did not want to attend the damn ball.
  5. As for the fifth point, well, perhaps that’s a tale best experienced rather than explained. Let me recount what happened at exactly ten past nine-o-clock.

“A week’s worth of wages, my good man”

“I… I cannot, sir”

“Oh, come now, do you truly believe His Highness remembers every piece of clothing in his vast wardrobe? He can scarcely recall the names of all the ladies he dallies with. Have faith in my discretion, for this arrangement benefits us both. Two weeks of wages.”

“S…Sir…”

"Indeed, everyone’s attire in this place is rather uniform. I’m not inquiring after the finest garments. Merely select something that would go unnoticed. Three weeks of wages. "

“Three… Weeks?”

“Accept my offer, or decline it. The choice is yours.”

“Oh, I don’t…”

Ambrose had already retrieved the payment, presenting it to the servant with a flourish before transferring half of the amount into the man’s hesitant hands.

"And you shall receive the remainder upon your successful retrieval of the garments… including the shoes.

Ambrose released the softest of sighs, his gaze falling downward to his bare feet, which were now covered in mud.

“… Very well. Please… wait by the oak tree on the southern side of the Garden. I… I shall return with the requested items…”

So yes…

  1. Ambrose Ramsbury was currently in the process of changing into the Prince’s clothes, and surprisingly, they fit him quite well—well, everything except the shoes, which appeared to be a size too big. Nevertheless, one had to make do with what was available.

The outfit consisted of a finely tailored coat in deep regal blue, complete with intricate gold embroidery along the lapels and cuffs. Beneath the coat, he wore a pristine gold waistcoat, a stark contrast to the white trousers that clung to his legs. The ensemble was completed with a silk cravat neatly tied at his neck, providing a touch of elegance to the overall appearance.

The benefit of the garden in the cloak of night was that he was alone—well, almost alone, as the servant boy nervously waited nearby to retrieve Ambrose’s old clothes, which he intended to discard. Ambrose had chosen to retain the topcoat from his original attire, a rich crimson red piece that offered a striking contrast to the deep regal blue of the Prince’s ensemble he now wore. It had a subtle rip near the hem, but it mostly remained unharmed, and for the moment, it would have to do.

The Prince’s attire, though fitting quite well, bore an air of misplacement. It was evident that the garments had not been tailored expressly for his frame, and subtle distinctions in the way they hung upon him were discernible when compared to how they would grace the Prince’s physique. But Ambrose was willing to set that concern aside for another time. Collecting the discarded clothing, which included the Prince’s topcoat, he handed them over to the servant boy, along with the remainder of the payment he owed.

Your assistance is greatly appreciated,” he murmured in a hushed tone. With that, Ambrose Ramsbury made his way to the dance. His mood was tinged with slight frustration due to the day’s events and the discomfort caused by his oversized shoes. Yet, there was also a peculiar sense of intrigue, wondering if the night held more than just respite from the hunger that had gnawed at him throughout the long day.


Within minutes, Ambrose had quietly slipped into the ballroom. Any fleeting hopes he might have harbored were quickly dispelled by the stark reminder of his purpose for this season. Like countless other men, this was a season of matrimony for Ambrose Ramsbury.

But first, he could at least sate his hunger. Ambrose made his way toward the refreshment table. Perhaps he had underestimated his ability to walk in shoes that weren’t his size. Damn you, Prince Magnus. For a brief moment, his gaze drifted downward, checking to see if his discomfort was evident. However, in the midst of his scrutiny, he collided with a lady who had just left the dance floor.

Great. Another checkmark on the list of reasons why this day continued to get “better.”

However, his reaction was immediate. He quickly reached out to steady the girl in front of him, ensuring she didn’t stumble or fall. As he held her, he expertly concealed any traces of discomfort that might have shown on his features. Once she was steady, he gracefully removed his hands and executed a polite bow, followed by a gallant kiss on her hand.

Moving his body back up so that he could look towards her, he maintained a sincere apologetic tone as he said, “My apologies for the collision, my lady. I hope you are unharmed, for it would be a travesty if such a lovely presence were marred”

@CrazyCaliope - Phoebe

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Dance 1: Bridget Beckham

It was that time of year again. The social season had commenced. There was excitement again in the Ridlington household this year as Juliet, the baby of the family, was preparing to make her debut. Only a year had passed since Finch had made his own debut, the shortest gap between any of the Ridlington siblings’ debuts but both Juliet and their parents had deemed her ready for her debut. It did take some pressure off of him as the marriage of their youngest daughter was more important to them than that of their third son. This was something Finch had grown accustomed to. There would always be something more important to his parents than he was.

The first event of the season was the presentation of all the young ladies making their debut to the Queen. Juliet, naturally, was being presented by their mother, Countess Edith Ridlington. Her presentation went as perfectly as possible but she hadn’t been named the diamond, a title she had confessed she didn’t want to Finch the night before.

Then came the first ball of the season. There was a different feeling to it than the previous season. There was no exciting anticipation. Having gone through the prior season had stripped the first ball of its spectacle, now it was just an obligation. Juliet, however, was in the spectacle mindset and entered the ball with a wide smile on her face. Seeing the pure joy in his baby sister’s face made Finch smile. Once they had made their entrance, the family dispersed, with his mother going off with Juliet to find her someone to dance with and his father immediately finding a colleague to engage in conversation with. Finch ventured off on his own, hoping to find his own friend to converse with. He hadn’t gotten very far before he found himself colliding with another person.

“My sincerest apologies.” He said as he faced the person, who turned out to be a young, and quite beautiful, woman. She was wearing a loose blue dress that looked like something out of a painting. She looked like something out of a painting. He gently helped her off of the floor. “I can promise you that I didn’t mean to knock you over.” He added. He wasn’t entirely sure who was at fault for their abrupt meeting but he wanted to seem like a gentleman, especially when he didn’t know this woman.


@Bluecookies - Bridget

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Perhaps the night was not off to the most auspicious of starts - after all, dancing with Harrison Davis was something that Aurelia never imagined herself ever doing. It was unfathomable, and now, Aure can see why; clearly getting close to that man, even in proximity, was begging for trouble - as her mother often warned. Trouble seemed to emanate from every corner of the Davis household, and associating with them was generally considered ill-advised.

On the bright side, at least Aurelia had a moment to speak with Orpheus. It provided her with a much-needed respite from the energy of the ball, especially considering the headache that had lingered from the earlier nuisance. While her memory might have faltered in some aspects, one person she would and could never forget was Orpheus—a man who had an uncanny knack for making her feel at ease, regardless of the circumstances. She missed him dearly, and for some inexplicable reason, her heart longed for his presence. This was precisely why she had chosen to bend a few rules and step outside to speak with him, even if it meant a short conversation filled with mostly her talking. In any case, she was looking forward to their upcoming dance, and the anticipation of their conversation buoyed her spirits.

Either way, in general, avoiding trouble was Aurelia’s priority this evening, for herself and, more importantly, for her younger sister. She felt a strong responsibility to set a good example for her.

Speaking of her sister, Lydia had mentioned something about Atlas earlier in the day. Aurelia couldn’t quite fathom the reason behind her sister’s suggestion, but if Lydia believed that Atlas might be a suitable match for her, perhaps it was worth exploring. After all, her sister’s judgment was usually astute… well… usually, that was, before the disaster of this morning. Aure still couldn’t understand what had transpired in Lydia’s thoughts, leading her to present herself to the queen in the most unladylike of manners.

As Aurelia delicately sipped her water, her eyes wandered the lavish ballroom in search of Atlas to check if he was available. However, it appeared that trouble had a knack for finding her, akin to a bloodhound tracing a scent, and it was determined to cross her path. This time, it took form of the audacious Ilyas Keats. Perfect… just… perfect.

Aurelia could not fathom what mysterious influence was drawing all the rogues in her direction this evening. Whatever it was, however, she’d prefer it to stop. Was it too much to ask for one evening of simplicity? A single night where, even if her memory was a bit hazy, she could bask in the tranquility of the moment? Unfortunately, such desires appeared to be an elusive dream.

It was his gentle yet strangely familiar touch upon her wrist that initially captured her attention, a sensation she couldn’t quite place or comprehend. Nevertheless, she dismissed it, focusing instead on the words that slipped past his lips.

“Shrimpy?” A foul nickname he had given to her as a child, like a venomous thorn that had embedded itself in her memory, continuing to prick at her even now. His relentless bullying tactics throughout her childhood had fanned the flames of her aversion to Lord Keats, kindling a hatred that burned fiercely within her.

Not to mention, after those words spilled from his lips, he laughed. At her? Knowing him, it was a likely assumption. She was ready to demand that the man release her, but before she could utter a word, he changed the topic; his hand still gently holding her own. However, Aurelia had yet to pull away.

“What are you doing here? I thought… you aren’t dea—clearly— here you are, small as ever but here…”

Was that sincerity in his tone? It was a quality Aurelia had never associated with Lord Keats. She had often doubted he even comprehended the concept of sincerity. But then, what was that expression in his eyes? There was something there—a flicker of recognition, a hint of connection that they had never shared before. And as if on cue, her mind began to throb gently, similar to the ticking of a clock.

Lovely… just… lovely.

““Did you actually shrink?”

Shaking her head slightly, a bitter smile tugged at the corners of Aurelia’s lips as she stared into his eyes, withdrawing her hand from his grip.

“Lord Keats, whatever game you’re playing, save it for another unsuspecting victim. I’ve long outgrown your childish antics, and I won’t be ensnared in your tricks. Don’t you think you’re too old for such juvenile behavior? Pestering me, of all people? Is that what your friend was attempting earlier with his accost of me on the dance floor? Is this your idea of entertainment today? Well, I’ll have you know, I’m not in the mood to play.” Her tone carried a mix of exasperation and defiance, her words laced with the weight of past grievances.

“I will say this only once. Tell your friends, and make sure you yourself know, I will not be played. Leave. Me. Alone.” Her voice carried a firm determination, and she held his gaze, making it clear that her words were not to be taken lightly.

@Madilnel - Bully

Mentioned:
@DandelionKate - BESTIIEEE
@sunflowerjm - Atlas sooo slightly
@novella - SIIIISSTER
@Kristi - Ick

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Post dance I • With Magnus


She raised her gaze to meet his, her words delivered with a blend of poise and determination. “Believe me, I’m well aware that most of the ladies here would unquestionably swoon at the mere sound of your voice, however, I have little to no desire whatsoever to accidentally bump into you, let alone entertain the notion of putting on any sort of display,” she said, maintaining a respectful tone. “With all due respect, I’d much rather spend my time with someone who, at the very least, exhibits the most basic respect for their fellow human beings. As it turns out, that someone might just be elsewhere,” she added, her words chosen carefully as she responded to his mini-rant. She certainly didn’t need this uncalled for collision with a stranger (which still hurt) and on top of that, an entitled and discourteous man lashing out at her for it? No thank you.

She couldn’t help but add a touch of sarcasm to her reply, her expression unwavering. “One would think that fundamental conversational skills would be a given, but I suppose some people are just insufferably rude,” she retorted, returning his sarcasm with her own. As she contemplated the prince’s appalling behavior, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she should even be surprised. After all, he seemed to have it all—so what was holding him back from basic decency?

“I would have thought a man of your standing might set the example for proper behavior,” she began, her tone composed yet admonishing, “but it seems I might be lacking not only awareness and grace but also an accurate judge of character,” she retorted, her words laced with a blend of disappointment and subtle sarcasm.


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