Louisa simply shrugged at his words. ”I simply speak the truth. No more, no less. That is all. If I owe anything to the world, it is the straight truth. I see no reason to lie to spare the feelings of others. The truth will either break them, or make them as hard as steel. Only time will tell.” Louisa said, steadily meeting his gaze. She nodded along as he agreed. ”Yes, it matters not the strength of your body, but of your mind. Louisa quickly shook off his praise like running water, deflecting it quickly. ”It was not hard. Besides, I had to prove I do not need a man to protect me. If I cannot protect myself, I shan’t be taken seriously. I learned that very quickly in life. Also, if you want something done correctly, do it yourself.” As Klaus mentioned his love for spice, Louisa shrugged. ”To each thir own. I have no right to tell you what to do. I would simply be a hypocrite. I suppose I am the same with alcohol. I should not drink it, yet I do. It calms my soul.” The three had finished eating, and Louisa decided to help clean up a tad. After, they made their way to the stables, and Louisa yet again prepared Light Snow. The the mare was not used to carrying three passengers, but Louisa did not doubt that she could. They would just have to be careful. After Louisa mounted, Klaus and Dough did the same. ”Alright, just hold on. Klaus, arms around my waist, alright? Dough, hold on to Klaus tightly so you do not fall.” Louisa did not mean to nag, but she’d rather that, then something bad happen, and having her feel responsible. Coaxing the horse into a gentle walk, they were off.
@Kristi - Klaus
Clone - with Klaus
Maisie would be lying if she told you that she knew how the rest of her day would go. All she could really do was wonder if anyone else would show, or who would, if anyone did. No matter where her imagination wandered, she still wouldn’t have thought she was going to see the next person who walked into the parlor. A slight cough caught her attention, and she saw someone she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Behind the flowers he held, was none other than Klaus Shafer.
It had been years since she last laid eyes on him, and upon hearing his voice there was no containing her smile, and for a moment, there was little attempt to be ladylike. Proper etiquette or not, she practically ran over to greet him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug as he began to apologize for having left so abruptly. “You’re really here.” He was there, that’s what mattered most to Maisie. Someone she trusted, someone who mattered to her, came back. She had spent too much time over the years alone, and she hated goodbyes more than anything. But for someone to come back after a long time away, made everything better. “I missed you….”
It took just a moment, but Maisie stepped back, remembering that it wouldn’t be entirely proper for a young lady such as herself to have as much close contact with a young man as a hug entails, now that she had made her debut in society, leading her to blush slightly as she tucked her hair back behind her ear again. “I didn’t think you would be here.”
@Kristi - Klaus
As Klaus went on about his love for spices despise the effect they had on his body. Louisa had shrugged. She had told him that it would be hypocritical for her to judge as she did the same with alcohol, and Klaus gave her a sheepish look. “I also do that with alcohol,” he admitted, actually he did that with a lot of things, not really ignoring the pain but more like accepting it. Since he was young, he was used to doing things like this- climbing up trees and jumping down from them, knowing that he would fall each time and it would leave scratches that would heal overtime on his knees. His sister had once asked him, a disapproving look on her face:
“Why do you always do the things that give you pain?”
At that time, Klaus did not know how to answer her back then, and even now he would not know how to answer her. But he had an answer to it, because it was fun. Doing it, knowing that it was dangerous, that it could wound him excited him. The scratches from falling from trees were marks that sure faded overtime, but will always live with him as proof. But as proof of what exactly? proof that he was not a coward? Proof that his childhood was good? Proof that his friends should not worry for him much? That was something that klaus did not have an answer too.
“I suppose I tend to love things that are bad for me,” He continued from his 'I also do that with alcohol ’ speech, a small smile on his face as his eyes closed to go with the smile.
They had finished eating, and when Louisa stood up to help cleaning. Klaus had stopped her, “You don’t have to do it, I will do it” And before she could protest, Klaus had cleaned the dirt there and the maids had entered, helping to pack the plate, with Klaus helping them carry the glass jug of water. After that, they had made their way to the stables, as Louisa prepared the mere, Klaus had asked her, “Would it be able to carry the three of us?” he asked concerned for the horse’s health, “I do not want it to strain itself, I can always ride another horse.” Dough’s eyes widened at that, the very idea of being so close to Louisa, if Klaus was to ride another horse sent embarrassing chills down his spine. “No, no, no- i can do it.” Dough said, “I do not mind it. I want to practice my horse riding skills more.”
“I do not wish for you to strain yourself, brother, it is fine.” Klaus said blinking.
“Trust me Klaus, for I shall not strain myself,” Dough said his face flushed and Klaus shrugged, nodding his head as he entered Light snow, Patting the back of him as he sat. “Maybe if lightsnow can handle it, you can still ride or I can always ride another horse- you do not have to strain,” Klaus continued with his concern. As he spoke, Louisa had then asked for him to steady himself, wrapping his arms around her waist and he blinked as he did as instructed.
Cloning Klaus Shafer
★・・・・・・★
He was here, he was here after so many years of not being here, after so many years of not seeing her
and after so many years after that little incident where he had asked her to not think much of it and had apologized never getting the chance to confess his feelings. Klaus would admit, he was nervous- no, no that was a lie- he was more than nervous. His fingers, found solace in the rhythmic dance of tapping against the sides of his trousers. Holding flowers in one hand that covered his face, Klaus was nervous on what she may do. He knew that Maisie was kind, she was absolutely lovely- a smile in her face that always made her breathtaking, the way her eyes would twinkle when she was excited, which seemed to be most of the time, and the way her scent and personality reminded him of a beauty summer day. He was rambling he knows, he never could stop the rambling thoughts in his head when it came to Lady Maisie, but back to what he was saying.
Klaus knew that Maisie was as sweet as sugar, and even though it has been more than 3 years since he had disappeared completely she could not have changed that much, right? Right, it was Maisie after all , but still there was a lingering fear that he had caused enmity between him and Maisie. He feared her anger for his disappearance without a word, he feared her hatred for the incident that occurred before he left, and he feared that she shall scream for him to go.
He found himself inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying to control the rush of emotions as he braced himself for what was to occur, trying to expect the unexpected. But did he truly expect the unexpected? No, and the gasp that left his lips as the arms of Lady Maisie wrapped around him was proof of that. His ears tinged red at the touch: She was hugging him, she was hugging him, she was hugging him, To God she was hugging him!
She was hugging him , meaning that she did not hate him for leaving, she did not resent him as the next of her words was,‘i missed you’ at that he could not help the goofy smile that formed on his lips- it was his first big genuine smile in a while. He stood there, a stupid smile on his face as his hands were down on his sides. As she began to step away-Klaus realized that he had not been hugging back, that he had simply being standing there like a fool, and thus, before she could get away, he wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a hug of his own. She smelt sickly sweet and Klaus wanted to drown in her scent, he wanted to drown in her arms, was it possible to drown in someone’s arms? If it was, then, that was the way Klaus wanted to die.
Death by Drowning in Lady Maisie’s arms
It had a nice ring to it, did it not? For someone who feared death as much as Klaus did, the idea of dying because he loved Maisie did have a nice ring to it.
“I…I missed you too,” Klaus said, finally finding the courage to speak, as he unwrapped his arms from Maisie, his face red as a tomato. “How… how has it been?” Klaus asked, not knowing what else to say. His eyes widened as he remembered the flower he had brought and looked to the ground, to see that it had fallen down at the hug. He picked it up with his gloved hands that hid the scars he had, and flushed even more. “I’m sorry, the flowers must have fallen at the hug,” He continued, “They are still lovely though,” not as lovely as you, never as lovely as you. “If you want to still take it and also I-.” He walked towards the door, getting a small box that had the name, Maisie Rutherford inscribed in it. “For you,” He said extending his hands for her to take the box, his head bowed down timidly.
Inside the box, there was two different fragrance of perfumes that Klaus had made himself from scratch. His family, whom were very much skilled in the acts of wine making- considered the best wine makers of Europe by a majority of people, where also very skilled in the act of Perfume making- another area of business that the Shafers did and Klaus, well Klaus had made so many different perfumes for Lady Maisie, not knowing which one she shall like- he had made at least 10 and was planning to give her the ten, but when he had asked for the opinion of his mother who was well, a lady, she had picked two very beautiful smelling fragrance, one that she was sure Maisie would love and Klaus was truly hoping that was the case.
“I Didn’t think you would be here.”
Internally, Klaus had winced at that, because he was hesitating or more like trying to find reasons for why he should not come here. Trying to convince himself it shall be a bad idea, that Maisie did not need him anymore, that she disliked him, that she would hate to see him again or would be disappointed in his change. He did not want to ruin Maisie’s mood and because of that it was better not to come, he had told himself. He could not stand the very idea of seeing possible hatred of him etched on her face. “I had to see you again,” Klaus mumbled, “I missed you, I missed you a lot,” More so than she would ever imagine. “I was so scared of coming here,” he admitted, “Scared you would not want to see me again, Lady Rutherford, I’m truly sorry for leaving so abruptly and I’m sorry for the incident” He apologized.
@Littlefeets - Maisie
Louisa chuckled, patting Klaus on the shoulder. ”Alcohol is a lovely thing, is it not? I use it in order to get through my mother’s long winded lectures of how disappointed in me she is. She constantly says I shou Be more like Frances. Sorry, mother, for I am not her. I happen to be quite a bit worse.” Louisa shrugged. ”Do you engage in the occasional cigar as I do? Mother would most certainly have my head. The thought of a vein rupturing in her forehead gives me great joy.” When Klaus protested her helping, she stopped, staring at him. ”I am helping, and you know it. You have been kind enough to host me for dinner, this is the least I can do. End of discussion.” Louisa stated firmly, assisting in clearing the table. In the stable, Klaus expressed concern that Light Snow could carry them. When Dough said he could ride another horse, Louisa nodded. ”That would be best, if you would be willing. It would not be good to strain her, you are correct. It’s alright, Klaus, just got on behind me.” Louisa deadpanned. She really didn’t want to argue over horses at the moment…or ever, for that matter.
@Kristi - Klaus
Dahlia glanced at Harrison, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Perhaps the creatures you consult might just have a penchant for fine boxes," she teased lightly, her tone holding a hint of playful mystery mirroring his. Her gaze danced with amusement as she continued, “But should they promise encounters with charming individuals, they might reconsider their lodgings.” She smiled at him. “Perhaps it may even bite you on the nose.”
Her heart fluttered slightly at the subtle flirtation woven into his words, a warmth seeping through her despite her attempt to remain guarded. “Ah, the infamous Harrison charm,” she retorted with a mock sigh, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and a trace of something more. “I suppose even rodents might succumb to its allure.”
Their banter, a familiar dance, painted the air with a magnetic energy that Dahlia couldn’t help but be drawn into. She met his jests with her own quick-witted remarks, a delightful game they both indulged in, though her heart treaded cautiously in the wake of her genuine fondness for him.
“Exile for such a mischievous soul as yours? Oh, the world might not be large enough to contain your spirited mischief,” she countered with a sly grin, a glint of fondness shimmering in her gaze. “But do tread carefully, dear Harrison. The shock of your compliance might just cause my poor heart to falter.”
“Me? Cruel? I could never be.” She smirked at him. “Perhaps a… hug is worthy enough?” She wasn’t quite sure what to say when it came to getting new friends. Harrison was often making new friends, especially lady friends, if that is what it could be considered. Perhaps now was not the chance for Dahlia to bring that up.
As he teased about the proposed rewards, suggesting a dance under the stars, a small flutter danced in Dahlia’s chest. She appreciated the invitation but found herself treading carefully in the realm of her emotions. “Ah, the stars, our steadfast companions,” she murmured, a touch of longing lacing her words. “Perhaps one night, our steps shall weave under their celestial gaze.” His explanation of the gifts stirred a warmth within her, but her heart hesitated, a cautious beat in her chest. She listened to his tales, enraptured by his stories, yet her mind treaded the delicate line between friendship and something more.
When Harrison veered towards his affectionate declaration, his hands caressing her face, Dahlia’s heart skipped a beat. His words resonated deeply, and though she cherished the closeness, a sense of uncertainty lingered in her mind. “Dear Harrison, your world is a wondrous one,” she murmured softly, her gaze meeting his, a myriad of emotions swirling within. “But sometimes, even in worlds so enchanting, shadows linger.”
Her vulnerability, hidden behind a veil of innocence and idealism, stemmed from a history woven with romantic disappointments. Each jest, each playful tease, served as a double-edged sword, eliciting laughter yet fueling an underlying fear of emotional entanglement. The memories of past heartaches lingered, a ghostly reminder that whispered caution in her ear. She had, once before, placed her trust in fervent promises, only to watch them dissipate like the morning mist. And now, as Harrison spun his charismatic tales and tender declarations, her heart trembled on the precipice of uncertainty.
As she led him to her secluded rooftop garden, a sense of vulnerability nestled within her. The beauty of the moment enveloped them, the clouds painting stories in the sky. Yet, as Harrison invited her to share the vision, she hesitated. “Clouds, they shape our dreams,” she mused, her voice gentle, yet a pang of uncertainty tinged her words. “But dreams can fade, much like the clouds themselves.”
As Harrison pointed out the cloud shapes, inviting Dahlia into this whimsical exploration, her heart wrestled with the conflicting emotions swirling within. She marveled at his vivid imagination, at the way he found wonder in the ordinary. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a quiet turmoil lingered—a hesitant heart caught between the desire to surrender to the moment and the echoes of past heartaches. Her gaze followed his finger, tracing the contours of the clouds as he described their shapes—a book, a bed, stories written in the sky. The beauty of the scene enveloped them, but Dahlia felt a tug of war between her yearning for connection and the fear of being hurt once more.
“I’ve often wondered," Dahlia began softly, her voice a melody that wrapped around Harrison’s heart, "if the stories we read in the sky are merely reflections of the ones written in our hearts.” Her words hung in the air, a delicate invitation and a whispered confession rolled into one.
Dahlia’s breath caught in her throat, her heart beating a rapid rhythm as emotions surged within her. Her gaze softened, meeting his with a depth that mirrored the night sky above. “Perhaps,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath, “our hearts are the true storytellers, and the sky merely echoes their whispers.”
The weight of the moment lingered, the unspoken words ringing louder than any uttered sentiment. The atmosphere crackled with a quiet intensity, a connection palpable between them, as if the world around them had faded into a mere backdrop to their shared moment of vulnerability. Their fingers brushed, a tender dance of hesitant longing and unspoken desires. In that delicate touch, there existed a universe of untold stories, a silent promise of something yet to unfold between them.
In the tender closeness of the moment, the admiration for the beauty around them, Dahlia couldn’t help but offer a gentle reminder. “Harrison, your world is a tapestry of wonder, but threads of uncertainty sometimes weave through it,” she said softly, her gaze holding a mix of warmth and cautiousness. “Promises made beneath the stars mustn’t be mere illusions.”
And as she made her pointed remark about toying with hearts, a hint of apprehension colored her tone. “Forgive me if I seem wary, dear Harrison,” she said, her words gentle but tinged with a hint of sadness. “For I fear sometimes hearts become mere playthings in the hands of captivating players.”
As they sat under the celestial expanse, sharing a moment that seemed suspended in time, Dahlia grappled with conflicting emotions. The beauty of the night sky mirrored the complexity of her feelings—wistful longing intertwined with a lingering fear of heartache. She longed to surrender to the magic of the stars, yet the echoes of past wounds reminded her to tread cautiously, to shield her heart from potential pain.
@Kristi - Harrison
I think we just like writing novels?
Azucena Clone 1 - Post Orpheus Confrontation With Cassian
Azucena sat with her back against Orpheus’s door for a few seconds more than she should have. She did not attempt to fight her tears, there was no point anymore. She had been caught in her lies, betraying her dearest friend, with no way to apologize without tarnishing her entire image because she was threatened by Lang. It was near impossible that he could still be the same man from months ago in the tavern. But there he still was, in his house, behind the door, as terrifying as ever.
She was ashamed of herself. How would she be so pathetic as to beg for his mercy? Embrace the man who was willing to tear her to shreds if it meant obtaining the woman he imagined in their bed. None of it mattered; their bodies together. How could he her stomach that she hated when she squeezed into corsets, the line down her back, her scars no one knew about. The things only he saw, the things she was too scared to show anyone else. How could he know so much about her and still be unamused? Was she really that boring? The whole time, he never loved her, they were lies, the truth was in the name he shouted that night. It was always going to be her, and she was foolish to have ever believed him denying that.
But it was over now. Never again would she let him touch her as he just did, nor speak to her the way he just had. She heard steps coming near the door.
She jumped up, and breathed heavily and inconsistently, rocking herself back and forth as she eyed the perimeter.
The street was clear.
Azucena looked back, and then ran as fast as she could around the corner before she could walk up to the second home she had so missed; The Ellis Estate.
She had needed a place to go. And that was not home. She had no idea how she would go back there when the sun fell, or how she would explain herself to her family and servants without sounding like the complete fraud she was.
But for now, this brief sanctuary within time gave her a reason to go back to see them. The time had arrived, she was finally free from Orpheus Lang. Lillith was gone, and that b!tch could stay dead for all she cared because Azucena was here now. And she could finally see her favorite siblings she never had. She knocked on the door, desperate to see one of them at least. She needed a hug.
It opened, and to her pleasant surprise, the girl saw Cassian, throwing her arms around him tightly. With no problem, she rested her head on his chest, and cried. “I missed you so much.” She said into his shoulder.
@CerealKiller Cassian
mentioned:
@DandelionKate orpheus
Emmanuel my baby daddy
“Of course, Lady Fleur, how dare I compare you to the English, when you are from a much brighter nation. Where you have…” he paused for dramatic effect, although it was not exactly a lie that he disliked the English. “Cheese, and… baguettes! Also wine, and improper hygiene. I must commend you, for it is not commonplace to meet a French person who showers, my lady.” He teased, coming closer to her and pretending to smell something. “Although I am not so sure you are commendable.” He said, calling her stinky to jest with her more.
Her expression changed, and out of fear that she would react negatively, he extended his arms to ask for her mercy. He did not want to upset his friend- “I kid, lady Fleur, I kid.” He smiled a bit warmly, feeling a bit guilty for teasing her.
A part of him worried for his manners. Five years he had only really spoken with his men who were all gentlemen in the presence of women, but together they were connoisseurs of Barbary. Had he forgotten how to speak in noble social settings? He supposed he would have to re train himself how to be courtly.
She suggested that her interest had piqued in Spanish since she had met him. Emmanuel was so touched, he could almost put a hand to his heart. Still, he acted natural. To him, it would be girlish to convey flattery. Instead he offered. “If you would like, I could teach you.” He paused, thinking of words to say. “Can you say amigo?” He asked, switching into his Spanish accent to speak the word. It seemed the smartest one to choose, since after all, they were amigos!
However, he did wonder what she could have insinuated with her next statement. “What do you mean by other studies, my lady?” Emmanuel asked curiously, truly having no idea what she could have meant.
Through their dialogue, it became apparent that the two of them had many things in common, one being their passion for learning. Belle had worded her perception of humanity quite beautifully, actually. “I agree. And wouldn’t you say that is also a reason to conquer those dark shades and offer light?” He said.
Emmanuel, as much as he was a conqueror, capable and guilty of breaking rules, they all followed a principle. His intention was never to hurt, instead, he did not have any shame in ripping off bandages because it would allow for healing, which was what he had always wanted. He had shown that ability for compassion since he was a young boy offering bread to suffering peasants, continued when he was a young man offering his armory to natives hoping for freedom, and he could only hope it would continue into his manhood, treating his future wife with utmost respect. Wherever she may be, he would learn to be a man, if it meant learning to be apt for her love.
He gave her an empathetic look when she asked him her question. Usually, those “hypotheticals” were never hypothetical. He was tempted to inquire, and he would have if it seemed simpler, however Belle seemed to care about this issue more than the rest of their discussion, so he attempted not to pry, trying to help her subtly.
If someone close to him stood in the way of a small objective of his, like getting letters written or going somewhere that day, Emmanuel would surrender his attempts and throw them a bone. But Belle was not talking about that kind of situation.
“If I had something I really wanted, I would take it. And hope that person could forgive me when I did.” He said honestly, using words to sound like he was describing an event. When Emmanuel wants something bad enough, he finds himself incapable of not having it, and if his friends desire were that strong too, then he would support her chasing it.
“Do you remember Galileo, my lady?” He stopped, making sure that she was really listening. “Everyone had assumed the earth was a flat, two dimensional shape but he saw the patterns of the sky and he saw a world of three dimensions. And even though no one agreed with him, and he was insulted and ridiculed, he was right!”
“Be Galileo, my lady. The world still has so much yet to discover, it would be foolish to confine yourself to the expectations of others when they do not know what you do. It’s okay to be wrong by their definition, it’s yours that matters.” He assured her, his monologue switching into second person near the end. This most likely revealed by coincidence that he was speaking to her and not only generally and reflectively, but he hoped she would take the message, because even though he had only seen her for the first time a few hours ago, he knew her. And Belle was seldom mistaken when she faced adversity.
The man was a bit surprised at her confession. Sure, Lady Fleur was never known to be a traditional woman, but neither were many other girls, and still they all hoped to one day find a husband. In a way, Emmanuel almost felt disappointed to know she wished to stay unmarried. Of course, it stung a bit to know that his companion could not marry him whenever the list of ladies pursuing him shortened, but he also worried for her. How would a woman without a husband be perceived by their society? She would not have many friends, and would most likely be frowned upon by the community. It would truly be a life of solitude.
“Oh. I apologize, and you are right. I am far too privileged to assume that everyone’s lives are like me.” He asked for her forgiveness, lost on words to say about her single life. He did not want to offend her.
The prince rolled his eyes, then nodded sarcastically. “Whatever you say, my lady.” He ironically agreed with her. Emmanuel did not like to consider himself an arrogant individual, but like Belle said, he was a soldier, and it would not be easy to beat him in a shooting match.
He felt a bit sad when she said she could not hunt as much as he. “Well, for what it is worth, I presume you are a talented huntress.” Emmanuel dipped his chin down to compliment her.
She jested with him, and to his surprise, this element of courtly England was actually making him laugh. In all honesty, he had not expected his first day to happen this way, instead he thought of different ways he would be feigning enjoyment. But Belle, in real life, was perhaps even more charming than he had read her on paper.
“Perdedor? Yo te ganaré justo entonces, duquesita. Y lo haré en español.” He challenged her, taking his equipment and shooting down an apple just as fast as she.
She asked him why he was upset about the battle. He assumed he had no other choice but to tell her now. Emmanuel, he assumed, unlike most people, never shared his hardships because the thought of receiving consolidation made his skin crawl. He was not weak, nor some sad little prince for others to comfort. He hated to feel that vulnerable, so he kept his answer, short.
“That night when I returned to my barracks, I had received the letter informing me of death.” It was hard to say the words, but he had to finish the sentence. “My mother.” He cut it off there, struggling to continue. “That was the reason I had gone to spain where my father sent me here. His throat threatened to shut, but he kept talking, forcing himself to face the truth. “That was why I left the troops at sea, I wanted to continue fighting, but now I have been banished to this land.” His voice hardened to keep from cracking. “I did not even get to see her body, they had long buried her when I arrived. I could only consolidate my siblings with our reunion.”
He felt her tense as she was most likely about to try and awkwardly comfort him as one does. “Please do not. I am fine.” He said, closing back up again.
But all he felt was pain.
@kristi beleece LMAO
Clone I // With Azucena
At a certain point throughout the day, Cassian found himself lounged in their living room, a glass of wine in one hand and a book he’d been meaning to dive into for quite some time now. It was a rare moment of respite, especially considering his mother wasn’t around to send disapproving side-eye glances for indulging in some self-care instead of tirelessly pursuing a wife.
A hesitant knock echoed through the room, catching his attention. The knock on the door was unexpected, prompting him to set aside the book and make his way toward the entrance. “I’ll handle it” he casually dismissed the maid, who seemed intent on attending to the door, and opened it himself. As swinging the door open, he was met with the unexpected sight of Lady Azucena. Tears stained her cheeks, and an air of sadness enveloped her like a heavy shroud.
Cassian, caught off guard but quick to respond, opened his arms, and wrapped them gently around her, returning her hug, sensing that there was more to her visit than a simple expression of missing him. He then guided her inside, closing the door with a hushed click, “What’s wrong, Gatita?” he asked, his tone filled with genuine concern as he guided her toward a comfortable seat. Reaching for his almost full wine glass from earlier, Cassian offered it to her, a silent gesture of comfort as he looked at her.
Nikki Minjaj
“I am glad you liked them.” Nikhil smiled, priding himself. He was not quite yet familiarized with the gifts expected on calling day, in all honesty. He had only been informed of it as of a few days prior to the calling day, so he anticipated that his gifts would not be the best, considering he was also giving them to mostly strangers. Courteously, he could only obtain flowers in time for the date, which he was sure would be decent, but Maisie’s validation did make him feel a lot better. He had made it work!!
The girl suggested that she did not expect this from him and he was puzzled. At home in India, almost all marriages in the upper echelon were arranged, meaning that two families who were in close relation to one another made marches out of their children. This, to him, seemed quite similar. Out of all of the ton, he was closest with the Rutherford family, so it only made sense that he court their daughter.
“I had not thought of it that way, Maisie, but I believe that only gives me more reason.” He explained, analyzing what she had told him. “You are the lady I know best.” He smiled, thinking out loud. It was true, Nikhil had still yet to meet too many mates, but living with the Lady Rutherford had opened his eyes to her, knowing not only what she looked like in the ballroom but also the confidence of her own kitchen, with flour on her nose from joining her servants as they baked. That was the way he liked her; natural and sincere.
“And as for dancing, I did not do much of that last night. Forgive me, but I am still learning the steps.” He chuckled a bit, embarassed that he could hardly waltz. British dance was far different than that of his homeland. Back home, people danced independently to show skill, but here, dancing was more like a moving hug where you walked back and forth.
“I will learn soon, though, I assure you.” He emphasized, hoping she would not judge him for his unawareness (cough like Belle did cough), and he would suggest that she teach him, as he needed a teacher, but that would be improper of a man.
@littlefeets maisie
Klaus could not help but to let out giggles at Louisa’s joke, a finger covering his lips. “You always say the most amusing things,” he told her, a tender smile tugging at his lips. Louisa had then gone to ask him if he engaged in smoking cigs and Klaus eyes threatened to fall from his socket. “Smoking? No, No i could never,” He said as he waved his hands around in ‘no signal’ , “I’ve seen that smoking tended to damage lungs and Liebe always hated the smell of smoke, and my mother was sick a lot of the times and with my father’s temper I did not want to find out what may happen if I was to puff a cigar.” He told her. Smoking was a thing that never crossed his mind, it was not appealing to him for himself in anywhere as he feared to make his mother even weaker and Dough who was still young could get hurt by the smoke. Klaus had also feared that with his luck he would burn down the entire Shafer manor and thus the idea of smoking never truly seemed to cross his mind.
“Louisa, you do not have to, you are a guest after all!” But his protest seemed to fall deaf against her eyes, because as he returned back from the kitchen, she had cleared the remaining parts that needed to be cleared. The maids had whispered among each other at that, and Klaus scratched his neck worriedly. He had not wanted her to feel pressured in helping him or the maids as she was a guest, and Klaus was able to do it by himself. But it seemed that no matter what, she was to do as she liked. A bold determination that made Klaus flutter. Louisa was so kind and gentle in her own way, always wanting to help. When he was young and coming to the house of Louisa, he had heard the little other children who came to the manor- to hang out with Frances most likely, calling her scary but Klaus had always been confused at that.
Louisa was not scary, not at all. She was actually quite gentle and very amusing, always ready to help another person even if they did not truly deserve it and she was passionate and determined. He was truly glad to have been able to know someone like her.
As they mounted, Dough had taken another horse, but klaus had wanted to persist that he should be the one taking another horse as after all he is the oldest and better experienced with riding horse and he did not want his younger brother to strain himself. But Dough had sighed, ignoring him and mounting a different horse while Louisa had told him it was better that Dough rode another horse and Klaus began to worry if Dough would take offense to that, but it seemed not so he shrugged. Arms wrapped around Louisa as they continued their journey back to her home.
When they had arrived, Klaus had gotten off first and gave his hand for Louisa to take, "Please, may I assist you, in getting off the horse? " He implored,a pleading look on his face. He had then gone to help his brother get off the horse, worriedly questioning his brother to see if he was ok.
‘Even mother does not act like this, Klaus’ Dough told him, “I’m perfectly fine, see-” Before dough could continue, he had fell face down to the earth and Klaus eyes widened as he quickly helped Dough stand. Dough had been embarrassed, especially since Louisa had seen, “Please, tell me, Ms.Brantley , you did not see that,” He asked horrified, though he knew that she had indeed seen it.
Warning: LONGGGG FREAKING POST
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The virtue’s in the verse and you will live forever
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And at his words, a smile tugged the corners of her cupid-bow lips. “No, no, it was definitely the fact that I told them they would get the chance to meet such a lady like you,” He turned around for a moment, a hand tucked under his chin as if his thoughts were anything of seriousness, “Or perhaps it was because of me, such a soothing voice like mine with a handsome face is hard to resist, after all,” He turned around, “I do not think they would bite me on the nose for they shall be too scared to hurt me after I enchant them with my charms,” He jested, the corners of his lips tugged to form the infamous Harrison smirk.
He had continued in his bantering and playful antics, making sure that the fire they had emitted in the room from their bantering extinguish, for fire during such a month close to winter was important for warmth. Dahlia Thornwood was also not going to let the warming fire extinguish for she had replied and replied to all of his banter just as humorously as he had. She had spoken of the ‘infamous Harrison charm’ that was known throughout the ton and outside the ton for capturing hearts. He remembered the day he was truly bestowed the title of ‘capture of hearts’ and rake.
If he remembered correctly, it was at the age of 17-19, around the year his father died. From birth, maids had already gushed that he shall steal many hearts and he had his first real kiss at 14-15 with a daughter of a duchess from the land of Russia, but it was not truly until he had reached the age of 17 he had been bestowed the title of rake. What had happened between him and the Duke daughter made headlines in the news that died down as more scandals evolving Harrison seem to appear, because as Harrison had once said, his very existence was a scandal. The scandals that spread were about him travelling more often. People had tried to guess what was the reason for Harrison’s repetitive travelling, because such a chaos bringer like Harrison could not just be travelling for the fun of it, but maybe he was.
The public had then come to the conclusion of ladies. He was meeting ladies from all over the world, and exploring his tastes- some had said he had a lover from a far away land he always traveled to but the lady was married so they could not be together as their love was forbidden, others had said that he was simply travelling the world to meet with different types of ladies, diverse his bedroom. But all of the conclusions had been that Harrison was meeting with a lady or ladies. Thus at the age of 19, after his father had died and he had come back to the view of the Ton from boarding school, even more charming than ever and with a tongue that always seemed to be flirting, making teasing remarks and eyes that held a passionate mysterious allure, the title of the ‘Ton’s biggest heart-breaker and rake’ was his to claim.
“Of course even the rodents shall succumb, nothing is stronger than a look from eyes and the allure of my deep honeyed voice. Even you find me hard to resist at times, it’s alright there is no need for denail” He teased, blocking his face with his hand as he shook his head, “To think you would think of your own’s friend elder brother like that, my, my. For what shall Angelina say?” He continued with his jest, for he knew that Dahlia held no real romantic feelings for him, or did she?, their relationship was not like that, as after all she had already made her choice some years back when she had told him not to worry.
“If my compliance shall create such a shock for you, then I shall never comply with anyone, with society or with its rules.” He continued, a hand dramatically on his chest, “For I shall fear your heart faltering, you’re already withering with old age after all,” He jested, coming close to her.
Her face was clear from imperfection or scratches, not a single wrinkle was on her face and her eyes shined bright with youth, old age was something far away from her now, and he knew it but Harrison could not help but to jest with her. “I jest, I jest. But even with wrinkles, you shall still look as lovely as ever,” Harrison winked.
Harrison had then went on to call her cruel and she was quick to deny it, saying that she could never with a half smile on her face. “Then why do you smirk if you know you’re not cruel,” Harrison playfully asked. When she had asked if a hug shall be a worthy enough hug, “I suppose I shall accept a hug,” The corners of his lips tugged into a foxy grin, “For hug is much better than a simple pat- I am still devastated you suggested such a simple award as a pat for me at first.” He raised the back of his hand dramatically to his forehead, the other hand using to clutch his chest as if he had been hurt deeply by it. Dropping his hands he had said, “But a dance with the stars, shall be more worthy.”
There was nothing better than becoming friends or more like one with the stars. How does a human become one with the stars, you may be asking?, Simple, through dance. The stars to not have legs or hands that they can use and dance on earth like humans do, but find a way to do a little dance, the dance of the stars it is called and thus constellations are formed as the stars come together, trying to dance. And because the stars cannot dance as well as humans, they enjoy to see humans dance but humans tend to dance indoors, in a place where the stars cannot see them, making the stars depressed and yearn to watch the dancing of humans. Thus, when a human dances where the stars can view them, they become one with the stars and friends with the stars as they are laughing and dancing with the stars as he had been told.
And when you become friends with the stars, then your deepest wishes shall be met and with a lady like Dahlia who was sure to have a lot of wishes for she had once suffered a heartbreak, and she was always immersed in the world of literature that seemed to be far from how reality actually was, he was sure she like to make a wish, to become friends with the stars. “And when that day comes, when our steps weave under their celestial gaze, then we shall laugh with the stars.” His voice was soft and filled with a strange yearning for the stars, but how could one not yearn for the stars? because the stars were beautiful and made to be yearned for. “have you ever thought of the possibility of being friends with the stars?” He had and asked, and just like that, they had explored the beauty of the stars through their words.’
They had also explored the concept of worlds, for Dahlia had told him of her desire of wanting to venture into the world of ‘harrison’ and Harrison had been confused at that. Did she not already know she was a part of his world? Did she truly not anticipate that she, whom she had named aquilla, after the constellations, shall have no meaning in his world? That was not the case and could never be the case, for she shall always be a part of his world. “Indeed even in worlds so enchanting, shadows linger but you are not a shadow and that is not said to minimize the value of shadows. For shadows are beautifully important.” He continued, “Because without shadows we can not truly perceive the world and all of its beauty as shadows help us determine the relative position of the object and its size in a scene and it creates a beautiful effect, a beautiful narrative in the world as it adds more to it. Shadows are marks that prove the existence of something, so shadows that linger should be praised and not feared,” He told her, his thumb brushing against her cheeks.
But like he said, Dahlia Thornnwood was not a shadow, for she was a constellation-lovely bright that shined in the dark, giving a beautiful contrast to the dark and to the light. In addition, she was one of the most beautiful dance types of the stars- constellation aquilla.
After their conversation of the shadow that lingers and the world that was a personal aspect of each of them, she had led him to a secluded rooftop garden. A garden that was filled with beauty and a garden that Harrison found himself laying on, relaxing as he looked up to the sky- the stars were not present but the clouds were and Harrison was ready to watch the clouds though he had not done so in a while. He patted a spot next to him, inviting her into the act of cloud watching, and she hesitated. Harrison raised a brow at that, she parted her lips to speak. Speaking of how clouds shape the dreams with a gentle voice, clouds can shape just like dreams. “They have a home to return to,” Harrison said as he relaxed in the ground, “Clouds and dreams have places they want to be in, homes to go and new friends to meet. One should never try to capture them, to cage them because it would be a grave and selfish sin, we should just enjoy them till they last.” he told her, his eyes never leaving the clouds as he spoke.
Harrison had held on to a lot of things, kept them stored in his life but never have he thought of trapping them. Caging them, because if you love something truly, was it not right to let it be what it wants to be? To let it be free and enjoy life just like how you would want to enjoy life? Memories should be want one always should strive to get, memories that live with you forever unlike the person or the thing. Memories that will always be etched somewhere in your mind, and memories that free both you and the person or thing.
Memories are the most beautiful part of yearning
For even if a person or a thing does not leave, there will always be fear they shall leave- whether with death or they shall no longer be themselves. But memories are haunting, they will haunt you in the most beautiful of ways and you shall always find it within you to thank them as they will give you experiences, reasons to do or not to do something. But memories, they can sometimes be lost and that is why the act of writing something down was the most beautiful act of it all.
For when you write something down, they will live forever and all the world will read of them and keep their memory strong. There was nothing quite like writing, like poetry and like memories. So intense that Harrison wanted to pull a cigarette from his pockets and enjoy the moment even more as he thought of the memories, but he was with Dahlia and he had said to himself that he would not smoke as often anymore.
Harrison, well, He pointed out the cloud shapes, dahlia joining in and marveling the clouds. His finger extended to point at all of the cloud, and her gaze followed the fingers. As they stared and stared, she had told him of one of her wonders. She had said, that she often wondered if the stories read in the sky are merely reflections of the ones written in the hearts. “I think, that it is a wise wondering.” He told her, his warm eyes to the sky as he thought of a lot. “Humans like to give meaning to lot of things and thus who is to say we are not misinterpreting the sky and giving it a meaning that did not exist.” And with that, Harrison had seen a strange shape of clouds in the sky, making him blink and then his heart go warm.
They had enjoyed the moments, all that they had not said before lingered as there was a lot to say but Harrison could not say yet nor could Dahlia. It was a beautiful moment, and Harrison wondered, why had he not gone watching the clouds more? He wondered, and Harrison felt their fingers brushed and he turned to Dahlia for a split second and back to the sky.
“You cannot lie to the stars,” harrison agreed with the words that left Dahlia’s lips, turning to face her. “it is natural to be uncertain, the world is filled with unexpections, but I know who i care for and care not for and you are the first of course.” His attention was now back to the sky, “Are you calling me captivating now?” he teased, knowing her words held more meaning than that. “I always knew you found me irresistible.” He paused, turning to face her once more. “Thank you,” , he showed gratitude, “Thank you for sharing this moment with me”
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@Megan -Dahlia
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Louisa shrugged. ”I simply speak the truth. I wish mother would mind her business. Yet, wish in one hand, spit in the other. See which fills up first.” When Klaus said he didn’t smoke, Louisa nodded. ”I thought not. As you said, it would do no good for your mother. I do know the risks, yet it is no issue to me. Besides, as with alcohol, it is calming.” At Klaus’s protests, Louisa simply smiled coyly, beginning to assist in clearing the table. She picked up on the maids whispering, and Louisa had to chuckle quietly. She heard what they said, but it wouldn’t stop her. She never cared. They had soon enough mounted the horses, Dough taking another as requested. Once they arrived, Klaus had asked if she needed assistance, and Louisa raised a brow. ”Thank you, but no. I can do it.” Louisa stated, easily dismounting. It would appear that Dough did not have the same ease as she did. He apparently was not as fine as he claimed. As he practically faceplanted into the dirt, Louisa doubled over in laughter. ”I cannot tell a lie. I saw it all.” She giggled.
@Kristi - Klaus
azuzu
Azucena could not help but smile hearing his nickname for her once again. One of the many things about him that she had not wanted to forget about the man. She followed him to his seats, and sat down in the space he had designated for her.
She sniffled a bit more, trying to reply, but it was hard to say the words, so she just took his offering of wine and sipped graciously.
He watched her, waiting for her reply, and Azucena contemplated what could happen if she told him the truth about her situation. Orpheus could find her. Not only that, but also she would be revealing herself as a traitor to the man’s sister. He might not look at her the same after that, so she took a couple unsteady breaths, scared of his disapproval but unable to hold back. She had been holding this in for a year now, and it was finally out. She needed to address it.
“Thank you for this, Cassian.” She said, making sure to sound grateful. “But before I start this story, do you promise not to tell anyone?” She asked, looking in his eyes for some promise of his loyalty. It still did not feel enough to ask him the question, so she added. “…Even if it involves someone close to you?” She asked, trying not to give too much away. But she needed his approval, hoping she could have at least him as someone to share her regrets with.
@CerealKiller cassian
Cassian Clone I • With Azucena
Cassian observed Azucena’s smile, a flicker of familiarity and comfort in the midst of her evident distress. Guiding her to a seat, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of concern lingering beneath the surface of their interaction.
A faint smile played on his lips as she thanked him, her voice laced with a mixture of gratitude and an underlying uneasiness. Cassian understood the weight behind her words, the unspoken plea for confidentiality. He nodded in response to her question, his eyes meeting hers with a solemn reassurance.
“Of course, Azucena,” he replied, his tone gentle yet resolute. His eyes met hers, silently affirming the promise of discretion. It was a pact of trust, a recognition that the space they shared in that room was a haven for confidences, free from the prying eyes and ears of the world.
The notion of someone close to him being involved in her story stirred a quiet curiosity within Cassian. Yet, he would not want to break her trust just as much as he wouldn’t want it the other way around. “You have my word,” he assured her, the words carrying a solemn commitment to be a confidant in whatever struggles she faced.
・❥・
In his words, as he playfully apologized for accidentally calling her English, he had paused, creating a moment of silence that only lasted a few seconds. He spoke again, listing all the things the French had, according to him; Cheese, baguettes, wine, and improper hygiene. Belle was a little taken aback at the mention of hygiene, but an amused expression crossed her face.
The French streets, filled with numerous individuals and a lot of rats that never failed to disgust Belle. France was beautiful, but not perfect, and much like any other place, it had its quirks and imperfections., and overworked commoners whom were uneducated and thought the dirt and smell was protective- then again, the dirt and the smell would scare danger away. Moreover, they tended the peasants that were many compared to the higher class tended not to have the same privilege to get materials, but Belle was a noble and really not just any noble but a Fleur of the main house- a Grand Duke/Duchess. There was always access to baths and perfumes-aah did her mother love perfumes and thus perfumes were everywhere in the household.
France throughout the entire of Europe was also considered the nation with the best of Perfumes, and with her mother’s hobby of buying perfumes which Josephine had inherited, Belle would have to agree. But throughout entire nations, she would have to say that the world of the Arabian Peninsula were especially skilled in perfume making and soap.
As Prince Emmanuel continued his playful banter, he had come closer to her, teasing her as he took a whiff and pretended to have smelt something bad. At first Belle’s face was a usual bank, and that seemed to have made him nervous as he began to apologize. Belle amused by that continued in her blank face then she looked away, her expression one of feigned hurt- she was never good with expression her emotions visually, always better with words, but she hoped it did the trick she wanted it to do. “I…I” She began, still looking away, before she looked back at him. a small smile tugging the corners of her lips. “I know you jest,” She said, laughing a little at the end as she wished to convey she was also playing. “Spain is also higher in incredibility when it comes to the English, it has flamenco, so many festivals that both the English and the French lack, and mm.” Like Emmanuel, Belle had taken a short pause for dramatic effect and then said, “Very sharp and long jaws,” She jested, “I worry that I shall be cut with them,” She teased, her hands behind her back.
The conversation had shifted as they explored the realms of languages, Belle telling him that she had always wished to learn Spanish because the language fascinated her and it had its similarities to Portuguese, and also because of him. “if you would like, I could teach you,” He said, and Belle was about to tell him that he did not need to bother himself with that as Belle had always preferred to teach herself, and she did not have the best of memories with someone around her age tutoring her in languages, but before she could say anything. He had asked her if she could say amigo and Belle covered her lips with her mouth as little chuckles escaped her lips. “Amigo,” she copied but in a Portuguese accent, “I know Portugese perfectly well” she told him and because of that, the word ‘amigo’ was a word she knew perfectly fine.
Trying to find an excuse that concealed the more ‘true’ reason, Belle had told him that she was busy with other studies,hoping that he would not ask why- but it seems she did not hope enough as he asked why. “I was busy with studying the history of the roman Empire with more details,” was her response, Belle had already studied the history of the roman Empire when she was 8, but he would not have known that and besides she did say with more detail and Belle was studying something of the past with more details.
She had added another topic she had recently learnt about- the dance of Zalongo and as she talked of it, her mind could not help but to dive into a much deeper thinking/conversation that was much needed- darkness in the world. What it meant was to live with darkness. “Conquering darkness is not easy,” She muttered at his question, “But yes, it is a reason why we should always offer light, but what if we do not have light to offer?” she questioned, wanting to dive into the topic further, wanting to see what answers he would give that would determine her perception of him. Basically, what she was saying was that she wanted to get into his mind and study him, now that she had him in his physical form.
She had flung another question at him, stemming from her thoughts that never seemed to stop thinking. Thoughts that went on and on- she was a thinker, one that always tended to overthink situations, so she can calculate her advantages and disadvantages, but the point was that she had flunked another question of him, a question of loyalty vs disloyalty.
‘if someone close to you- a friend or a family member, was to stand in your way of achieving an important goal, like winning a war for example, what would you do?’
That was the question she had asked and the question she had asked, the question that made the Prince give her a strange look, as if he knew or thought that there was something more to the question, if he would have asked why then Belle would have an answer to give him. Would it be the complete truth? No, but it would be an answer. When he opened his lips, he did not ask her why she asked the question, but instead gave her a response.
Aaah, so they were similar in that way but yet different, because Belle would not hope the person would forgive her for what she did, instead, she hoped the person would resent her enough to cut ties with her and lessen the amount of people she had to care for, make sure that she-whom is always chasing her dreams never hurts them again because at times that is what Belle fears she is- a blade that never stops but to cut. She would not regret what she did, but a pang of guilt of guilty conscious shall always follow her, as she always had a reason for doing what she did, and therefore she would not expect their forgiveness nor would she beg for it. “If you were in their shoes, could you forgive someone that betrayed you? And most of all, have you ever begged for the forgiveness of someone?” Her tone that seemed to be void of emotion, actually held more emotion to it than Belle was willing to give and her eyes held a hint of curiosity.
It was easy to want and desire forgiveness for your sins. To want to have your hands just like Pontius Pilates had at the time of the death of Jesus- no one wants to be ugly with sins. But it was not easy to forgive, to have to be the one to cleanse another from their sins. ‘i would hope the person forgive me if i was too.’ but would you forgive the person if it was reverse? To Belle no, if she was to be betrayed, to lessen the less than 75% trust she tended to give most people that were ‘close’ to her, then she would not forgive them. She had been both the betrayed and the betrayer once and never again would she want to be the betrayed and that was why she could never fully trust people or truly forgive them nor expect forgiveness. She was a sinner whose hands shall never be washed clean.
Emmanuel had then began to talk of the Italian astronomer, Galileo, whom lived before the time of the renaissance era where every word that seemed to betray their limited religious thinking was ‘heresy’ , and who discovered the truth about the earth- how it rotated around the sun instead of the sun rotating around the earth. Emmanuel had used that same Galileo as an example of why one should never confine themselves to the expectations of others, and Belle could never agree more. She never had a wish to be anyone’s role model or fit herself inside a box, ‘keep your expectations of me low,’ she tended to tell people so that they will not be disappointed when they had learnt about who Belle was truly. “very wise words,” She told him. “Because indeed, to define is to limit,” She told him,
At her confession that Belle was never to marry, he was taken back as if he couldn’t fathom it. She had told him before in the letters, that being a spinster seemed to be her calling and she guessed like many other people he did not truly believe or think that she spoke in jest. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his shock, because if he was going to tell her she was wrong for thinking of following the spinster life then he could hold back his tongue. With what Belle had in mind for herself, the chains of marriage was going to make it incredibly difficult. She awaited his response, wondering what he was going to say but instead he apologized, making her blink in surprise. “You do not have to apologize,” She told him, she was also too far privilege in her thinking because if it was any other noble then her parents shall already had married her off- well, actually they did marry her off. So she was not so different than the other noble ladies, was she? Belle asked herself through gritted teeth.
She did not want to think of what Corin had hinted at, did not want to think of the word ‘betrothed to’ at all, not until she gets the truth from her parents and not until ever because it was not going to happen-hopefully. Hope for Belle was a dangerous thing to have but she had it or at least tried to have it- for Belle was not going to marry Corin Blackwood of all people. Besides, why could he not pretend to know nothing of the betrothal if it was true? He despised her and thus he could pretend it never happened and marry someone else, it was not like her parents could force him to divorce his other wife. No, no, enough of that Belle for you said that you shall not think of it. Instead, she began to think of archery and teased the Prince on how she shall beat him. “You roll your eyes because you know I speak truth,” She teased as they made their way to the shooting range.
Arrow after arrow, they had jested with each other, and chatting with him was more relaxing and charming than she had expected. He had a certain type of humor that she enjoyed, and thus she had teased him-calling him a loser as the guards whispered among themselves, wondering if they should report it to her parents that she called a prince a loser. Belle had turned to the guards, giving them a look that made their skin crawl and them to shut their lips as they watched Emmanuel and Belle in silence. At her use of the word loser for him, he had said something in spanish that she did not understand, but she guessed it had to do with something along the lines of ‘i am not a loser’. He took the arrow and shooting down an apple just like she did. “Just one apple?” She taunted in jest, “I had brought more than one apple done,” she told him, a playful glint in her eyes.
the playfulness of their conversation had shifted to something more mature, deeper like their previous conversation before the shooting range but even more serious. He began to talk, talk news of how his mother had died and he struggled to continue, Belle wanted to tell him that it was ok that he can share with her when he was ready, but she did know if other than this he shall ever be ready to share with her or if they would have time to talk of this again, so she said nothing as she kept listening.
He was banished, banished to England and Belle wanted to ask why but it seemed that it was a conversation for another time as she did not want to pry much more yet. Before Belle could say a word, he spoke again- telling her not to because he was fine. Not to do what? She thought to herself then she aahed, he had perhaps thought she meant to pity him but Belle already knew he was not the type to appreciate pity just like her. “You’re not fine,” She corrected, “But that is ok, no one who faced what you did would be fine and most people are not truly. But let’s talk of things more calming. What is your favorite animal?” She asked, wanting to bring a positive atmosphere, “I enjoy cats, have I told you that I have a black cat named Thorne? She is incredibly intelligent and jolie. Would you wish to meet her?”
@raviola - Emmanuel
@DandelionKate - Corin (mentioned)
Harrison’s words were like delicate brushstrokes on the canvas of their banter, painting a vibrant portrait of wit and charm. His jests wrapped around her like a warm shawl, inviting laughter and a sense of camaraderie that felt as natural as breathing. “Ah, Harrison,” she chuckled softly, a sparkle in her eyes, “Your words weave a tapestry of tales that draw us all into your orbit.”
There was an enigmatic allure to Harrison, a mysterious aura that had captured the attention of society and seemed to hold her in its thrall. His past, shrouded in scandal and whispers, was a tapestry she wished to gently unfurl, to understand the complexities beneath that charming facade.
Harrison’s jests carried a flirtatious undertone that painted a mischievous sparkle in Dahlia’s eyes. His playful remarks about his captivating allure and her supposed resistance elicited a soft, melodious laugh from her. “Your charm knows no bounds, but I fear you give yourself too much credit.”
She met his jest about Angelina with a playful roll of her eyes, knowing well the friendly nature of their relationship. “Angelina would simply laugh at your antics, dear Harrison,” she teased back, her words carrying a warmth that spoke of familiarity and deep camaraderie. As he exaggeratedly lamented his compliance, a playful smirk danced on her lips. “I fear my heart is quite sturdy, Harrison. It won’t falter at your non-compliance,” she quipped, her voice light and teasing.
His jest about wrinkles and old age, though in good humor, touched upon a fleeting vulnerability she couldn’t ignore. “Oh, wrinkles or not,” she replied with a soft smile, “Age will only add to the stories etched on our faces, making them even more beautiful.”
When he labeled her as cruel, a feigned look of shock crossed her features. “Cruel? Me?” she gasped dramatically, her tone tinged with playful indignation, “Never!” Her denial held a hint of genuine protest layered beneath the jest, a desire to maintain the purity of her character in his eyes.
The suggestion of a hug brought forth a genuine chuckle from her.“A dance with the stars is indeed more worthy,” she agreed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, “A hug is but a simple gesture in comparison to the grandeur of a celestial waltz.”
Their conversation wove through the intricacies of shadows and the concept of intertwined worlds. His poetic descriptions of her being akin to a constellation sent a flurry of emotions through her, a mixture of bashfulness and delight swirling within. “Your words paint portraits more captivating than the stars themselves,” she murmured, her heart fluttering at the lyrical imagery he spun.
Dahlia’s heart skipped a beat as Harrison delved into the concept of worlds, her words about venturing into his realm drawing a curious yet perplexed expression from him. Did he not realize that she already felt like a cherished part of his world, nestled within the fabric of his thoughts and conversations? Her heart fluttered with a mix of emotions, a subtle ache stirring within her at the possibility of him not recognizing her significance in his life.
As he spoke of shadows, attributing her as not being one, her heart swelled with a mixture of warmth and uncertainty. His philosophical musings always held a poetic charm that captivated her, but this time, his touch brought a different kind of intensity to the moment. His thumb brushing against her cheek ignited a cascade of sensations within her—an inexplicable warmth that spread from the point of contact and a gentle fluttering that stirred emotions she dared not name. She found herself caught in a tender, vulnerable moment, where the weight of his touch spoke volumes, stirring a longing she struggled to articulate. His words painted a picture of acceptance and acknowledgment, yet her heart fluttered with an unspoken yearning, a desire for him to recognize the depth of her feelings without her having to confess them aloud.
Her cheeks flushed as his thumb lingered, leaving a trail of warmth that lingered even after his touch had retreated. She longed to hold onto that fleeting connection, cherishing the warmth of his presence against her skin, yet a wave of self-doubt washed over her. Did his gesture hold the same significance for him as it did for her? Or was it merely a fleeting caress in the canvas of their friendship, devoid of deeper meaning?
In the serene rooftop garden, the air seemed alive with an enchanting stillness. As Dahlia followed Harrison’s lead, the verdant beauty of the secluded haven enveloped them both. He reclined comfortably, his eyes fixed on the clouds that adorned the sky, their billowing shapes weaving tales against the azure canvas. His invitation to join him in cloud-watching hung in the air, and for a fleeting moment, hesitation gripped her heart.
The atmosphere was charged with a tranquil energy, an ethereal aura that painted the garden with an otherworldly charm. The soft whispers of the wind carried a melody that mingled with the rustling leaves, weaving a gentle symphony that underscored the beauty of the moment. Every breath felt like a tribute to the peace that enveloped them, a sanctuary away from the bustling world below.
As Harrison spoke of clouds and dreams, his voice carried a soothing cadence, like the melody of a distant lullaby. His words echoed through the stillness, infusing the air with a poignant reminder of life’s transience. The atmosphere seemed to shimmer with his philosophical musings, each word painting a portrait of impermanence and the beauty held within fleeting moments.
The garden embraced them in its sanctuary, cradling their conversation in the soft embrace of its tranquility. The very essence of the place mirrored the fleeting nature of clouds—ephemeral, yet eternally captivating. In that suspended moment, as Dahlia pondered his words about savoring the beauty without seeking to cage it, she felt a sense of bittersweet resonance with the garden’s atmosphere. The atmosphere itself seemed to hum with a quiet understanding, a shared sentiment that whispered of embracing the transient beauty of the present. And as she settled beside Harrison, the air held within it an unspoken appreciation for the fleeting moments that graced their lives—a silent ode to the poignant beauty of passing time.
As their fingers brushed during their cloud-watching reverie, a subtle shift in the air seemed to echo the unspoken emotions between them. His words about caring and uncertainty stirred a whirlwind of feelings within her, a delicate dance between hope and hesitance. As Dahlia absorbed Harrison’s playful banter, a flicker of earnest concern shadowed her features. His words danced between jest and sincerity, but she sensed a vulnerability that lingered beneath his charming facade. His admission about knowing whom he cared for echoed through her thoughts, stirring a delicate realization.
“Harrison,” she began softly, her gaze fixed on the stars that adorned the night sky, “You speak of certainty, yet uncertainty cloaks your heart, doesn’t it?” Her voice carried a gentle weight, a hint of empathy woven within her words. “Could it be that behind your playful facade lies a fear of falling into something deeper, something you’re not ready to embrace?”
A somber sincerity settled upon her features as she continued, her words delicately chosen to convey a deeper concern. “You are captivating indeed, but imagine the depth of that allure if it were not scattered among fleeting romances.” There was a pause, a moment filled with unspoken truths lingering in the air. “To truly love, to immerse oneself in the richness of emotions, that’s where the true depth lies.”
Her gaze shifted, meeting his with a quiet earnestness. “Your flirtations, your charm—it’s a veil that shields you from confronting the possibility of deeper connections, isn’t it?” The weight of her words hung between them, carrying the gravity of an unspoken plea for him to look beyond the allure of surface affections.
With a tender sincerity, she added, “And yet, here we are, sharing this moment. Thank you for allowing me into this part of your world, Harrison. It’s a treasure amid the veils you drape upon yourself.” Her eyes held a silent hope, a yearning for him to embrace vulnerability and seek the depth of genuine connection beyond the surface dalliances.
@Kristi - Harrison
I am so sorry this is so long
As dusk descended, Ilyas chose the quaint simplicity of strolling home from the lady’s estate, a courtesy visit prompted by the inclusion of her name on his parents’ list of potential matches. She hailed from a family of considerable wealth, a fact that accounted for her presence among the roster of suitors, yet left little else remarkable to linger in Ilyas’s memory.
While she possessed an alluring beauty, her conversation leaned towards the less engaging side, lacking the spark he often sought in discussions.
Ilyas mused to himself, acknowledging her attractiveness yet recognizing his potential to get bored easily. She’d probably find someone more suited to her preference for less talk and more focused on the other joys of marriage—a category Ilyas had already been a fan of.
Engaging in superficial pursuits might be enjoyable for many, but he’d crave mental stimulation, he mused. While physical attraction holds its appeal, he seeks more profound connections, conversations that captivate the mind. It’s not merely about fulfilling immediate desires but about seeking depth and substance in interactions.
Exploring fleeting desires had been a familiar path for him, encountering various people and experiences. However, in the context of marriage, where the expectation was longevity and depth, he sought something more substantial. For him, commitment meant engaging with someone on a level beyond the transient.
Seeking depth and meaningful connections amidst a society often content with surface-level interactions indeed posed a challenge for Ilyas.
Life in his current circle seemed mundane, save for the occasional conversations that sparked genuine emotion within him.
Recalling the vivacious adventures alongside his friends Harrison, and Corin in France, Ilyas found himself longing for their company. Their spirited escapades and shared experiences were markedly absent from his current social interactions.
He had witnessed and endured experiences that he’d rather forget, but they were etched into his memory, impossible to erase.
As Ilyas neared his home, he hoped his family wouldn’t be present, especially his father who was often occupied with his work at the bank.
Ilyas found solace in his father’s absence. Without the weight of parental expectations, he felt more at ease, no longer compelled to maintain a perfect posture or ensure every button aligned precisely. The rigidness that often characterized his demeanor seemed to dissipate. He relished these moments, using them to unwind and release the tension he carried, often seeking solace in various places to find relief.
Ilyas contemplated various methods to alleviate stress, among them, the tranquil art of pottery stood out as a favored choice. The sensation of the clay yielding beneath his fingers and the rhythmic motion of molding it into something tangible often brought a sense of peace amidst the chaos of daily life.
The fluidity of his hand gliding over the damp clay, the tactile connection guiding him effortlessly through the sculpting process. Each stroke, was an unspoken dialogue between his fingers and the malleable material, creating a harmony only they understood.
He possessed an innate understanding of the craft, a natural finesse that dictated each precise movement, ensuring he executed the art with expertise. His mastery of tension reliving was evident to those around him as well.
He sought solitude and made a beeline for a specific room, craving seclusion within its walls.
An interruption seemed imminent as he noticed a figure in the expansive yard and a woman on the other side of his shrubs.
Amid towering masculinity, a figure loomed, sturdy and tall, his silhouette etched against the backdrop. Opposite him stood a woman, diminutive and delicate, exuding an air of fragility known only to him. Instantly, he recognized her, undeniable in his certainty of her identity.
Ilyas caught wind of the man’s heated tone as he mentioned, “Vera is your daughter, as you know,” his voice charged with emotion. Observing the clenched fists, Ilyas quickened, closing the distance toward the pair.
daughter? Ilyas’s mind raced with uncertainty. He grappled with the possibility that he might have misheard the conversation.
Confident in his conviction, he was sure he had misinterpreted what he heard.
With certainty, he knew it was categorically impossible, shaking off any lingering doubt about what he’d heard.
As the man repeated, “cared for your daughter as she is called,” Ilyas shook his head, stifling a chuckle. Is Harrison losing his grip on reality? Despite the repetition, Ilyas remained resolute in his certainty that it couldn’t be true.
As Ilyas closed the gap between himself and Harrison, the acrimonious words Harrison spat out sliced through the air, leaving an unsettling atmosphere in their wake. Each syllable struck a chord within Ilyas, stirring a sense of protectiveness that anchored itself around the girl. The venom in Harrison’s accusations, the intensity of his disdain, and the desire for separation painted a picture of a man hardened by a truth he believed in, even if it clashed with reality.
Despite the intensity of Harrison’s words, Ilyas couldn’t help but feel a twinge of empathy for Aurelia. Her name, entangled in this turbulent exchange, wrapped around his thoughts, urging him to intervene, to shield her from the storm of emotions brewing between the man.
Memories flooded Ilyas’s mind, memories of similar moments with her in the past. Countless times, he had sensed her vulnerability, her need for protection, yet circumstances had often rendered him powerless, unable to shield her from distress. But this time, an unwavering resolve surged within him—a determination to defy the echoes of helplessness that haunted his past. This time, he vowed, things would be different; he wouldn’t stand idly by.
Harrison’s words, addressing Ilyas as the sought-after individual, reverberated through the tense air. Yet, despite the acknowledgment, Ilyas couldn’t shake off the agitation swirling within him caused by the conversation he had just overheard.
“I’m here,” Ilyas responded tersely, his voice tinged with an underlying tension, his mind preoccupied with the distressing situation he’d stumbled upon.
“Harrison, what you’re saying is ridiculous and untrue,” Ilyas retorted, his voice holding firm.
Ilyas couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Harrison had a daughter with Lia? Now that’s quite the imaginative leap,” he chuckled, finding a moment of lightness amid the confusion.
“Seems like we’ve stumbled into a plot straight out of your dreams, Harrison,” Ilyas quipped, a faint smile on his face.
“Indeed, into something that most definitely did not happen between you two,” Ilyas agreed, trying to diffuse the tension with a touch of humor. “But reality seems to enjoy weaving its curious tales.”
As Ilyas’s eyes landed on Lia, a solemnity washed over him. She embodied a vulnerability that stirred his protective instincts. There was something about her demeanor, a subtle fragility veiled beneath a facade of composure, that tugged at his heartstrings (yes he has a heart).
Ilyas’s protective inclination towards Lia was not unfounded; there were reasons interwoven within the fabric of their shared history. Memories flashed before him, moments where Lia had shown strength despite vulnerability, and resilience amid adversity. Their past encounters had etched an unspoken bond—one where Ilyas felt an unspoken responsibility to shield her from harm, to offer a refuge in turbulent times. These reasons, buried in the depths of their shared experiences, fueled his innate urge to safeguard her, a silent promise he held within himself.
The weight of their shared history rested solely on Ilyas’s shoulders. Lia’s lack of recollection cast him into a solitary realm of memories, leaving him alone to carry the weight of their past. It was a poignant solitude, a silent burden he bore, knowing that the depth of their connection lingered only in his reminiscences, while she remained oblivious to their shared moments.
Ilyas turned his attention back to Harrison, redirecting the conversation. “You mentioned you were looking for me?” he inquired, trying to steer the focus away from the complex web of emotions swirling around Lia and their tangled past.
@Kristi harry
@benitz786 shrimpy
Azu wanted to believe him, but she hesitated. Cassian had known her since the day she was born, but that was also the case with his very sister, who she had deceived. She had asked him once more for a confirmation with a look of insecurity, but in his chocolate colored eyes she found solace.
Cassian, the Ellis sibling she supposedly spoke to the least, but noticed the most. In family portraits, his sisters had cheesy smiles that she always loved, and pointed out when she saw the images. But in her mind, she also noticed Cassian’s charm. He was the type of person to offer his seat when there was no room for her to join their family on the couches, and offer his jacket when his favorite ladies were cold.
Really, there was no doubt that he would keep his word. Above loyalty and traditional familial ties, he was fair, not confined by expectations because he had his own. And those were to be humble and kind, all that he was.
Azucena suspired, settling into the courageous mentality she needed to tell this story as it was. “It all started the day I turned 18,” She explained, delving into the story bit by bit. At first, she sounded hurt, then she smiled sharing certain bits, remembering her conversations with Lang. These parts of the tale were vague, and she only shared pieces, as the memories had worn over with time.
And then she got to sharing the part about the same day, explaining everything that she had just experienced. Even though she had not originally wanted to, Cassian assured her that he would hear her, so she allowed herself to share the worst of it. That kiss- that god awful kiss, the embrace she gave him in spite of it. If he was a monster, he was a monster that she had created. And she let this man know that. Sworn by the blood of the conevant.
She fidgeted with her fingers, trying to avoid his eyes when she shared that, as embarassing as it was. But she had to look up, and when she did, she could not control her tears anymore. They ran down between words, and her voice that she thought she had cleared became cloudy once more.
The rain only grew stronger, pouring down before she raised her palms to her face, covering herself as she whimpered.
“How am I supposed to keep all of this from her?”
@CerealKiller Cassie (post was so mid but we move)
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
In the midst of one of his many playful remarks, Dahlia, amused by his audacity, chided him for granting himself undue credit. Harrison, feigning a dramatic response, clutched his chest as if to question, ‘me?’ His countenance betrayed a lack of seriousness, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.
“Me? Give myself too much credit?” he retorted, With a languid motion, his hands dropped to his back, crossed in a stance of playful defiance. “I think I do not credit myself enough, for I am as charming as flowers, sure not as charming as Dahlias but my charm as you said knows no bounds,” A flirtatious tone wove through his jest. With a languid motion, his hands dropped to his back, crossed in a stance of playful defiance. His lips were curved into a half smile- a smirk, as it always seemed to be.
Upright and unabashed, his words of jest and self-praise flowed ceaselessly. He claimed that even a humble rodent would fall prey to his charms, asserting the irresistible power emanating from his gaze. Further, he declared that even Dahlia Thornwood, his friend, found it a challenge to resist him. Blocking his face with his hands and shaking his head, he playfully questioned what his dear sister, Angelina, would think of all of this. Dahlia responded that Angelina would merely laugh at his antics. “Antics? I do no antics,” Harrison playfully insisted, rolling his eyes as their banter continued. " Then hope and support are what I should offer to the man destined to capture your sturdy heart." , he added, “And praise and admiration shall be bestowed upon him if he manages to soften that sturdy heart of yours, for winning your affections is truly an accomplishment worthy of admiration.” At the word heart, he had grabbed her arm gently and placed her palm on his chest, a wink he had given before he dropped her hand down.
“Though, I hope your taste in men have changed lately, and it is no longer one who is sure to turn your sturdy heart soft and break it into pieces for he is incapable of a word called commitment.”
His playful tone shifted as he continued, alluding to a past love that had left Dahlia shattered. The man in question, once and still is a 'friend 'of Harrison’s, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He never understood nor did he want to understand what Dahlia saw in him, sure they were friends- him and the guy, but that was because of another aspect of the guy personality that Harrison enjoyed. Romantically, T has never wished to settle down, a thing that according to what T tells him, pains his mother.
No, Harrison shall not bring him to the conversation with Dahlia, not right now. And thus before Dahlia could respond, Harrison had changed the subject. “At the end of the day, what shall matter most is that you’re happy and Lady Dahlia,” he took a step closer to her, twirling her hair with one hand as he leaned in to whisper or at least he seemed like he was about to whisper but instead he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, pulling away as he flickered his head and chuckled with a teasing glint in his eyes. He paused, his face still held a smile but his eyes were soft and gentler as he added to what he was previously to say, “At the end of the day,” he repeated, “I hope that whoever you are to marry makes you happy like the men in the novels you read, talking of novels, what book do you read now?” he asked, filled with curiosity on what was going on with Dahlia’s life.
Time never stood in one place, it went on and on and people changed for better or for worst and Harrison did not want to see Dahlia change to someone that would drift apart or ruin her, and thus he wanted to keep up with what she does in life- even the little irrelevant things that she enjoyed to do, because if there was something Harrison loved it was details, little details. He loved details in art pieces, little details in novels that described the most unimportant things and little details in people like a birthmark on their face or something to do with their personality- there was always something beautiful about a person that kept a bit of trivia about themselves. No, Harrison is very serious about his love for fun facts, they were entertaining as though they may be irrelevant it would not be to him because he shall always remember it when he thinks or sees the person. It could be that once they were young, they wanted to be a dancer or that they are very talented in a quirky subject or and hobbies.
Speaking on time, Harrison had also jested that Dahlia was close to wrinkles and old age though she was 10 and 9 and far from it. “indeed, age always adds to one’s beautiful as there is nothing more beautiful in the world than aging, growing and growing with someone else.” The perfect love story was a love story where they both survived, they both fell in love and they both lived together and in love and even if they die they meet in the afterlife and remain together forever. Harrison had never believed in the phrase, ‘till death do us apart’ and if he was to marry, a marriage that he shall do with one he truly loves, he was never to utter that phrase because he believed that not even death would be able to do he and his lover apart. It could never be ‘till death do us apart’ but instead, ‘and when we die, i shall find you forever in the afterlife and i shall love you for all eternity’ a love like that, was that not beautiful?
To be loved and to love is truly to be blessed, he mused. He hoped that Dahlia shall experience that and Harrison hoped to experience that truly and fully because he had no need for lukewarm love, if it was not a love that caged him in the best way possible, made him drown, did Harrison have such a need for that love?
Talking of love and lukewarm love, Harrison brought the idea of dancing to Dahlia like they have done before. Dancing on the roof, with the stars but this time with music to truly appease the stars. She had told him, “So is that a yes my lady? Then that shall be my reward!” He told her, as he took her hand in his and kissed the back of it with a bow. He had slowly rose himself up to stand straight, a sluggish smile reaching his face. He opened his lips and she did too, and now instead of stars they spoke shadows and constellations. “I only speak the truth,” He said, “Nothing but the truth,” He told her, a soft expression reaching his face as a soft smile reached his lips.
The scene had shifted and they were in the roof garden, breathing the fresh air and staring at the beautiful plants. Harrison plucked a flower from the bush and brought it to his nose, taking in the beautiful scent. He dropped it, his eyes now focused on the clouds with Dahlia next to him. Dahlia, she had asked questions, questions that Harrison had never thought to reflect about until now but he knew how to answer it- after all, the sky was like a friend to him- growing up Harrison had spent most of his time on rooftops and trees because he had loved the sky. He had always to fly, to be like the free birds and live on the clouds, a childhood fantasy of him because truly was there anything more beautiful than the sky? The very sky that hosts, the stars, moon and clouds? No, the sky was just perfect and it was a surprise Harrison fell in love with such a perfect thing, when he was known for loving the imperfect, finding beauty in the ruined and beauty in flaws, because indeed humanity was flawed but humanity was also beautiful and thus Harrison loved the imperfect perfections but the sky was the perfect perfections and yet Harrison had fallen in love with them. How was that so? It was simple, it was because it was the sky.
His eyes gazed at the sky, the clouds forming different shapes that made him enchanted. He turned to Dahlia, seeing that he was silent and staring up at the skies, a thinking expression on her face. “A penny for your thoughts?” He asked, as he began to sit down, the wind blowing his hair and his expression colored by passion and admiration.
She began, calling him by his first name. She continued, words of wisdom and yet at the same time not true. Harrison to fall in love, he wanted to fall in love because it was beautiful, because love was essentially art. Love was a beautiful art form and has the ability to transcend language and cultural barriers, and they can evoke profound feelings of joy, sadness, and everything in between. She was not wrong in saying that Harrison hid something, there was more to what he was doing, but she was wrong in saying that it was because he feared deeper connections. Harrison craved it, he did not fear it but his flirtations though they were often done out of fun, to spice up a conversation or because he was simply accustomed to doing so held another meaning, it was a veil from something that no one but one person whom he had once regretfully told the truth to.
, “Life is often filled with uncertainties,” He told her, ignoring the question she had asked, because indeed there was something that lingered deep into him that he was not yet ready to embrace nor speak of. “Come on, you have been uncertain about a lot of things before too, have you not? What is it now that you’re uncertain of? You speak as if from recent experiences.” He asked, giving her his full attention. “Besides, why are you so sure I am hiding something?” he asked, addressing her comments.
“Do you think there is another aspect of me you do not know?” There was and Harrison knew it because it was a part of him that he never really told anyone, especially other nobles, it was not because Harrison did not trust them, in fact he trusted them fairly enough, it was for another reason that they would know soon enough.
Winter tender sincerity, Dahlia had thanked him for all of this- for ‘allowing her into this part of his world’ and Harrison had smiled, “Don’t thank me for that,” He told her, It is nothing, as after all I should be the one thanking you for becoming an important part of my world."
@Megan - sorry its eh not the best