Bridgerton | Official RP Thread

[sunflowerjm]

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A tap on Atlas’s door startled him out of sleep; he chose to ignore it at first since he wanted to prolong his sleep, but then there was another knock shortly after. Atlas let out a grunt, annoyed at having to be woken up. A few minutes later, he had the effort to go to his feet and open the door, revealing Thea, Adeline’s lady in waiting. Thea had always been by his sister’s side in the early mornings, so he wasn’t sure if Adeline was okay if Thea was here.”Is everything okay? Please enter.” He spoke with a note of worry in his voice. Thea moved cautiously inside his room, clearly nervous. Though they never really spoke, Atlas never did anything to give the impression that he was an intimidating individual; therefore, he was never able to understand why Thea was always timid around him. ”I apologize; I should have delivered this letter to you sooner. It was brought for you last night.” She quietly tried to say quickly before Atlas took the letter out of Thea’s hand not letting her finish. He began to read the letter but before he could continue, he paused, realizing how impolite he had been. ”I’m sorry, Thea. I apologize for taking the letter from your hand; I appreciate you delivering it to me.” He said, offering her an apologetic smile,”Would you please grant me a moment alone?”

Atlas read the note and quickly changed into his clothes. The last time he had heard the name Feyre was a very long time ago. He thought back to the first time he had seen the gorgeous Feyre. Atlas was already thrilled to be away from his hometown that summer when his family was visiting Spain, but this woman really enhanced his time there.

Atlas took one final glance at himself in the mirror and got ready to leave. As he made his way to the door, Atlas noticed Adeline, his younger sister. She had her back to him, giving him an opportunity to pause and give her a quick glance. She was beautiful; Adeline had grown into a wonderful person, and although he had watched her grow from a distance, he knew she deserved the best. More than anything, he wanted to stand by her side to reassure her of today, but his guilt—guilt that wasn’t even his—would not let it. Adeline turned around, interrupting his thoughts, and they soon made eye contact.

”Oh, hello? Are you going to visit a specific lady today, brother?" The room was silent until Adeline spoke. Atlas quickly adjusted his composure before nodding. “A lady yes… but not for the reason—I must be going now but before I go,” Atlas for the first time in a while approached Adeline breaking the distance between them.”I know there will be a lot of men coming through that door today, but I ask that—“ Adeline picked up her hand signaling him to stop speaking, ”I know." With a slight smile, she said, ”I know that I have to be proper and choose the man I wish to marry wisely.”At her answer, Atlas nodded and left the house without saying anything more to her.

Atlas headed towards the grand estate that Feyre had described in her letter. He ensured to fix his attire before knocking on the door. Additionally, he ensured that the gift he had brought her was still in perfect condition. It was not the best, at least not to him, but he had remembered her expression of adoration for pink blossoms and macarons. During all this the door was opened by someone else before he could muster the courage to knock. “Lord Delaney, please come in. She has been expecting you.”

Inside the house, Atlas was waiting patiently for Feyre. He had to admit that he was nervous, pacing back and forth. He could not help but wonder if perhaps this was all a trick from his father. It had been so long that there was no way she would remember him. Yet all those concerns fled his mind upon seeing the lovely Feyre. Indeed, she looked different; no longer did she resemble the young girl he had encountered many summers ago. No, she had blossomed into a woman of poise and elegance, displaying an air of confidence. With a sly smile, Atlas approached her, took her hand, and planted a kiss on the back of it while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “Why, if I had known you would grow up to be this stunning, I would have never left Spain,”he joked as he admired her.

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@DandelionKate feyre <3

[DandelionKate]

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warm in your glow

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Calling Day: Conversation w/ Finch Ridlington ~ongoing~

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There was a strange tension in the air. A desire for closeness Orpheus longed to break, yet he did not dare give in to the temptation of forgiveness.
In truth, Orpheus was unsure of what to forgive. The act? The aftermath? The man who reached out for him now? Had Orpheus even truly held any resentment anymore?

The anger had been pulled from him time and time again through each exhausting interaction, and he was unsure what even remained for Finch. There was a residual sort of adoration leftover from their time together. There was pain. There was longing. And even still, something more, yet Orpheus could not determine the feeling.

Orpheus attempted to steady himself, standing to face Finch again, leaning against the bed frame for support against his shaking legs.

[color= #14a3c7] “It is not pity, it is concern!” [/color] Finch admitted. The sincerity behind his words had struck Orpheus.
Concern? How strange the word alone seemed. Orpheus had not seen himself as requiring concern, and the line between what constituted concern and pity seemed a thin one. The weight of Finch’s care appeared to be a burden and a balm, a pull between the pain of betrayal and the yearning for a connection lost to time.

Any concern given now seemed nearly an insult to Orpheus’ own strength. For his body had been beaten and bruised before, in worse condition than he stood now, yet the scarring left behind by those who had left him remained untended.
Orpheus had survived each encounter, always coming out on top. He did not require anyone’s concern. Let alone the man who had set his own scars upon him.

[color= #BC0057] “Then do not be concerned for me!” [/color] Orpheus shot back, his anger rising again to match Finch’s heat. On shaking legs and pained movements, Orpheus moved toward Finch, standing directly in front of him now. [color= #BC0057] “I am not Juliet! I am not your brother! I am not a child, Finch! I can take care of myself! A fact I have proven by your absence.” [/color] Orpheus’ still hoarse and breaking voice betrayed his words, the cracks in each utterance a reflection of the slow breaks along each fragment of Orpheus’ body and mind.

Yet, there sat a knowing stare between the two men now, an acknowledgment of healing. For as Finch’s hands wrapped Orpheus’ bloodied palms, so too did he mend the scars he had left behind.
Slowly.
One twist of the bandage at a time.

Despite Orpheus’ refusal to admit it, his resentment of Finch had deteriorated on that balcony at the Queen’s ball. Seeing his face, the true care that shone in his eyes, it had melted any distain Orpheus had harbored over the years.

As quickly as his anger had risen, it dissipated upon hearing Finch’s admission of guilt.
Having not forgiven himself, meant he had not forgotten either. The mutual pain of the night that tethered them together despite their distance had been the one truth amongst the betrayal.
For some reason, hearing that Finch felt guilty and pained by his decision made Orpheus nearly…happy. The idea that the night had not been kept in pleasant, passionate splendor and instead was resigned to thoughts about Orpheus himself, thoughts about pain and guilt and grief. It was a strangely pleasant acknowledgement of Orpheus’ importance.

[color= #14a3c7] “And I resent myself for it. I swear to you that from now on, I will be here and I will never abandon you like that again. I just pray that you will allow me the opportunity to prove to you that I am serious.” [/color] Finch’s words rang through Orpheus’ mind. This was all he had ever wanted to hear. For years he had dreamed of Finch standing before him again, an apology, a reunion.
So why was there still that strange lingering emotion? That one feeling Orpheus could not quite place. A feeling that seemed to be a complex mix of pain, desire, fear, and longing. Nearly the same feeling that had arisen in him as he looked to Ilyas.

[color= #14a3c7] “I miss you too…” [/color] Finch breathed. Orpheus had looked up to see tear streaks down Finch’s face despite his attempts to wipe them away.

There was a gentleness to him now, one Orpheus had never seen before. Finch had always seemed so large to Orpheus as a child, a powerful and untouchable man who Orpheus wanted to imitate and make proud.

Yet, as he stood here now, he did not seem so grand. He was a man. Again, like most, fragile, confused, attempting to right his wrongs. Orpheus had gained 4 inches in height since their last meeting, now standing over Finch in a strange shift in roles. Orpheus felt a protective instinct rise within him as he looked to Finch, a man whose love and affection he had longed for for so long.

The glow from the morning had shifted from floor to wall as the sun moved, casting that sunlight directly behind Finch now, the gentle glow creating a radiant halo around his figure. The sunlight painted his contours in hues of amber, creating an ethereal shine that seemed to highlight the quiet strength in his features.

Orpheus found himself moving closer, placing his bandaged hand against Finch’s cheek.

The warmth of Finch’s skin filled Orpheus’ palm, an unspoken assurance passed between them, a knowing repair. The imprint of heat sending chills through the rest of Orpheus’ body, every part that ached to reach the same warmth and connection as his hand had.

The quiet simplicity of a caress held a lifetime of pain and genuine love, a forgiveness, and again, it lingered, that persistent and continuing desire.

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mentioned:
Finch (@Caticorn)
Ilyas (@Madilfill) barely lol

[Jass]

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Calling with Iyas Keats

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Her fingers, adorned with delicate gloves, elegantly traced the ribbon of her corset. This subtle dance conveyed a sense of contemplation, as if she were mentally mapping out the uncharted territories he alluded to. The rhythmic yet controlled movement of her fingers are a silent conversation, a dance of its own. Albina’s eyes narrow slightly. A subtle yet contemplative tilt of her head, emphasizing her focused attention on his words. “The dance of risk and reward is indeed an intriguing proposition. As with any venture into uncharted territories, one must consider the unpredictable nature of the journey. Shall we leave the map behind and let the steps of this dance guide us, revealing the path as we go?”

As Ilyas leaned in, Albina maintained her composure, though the tension in the air was palpable. “Afraid? No, Lord Ilyas, I fear not the thrill, that is the enticing part of it. The true measure of adventure lies not in the audacity to leap, but in the wisdom to discern where one lands.” Albina was not afraid to take a risk, do something which was against society’s expectations, but she was smart enough to not do it in any way that would lead into scandal. Something she was quite proud of actually, her resourcefulness in going against society, without facing the consequences.

Albina met Ilyas’s veiled warning with a gaze that held both defiance and a touch of amusement, Albina took a small step forward, closing the physical distance between them. “Ah, Lord Keats, titles and hierarchies may dictate the dance in society’s eyes, but between us, let’s not pretend that we are bound by the same rules that govern polite discourse.” Alluding to the more complex relationship between them, one that expands beyond mere formalities and social rules. She maintained eye contact, her gaze piercing and unwavering. “The delicate balance you speak of is, indeed, fragile, and I have no intention of disturbing it needlessly, your grace.” Her words carried a dual meaning, acknowledging his title, with a sarcasm undertone alluding to the complexities that lingered beneath their banter. Her reaction to his warning, was yet another warning. A warning she was not afraid of him or his status. While at the same time, she wanted to make it clear to Ilyas she was certainly not to play this card without reason, for it would not only hurt Ilyas’ image, it would too hurt her sister’s reputation, something she wished to not do unless there was a most urgent need for it.

“A well-timed joke indeed has its merits, Lord Keats,” Albina responded, offering a subtle smile. “Yet, in the midst of a storm, one must also be mindful of the changing winds. A well-timed joke may offer a brief respite, but the true art lies in navigating the currents and steering through the chaos with finesse. Perhaps our dance isn’t so different from weathering a storm, wouldn’t you say?” One thing was for certain, their interactions this far were as tumultuous as a storm.

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@Madilfill - Ilyas

[benitz786]

Clone 1: Aurelia X Red Flag

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A small respite—that’s all Aurelia craved. A moment to free her mind from the relentless interrogations that quickly became…became… became what?

It was becoming increasingly challenging for her to find the right words. Her instinct whispered “exhausting,” but her rational mind rebuked it. No, engaging with these men, potential suitors for her hand, shouldn’t be… exhausting. She should be exhilarated by the thought that one of them might be her future spouse. Excitement—that’s the word she should use. Perhaps it was her own body that felt weary from her escapade hours earlier, an adventure that carried a twinge of regret and guilt. Guilt for deceiving her mother about her fatigue, but a yearning for more stargazing persisted, conflicting with her sense of duty.

So, a break— that was her current longing. A chance to refresh her mind… regain her sense of duty. That’s what she sought in her stroll, in her contemplation of the hidden passageway. What her break decidedly did not involve was any conversation with a son of the Davis family, or with anyone connected to the Davis family for that matter. Ever. Aurelia had already internally disappointed her mother, and she had no intention of repeating that, especially not with that particular man.

Now, finding herself seated on the ground and facing the man who looked positively peeved, Aurelia’s first response was shock. However, that initial shock swiftly transformed into an unidentifiable ache. There was something about the way he regarded her, a look that seemed to emanate what Aurelia could only assume was… hatred? It had to be, right?

But why did it feel familiar? Almost palpable… and she just… couldn’t place wh… wait… Ah, yes—the dance. The way he looked at her now mirrored the intensity of his gaze from yesterday. How had Aurelia already forgotten that moment? The potent emotions that the dance had stirred within her had been temporarily lost in the night, only to resurface with the way Harrison glared at her in the present. Similar to last night at the ball, a whirlwind of emotions bubbled inside her—emotions she couldn’t quite pinpoint. None of them, however, were directed as hatred toward the man before her. Perhaps frustration, but not hatred.

There was another reason this felt familiar, but the second reason eluded Aurelia’s comprehension. Was it the location? The tone of his voice? The mere fact of them being together, alone? Aurelia experienced a sense of déjà vu, and honestly, it made her feel far too dizzy to contemplate it.

So for that reason, she appreciated his words. It distracted her from her thoughts, even if his words made no sense. “Earl” Davis. That title was meant for his father, so why in the world was he introducing himself as such? There was a distinct distance in his voice, and she could sense he was attempting to emphasize their difference in ranks with his words. It was automatic—the soft scoff that left her lips. “If you’re trying to make a point, Lord Harrison, it’s not going to work. The only man I will acknowledge as Earl Davis is your father. Though I doubt I will ever have the pleasure, as it’s clear my family would rather not… engage with yours. But if I did, I would give him that respect. You, on the other hand, have not earned it just yet.”

With that, Aurelia pulled herself up from the ground, resolute not to grant him the satisfaction of witnessing her in a vulnerable state. Such fragility, as her mother would undoubtedly remind her, had no place in the esteemed halls of the Ellis estate. As she straightened her gown with an air of dignified composure, she found herself entangled in his next sentiment. What was wrong with her? She should have departed long ago, the moment she laid eyes on this man; she should have vanished. But for some inexplicable reason, she lingered.

“If you are here for your… mate; I suggest you go find him instead of pestering me on my property. And for your information, I did not… throw the apple at you… okay maybe… but it was… an accident. Truly, your fault if anything… you scared me. But if I were to throw apples at strangers through a bush, you would be the stranger I’d hope… to throw it at… so there.” she stated, in a hurried… fluster of words.

@Kristi

[raviola]

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Emmanuel swayed back and forth ever so slightly, rocking with the motions of his boat on the celtic sea. It had been about a fortnight since he embarked on his voyage to england. The past month had been a blur of travel; white sleeves stained by ocean waves, wet hair from sea rain, bottles of gin with his crew mates. Prince Emmanuel had been very fortunate to have a crew of sailors to assist him on his trip to and from spain. After so much time spent in new spain, he had forgotten how life was as a true prince, always having a collective of people to accomodate him.

Life in New Spain was much different to his previous monarchal life. There he was not the loving future king of spain, he was a desperately sought savior, with a million hands tugging at him to move in their direction. He started off a young man with a load of empathy telling him to fight for those people who spoke spanish in indigenous accents, dreading the way his apparent allies treated them. Then he became their friend, a sweet boy with a plan just good enough to believe in. A brave man dressed in armour for battle became an anguished child wishing to return home after all the bloodshed he had seen.

That was the day everything changed for him. The night at the fort, his army lost for the first time. After only one attempt, they were already losing. It was too late to take any of it back, it was too late to return to the obedience he gave his father. So he decided to persist, and take a leap knowing that if he fell, those children propped up on his shoulders would too.

It takes a man to lead such a life. Luckily, he was exactly that. He learned that kindness was not only found within generosity, but sacrifice of his time, resources, and money so that his people could have the simple things he was given from the beginning. So his chatter of a young lad became slow breaths of a man who spoke when spoken to, and nothing more.

The ship captain noticed his eyes had darkened in expression, and although he was much past growing, he stood a bit taller. It was five years that he had been gone. His mannerisms were different, as he learned a few things from the new spanish and a bit more from himself. He had become harder to hurt. His mother had been taken by yellow fever, and his father had not congratulated him for a single one of his accomplishments, but there he stood, calm, and sober, save for the flask he shared with his mates earlier.

They had still not yet arrived, and Emma was beginning to worry as the sun rose for another day. He saw the island at a distance, but it was still far. He had said in his letters that he would arrive in the first few days of the season; was he still on schedule?

If you were wondering who Emmanuel may have been writing too. As a prince and monarch, expect nothing less of him than to write letters to the queen of france? Did I say the queen of france? I meant a french girl who thinks shes good enough to be the queen of france, of course. One of his best friends, Belle Fleur. To this day it was a bit of an anomaly as to how they met. She had sent him a letter requesting they chat, and all of his friends told him it was a girl with a crush, or a sweet tooth for high ranking men.

Still, all that time ago, he took it upon himself to reply. As the prince; a dutiful man, he owed his devout attention to all of his subjects. Although Belle was technically not one of these people, she was still a seemingly kind lady who had complimented him in a way, therefore he returned her the same kindness. Additionally, her writing did not signal at a crush. Instead, she held an intrigue that made him desire to know her more. Since then, they had been writing to each other on and off, off when he could not respond due to the adversities that were taking much of his time to resolve.

When he concluded his phase of contribution to the war, and went to the funeral, his father told him that he would be participating in the courting season of England. His life had been very difficult for the past few years, and so he deserved the opportunity to socialize with likeminded people. To his surprise, however, one of them was his long time friend, who was also traveling for the season. After so much time imagining the way she might look, her voice, her laugh, he could finally see which of his theories were right and wrong, and know his friend the way he always hoped he could.

Around mid-day, the boat hit the sand where the docks were. It felt he had finally reached the promised land. Quickly, he asked the men at the dock what day of the season it was. He said that he had heard discourse about “calling” going on today. Without missing a beat, Emmanuel ran back to get his gifts he had prepared for the day and hopped off the edge of the surface onto the sand. His hair was messy, and his clothes were ragged as well.

“Prince Emmanuel, are you not going to retrieve your other belongings?” Asked his concerned men.

“I will retrieve them later, Morris. If you could do me the favor of gathering a few of my things, I would be forever grateful! Now if you will excuse me, I must go to the estate and speak with my friend before I go on with the rest of my callings. I will see you all tonight!” He announced proudly before going off to do exactly as he said. He had promised to visit, and Emmanuel was a man of his word. Yes, he was also responsible for his belongings, but he ran on the power of far too much passion to allow for such unnecessary formalities.

As if collecting all of his things, friends, and memories from the boat were not enough, Emmanuel was also supposed to enter the estate all dirty from sea salt, alcohol, and rain and excuse himself before seeing Belle. Was it possible he would be able to do that after just freshly seeing her for the first time?

On his way to the estate, he thought about it. He thought, and thought, and thought. Strangely, he was beginning to sense a long forgotten sensation of nervousness within himself. He worried that she would not find him as attractive as she had seen him in paintings, or that she would not be as kind as she was in the letters. All of it stressed him so much that he could think of nothing else until he knocked on that fateful door to enter her home.

Before he knew it, he was saluting Belle’s servants as he entered the home. It was similar to the way he imagined, grand, and light in color scheme. However, it felt so difficult to fathom that his fantasies of years were becoming reality in that very moment. He had walked upon the entrance feeling it amiable, then into the threshold of the home in disbelief, and then he saw her waiting for him in that room. Just like she was waiting for presumably many other callers to speak with her, he was one of the plentiful men amazed by her beauty.

She looked like the sun. Her hair was blonde and in perfectly bouncy, charming curls that radiated the energy of a girl who danced in fields and was not afraid to run barefoot. Her eyes were a beautiful, unique color that was just as warm as her voice sounded. Heavens, did her voice sound like the honey he imagined? Her nose was cute and petite, with long eyelashes that made a man wish to stare at her long enough to just watch her blink. And those lips, full and colored like springtime, pink and soft, smooth to the touch. He felt his face get hot when she saw him. He hoped she thought the same of him.

He was lucky to have changed into another outfit before getting off the boat to see her. It was at this moment he had wished to ask for someone else’s home to take shelter, he could have bathed and then gone to see her fresh! Unfortunately, he was just that comfortable with the letters spelled out to him on a scroll to ask her for a place to stay. His hair was still messy, and he most likely smelled of sea salt, but he gave her a smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. It is me, Emmanuel, and I apologize if I have brought you too many gifts.” He chuckled slightly, laughing at himself as he looked down at his very busy hands. “I was not sure which to choose.” He said sincerely, unsure of what else to add. He would attempt at more of a flirtation, but they were friends exclusively, and she was not seeking romance, so he remained respectful

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@Kristi Belle

[CerealKiller]

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Ellis Estate • with Aurelia

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“Lord Randolph, I’m sorry to tell you this, but there is an emergency at your estate. I do not know what is happening, but I was told to call you back immediately. I rushed right over.”

Cassian assumed an unconventional chaperone role, wearing an expression of feigned yet convincing concern. Urging his sister’s suitor to depart immediately and grant her some respite, he bid the gentleman a farewell as he exited the estate, then turned back to his sister, for the first time in over a year.

A genuine grin accompanied by a light laugh left Cassian’s lips as Aurelia practically tackled him with a hug, her arms wrapping around him so tightly that he half-expected to hear his ribs creak. Yet, there was a warmth in the embrace that melted away any discomfort. He returned the hug with equal eagerness, appreciating the strength of her embrace as if trying to bridge the gap with sheer force. It was a hug that spoke volumes, a silent exchange of all the unspoken words and missed moments.

“Well, I do hope ‘different’ doesn’t mean ‘older and wiser.’ We can’t have that, can we?” Cassian teased, pulling back slightly to look into Aurelia’s eyes. “And you look exactly the same, just a bit taller, maybe?" Cassian grinned, a twinkle in his eyes

“I’ve missed you, shrimpy" he confessed, his voice holding a mix of pride and affection, “Truly”. The genuine joy of having his sister in his arms overshadowed any lingering regrets about the time apart.

"Now, considering I’ve been generously appointed as the chaperone you never asked for, I believe it’s time for a strategic retreat from the clutches of the illustrious Lord Randolph.” Cassian suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Perhaps you could enjoy some quality time with your incredibly humble and undoubtedly more charming brother instead? It’s a tempting offer, I must say.” His tone danced between playful banter and a subtle sarcasm, especially when it came to considering her time with suitors, a mix of protectiveness and a playful acknowledgment of the societal expectations.

“We’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do," Cassian remarked with a soft adoring smile, acknowledging the time they’d spent apart.

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@benitz786 Shrimpy

[Jass]

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CLONE #2: Third calling with Dorothea Addington

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Baylor strolled through the well-manicured gardens surrounding Addington estate, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots providing a steady rhythm to his thoughts. The fragrance of evergreen trees lingered in the air, a fallen leave scattered here and here, a pleasant distraction from the weighty considerations that occupied his mind.

He had known Lady Dorothea Addington for years, their acquaintance formed on the solid ground of genuine friendship. They had shared laughter, confidences, and the occasional spirited debate over a cup of tea. It struck him as peculiar that he hadn’t considered her in a different light until recently, until the previous night.

As he approached the imposing entrance, Baylor couldn’t help but reflect on the bond they had forged. Lady Dorothea was not only a confidante but a woman of remarkable intellect, grace, and moral character. The more he pondered, the less it made sense why he had compartmentalized her as merely a friend, and never as an option for marriage.

The butler opened the door, and Baylor was led into the tastefully decorated drawing room. As he waited for Lady Dorothea, he surveyed the room, his gaze falling on familiar items that hinted at their shared history. A pang of realization struck him - perhaps he had been overlooking the most sensible option all along.

As he was ushered into the sitting room, he couldn’t help but feel a combination of excitement and comfort. A warm smile crossed his face. “Lady Dorothea, it’s a pleasure to see you,” he greeted, the genuine warmth evident in his voice. “I’ve been looking forward to our conversation. How have you been of late?”

Taking a seat, Baylor continued, “Your home has always been a haven of tranquility, a perfect setting for recounting tales of distant lands, perhaps some of my time in Scotland, if you wish to hear more of those tales, that is?” It was mostly a rhetorical question, though there was always a chance she would wish to delve into something else instead, in which case he most certainly would respect that. Yet, part of him hoped she would wish to go into those tales more, as he had brought her a small gift from Scotland, something he had brought specifically for her on his last visit. With a playful tone and a small chuckle he added, “If my tales from yesterday have not wearied your ears and jaded your interest”

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@CerealKiller - Dorothea

[Meekepeek]

Joane smiled as he showed an admiration to her loyalty towards her family. “We know that we have to rely on each other and we have some business secrets that stay within the family to make sure the business also stays in the family, therefor our entire family is build on trust” she explains.

Joane could find herself in the interests of Sir Rutherford. “Perhaps we can take our horses out for a ride together sometime, I often tend to mine and enjoy the feeling of riding her through the forest edging the city” she offered in an attempt to have an opportunity in future to meet again if either of them feels like it.

Joane was actually curious about his own view on marriage. “Each lady and gentlemen has it’s own reason to marry. True love, climbing the social ranking, financial security. Some marry because they want to, others because they are pushed by their parents” she started. “What about you Sir Rutherford, it seems like you have thought about it quite well, watch your motivation to marry?” She asked as she looked at him in a serious but not negative way. She was honestly waiting for his answer as it felt like something that would tell a lot about a person.

@Jass

[Kristi]

Cₗₒₙₑ ₁: ₕₐᵣᵣᵢₛₒₙ ₓ ₐᵤᵣₑₗᵢₐ

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At the mention of his father, Harrison narrowed his eyes and took a step back, a hand pushing his hair back as he scoffed. ‘ah hah’ he thought to himself, “My father?” Harrison took a step forward as he clutched his fists, feeling a burning sensation in his chest. His father, as she was made aware, along with the whole ton, was dead. He died in 1806, when Harrison was crowned earl. It could have been Marquis instead, if not for the lady standing in front of him. He had not cared at first; he was still of a good title and had an amazing family, and he never felt the touch of bitterness the rest of his family had towards Ellis, well, the young one’s. He did not want to blame a generation that was innocent for the sins of their family, but it seems that he should have also passed the blame unto the children of duchess and duke Ellis- an ellis cruelty goes beyond and above. “Why are you pretending not to know that the former Earl Davis- my father is with the gods right now- that he died”

Perhaps if Harrison was not filled with bitterness towards the woman who was behind the bushes, he would have thought to ponder on her expressions. How confused she looked, and how those words did not come from a tone necessarily meant to truly hurt him, but one that thought itself infallible. She was still living in the past, while everyone else had moved on is what her tone told the wind- the wind, because such things fell deaf on Harrison ears as he could only hear contempt and annoyance. “And pray tell, why should I want the respect of a con artist?” He asked with a scoffed, “One who left Vera for the dead,” he whispered the last part his expression one of scorn, disgust and with a hint of sadness as he thought to himself, i have not yet told her

Yes, indeed he had not yet told Vera of how Aurelia Juliet Ellis had disregarded her, leaving her to the dust like she had not claimed ‘love’ claimed to love her. He knew it would break Vera and she was already so frail with sickness, and refusing each doctor that came her way when Harrison was not around. He was trying to figure out ways to break it to her, to tell her, and then to make her happy- but he knew that gifts would not be enough. Gift could only provide her temporary happiness, the lingering sadness from the ellis lady will always be there and it will be intense and eat her up- but perhaps he could find a replacement for Aurelia Ellis in the life of Vera.

Aurelia Juliet Ellis was replaceable after all

She was, and he would prove it. But he could not just choose anyone- he had to chose someone better, someone he could truly trust with the business, someone who won’t leave him to the dust like she had. He needed someone who was everything he had once thought Aurelia was.

Harrison scrunched his face as she began to blabber, “What are you blabbering about?” He asked as he tried to process her words. It took him some seconds of repeating each word to process what she had said. “I am not in your property, this is the property of the Keats, is it not?” He said as he extended his hands, dramatically turning around. “And don’t be proud, you were only able to throw that apple because of luck, your aim shall not be that good again.”

---

@benitz786

[Kristi]

୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧୨♡୧
After what had transpired between her and the last remaining Blackwood-Belle, she was ready to retire for the day, but of course that was not going to happen because, as Corin had said, her parents intend to marry her off this season. At first she had blindly had hope that her father would not agree with her mother’s wish of wanting to marry her off right away, as soon as she was a debunate, just like Josephine had been married off within the first two weeks of her debut, claiming that she and the man were truly in love, and of course, the man being from a prominent French aristocratic family—a marquis—and his aunt being a long friend of Duchess Fleur, her parents were quickly enamored with the man, her mother bragging about how quickly Josephine had gotten married and how she hoped that the remaining two of her daughters would undergo that same fate. As soon as those words left her mother’s lips, Belle had taken it as a threat.

How could she not? She knew her mother better than she knew most people, having lived with her for all this time. Her mother was a woman filled with ambition and pride. She always wanted to prove in a crowd filled with nobles that she was the best, the only one who truly deserved to sit at the high table. With Louis already engaged and soon to be married, a heir and the future of the Fleur lineage were secured, with Josephine already having sons who were also potential heirs to the Fleur lineage if Louis and Thomas wives proved to be a disappointment and did not deliver any heirs, male or female, and her mother arranging dates with noble ladies and Thomas (most of them being daughters of her childhood friends) for Thomas to find the perfect noble wife. Kat was far too young for anything now, but Belle was no longer young, was she? meaning that all her mother’s focus would be on her, and she would push for marriage for Belle to maintain the all so powerful Margot Manon Fleur reputation.

Belle knew that, yes, indeed she did, but she did not know, or at least hoped, that it was not true, but deep down she had a lingering feeling that it was—that her father had also been agreeing with her mother and conspiring against her. The words of Corin Blackwood stuck in her head. What he hinted at was that she could not be his betrothed, could she? The chances for that were looking way too high for Belle’s pleasure, and she frowned, her eyes getting cold. She would ask her dear parents about it and demand that they tell her directly, because she had no wish to hear the direct words from the lips of Corin Blackwood. She clutched tightly the necklace she wore on her neck, using her other finger to tap against the couch. Whatever the truth was, it was good that she already had a list of plans. After all, you always have to expect the unexpected, don’t you?

As Belle pondered on the situation, her elder brother- Louis had came down with a rush, asking if she was okay because he heard arguing.

“Sister are you sure you’re fine. What I heard was intense.”

“Louis, I am fine. Really I am, just go back upstairs,” She wanted to ask him if he had known, known of the possibility of her being already engaged, but of course she knew that yes was the answer. He was the heir and thus he was made aware of every little business of the Fleur family- though Belle was sure that he not made aware of all of them, he was probably made aware of signed agreements- because if Duke Gabriel was to die anytime soon, Louis would be the one to carry out the agreement.

Louis eyed her, before he sighed and leaned down to kiss her forehead and pulled her into a hug. “Just know if you need me or Thomas the bell is there.” Belle felt warmth in her chest as she patted her brother’s back as she hugged him back before pulling away. He began to walk away up to the stairs, before he halted his steps and turned to face her once more and walked up to her and Belle held her hand high up in the hair.

“Louis it’s fine, i’m fine, just go.” She said with a hint of amusement in her tone. If he wanted to help her escape this calling day, she had no complains but she knew he would not do that- he was just concerned for her safety like any good brother was. He had been the same way with Josephine and he shall be the same with Kat, and that was why Belle loved her brother. Louis was truly her favorite sibling, even though he did not tell her about the agreement she was sure he knew of- he was kind, honorable and always did his best to be there for the family. He would be a good Duke.

As she heard the departing footsteps of her brother, Belle also heard the arriving footsteps of someone. She heard the maid, and butlers whispering among themselves. She had heard them mutter the words ‘prince’, ‘handsome’ ‘l’Espagne’ and her curiosity grew within her as his footsteps seemed closer. As soon as he arrived, Belle cocked her head to stare at the man. He was handsome- undeniable so, with a strong jaw and deep dark brown eyes. He had light brown hair and strands of hair sat in front of his face acting like curtains. His outfit, healthy looking appearance, and aura signified he was wealthy-well he ought to be, unless her mother would have commanded the guards to chase him out with disgust. Moreover, he also smelt like the sea

Strange, she found herself wrinkling her nose in curiosity. Had he taken a swim in the sea before he came? His hair still looked a little wet after all.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. It is me, Emmanuel, and I apologize if I have brought you too many gifts.” He chuckled slightly, laughing at himself as he looked down at his very busy hands. “I was not sure which to choose.”

Hearing those words, her eyes sparkled as she connected the dots. ‘prince’ ‘l’Espagne’ and ‘Emmanuel’ it was Prince Emmanuel- her pen pal, the pen pal her father had told her to write too, and Belle had done so reluctantly because also with interest as she had heard a lot about ‘new spain’ and the Spanish Prince. As they wrote to each other, her interest in him grew and she fond herself befriended him- he was quite interesting, intelligent and thoughtful. He also talked to her a lot about war which Belle was interested in hearing- if he had asked, she would have volunteered to help, just to see and help. Prince Emmanuel had told her that he would be coming to England and to visit her, but she did not know when but it seemed it was at this time. After the whole situation with Blackwood and the negative surprise, Belle surely needed a positive surprise.

“Prince Emmanuel,” She called with a small modest smile as she curtsied, her eyes twinkling with pleasure as she stood up to curtsied. “It is truly wonderful to see you, you don’t know how much you made my day or how much of a wreck it had been.” She laughed gently, “And as for the gifts, you did not have to. A flower would have been enough, what did you bring and how are you?” She asked as she sat and inviting him to do the same, ringing a bell to signal for the maids to bring tea. “Would you wish to go outside where the archery range are. I’ve always wished to show you my skills, and I wish to see yours,” She teased a little at the end.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆

@raviola

mentioned:

@DandelionKate - Blackwood

[raviola]

What was this tension between them? Not once during their courtship did she believe they could feel a spark, yet suddenly, she felt a very strong connection between them. She figured it was his willingness to speak with her, because he seemed so flirtatious. It seemed impossible to imagine him saying these things over a year ago. Now, he stood watching her, at her beck and call. Obviously, she could not give into him so easily. But- she could toy with him a bit.

“Creo que es mi voz que te entretiene mas, Harrison.” Her words rolled off her lips like honey, and she waited for the effect she anticipated to fall. As she said, he obviously did not understand her dialogue, yet she knew he would enjoy hearing it.

Still, he also attracted her just as much. The sensation raised goosebumps on her arms, and they begged her to run away but she only found herself reeling in. “I do not need a lesson to feel chemistry with you, if that is what you ask.” Azucena flirted back without thought. Her own words had surprised her. She was always one to speak her mind when it came to those things, but she had believed herself capable of just a bit more self control when in contact with Harrison. She supposed this task of discipline would be more difficult than expected.

He joked with her, insinuating that his brutish demeanor was not to be challenged, however she could not help but toss that previous preconception aside when she saw the way he spoke now. There was something so gentle about it, his humor almost nurturing in a way that made her want to trust him, not only to chop lumber and tend to their finances, but also to hold her in his arms when she was afraid, for she knew he would not grasp her too tight, and still never let go. She followed along with his bit, amused and quite frankly a bit overjoyed. “I suspect that their devilishly handsome chaos bringer already has.” She said, playfully making fun of his self description.

She chuckled, finding his speech quite cute, but it did not seem to hold much substance. “You say that with such confidence, Harrison.” If there was anything Azucena had learned in the time she spent without him, it was that one cannot judge fate so easily. If it were so, Azucena would have long ago found the answer to her many questions to the universe. Still she had not, but she would keep searching. Who knew? Maybe Harrison had it all along, and she could find it written on his head when she tousled his hair.

He made it so difficult for her to hold a grudge. It was liberating- to speak with him like two informal lovers. Their words sounded without any formality in their echo. It had always felt that in the life Azu had been given, it was always her destiny to find a man of status, marry him, give him an heir, and live that same formulaic life of her mother, and her mother before that, and on and on. It was more of a sentence, than fate.

In their conversation, for the first time since the first time, she felt as though she said her words and meant them. Because she was not intending to marry him, or whatever it was her mother wanted from her, she was in fact resisting so much yet she still could not because she was so entranced by their exchange.

Since even before Harrison arrived, love, for Azucena, would come in staged courtship, lonely friendship, or even just a summer fling. It was like every conversation, she knew the outcome. He would get what he wanted, and she would not know what was next. It was her most desperate of prayers just to feel like a character in the books she negated reading, loving for the hell of it. To think these fictional people take it so for granted, their privilege to feel the most forbidden of feelings and then progressively claim them. Would she ever be so lucky to travel through time at the sight of someone’s smile?

How she wished it could be Harrison at times, as millions of thoughts accelerated through her mind, as he surely was not thinking much. She doubted he cared as much as she. “Possibly.” She said, thinning her lips as she confined the swarm of chaos running through her mind into one sole word.

He had liked the poem. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, anxious of whether or not he would approve. Strangely, however, he did not seem to personalize her words. Had he not understood they were meant for him? Or did he simply not feel them in relation. She was a bit confused, but persisted.

“You inspired me to write them, travieso.” She informed him, speaking back to him as she realized how close he has brought them. During her poem, she had tried to ignore his head on her shoulder so she could concentrate, but now it seemed very evident how personal this moment was becoming.

Travieso, she had called him. It was a word in spanish that meant troublemaker. She had returned the using of specialized names because he had started the trend with Tesoro, and she wanted to return the favor. She had called him by a different name before; but she had to be honest, he was no angel. So instead, she let him know he was the reason she wrote her poetry, and the mischief woven into each word. “And thank you.” She added, looking into his brown eyes after he had turned to listen to her speak. It was almost as if they had never met, and he was a perfect stranger that had been waiting all of those years to meet her. Was it possible they could have been like this all along?

@kristi Harrison

[Jass]

---

CLONE #1: Second calling with Joane Claimond

---

Baylor listened attentively to Joane’s explanation of her family’s trust-based dynamics in managing their business. He nodded in understanding, appreciating the importance of loyalty and shared secrets within a family to safeguard their business interests. “Trust is indeed the cornerstone of a strong family foundation.” as he spoke, he reflected on his trust in Maisie, he still was hesitant to truly let her in on the family business and all elements of it. While she certainly played a role in the family business, there was more that Maisie was not involved in or had no knowledge of as of yet. Step by step, if Maisie would desire, he would allow her to be more involved. Yet, at this moment he felt she was not truly ready to carry the weight that was part of being responsible for their family business. Seeing how involved Joane was therefore gained some of Baylor’s respect, how she found herself involved and carry the weight of its responsibilities with grace. “It’s admirable that your family places such value on reliance and confidentiality. It undoubtedly fosters a sense of unity and shared purpose, essential for the success and continuity of the family business.”

Baylor made brief eye contact with Joane as she invited him for a ride, a slight nod in acknowledgement of her words followed, before he started speaking, “The idea of a horseback ride sounds intriguing, Lady Claimond. I’ll certainly keep it in mind, and should the occasion arise, I’d be pleased to share such an experience with you.”

A subtle yet warm smile played on Baylor’s lips as he looked at Joane again. While it did not show in his words or demeanor, her invitation had prompted somewhat of an internal dilemma in Baylor. Horse riding was among his favorite activities, and he appreciated her straightforwardness in asking him. However, it caught him off guard a touch. His mind had been preoccupied with plans for a horse riding date with Adeline, leaving him uncertain about agreeing to a similar activity with Joane. His growing feelings for Adeline were already influencing his decision making, shown by him holding off somewhat on a lady who could have made a most excellent option. He wished to pursue something meaningful with Adeline, even though it was early in the season and despite the logical expectation he had of himself to explore other options in his search for a wife this season. At the same time, Baylor couldn’t deny the enjoyment of Joane’s company. It felt comfortable, and she seemed to possess many qualities that Baylor was searching for. Thus, he had opted to keep the invitation open without making any firm commitments at the moment.

When the conversation shifted to the topic of marriage, Joane’s observations on the varied reasons people enter matrimony were astute. “I find your insights into the diverse motivations behind such unions quite discerning,” As she turned the question back to him, Baylor paused for a moment, reflecting on his own stance and considering his response. he responded with his customary calmness and a touch of seriousness in his tone, “For me, marriage transcends personal desires; it is a commitment rooted in responsibility. A responsibility to uphold my family’s name and, more significantly, to provide a stable and supportive foundation for myself, and my dear sister.” he spoke truthfully with Joane, showing his true motivations. Baylor was well aware that the connections he created through marriage not only impacted himself. Who Baylor decided to marry, it would not only affect his and his family’s business future, it too would affect his sister’s chances on the marriage market, if she wouldn’t get married before him that is. While Baylor wished to marry this year, who is to say he would be successful at that?

Tilting his head slightly, he softened his tone as he continued speaking on the more emotional elements, “Yet, it’s not merely about strategy and duty. I also envision marriage as a profound step toward establishing a genuinely supportive and fulfilling partnership, one that caters to the emotional well-being of both individuals involved.” He concluded with a subtle smile, “And who knows, in cultivating such a connection, it might lead to a love that goes beyond what I initially anticipate. So I find my motivation is a delicate equilibrium between those different reasons you so flawlessly observed”, he let out a soft chuckle as he said that. His answer as a whole had showed Baylor’s complex views on marriage and his internal debate on it however.

---

@Meekepeek - Joane
@Littlefeets - Maisie (mentioned)
@sunflowerjm - Adeline (mentioned)

[Madilfill]

Jj

He met her gaze with an enigmatic smile. “Perhaps, Lady Albina, the dance itself holds the map, and the steps are the clues we need.”

As the conversation about dance unfolded, Ilyas couldn’t shake a sense of deja vu, reminiscent of an earlier encounter with his unexpected guest. The dance of words felt eerily familiar, a reflection of the intricate steps he had navigated before

It was a curious internal dilemma for Ilyas. On one hand, he found the verbal spars quite engaging and entertaining, almost like a mental tango. Yet, each conversation carried its own emotional weight, making it difficult to discern a preference. Both interactions seemed to intertwine with feelings, and he found himself caught between enjoying the verbal exchanges and grappling with the emotions they stirred within him.

Navigating the realm of conversational tit-for-tat, Ilyas found it intriguing to observe which banter partner matched his wit more effectively. The exchanges were akin to a symphony of words, each participant composing their notes, eager to outshine the other. It was a delicate balance, determining whose repartee echoed more harmoniously with his own.

The subtle reference she made to their intricate relationship carried an undercurrent of deeper understanding. The unspoken acknowledgment of a connection beyond social norms lingered in her words. Her unwavering gaze conveyed a depth that transcended the usual bounds of etiquette. She was hinting at a complex dynamic between them, acknowledging its fragility while ensuring she wouldn’t disrupt it unnecessarily, addressing Ilyas with a sense of reverence.

Ilyas arched an eyebrow, a wry smile playing on his lips. Delicate indeed. Perhaps fragility is the very essence that keeps our dance intriguing. As for needlessly disturbing it, well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?"

In a moment of introspection, Ilyas couldn’t help but feel the subtle weight of the small jeweled hairpins nestled in his pocket. A thoughtful gift from his sister, they were meant for a lady deserving of such delicate adornments. The jewels sparkled, and he found himself trusting his sister’s sense of fashion as he recalled her suggestion that they would make a wonderful present. It was a subtle touch of elegance that he appreciated, a tangible reminder of familial connections amid the complexities of social nuances.

These small tokens of adornment hold a story woven by my sister’s discerning eye. She insisted they would complement a lady’s grace. A thoughtful gesture, I believe."
@Jass
@DandelionKate mentioned a lil

Pins

[Madilfill]

Augustus felt an undeniable contentment simply being in Margo’s company. The mere thought that amidst a sea of potential suitors, he might just be another face in the crowd lingered in the back of his mind. Yet, in a whisper of hope, he wished that she could perceive him as more than just a friend, someone whose presence brightened her day in a way no one else could.

“Absolutely! Why did the scarecrow win that award? Oh, because he was simply ‘outstanding’ in his field!” He chuckled softly, the quip serving as a flimsy shield to mask the jitters stirring within him. “Ah, jokes – my trusty sidekicks, helping me navigate these moments of nerves with a touch of humor!”

Yet, amidst his efforts to keep the mood cheerful, a part of him longed to reveal more than just playful quips.

As they strolled toward the garden, Augustus found himself navigating a unique realm of conversation with her. Although he typically shied away from delving into deeper topics, he felt a distinct ease in their interaction. They exchanged lighthearted banter, with occasional bursts of laughter punctuating the air. Augustus sensed an unspoken understanding between them, allowing him to inch beyond the boundary of his comfort zone.

Lady Margaret’s warmth and genuine curiosity spurred him to want to share snippets of his life he seldom revealed. They skirted around the edges of deeper conversations, glimpsing into moments of vulnerability masked beneath the veneer of cheerful jokes.

Augustus found himself slowly wanting to unravel the layers of his reserved nature, entrusting her with fragments of his life story he rarely shared.

With each step, a subtle shift occurred within Augustus – a sense of comfort interwoven with a trust in Margo’s presence.

Margaret paused beside the vibrant blooms, her voice carrying a soft cadence as she shared the stories behind each delicate petal. She recounted tales of her grandmother’s loving gestures through the gift of roses and the joy she found in the spirited presence of tulips. With a gentle, almost reverent touch, she stopped beside a cluster of brown-speckled golden and coral pink alstroemerias, her eyes lighting up with fondness.

“Aren’t they just lovely?” Margaret glanced at Augustus, her expression carrying a warmth that mirrored the radiant hues of the alstroemerias. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, inviting him to partake in the enchanting beauty that surrounded them. The delicate blooms, a canvas of colors, stood as a testament to the stories, memories, and emotions woven into each flower’s existence. It was a moment suspended in time, an invitation to appreciate the marvels of nature and the sentiments they evoked.

“Indeed, they are enchanting,” Augustus responded, his gaze only on the admiration in Margaret’s eyes. His voice held a gentle awe, not just for the vibrant alstroemerias but for the way Margaret spoke of them, infusing life and tales into the petals. He felt a surge of gratitude for this moment shared with her, surrounded by nature’s breathtaking display and her captivating storytelling.

Caught slightly off guard by the direct question, Augustus felt a rush of nerves. Taking a moment to collect himself, he mustered the courage to respond, though his words were tinged with a hint of cheesy enthusiasm.

“Well,” he began, his voice slightly wavering, I’m here because this garden pales in comparison to the beauty I heard about. Rumor has it that amidst these blossoms, a certain Lady captivates the very essence of this place. I simply couldn’t resist the chance to witness that enchantment for myself."

His attempt at blending cheesy charm with his nervousness resulted in a slightly awkward but endearing admission.

“I’ve been drawn here by the allure of your garden and, well, the flowers… they whispered your name to me. Quite literally! Can you believe it?”
@astxrism

[astxrism]

{ Addington estate / with Dorothea }

---

His eyes met hers, carrying a mixture of empathy and a hint of defiance against the confines of societal norms. Archie did understand her words and the struggles ladies have to face; not from his own experience, of course, but just by looking at his sisters and friends he had. [color="#7d8270”]"I do agree with that. There are so many things that everyone expects of you, same things for all ladies,“[/color] he spoke, just letting his thoughts out. There was a certain intensity in the way he observed her, a nuanced scrutiny that betrayed the complexity of their past interactions. It was a dance of glances, each one carrying the weight of unspoken words and unresolved sentiments.

[color="#7d8270”]"But I would argue, Lady Dorothea, that even as a man, the expectations can be a heavy mantle. The weight may not be as overt, but the pressure to conform to certain roles, to be the provider, the protector—it’s a burden, subtly woven into the fabric of our lives.“[/color] The defiance in his eyes, subtle yet unmistakable, echoed a desire to dismantle the predefined roles and expectations imposed on both men and women. In that moment, Archie’s words were a gentle rebellion.

The words he chose were not merely an intellectual argument but a glimpse into his emotions. While society set the expectations he faced as a man, there was an unspoken yearning for acknowledgment, a desire to be seen beyond the facade of traditional masculinity. [color="#7d8270”]“I don’t mean to diminish the unique challenges women face. It’s just that, sometimes, the weight of expectations for men can be stifling too,“[/color] he quickly added. [color=”#7d8270”]“But it comes at a different age.“[/color] A subtle shrug of his shoulders before he made a few steps closer to her. [color=”#7d8270”]"What I was wondering is…“[/color]

His words trailed off, a pause that underscored the weight of his unspoken question. There was a smile on his lips that couldn’t be described, that did not uncover what he was feeling - did his question carry malice or was he simply curious, sad that she’d lost someone she could’ve had something good with. [color="#7d8270”]"I didn’t get a chance to ask you last time but… Did you truly find the escape from all of that with James?“[/color]

---

@CerealKiller - Dorothea

[astxrism]

{ Home / first visitor / Augustus }

⎯⎯ ୨୧ ⎯⎯

Augustus, with his trusty sidekicks of humor, led their journey through the garden with a playful quip about a scarecrow winning an award for being ‘outstanding’ in his field. The laughter that followed served as a sweet melody, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Margaret cherished the easiness of their exchange, where jokes became threads weaving through the fabric of genuine connection. They explored the edges of deeper conversations and Margaret found herself touched by the trust he placed in her. It was always easy with him. There was not a dull moment that they shared, from their adventures at the lovely Hatcherman estate and ranches to this little walk she suggested through the garden she tended with the most care. There were not a lot of people she would lead her, a lot of people with whom she’d share her excitement for new flowers blossoming, so she appreciated the guy that was next to her even more for it. For being someone she found easy to be herself with.

“Indeed, they are enchanting." A soft, genuine smile graced Margaret’s lips as she looked into his eyes. Margo found herself grateful for the unexpected enchantment Augie brought to her calling day. This is how she always felt around him. Around her friend.

See… Margaret’s thoughts could not be that easily explained. Feelings she had for him could not be easily explained. She could only see him as a friend, that’s what their relationship always was no matter what she might felt for him deep inside. A topic she was not keen on discussing, a complicated feeling she was not keen on untangling because what was the point of it? She was not looking for a lifelong partner, not looking for a marriage, not when she thought he was looking at her the same way - as a friend. She was content in the comfort of their camaraderie, unaware of the unspoken depths that could lie beneath the surface.

Why would someone visit her today and bring her a gift if the weren’t expecting a certain kind of ending? But she couldn’t know what he was feeling, no one could into one’s mind and Margaret was just a clueless young girl after all, stuck in her own imaginary world.

[color=“#e9a189”]”I’m afraid I do not follow,“[/color] she shyly commented, touched by his words but unaware of what they meant. [color=”#e9a189”]”You have been here before,“[/color] Margo added, only getting confused. Or maybe a part of her just wanted to hear a different answer from him. A more defined and clear one, proving some of her fantasies. [color="#e9a189”]”Is that a trick question? Should I say I believe you?“[/color] Margaret laughed softly. ”What do you mean Augustus?“

⎯⎯ ୨୧ ⎯⎯

@Madilfill : Augustus

[novella]

══✿══╡°˖✧ ✿ ✧˖°╞══✿══

Replaying in Lydia’s mind after she had asked Corin about his successes was her interaction with her sister. How much it didn’t seem like her sister. It felt discomforting, to be looking at Aurelia but speaking with a stranger. What infuriated Lydia the most was that she was unable to place reasoning for her behaviour. Had it been something to do with Aurelia’s retreat? What could have possibly been so convincing enough to change a mind as strong as her sisters? Lydia knew how near-impossible that was, with such similar qualities to her. She had to find some way to speak to Aurelia again properly, without the concern of their mother looming around.

Suddenly, Lydia reminded herself of where she was, and the fact that she wasn’t alone. In that moment she realised the man in front of her was speaking to her, and Lydia became aware of the blank expression she had probably been giving. She sat further forward to indicate she actually was listening as he began to describe his success in finding a someone at the ball. Because, while Lydia had guessed that nothing he was saying would concern her, she supposed the courtesy of her attention was the least she could do after practically forcing him into her company.

The man described some nameless girl from his past who had caught his attention. Looking at him, Lydia could appreciate that he was certainly attractive, and perhaps it was just charisma that had given her a sense of familiarity with him. Maybe it was how he made many feel around him. Lydia had little doubt that someone like him had trouble receiving any romantic attention. “I’m sure you could make this mystery woman very happy,” Lydia responded, though unsure of why or how she would give advice on people she hardly knew about. Though it wasn’t just advice he was searching for, but any feeling of relatability to what he was saying.

Someone you longed for who escaped you?

“Ah… I suppose that… --” Lydia began after he had directed the conversation her way. Though she had no intention of answering, and delving into the person that had came to mind, she was aware that her lack of denial was answer in itself. “You could say that people have escaped me,” She told him vaguely, using it to describe multiple different scenarios, including one he had been asking about. “I’m not one to dwell, though,” Lydia continued, which really just meant: she wasn’t one to share with someone she had only met moments ago.

“For your own case, however,” She began, as she shifted the subject back to giving so-called ‘feminine insight’, as if Lydia had anything to give. She hardly gave time to concern herself of her own romantic affairs, and so attempting to provide insight regarding others was a whole new challenge. Though after some consideration for his case, she concluded with an answer that she would imagine would work with most people. Maybe including herself. “Perhaps… reminding her of the time you were not strangers.”

Almost immediately after Lydia had given her words of wisdom, the carriage stopped at their destination: the Thames beach.

══✿══╡°˖✧ ✿ ✧˖°╞══✿══

@.DandelionKate Corin
@.benitz786 not Lia

[astxrism]

CLONE 1

{ second stop / with Adeline }

---

As the day continued and Archie left the Addington estate, with a small, intricately wrapped box in hand, he made his way towards Adeline’s residence. The air held a certain tension, a blend of curiosity and apprehension, as he approached the door. The familiar path felt both comforting and laden with unspoken questions, a testament to the complicated dynamics between them.

With each step, Archie found himself retracing the moments that led to this visit. Dorothea’s words lingered in his mind, a reminder of the complexities that intertwined their lives. He hesitated, contemplating the significance of this visit—was it an act of friendship or something much deeper? There were no, as he would like to make you believe, intentions behind him visiting certain ladies today, it was just curiosity that made him take on these actions, a need to know what was happening in their lives. So he had decided his next stop is going to be the Delaney’s estate to visit Adeline, his dear friend, not out of obligation, but driven by a subtle undercurrent of concern and a desire to offer reassurance. He could not imagine how overwhelming this whole day must be.

Archie took a moment to inhale deeply as he waited to be let in, gathering the courage to navigate this conversation that would take place while hiding the currents that swirled beneath the surface. He navigated past the line of eager suitors, each waiting for a moment with the lady of the house, his purpose overriding any potential qualms about etiquette. Looking at him you could not even guess that he was nervous.

[color="#7d8270”]”Pardon me… Sorry- Oh, I apologize!“[/color] Words of courtesy and regret flowed from his lips, delivered with a rehearsed indifference as he skipped the line to get right in front of the door he knew so well and wait for whatever jackass was in there right now, wasting his not-so-precious time on a girl that jackass didn’t deserve. Not a single emotion could be read off of Archie’s face, a stoic expression and even colder words without a hint of sincerity. The murmurs of discontent from those he bypassed were like distant echoes, unheard beneath the shield of his single-minded determination. Obviously other gentlemen were not happy with him cutting line but that was not something that would stop Archie. ”I just have some very important words for the lady so don’t sweat it. I could imagine how unpleased she would be if she heard you tried to delay that. May I?“ A disarming smile accompanied his words, an insincere gesture designed to smooth the ruffled feathers of those in line. The man next in queue, torn between irritation and the desire to avoid a scene, reluctantly granted Archie permission to enter before him.

An approval Archie did not need but he did not wish for bad words to spread around about him so some formalities were necessary. As he noticed the previous suiter making his exit Archie couldn’t help but let his gaze show what he was feeling inside - a mixture of… everything he did not wish to express and disapproval on who was hoping to call on lady Adeline. But a genuine smile met his face and his whole demeanor changed once a maid he knew let him in, leading him to see his old friend. ”A busy day I suppose?“ He offered her a sympathetic smile, a slight nod to thank her before ha was left alone with Adeline.

His gaze softened as he beheld a beautiful sight. The woman he had known for years, stood before him. Her presence provided a stark contrast to the orchestrated chaos of her calling day. Archie’s eyes traced the delicate contours of her features, the subtle elegance that distinguished her from the others in every room you could find her in. [color="#7d8270”]”Adie- Lady Adeline.“[/color] He corrected himself, a sincere gesture just to show how far they’ve come and how important this day was for her. ”I hope the day has treated you well,“ he continued, choosing words that, while casual, carried an unspoken weight. Just how things have changed from when they were younger.

In his hand he held a small box—a gift, a token that spoke of sentiments he struggled to articulate. While he was not here with a wish to court her (or what he himself believed) he couldn’t come empty handed. [color="#7d8270”]”I wished to see, form what I’ve heard, the Diamond of this season. Of any season if you ask me but I suppose I have to listen to the queen.“[/color] His last words were more of a whisper, a comment he almost made for himself while a soft smile graced his lips. As he closed almost all distance between them, he kept his eyes on her, handing her the small box he held in which was the softest sky blue yarn he had a hard time getting his hands on. ”I also hope you use this well.“

---

@/sunflowerjm - Adie

[Kristi]

---

Harrison arched a brow at the words that left her lips, The words raced like shadows, too swift for his mind to decipher. Yet, the content was irrelevant; what captivated him was the sultry cadence and sensuality woven into every syllable she spoke. Unable to resist, Harrison’s gaze shamelessly traced the contours of her alluring features, his lips betraying a subtle bite as he released a low chuckle.

“Fingamus me scire quid dixeris,” Let us pretend I understood what you said he murmured in Latin, a dark whisper in the hallowed halls of her parlor.

Drawing closer, his towering presence descended until they were face to face, almost lip to lip. A sly smirk danced on his lips as he fixated on hers, but instead of succumbing to the temptation of a kiss, he diverted to her forehead with a deliberate, tantalizing caress. “Have I ever confessed how enchanting I find the melody of your voice?” he asked, “Truly, your voice could inspire verses of passion and prose.” He told her with a foxy grin as sat down on the coach, the urge to hold her by the waist and pull her to his lap strong within him. If it was in an alternative world, perhaps they were already married and everyday during the afternoon they would gaze at the stars together, she in his lap, and his chin resting against her head, as he wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her neck. A lot of other fun things could be done watching the stars, but aah let not his mind wander like that.

“I do need a lesson to feel chemistry with you, if that is what you ask,”

“No, but private chemistry lessons are always very pleasurable,” He teased, standing up from the coach and going behind her, as he wrapped his arms around her waist- her waist fitting perfectly like a glove in his hand, as he whispered to her. “Or so, I have heard,” He teased, releasing his hands and raising it up in the air. “I’ve always loved the subject of chemistry, and we both seem to know a lot about it, don’t we? Perhaps one day we can talk more privately about chemistry”

They talked with each other more, flirtations thrown here and there, and teasing all over the place. Never had he known that truly so much sparks could fly between him and the lady in front of him. She matched his energy quite well, and he quite like that- she was challenging, giving him a push and pull relationship currently and Harrison would be a liar to say that he did not enjoy it. He liked how much she had moved pass her naiveness though it was cute, this new aura she exhibited fitted her quite well- did it not?

As he talked about fate, their fate, the fate of them as a future married couple, Harrison saw a hint of sadness and longing reach her eyes. It was the same sadness and longing he had seen yesterday when they had danced without talking much, and he wondered, what was on her mind? . “You say that with such confidence, Harrison.” She tells him, “I say it with such confidence, because I am confident in us, and I have been told, confidence is the key to success. Men had once moved mountains with confidence,” He replies, and just like that they were thrown in a staring battle. They were like babes who had just first seen the world and reached their tiny hands to grasps the air around them, not knowing that one cannot contain the air. That was to say, they had discovered a new world- a new possibility between them and they stared at each other like they were each other’s treasures and constellations.

When they die, Harrison thinks, they shall invent something new with their love, then he thinks… do all lovers think they are inventing something new? Then he thinks again, are they lovers currently? he asks himself, he was currently one of her many suitors, calling for her hand in marriage like had done last season and had won. Could he win again? A voice inside his head found itself chuckling, ‘you’re harrisonn, of course you shall win. Please do not forget yourself asking such stupid questions’ the voice whispered and Harrison shook his head with a smile, the voice was right- he was Harrison Michelangelo Davis. Perhaps that was a prideful thing to say but has it not been already establish that he was filled with pride? Vanity, no, but pride, yes because he had so much to be proud about.

They were outside in the garden, the sun bathing them in a a November, though the gush of wind told them that winter was nearing and with winter, one shall need a warm body, no?.

Winter is always lonely without someone to love and Harrison truly desired someone to love, he did not want a fling, someone he shall pretend to love until whatever they had was done and they shook hands as they depart from each other and become lovers, not two individuals who are deeply in love but lovers in a simpler way of it. To not be in love with a lover giving the name always humored him, such a funny way of calling someone you ‘like’ only for some days. Moreover, to sum it all; Harrison was ready to give himself for love and to have his warmth this winter days, for various reasons; he was a lover of love and he was currently an earl and he needed a wife and heirs to carry out his line, and heirs for him to love and smile when he hears the word, ‘father’ leave their lips.

He shall be a good father, he thinks. He had always loved being around children and hanging out with them, he would play with his younger brothers when they were younger, teach them all that they needed to be taught when their father was busy, and he would take his younger sisters and cousin shopping- always ready to help.

As Azucena said her beautiful poem, he listened and he spoke to her.

"You inspired me to write them, travieso"

She informed him, he had learnt of that word once, so he knew what it meant, “Troublemaker?” He questioned with a laughter, “Am i a troublemaker? I like to think that I am an angel sent from God to bring light to the earth,” he teased, “If I am a troublemaker, mi tesoro, what are you?”

He was quite touched that she had inspired him to write the poem, and how she had persisted in telling him that he-- he had been her muse in that poem. He stared at her like she was his moon, as he said, “I hope I shall inspire you more in the future, give you more in the future and now. I am definitely going to write poetry about this day with you, my beautiful lady,”

---

@raviola

[Madilfill]

Augustus stood slightly fidgety, his fingers dancing along the edge of his vest, a nervous habit surfacing as he tentatively gathered his thoughts. He took a slow, steady breath, attempting to compose himself while attempting to articulate the feelings swirling inside him. His heart raced, echoing the rapid pace of his thoughts.

"Uh, well, truth be told, Lady Margaret," he started, his voice carrying a hint of bashfulness, “I’m here because… I kinda like you.” His gaze shifted briefly to the ground before lifting again, meeting her eyes with a mix of earnestness and trepidation. His lips formed a hesitant smile, an attempt to soften the vulnerability of his confession.

“In that, um, like you sort of way?” Augustus continued, his words stumbling slightly over each other, an endearing display of his nerves. Yet, beneath the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and maybe, just maybe, a hint of reciprocation.

Augustus felt a surge of anxiety, his heart pounding a little louder as he awaited Margaret’s response. A flurry of thoughts raced through his mind - would she be surprised, amused, or taken aback? The uncertainty made him fidget with the hem of his coat, his nerves tingling with anticipation. He hoped fervently that his candid admission wouldn’t create an awkward rift between them. The air seemed to hang heavy with anticipation, his pulse echoing the weight of his unspoken question: How would she react?

he couldn’t help but replay the moments they shared in his mind. Were those fleeting moments just figments of his imagination, or had there been something more beneath their friendship’s surface? His thoughts swirled with uncertainty, wondering if his feelings had been a one-sided affair.

As the silence lingered, he frantically searched for a way to ease the tension, a joke or a lighthearted comment, anything to diffuse the gravity of his words. Yet, each attempt felt clumsy and forced, his nerves betraying any semblance of composure he tried to maintain. All he could do was brace himself, hoping that whatever Margaret’s response, their friendship would weather this moment of vulnerability.

Augustus nodded to himself internally, reminding himself of the importance of authenticity. He realized that being genuine, even if it meant revealing his nerves or vulnerabilities, was crucial. He resolved to stay true to himself, regardless of the situation. After all, it’s the genuine and unguarded moments that often form the strongest connections.

Augustus couldn’t shake the thought that Margaret likely had other suitors, perhaps more confident or experienced ones. It weighed on his mind, the comparison with those who might appear more seasoned in the ways of courtship. He found himself questioning whether his own sincerity and genuine nature would be enough to stand out among these other, perhaps more polished, suitors vying for her attention.

“I’m not here seeking anything,” Augustus remarked, feeling compelled to express his intentions clearly. “I just wanted you to know… well, how I felt. No expectations or requests. Just being honest.” His tone carried a sense of sincerity, emphasizing that his aim wasn’t to seek anything in return, but simply to share his feelings openly.

As Augustus navigated through his feelings for Margaret, he couldn’t help but recall his parents’ relationship. They were best friends before love bloomed between them, and it was something he always admired and desired for himself. The idea of having a deep connection rooted in friendship, gradually evolving into something more profound, resonated deeply within him. He pondered if such a connection could exist between him and Margaret.

“Wherever life takes us, know that I’ll always stand by you, be it amidst the whirl of society or in the quiet of serene gardens, if you need a friend or supporter, count on me.” His words carried a sense of unwavering support and camaraderie, emphasizing their shared journey through life.

“Oh my, it’s as if the sun came down to join us today,” Augustus remarked, fanning himself with slight exaggeration. If I end up any redder, people might mistake me for one of these roses!" His cheeks tinted slightly, a mix of warmth from the day and the nervousness that still lingered in his voice.
@astxrism eeeeeeeeeeeee