Bridgerton | Official RP Thread

@cerealkiller Dorothea

She mentioned how he should not have been in England, just like when they met.

“Yeah, I should be.” He chuckled softly, nervous to talk to her, unsure how to tell the story at hand. “After I had gone back to new Spain, I was informed of some news that returned me to my homeland, and from there, my father sent me this way. He thinks it best that I marry son.” Emmanuel summarized, omitting the part about the funeral because it would have been too hard for him to tell in so little time. It was not worth the effort to share the news. He did not want her to feel like she had to concern for him.

After all, what did pity accomplish? Receiving condolences from others was never going to bring his mother back, it was only a reminder. He wanted Dorothea to know the parts of him that were beautiful, not sad. Emmanuel already let her down, and it made him fear her nearness, yet still, in his mind, he wrapped his arms around her waist and told her “I’m home.”

His love for her seemed immune to time, at least now. After five years of not speaking, she was still the same person in the frame with which he painted her. Maybe she was no longer that same person, he did not know, but he did not feel far from her in that way. And in this moment he most likely should have been too anxious to approach her, because it was always possible that she would turn away. But he did not care. It was possible that he would have never seen her after this encounter, and he needed answers to the cause of his insomnia.

The first one was quick to reveal itself. Dorothea spoke of where her family went, and he briefly imagined their whereabouts, remembering the bits of information he knew about them. But then she spoke of James. He was gone, and Emmanuel drew back slightly, shocked, and ashamed he was standing so close to her when she might have been married. “Oh.” He uttered, pausing for a beat. It had completely slipped his mind that she could still have a partner right now, he must have forgotten himself.

And then the words echoed in his mind. James was no longer with them. Her fiancé was dead and although this answered what had happened between them, it raised many more questions. “I am so sorry for your loss.” He said, attempting to ease her while a million thoughts ran through his head. Did they ever marry? Was she now widowed? Was there ever redemption for him?

A large part of him was heartbroken, knowing she lost her betrothed, but there was also a quiet part of him feeling bittersweetness. He too loved Dorothea, and there was a reason why he felt the need to save her from that man. And at least then, he thought that maybe if something happened to him, then she could be free. Her comment also brought him back to his mother, and how he almost told Dorothea about her passing. It seemed they had both lost many things when they were apart.

Emmanuel then remembered the series of baskets for bidding, the last basket in particular.
“Yours was the one with the Lavenders, wasn’t it?” He asked, now knowing why it was there, and why he bid on it.
It reminded him of her.



══✿══╡after with belle ╞══✿══

As she had expected, nothing Belle knew about Aurelia’s foes came as news to Lydia. Until the last. “I… hadn’t thought of Atlas,” Yes, she knew that Lia didn’t like Atlas, for whatever reasons, and it had been a problem that Lydia had encountered when exploring the possibility of pursuing him. Her sister’s approval was everything, it dictated their potential relationship, and Atlas knew that. But what she had never considered - could Atlas’ awareness of the fact have provoked something? “As his closest companion, do you think of him to be capable of something such as this?” Lydia asked, though unsure of wanting to know the answer.

Lydia believed she had gotten to know Atlas, and they shared certain understandings. The person she believed to know wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Lydia’s sister. Or anyone, for that matter. But what she also believed was that Belle had a greater understanding of Atlas’ character. If Belle thought it to be possible, then Lydia would trust that word. Though it didn’t stop her from hoping for an answer shutting down that potential.

“Quite right, I believe it to already struggle with the one of me,” Lydia jested, aware of the disturbances caused especially in her debutant season. In the past her actions had generally been overlooked, as it was usually Aurelia causing the most chaos. Now it was just Lydia and no longer anyone to share the blame with. As Belle commented on the possibility of her mother taking pity on her, Lydia let out a small laugh. “If that is what you thought, Belle, I fear you think far too highly of my mother,” She exclaimed, making no attempt to sugar-coat the situation to her friend. “Pity is not a possible emotion.”

The answer Belle had given regarding her own suitors had not been very descriptive. Perhaps there had been nothing significant going on, or just something Belle wasn’t ready to tell. Regardless, Lydia gave her a smile. “Do not rush yourself to finding happiness, it shall come in it’s due time,” She told her, as it was words that Lydia herself wished to follow by. Lydia didn’t want to rush into something such as marriage that would be so permanent in her life. It was why she was so against the tons events that were intended to meet partners, and her mother presenting her suitors for the possibility of marrying. Such haste would never result in happiness, that is what she believed, and instead it comes from something that blossoms naturally.

As they entered the Wycliff stables, Belle instead suggested to search for a record book. “And this is why I needed your companionship in this,” Lydia remarked, as it seemed a far better idea than interrogating some stray groundskeeper as she had planned on doing. With an altered target, Lydia began searching the stables. Reaching the far end of the barn her attention was caught by a standalone shed that she found to be unlocked from a successful attempt at opening the door. The interior was solely lit by natural light, but it was sufficient enough to spot a set of shelves on the wall. To her surprise a ‘RECORDS’ label she found on the two thicker books in the shelf.

“It’s as though the universe had been attuned to this conversation,” Lydia commented to Belle who had soon caught up to her. Handing her one of the books, she let herself be filled with the slightest feeling of hope. “Let us both read through a book each, hopefully one of us shall find something,” She instructed, leaving hardly any room for a response as Lydia hurriedly began skimming though.

Lydia flicked through the pages once, twice, three times over hoping that she would find something she had missed. But after closing the book for the third time, she finally concluded - “No trace of Aurelia in these pages.” Her eyes fell on the one she had given to Belle, the final possibility of her theory being correct. “Tell me there are answers in that book,” Lydia pleaded to her.

══✿══╡°˖✧ ✿ ✧˖°╞══✿══

@Kristi Belle I have no idea what I just wrote I am so tired
@sunflowerjm Atlas
@benitz786 Aurelia




third wheeling with Adeline and Archie

Atlas was taken aback, for the first time since their years together, to witness his friend attempting to control his emotions and display a glimpse of vulnerability. The man who never exhibited his true emotions, always maintaining a solemn expression. A businessman who wasn’t deterred by even the most intimidating men. Even though the rage was still simmering beneath the surface, Atlas forced himself to calm down by taking a deep breath.

His jaw tightened as he observed Archie’s attempt to retrieve the letter from Adeline’s grasp. As he witnessed her hesitant fingers delicately offering the item back to him, Atlas intervened and spoke once more, “The way of how the letters ended up in my possession is irrelevant, and no, I did not intend for Adeline to see them, at least not in this manner.” Turning to his sister, he gave her a sympathetic glance before refocusing on Archie. “I was sure there had been something between you two—”

“Listen, Archie,” Atlas continued, his voice calm and composed, “I’m not sure what made you write those letters, but you definitely went too far. And although I may not know if your feelings are true and pure, I cannot disregard the fact that you have broken our one promise to each other.” His voice conveyed a strong and firm tone. “But for Adeline’s sake, We’ll talk about this later, when emotions have settled.” Lookin between the two, he felt concerned about leaving Adeline and Archie alone, and for the first time in a while, Atlas locked eyes with Adeline standing in front of her. “I will prefer if you don’t spend time with him anymore, Adeline. Let’s go.”


☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚༻✧༺ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚ ☽

with brother and archieee

Adeline appeared to be aware of everything around her, yet she felt as though everything was spinning around her. She sensed her own panic. Her respiration accelerated before she heard the voice of the man who possessed her heart. Was At this point, she had no idea what to feel. Is it possible that she had been right all along to believe that Archie felt the same way about her?

As she listened to her brother’s conversation with Archie, a wave of distress washed over her. After all the years of him ignoring her, why would he be concerned about her choice of the person she loved?

As Atlas approached her, attempting to persuade her to avoid seeing Archie and leave with him, she immediately backed away, shaking her head. “No, brother.” As she spoke in firm tone, tears began to rise in her eyes. "You don not have the right to dictate who I can or cannot see, Atlas, especially not after—especially not after all those years you abandoned me; you do not get to act like my big brother now.”

As Adeline clutched the letter in her trembling hand, a wave of vulnerability washed over her. Walking away from her brother and stepping closer to Archie, she gently cradled his face, ensuring their eyes locked in an unbreakable gaze. “And you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart. “I do not know why you kept these from me for so long but I cannot keep this inside any longer.” With a softness in her voice that mirrored the tenderness of her touch, she began to pour her heart out, confessing the love she had harbored for so long. “In the quiet of my heart, I’ve hidden a love so deep that it feels as if it’s been waiting a lifetime. Watching you search for affection elsewhere, while I’ve secretly yearned for your touch, has been torture.” Not caring that Atlas was watching and with nothing left to lose, she pleaded with him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears of hope. “Archie, please… tell me those beautiful letters you wrote for me are true. Tell me that your heart beats for me as mine beats for you.” And in that moment, she could not resist the overwhelming desire to convey her feelings more deeply. Leaning in, Adeline closed the remaining space between Archie and her, pressing her lips against his in a tender, hopeful kiss, hoping that it would finally bring them together after all these years.

@astxrism rip </3


Her gaze met his, attempting to decipher the changes time might have etched on his face, and yet, there was a strange familiarity in the way he stood before her. Emmanuel’s chuckle resonated in the air, a soft nervousness coloring his demeanor as he ventured into the delicate territory of explaining his return.

As Emmanuel chuckled softly and spoke of his unexpected return from Spain and the prospect of marriage, Dorothea sensed a layer of unease beneath his lighthearted demeanor. His words hinted at a deeper story, one that he seemed hesitant to share fully. Despite his attempt to brush it off casually, Dorothea couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his return to England than met the eye. ”So I assume you’d be joining our social season?”

She simply couldn’t help but feel a pang of uncertainty.
An uncertainty that seemed to have melted away for even the tiniest moment as he wrapped his arms around her,

“I’m home.”

His words echoed in her mind, a sentiment that danced on the border between familiarity and the uncharted territory of a changed reality. His feelings for her, seemingly undiminished by distance and time, brought forth a mixture of emotions. There was a part of her that missed the connection they once had, a sentiment tucked away in the corners of her heart.

”Time, mystical time
Cuttin’ me open, then healin’ me fine
Were there clues I didn’t see?
And isn’t it just so pretty to think
All along there was some
Invisible string
Tying you to me?”

But amidst the flurry of emotions, Dorothea couldn’t shake the shadow of doubt that lingered. Was she ready to open her heart to him again? Did she even want that life?

Yet, the realization of James’s absence abruptly shifted the tone of their encounter. Emmanuel’s words of condolence hovered in the air, and as he expressed his sympathy, “Thank you, but there’s really no need for that” she replied, although in her she couldn’t help but appreciate the genuine concern in his eyes.

Dorothea’s eyes softened with a hint of surprise as Emmanuel mentioned the Lavenders. It was a subtle revelation that he had not only recognized her basket but also bid on it with a certain purpose. She found herself curious, an unspoken questionn lingering in her gaze. “How did you know?” she inquired, her voice carrying a quiet intensity. The connection between the Lavenders and her, a personal affinity he seemed to have remembered, It was a question she couldn’t help but ask, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between them, woven through shared memories and unspoken sentiments.

”A string that pulled me
Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar
Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire
Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons
One single thread of gold tied me to you”

@raviola Emmanuel


Emmanuel Nunier - 3|863px;x254px;

@Kristi Belle

As Emmanuel should have expected, Belle began to critique and insist he change his priorities. Belle, as she had stated before, did not hope for marriage, so he would obviously be foolish to see her as anything more than an attractive colleague, so her point seemed to be well founded. However, her understanding of his character was still very limited, and there was also something she did not know.

“Allow me to clarify, Lady Fleur. I told you that I am supposed to find a wife. That does not mean that I want to. Obviously, I do hope to achieve that some day, but I do not think it is well suited for me currently, which is why I prefer to spend my time which friends such as yourself. They contain no suggestion of romance.” He explained politely, trying to articulate the very messy situation he has with love by not elaborating on the reasons why he felt how he did.

“And if I may also give you some advice, you could also use kinder words to describe that aspect of life.” He said, looking down into her sapphire eyes as he said the next part. “Although you may not resonate with it, some of us definitely do.”

It was possible that the eye contact he had made while saying that could have been interpreted by a third person as suggestive, but trust that Emmanuel did not flirt intentionally. Sometimes, it seemed that there was just something wired into his demeanor, like the apple in his throat added a sweetness to his voice. Perhaps it craved more taste to savour.

Once again, she mocked him, and he chuckled, rolling his eyes. Of course she would tease him for that too. But that first ‘aw’ sound that escaped her lips invoked a desire of his to come closer to her. After just recently coming out of war, he had not spoken to women very much obviously. But this emphasized also that, not many women had spoken to him. He could not recall the last time a woman took him as an endearment, and he missed that lovely sentiment.

The way in which girls loved was something he craved badly. The way they pout when you seem cute to them, their loving teases, and how they embrace always so softly, like everything else they do with the grace of ballerinas. It was a shame he did not deserve that kind of love, though. With every day, he thought about it more. Especially now, after losing his mother, it was hard. Never again would she kiss him on the forehead, or call him her sweet boy regardless of how old he had gotten. He craved to seek any other form of validation from a lover, but it was like everything he touched shattered under his fingertips, so why bother. The only skin he had to curl into was his own, drawing up his knees to his chest under the covers he could not sleep in.

If only Belle knew the half of it, why he had been taught to avoid his ambitions. He would say that a part of him feared she would judge him, but he didn’t. He was not feared of being judged, quite frankly, he did not care whether or not he was liked, which was a negative trait to have for a prince. What he feared was to be unrighteous, that the raw image of his true colors would be too blinding, and a closer look at him would only reveal the hair on his back, and the beast’s face on the other side.

In reality, he just dealt with her sass, finding humor in her sarcasm. “You say this but would have been twice as reprimanding if I had instructed you.” He changed the register of his voice, imitating himself. “Go sit, Lady Fleur.” He paused, letting his hypothetical tone settle in. “You would have preferred the rhetorical question, right?” She seemed to convey some lighthearted annoyance, and he snickered.

She rolled out the carpet, and he began to settle the meal items, looking up at her to speak as he placed the last few things. “I too, am glad my hunger has led me to your basket. I must say I was quite excited for macarons. Though, I suppose the lady accompanying them is nice, too.” He teased her once again, and they sat down next to each other. As expected, the food significantly exceeded his expectations, and he popped a grape in his mouth, nearly melting as the combination of flavors and textures bursted on his taste buds. This was easily one million times more lovely than rations from the ship.

She offered him a macaron, and it took him maybe a fraction of a second to steal the cookie up. Out of respect, he waited for her to finish her sentence, but after that, it was pretty quick. Then, while chewing, he comprehended what she said concerning her kitchen maids. “That is quite sweet of you to say, Lady Fleur. And I concur, these are surely some of the finest macarons I have tasted.” He affirmed, attempting to demonstrate his gratitude for their service although they were not present.

He tried not to laugh with food in his mouth as she continued about poison. “Well, one never knows.” He said, at almost the same time as she did, then reassuring she would not poison him, regardless. “Do you now see why I did not approach other ladies? I am also saving you from detainment.” He smiled slightly, trying to further emphasize his previous point with a bit of prudence.

Finally, she explained what she might have been doing instead of attending the horse races. “I must say I did not expect that, my lady.” Emmanuel spoke between bites of brioche, as the duchess had suggested. “I believed it more likely that you be by the stables, as I heard your family’s stallion is participating in the race, is it not?” The man inquired. “But yes, I would have supposed you did have some connection to flowers. Lamentably, I could not tell you much about them, nor which one might correspond to me. Allow me to ask you, the expert; which one do you think might be mine?” He asked, curious as to what her vision was.



@Caticorn Priti

Nikhil raised a brow hearing about Priti’s suitors, intruiged to hear more. Unfortunately, he heard more names than he expected to. “Three suitors? That is quite a bit.” He admitted, concerning for her sanctity. “But do share the details. I want to know about each of them indiviually.” Nikhil asserted, inviting her to share with him all of the details of the world. “I only know some things from the talks of the ton, as they call it here, but I heard that Lord Davis was quite racy. Is that true?” Nikhil continued to inquire.

As she continued responding to his dialogue, Nikhil was pleased, but also a bit surprised to hear how much Priti was enjoying their trip. “I can agree that the tea here does not compare to the one back home, but I did not expect you to take such pleasure in the ball.” He smiled politely, and then comtemplated his own thoughts.

“Perhaps that has been because of my own dissatisfaction.” Nikhil expressed, always trying to voice his opinion, though he simultaneously felt a need to stay positive. So he brushed it off; the fact that he had been the one to plan this trip and he was the one who enjoyed it the most, how much worse things would be back home anyway, how little he had told Priti about it. And he smiled. “I suppose that is because we are still freshly arrived to the country.” He chuckled; not because he attempted to conceal his own feelings, but because he did not comprehend that there were emotions to conceal. Turbulence on his behalf would only be disruptive.



══✿══╡before with arch ╞══✿══

A small laugh escaped her lips as Archie went back on his initial statement that her and her skills would never be so cheap. “Couldn’t commit to the notion for more than a fleeting moment,” Lydia commented at the way he switched up so quickly. "And you truly think of my words to be so untrustworthy? She questioned, appearing offended, once again, at the idea, despite hardly trusting her words herself. “I think it is possible you just think too highly of your own skill, would overtaking you be such an impossible concept?” Lydia theorised, a tactful deflection from his accusations on her, eyebrows raising in a challenging manner.

“And mine, also,” Lydia remarked as he told her it was his first time hearing of that idea, smiling to herself at his choice of words as it meant she could tell him – “Because I think you’ll find that emotionless was never my accusation. That idea seemed to arise of your own thoughts,” She told him, a curious look on her face with a touch of accusation awaiting his explanation for that. As Archie told her she had managed to make a human happy, Lydia gave a joking modest shrug, as if downplaying her actions. “Anything to ensure you getting the full value of your investment,” She told him, another dig at the whole bidding set-up.

As they started to fade out of sight of the crowd they had left, Archie began to use her jokes to question her. How was it that she could follow someone she did not consider human? That answer came easily to her. So easy, she had to laugh. “I’m long accustomed to the company of others with questionable humanity, Archibald. This is nothing new,” Lydia told him, with a joking tone despite the truth to the statement.

They stopped in their tracks as Archie called attention to an area he deemed sufficient. “It’s not quite the elegant ballrooms I am used to, but I suppose it will do,” Lydia sighed, though ensuring she kept an obviously sarcastic tone in her voice to that. “They do say the professionals ought to manoeuvre with grace whatever the setting.” In a hesitant moment, Lydia’s attention was caught by natures sounds that filled the silence. “Luckily for you, it was the humble bird melodies that I had been previously practicing to,” She informed him, smiling as she could hear her own convincing tone beginning to falter.

══✿══╡°˖✧ ✿ ✧˖°╞══✿══

@astxrism Arch

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Copy of White Minimalist Elegant Line Art Floral Wedding Banner (1)

The Picnic: Cloning with Lydia


"As his closest companion, do you think of him to be capable of something such as this?”

That was quite the question, and Belle’s answer should have been an immediate yes, she should not have hesitated the way she did nor should have her mind drifted the way she did. Belle knew the answer or at least she wanted to believe that to be the answer, no. Atlas Hayes Delaney was not capable of such a thing , she knew Atlas- Atlas was a ‘good’ person… Well better than some people, and he was surely not capable of harming Aurelia, but yet, “No,” She sounded quite unsure and her face was blank. Her eyebrows scrunched together as if still considering it, 'No," Belle confirmed again, a little more sure of herself, “He would never dare to harm a lady,” Especially one that Lydia cares so greatly for, “He’s too… Atlas for that,” she confirmed, dying down the suspicious that Atlas could be a great suspect.

Though, she would not lie, a part of her mind was still quite suspicious of her dearest friend, though she tried to die down those suspicions.

“Struggle,? yes, likewise, adventurous? yes. Truly, I would not trade your chaos or the struggle of one of you for anything.” Belle smiled slightly at Lydia. Despite the challenges and the chaos that often accompanied the Ellis sisters, Belle had grown accustomed to their spirited company. It was, after all, a unique charm that set them apart from the more conventional members of the ton. Chaos, 'Touche," Belle replied to Lydia’s comment, indeed Belle have thought far too highly for Duchess Ellis. She had known of course that Duchess Ellis was a plotting wrench from what she had seen with her eyes and heard from others, Duchess Ellis closeness with Belle’s mother also made Belle’s opinions of her far lower, but still she had wanted to hope, knowing there was only a 2% chance of that, that Duchess Ellis would show slight pity towards her daughters, but it seems of course that Duchess Ellis was always going to be Duchess Ellis, leading Belle to rank her higher up the suspect list. “It seems that only in fiction can stone hearts truly be broken,”

Indeed, only in fiction could stone hearts truly be broken- Belle knew this quite well, after all many (read men, so unimportant) have considered Belle’s heart made of stone, but she would disagree, it was made of diamonds, making her inclined to have a brilliant mind and not accept rubbish just because she was a woman in a world built for men, because of that. She had definitely not welcomed her suitors with open arms, especially the ‘suitor’ who had come to tell her they were betrothed. Truly, she wished she had betrayed him harder in a way that would have made him not wish to speak to her again and break off their engagement because Belle would rather jump off a bridge than to marry, especially marry him. “You have so much hope for me,” Belle gave a wry smile towards Lydia’s comments. Happiness seems to be a butterfly escaping from her fingertips at this moment, considering a lot had happened and also considering one of her dearest friends have lost her mind, “Happiness and hope seems futile now, does it not?” Especially considering Belle hath not yet reached her goals yet, she had not even been able to complete that book with Aurelia. Halt, the book, it was Aurelia’s turn to write something on it, but she had never gotten the chance to send out the letter. Though instead, Belle had found a strange suspicious paper that she had forgotten about in the Ellis household. Could that… “I did not mean to phrase it that way I did” Belle apologized, realizing she had said the happiness part out loud. This was Belle’s problem, she was to blunt, she should have been reassuring Lydia, “There is still hope for happiness and hope that we shall bring back the Aurelia we know and adore.”

They had too, before Aurelia was thrown into an unhappy marriage and decided to continue being an unhappy bride just for the sake of fitting with society standards and not disappointing Duchess Ellis.

As they reached the stables, Belle’s first suggestion upon looking around was to search for a record book. She had not been around many stables in her life-time, but she knew that often stables or at least stables of nobles tended to have a record book that recorded all who went in and out and Belle was determined in finding out. As Lydia began to look, Belle began to look, but she did not have to look that much for Lydia had found the book after some minutes.

It was suspicious, how quickly that was found and how un-hidden it was, or perhaps Belle was making a bigger situation of what was not that serious and since she had not been to much stables she could not really judge, but still… it had felt a little weird. As Lydia flicked through the pages of the thick record book, Belle found herself torn between the urgency of their mission and the lingering suspicions that clouded her mind. Her gaze shifted from the book Lydia held to the stables around them, making sure no one was approaching.

Lydia, however, closed the book for the third time, her expression betraying a mix of disappointment and frustration. “No trace of Aurelia in these pages,” she declared, her eyes flicking toward the book she had handed to Belle. The weight of anticipation hung in the air as Lydia pleaded, “Tell me there are answers in that book.”

Belle already knew the answer without having to look at the books, No , it was futile, they were no answers in that book and no reason for Belle to look, but she still did. She held the book in her head, flipping the pages and making sure to pay attention to all the details, “Let’s see,” Belle murmured, her eyes scanning the entries. The names of stable hands, dates, and various notes blurred together as she flipped through the pages.

Lord George Lincon,… Viscount Abraham Washington,… Lady Hillary Thompson… Monday, tuesday… Belle felt a surge of frustration at the lack of answers in the book she had been examining. No trace of Aurelia, just a litany of names and dates that seemed to blur together into meaningless scribbles. She closed the book with a heavy sigh, the weight of disappointment settling upon her shoulders.

“No, no signs of Aurelia,” Belle confirmed, her voice tinged with frustration. It seemed that their search had hit a dead end, leaving them no closer to unraveling the mystery that surrounded Aurelia’s memory loss.

Dead… End- for some reason that made Belle think of that suspicious paper again, it had hit her mind like pine-cones falling from a tree and Belle opened her lips about to bring up the paper, bring up the book, something that would perhaps not be such a dead end When a sudden sound interrupted her. Footsteps approached the stables, echoing softly in the quiet night. Belle’s heart quickened, a sense of urgency flooding her veins.

“We need to hide,” Belle whispered urgently to Lydia, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space for a place of concealment. Without hesitation, she grabbed Lydia’s hand, pulling her toward a shadowy alcove tucked away in the corner of the stables.

Belle cringed as she felt her clothes dusting with dirt a little, as a lady who loved to make dressed and outfits in general, Belle had always hated ruining perfect clothes but this was the time for thinking such things… This was the time for hiding before they are found.

They pressed themselves against the rough wooden wall, their breaths coming fast and shallow as they waited for whoever was approaching to pass by. Belle could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as they held their breath, willing themselves to remain unseen.

The footsteps grew louder, drawing closer and closer to their hiding spot. Belle squeezed Lydia’s hand tighter, her pulse racing as she prayed silently for their concealment to hold.

The footsteps passed by without pausing, the sound gradually fading into the distance.

With a shaky sigh of relief, Belle released the breath she had been holding, her shoulders sagging with the weight of tension. They had narrowly avoided detection, but the close call served as a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

“We have to run towards the carriages.” Belle turned Lydia, “There is an item in my home that I think belongs to Aurelia and can lead us closer to what we need.” Though Belle had not spared a glance at that paper or knew what it contained, there was something in her mind telling her right now that the paper was quite important, that the paper could be their true clue.

@novella - lydia

@sunflowerjm - Atlas

@benitz786 - aure and lia

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@Kristi Harrison
@astxrism Archie mentioned

He altered her allusion to their previous interaction, and then went on to ask her for her thoughts. “Noooo, no. If I remember correctly, it was quite the opposite. And the troublemaker was just another treasure.” She smiled, being perhaps a bit too romantic for this moment because she wanted him to know that she cared, after acting like she didn’t for so long. What she said, now, she meant. And although Harrison’s skin did not shine gold, there was something golden about him that she could not quite place. It was like every line he wrote dripped with yellow ink, drops of sunlight that escaped from a reaction between the quill and his hand.

She had a suspicion that although they had known each other for years, this interaction was only the beginning of their knowing each other. Obviously, he carried wonderful amounts of charm and wit, but that was only the softest part of his glow. Beneath the layers of humor and sociability he wore, there was an aura of light that held enough power to encapsulate her with him. And ironically enough, it was she who felt like the explorer trying to get behind the waterfall, dying to know if the rumors were true.

It was like he hid something so extraordinary that she could not fathom. What it was, and how it could impact her, she did not know. But one thing she knew certainly was that she would continue to investigate it, weaving through his spools of silk until she reached that knot of his that she yearned to unravel. And then she noticed how, through each of her responses, he seemed to grin a bit wider. Never before had she been the cause for his smile.

He was seeming to trust her a bit more, to offer more of his trust, too, in a very enchanting question. She was a bit surprised at the pronoun he used too. They. as if it was not obvious that the story would have been about a man. It was a bit flattering, honestly, that he esteemed her so very highly. She tilted her head looking at him, contemplating whether or not she favored him enough to share her stories. She decided favorably so, and began to open up. “Well, it is a bit of a story.”

Now, her father had warned her about this. He had told her that Harrison was no longer present in her life for a reason, and how he had been cruel to annul their courtship. However, a part of her knew that he had never meant to hurt the woman who loved him. From their previous understandings, Harrison was not dropping her into the abyss, but instead setting her free into flight. A noble favor that haunted her memory because she had never avoided him out of fear he would judge her. Instead, it was a fear that he would not.

Of course, they had much in common. They both wrote poetry, they both had affinities for rebellion, but if she let him conquer her, what would become of her? She would have had a gorgeous white dress, an expensive dowry, a maintained title as Countess, everthing her mother wanted for her. Everything her mother wanted.

According to her educated sense of propriety, she was to avoid the man who left her to wallow. But listening to the voice of her heart, Azucena knew that it was her who distanced herself, and it was her who had to fix that. So, she elaborated on her past, because she wanted him in her future.

“My first love, I believe was your friend at some point. Archibald Hastingston.” Azucena said. “I had known him in my early adolescence, and our connection became increasingly romantic around my age of sixteen. Due to our difference in years, he was in the phase of his life where people begun to marry, so he asked me if I would join him, taking that step. At first, I agreed with enthusiasm, but I then was informed that his proposal had not been approved by my father, whom I am very close with. And that led me to understand how imprudent he actually was, and how little respect he actually had for me. So, I cut our ties. He was the man by whom I wished not to be called.”

They continued to walk together as she told her tale, through the meadow and closer to the pond, which she, just as much as Harrison, had wanted to observe. Here, walking beside one another, she wondered what it must have felt like to hold his hand. As he admired the view, she took it as an opportunity to gaze down at the back of his hand, open for hers to lock with it. But nonetheless, they continued for then.

As they sat, nearly out of sight from the population, and he questioned further on her knick knacks, she also saw it as an opportunity to elaborate. “Well, this book is an extension of the story I had told you a few minutes ago.” Azucena picked up the collection of poetry, and clutched it close to her chest. “My mother, unlike my father, had been insistent on me marrying Archibald. I would not have to participate in the season of the court, and would be able to leave her early, so she saw it as a missed opportunity.” Saying that part, Azucena broke a bit of eye contact, feeling shameful about sharing her mother’s distaste for her.

“That was, in short, why she arranged a new marriage for me. One to… the Earl Harrison Davis.” Azucena paused, as this was a bit hard for her to share.

“I apologize for not entertaining you, and, hiding myself from you, Harrison. That was never my intention. I was heartbroken, torn by the fact that my love story would not be my own, but just a happy ending for the person who detests me most. Please forgive me.” She drew subconsciously closer to him as she continued speaking, growing more passion in every sentence, the corners of her eye growing a tear. “I swear to you, I am not that girl you met at the ball.”

“This book,” Azucena sobered, “Holds the rest of my reality. If the other novel I shared with you collected all of my daydreams, then this one holds my midnight cry.”

“And I want you to have it.”

The girl let her passion continue this time, feeling herself open her heart to him. It felt like everything that had occurred in the past 3 years had reached its pinnacle, dropping the cloth wrapped around the truth down to the floor. If there was anything that Azucena needed to be something with him again, it was to mend the wounds she never showed. And looking into his gaze, the doubt she had of him seemed to erode away. In such a short amount of time, they seemed to have restored something that may never have been there. Could this perhaps be- a new beginning?


Emmanuel Nunier - 3|863px;x254px;

@cerealkiller Dorothea
@kristi Belle mentioned

She asked him the question, but the answer seemed a bit obvious. Yes, he was joining the season of the court, and she must have already comprehended that. Still, she asked for clarification. There is something that lingers in those rhetorical questions. We ask them, because although we see the response coming, it is hard for us to stomach. Whether that be because it is surreal, or because we do not want to come to terms with it. It brought him the question of which applied to her.

Obviously, she never expected to see him there. But perhaps she was also unsettled by the situation. It was always a bit of a sting to see the person you once believed the love of your life- moving on. He wondered if she had seen his figure in town before, and justified his silhouette as a product of her imagination. If she had perhaps been in the forest when he and Belle shot down apples. Was there a part of her that still wished he was real?

Emmanuel nodded to her confirmation. “I am.”

He did not know quite how to feel in that moment. It seemed that, in every step he took forward, the wind seemed to fight him back, pushing his supposedly strong structure back, and not letting him reach the things he sought after. He had his opponents sweating, crying for surrender, but they did not give up. Instead, he was forced to withdraw. And now, when he was supposed to find a new love, and forget his past mistakes, the biggest reminder showed up before him.

It was her, the one he begged to for forgiveness, doubled down with a red face fighting not to burst into tears. The threat to his manhood; his one true weakness, wrapped in his arms, in his embrace that albeit seemed firm, but it was as gentle as he could be, so he could not break her again.

Then, Dorothea thanked him for his condolences, and was a bit surprised by her following assertion. Although, he supposed she was right. Regardless of the inherent sadness of death, James was not someone who deserved their pity. For as long as they were together, he did not care about Dorothea at all. At least not enough to cool down when he was angry. It seemed a cruel thing, but Emmanuel was relieved that never again would Dorothea have to conceal bruises. He had abused her far too long.

“I’m relieved you are safe now.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. If her past had left her widowed, or single once more, he supposed it was all part of god’s divine plan.

Truthfully, if he had come back and heard they were still together, he may have been a bit angered by it. Not exclusively by jealousy, but by the concern she may not have moved a single step from the place he left her. What could have become of her if she had stayed by his side? He imagined her now, with gray hairs from his stress, patches of purple on her skin, raising the children he hurts, too. That was a life he would not wish on anyone. There was really no good way out of it.

At least way, she did not lose herself. She still loved Lavenders, one of the sweetest things about her. “How could I not know?” He asked her a question in return. He lifted her chin with a gentle hand, gesturing her to look at him. “Don’t you remember when I used to bring them to your estate?” He smiled, laughing softly, and recalling the moments where he would see them in the meadows and think of her. He would pick them up, one by one, and bring them in secret, those tokens of their love affair. “They’ve always been your favorite.” He said gently.



{ breaking hearts / with Adeline and Atlas }

It’s not easy and simple hearing the words you always wanted to hear. Not when you knew you can’t react in the way your heart desires.

Fighting for himself and talking back was not one of Archie’s weaknesses, however in this moment he felt completely defeated. On one side he had a friend who trusted him and who has been through so much with him, but on the other side he had something that he wanted but was forbidden to him by that same friend.

But did he go far? How did he go too far? He was simply writing down his feelings with no intention of ever expressing them so he did not understand why and from where this anger was coming from. Maybe he did cross the line but that is all he did. Not a single action just… Words never spoken. To not make the situation any worse he just kept quiet, not letting the feeling of being defeated show in front of two very important people to him. He just let Atlas talk while Adeline was… While she was reading some letters she could get a hold of. It wasn’t intentional, he just… For once… Didn’t know what to do.

Not until Adeline actually stepped up to her brother. As much as he wanted to interfere and protect her did nothing, but it’s not like there was time for him to do it because before he knew it she was turning back to him. Talking to him. Her hands finding a place on the sides of his face. They were close before but never like this and oh how long he longed for something like this… The only problem was… He knew it was wrong, so it took everything inside of him not to act upon his true emotions.

For that sweet moment, catching her eyes, everything around them disappeared. And maybe for that sweet moment he pretended like this could turn into a happy ending. Yes, once you read all of his letters maybe you could see that was what he has always wished for. Her confession hung in the air, words he was not expecting and words he did not know how to react to now. Maybe he suspected she felt the same way or maybe it was just a hope he carried deep inside him but it left him… Confused. Was he truly this lucky? If things were different could he truly say that he was the luckiest guy alive? It did feel like that but different things were written in Archie’s fate. All he could do was just look at her and listen to her, trying not to let her pleading eyes and sadness in them get to him. Trying not to mirror that because that was exactly how he was feeling.

Adeline’s plea echoed in his ears, and he felt the gravity of the moment pressing down upon him. Oh how easy would be to just confess, to say how everything he has written was true but this was not the way he wanted that to play out. Not after being attacked by her brother who loathed the idea of Archie and Adeline ever being together, not after promising him that would never happen. ”Ad-“ But before he got a chance to react to everything she said, the very thing he craved the most happened.

A kiss.
As her lips pressed against his, Archie’s internal struggle intensified. The knowledge of the forbidden nature of their connection clashed with the undeniable pull he felt toward Adeline. He could taste the sweetness of her desperation, the longing that mirrored his own. If there was one moment he could freeze and keep forever it would be this one. If there was one moment he could experience somewhere else, without anyone watching it would also be this one. In that chaotic symphony of emotions his hands lifted up to cup her cheeks.

But it wasn’t long before he pulled away, remembering their surroundings. The taste of her lingered on his lips, an intoxicating memory that begged to be indulged further. His gazed softened knowing words that would come out of his mouth would not be what she was hoping for. ”Adeline,“ he began, his voice carrying a tone of regret, an act to conceal the warmth that still lingered in his veins. ”What are you doing?“ His hands, which had once cradled her face with tenderness, now fell to his sides, creating a physical distance. ”I am sorry Adeline. This is wrong, you know I only see you as my dear friend,“ there were no other words that pained him more than these. Dangerous little lies. ”Do you understand that?“

@sunflowerjm - sadsadsad


Copy of White Minimalist Elegant Line Art Floral Wedding Banner (1)

The Picnic: Cloning with Lydia


Warning: Writer has no idea what’s she writing, just needed to get it out

“Is there a difference between hope and want, Prince Emmanuel?” Belle questioned amused by his choice of words. ‘i told you that i am supposed to find a wife. That does not mean that I want to. Obviously, I do hope’ That was what the Prince had said, his words quite contradictory. “Both imply that it is a desire, do they not?” Her eyes twinkled, “But thank you my prince, for enjoying my company.” Belle had said, her tone though might have sounded sardonic, was not.

At the Prince’s next words, Belle had resisted the urge to roll her eyes or to show any emotion. Instead, she had studied Emmanuel’s expression, noting the fleeting glimpse of longing that flickered across his features. “I thought you did not wantt a wife, meaning that you wish not for marriage but then again I suppose you do hope for it.” With a light teasing voice, Belle’s words flew, “I did not take you to be quite sensitive, but I suppose you must forgive me for my blunt nature. It is a trait inherited from years of navigating the intricacies of high society and I have never learnt to yield.” Belle said at the end, quoting one of her favorite plays from Ancient Greece, Antigone.

When Belle was quite young, she had taken a liking to ancient Greece and Rome, like most creative European minds do. Ancient Greece is after all the mother to Western civilization as it is known, influencing politics and philosophy. But unlike many western aesthetes, Belle does not romanticize Ancient Greece, she was far too wise to romanticize Ancient Greece and wish to be born in such civilization, for a woman it was worse time than times of today and its culture of pedestry was not to fly today. Furthermore, though Belle did not romanticize Ancient Greece, she sure did find herself often fascinated by their art, particularly their literature and plays. Sophocles, emerging as her favorite playwrighter. He was quite brilliant and far ahead of his time, unfortunately not all of his plays were preserved for posterity. Nevertheless, the ones that survived, like Antigone, continued to captivate Belle’s imagination with their timeless themes and compelling characters and Antigone was quite the compelling character. Quite headstrong, her sister had often compared Belle to Antigone, but Belle felt that she and Antigone were way to different in many ways to be compared.

Again, Belle had teased Emmanuel, teasing him for the way he used his words, and calling him a gentleman. Though the way she had used that word, gentleman was mocking, and the prince knew it. To Belle, it looked like he was trying to hide a smile, but the tugging of his lips betrayed it.

“Touche,” Belle had said, “But still, I had no idea that the words, ‘Let us find a prepossessing resting place together to sit’ had been omitted from the English language.” She had continued, “I suppose that me being a french woman,” She said, recalling how Emmanuel had once called her ENGLISH, “I do not get updated on what is removed or added to the language of the Englishmen.” She teased with her wits.

As she was about to sit, Belle rolled out the carpet, while the prince settled the meal items. He had looked up as he placed the last few things, as Belle had turned to him once she sat, saying that she was glad that ‘his hunger had led him to her basket’ He had responded that he too was glad that had happened, and that he supposed the lady accompanying them was nice too. “Just nice?” Her brows arched, “I retract my gentleman comment, you are far from a gentleman,” She bantered as she stared at the food.

The spread showcased not just the finesse of French cuisine but also the artistry in Belle’s household. Bouquets of edible flowers adorned the pastries, a visual and aromatic delight. The basket was decorated so beautifully and there were a lot of things in it, truly the maids deserved a lot of praise for the basket, especially for this perfectly baked Macarons- Belle thought to herself as she picked up a macaron, the thin shell yielding to a soft, flavorful interior, the fragrance of almond and sweetness enveloped her. With an effortless grace, she brought the delicate pastry to her lips, savoring each bite. She grabbed a handkerchief the basket, cleaning her lips with it as she straightened her back and turned to Emmanuel. yes I copied and pasted from Belle’s other post to emma shush

She had told him to try it, offering it to him, blinking as he took it with a hurry from her hands, as if she was going to retract her offer to him. She could not help herself from blinking even more internally, though externally she kept her face blank. Well, he had obviously been at war for quite a time, though she did not expect him to be this starved. She wondered, she was never quite the best with this social thing, if it would be alright to ask him if he was starved at home. “Is spain in a famine?” She knew it was not, or at least from what she had last heard, but she could not help but to ask. “Or are the pastries of the french, simple better than the spanish.” She teased, as she offered him another pastry, watching how he took it with quickness again. “Yes, thank you, the maids are quite the chef.” Belle praised the maids.

They had then began to start talking of poison as Belle brought up the fact that if it were her who made the basket, then it would have been poisoned. Emmanuel had asked why and Belle had shrugged, speaking in riddles. When he had said that he was also saving her from detainment, Belle had said nothing, simply opting to taking a sandwich. “The sandwich is quite splendid” She said, getting a napkin from the basket and lightly cleaning her face with it.

“What were you going to do instead of coming here?” Emmanuel had asked and Belle could have said a lot or she could have told him she planned to read and enjoy her time without others irking her. But instead she had told him in less than simpler terms what she would have wish to do- walk in a garden with flowers. Make flower crowns with her younger sister, Kat. “I do tend to ride as well, but I prefer the company of flowers to the smell of horse dung.” She continued, “And indeed, the horse of my family participated in the race and won its race, the horse trainer trained him well.”

Belle had questioned if he knew what type of flower he was, and he had told her no, asking her instead what his flower might be and Belle paused, trying to think. “An iris”," The Iris flower represents wisdom, courage, and admiration, which align with Belle’s perception of Emmanuel’s character, the iris flower also is associated with mourning and loss, and Emmanuel seemed to have a lot to grieve about. “yes indeed you’re an iris. If I were still around for your birthday, perhaps I can bring you iris flowers, when its your birthday, my prince?”


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A small honest smile graced Harrison lips, quite different from his other smiles that he seemed to shine towards her, for this smile was filled with honesty and no other motives. “is that so?” He questioned, “Strange, I did not hear that from the wind, it seems the wind only prefers to talk to gold.” It was a reference to her hair, and the nickname that he had crafted for her 'tesero. ’ in addition, Lady Osuna was truly golden.

Harrison could not help himself but to wonder, how life would have been like if things had played out differently. In an alternate universe, where when they were engaged with each other the previous courting season, and married. Would they have been happy then? Would Azucena still be the way she is? Or was it better to try now than then, when neither were ready for the commitment that was marriage. Marriage, it was a beautiful institution where a man is joined with a woman in love and companionship, for some marriage was like prison because they have married the wrong ones. For Harrison, who was a hopeless romantic, he had always wanted his marriage to be like heaven on earth. It would be blissful, because they would both love each other, and in return their children would love them as they love their children. It would be the best union because both the bride and groom shall be happy.

But Harrison had not thought at that time that Azucena would be happy with him, she had never seemed to be enjoying her time and at first Harrison had thought it was because she was simple, for him- who was young and stupid, that was the best thing for him to do- to assume that she was simple and she wanted a simpler man and of course Harrison could not be that nor could he be with a simple woman. He was unaware, and he knew it, unaware of the intricate layers that composed the very existent of Lady Osuna’s soul. But it would be a lie to say that it was the only reason he had ended things, he had also ended things because he did not want her stuck in a marriage with a man who was not ready to give her his full heart. At that time, Harrison had still been grieving his first love, he had still been obsessed and in love with a woman who had long departed him to her nation and was probably perhaps already married.

It was never good to marry when you were still completely in love with someone else, it was a disaster in waiting and thus he did not want bring disaster into Azucena’s simple life (as he had assumed), he had thought that she would of course be happier in her simple life that she was used to, filled with poetry that she wrote to keep herself busy. Now, as the sun bathed them in a warm sultry glow, he acknowledged the fallacy of such assumptions.

Life truly was unpredictable, because at that time Harrison had not thought that things could have truly turned out like this and as he listened to Azucena’s story, he was quite the attentive listener.

Her first love, as she called it, was Archibald Hashington, who Harrison was definitely not hoping for him to become his brother in law-Good friend yes but none of his brothers were acceptable for his sister and neither was he. Moreover, she continued, going on that at one point they were too marry, but had not because he had been foolish in thinking that she, Azucena was going to chose him over her father who she loved dearly. “It was foolish of him,” Harrison mumbled, "To think you would forsake your father and run away with him, he wanted you to run away?’ He questioned, because that seemed to be the only way they could have been married without the approval of her dear father.

It frustrated him a little, and the smile that was on Harrison face previously, had disappeared, replaced with a grim expression of disapproval, not towards her but Archibald , he could not believe that He- Archibald could have been so simple minded, so foolish to try to come between Azucena and her father. Harrison at that time never knew much about Azucena, they were still dealing with their differences but Harrison could not tell that Azucena cared greatly for her father and that she would do anything for him, it would be a sin to come between them and Archibald had done just that.

He was about to say more, to speak badly on his friend Archibald even more, but she had began to talk again and she sat up, Harrison followed suit. She shifted the conversation and Harrison again followed suit by asking different questions that was sure not to make her uncomfortable. Her comfort was all that mattered after all. He asked about the book, his hands on top of the so called book, and she began to speak about it. It was an extension of the story he had told her some minutes ago.

But what she told him, shocked him quite a lot. She did not seem to get along with her mother, in fact her mother seemed to despise her and Harrison couldn’t fathom why, considering that Azucena was Azucena what struck him even more, pierced through him, was the sadness in her voice and Harrison without a conscious thought, his arms encircled her, providing a comforting embrace. In that unscripted moment, he rubbed her back as she cried on him, feeling her tears against his shoulders. As she withdrew, his hands delicately cupped her face, a gesture meant to wipe away both the visible and invisible tears. “Shhh” He told her as she began to apologize, putting a finger on his lips. “Do not apologize to me, my lady, for you have done nothing wrong,” Harrison reassured her with a tenderness that went beyond their shared history. The weight of judgment he had unknowingly placed on her seemed to lift, replaced by a genuine understanding. He acknowledged his own shortcomings, recognizing the fallacy of his presumptions.

“In short, I was wrong, for judging you too harshly. You must pardon me for being quite pretentious,” he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle, an attempt to lighten the heavy air with a touch of humor. “I am sorry you had to go through that, if I had known-” He cut himself short, he should not have been so harsh in judgment in the first place.

She sobered up, her eyes no longer clouded by the haze of intoxication, and gracefully handed him the book—the very book she had promised to the one who captured her heart just moments ago. Harrison accepted it with a gentle touch, his eyes reflecting a deep warmth that radiated from within. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his voice carrying the same warmth. “I shall cherish it for a lifetime.” As he looked at her, time seemed to momentarily freeze, only to be broken by a blink that unveiled a playful smirk on his face.

“I suppose it’s time for me to share a story, one I’ve never told anyone before—a tale known only to you, me, and a mysterious third party,” he declared, beginning to reveal the secrets that lingered behind his enigmatic persona.

“I’m certain you’ve come across the Lady Whistledown papers,” he started, his gaze drifting towards the lake. “You’ve likely heard tales of my youth, my escapades across multiple nations, wooing and enchanting women as the quintessential rake is expected to do.” He paused, reflecting on the rumors and fabrications that had cloaked his true intentions. “Indeed, I traveled far and wide, but not to pursue romantic conquests or admire artworks as I led others to believe. The rumors and white lies were a shield to conceal my true destination.”

His eyes held a distant gaze as he delved into the heart of his narrative. “I own an orphanage,” Harrison confessed, his gaze now fixed on her hazel eyes. “Two, to be exact—one in England and the other in a distant land. When I ventured beyond England’s borders, it was always to visit the orphanage, to be with those children who are my true treasures, my universe.” His expression shifted, revealing a solemn sincerity. “I’ve never shared this openly; I don’t make light of it. These are not tales I tell with a smile or jest, for they involve the lives of my people.”

His voice softened as he continued to unravel the story. “I started the orphanage at the age of 15, compelled by the encounter with a young orphaned boy who made me question the world around me. Witnessing his struggles and and… and” Harrison voice turned lower, his chest got tighter as he said, “His death, I knew I had to do something to alleviate the suffering of others like him. So, I built an orphanage.”

Harrison paused, memories flooding his mind. “Before the age of 21, my interaction with the children was limited. I would observe them from a distance, ensuring their well-being through the windows. But gradually, I began to engage with them, to speak and spend time with them, until I became a part of their makeshift family.” And at the last part he smiled, “Have I ever told you the tale of my first love? Well, i’ll just say that after her- after Katrina and the lost of my father, I was devastated, I was always by myself, busying my self with work, and the only thing that kept me happy was them. I had to time for ladies as everyone so believed, or at least I couldn’t bring myself to have time for them for my mind was always occupied my Katrina and I had once believe I could never be with a lady that was not her, I needed time to heal and they- the orphans they were my heaven’s blessings and I knew I could never let anything happen to them.” He went on, “Thus, everytime I had to travel to see them, I would create chaos, allow rumors to fly so as not to be followed by Lady Whistledown people to find out where truly I was going because I did not want nobles to use the children for their own ulterior motives. I would flirt here and there, to live up to the name of Harrison, and also because it is deeply engraved in my nature.” He chuckled a little, “But, it just never meant nothing because it was for the children and none of them were Katrina.”

Azucena, when I had judged you harshly, I had been unfair, I had been bitter and I had compared you to another lady you know nothing about. I had thought of Katrina and I was quite bitter that my mother had told me to move on so quickly and i was bitter that i was never to see her again, and believe me when I say i am truly and deeply sorry.”

Ok so this is dog water but here



Picnic with Klaus


As Klaus responded to her greeting, Priti was able to confirm her initial observation of his accent not being from Britain. It intrigued her and she found it comfortingly amusing that she would be paired up with someone else from a foreign country in a seemingly random matching. She wondered what made him bid on her basket.

“If you do not mind my asking, Lord Shafer, where have you come from?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. His accent did not seem English but it was also one she couldn’t recall having encountered amongst the foreign traders in India who would come to purchase goods from her father. “If I’m intruding, forgive me, but you do not speak as if you were raised in England.”

“I have not ridden much lately either. I do miss it though.” She added when he mentioned being preoccupied with matters that kept him from riding. He told her that he had been riding yesterday and added that as of late, he had been taking care of horses more than he had been riding them. She nodded when made his comment about horses being magnificent creatures. “They are indeed quite magnificent.” She agreed.

He asked her if she wanted to sit and then apologized for rambling, which made Priti giggle. “Don’t apologize. I find it to be quite charming.” She reassured him. It was rather delightful to see a man of the ton not behaving as if he was the epitome of perfection. The confidence the other men displayed was very attractive but Lord Shafer’s displaying of his nervousness made him alluring to Priti. “And I would love to take a seat and further get to know you, my lord.” She added, answering his question. He had included a word in rambling that Priti had not been able to recognize but she didn’t want to embarrass him by bringing attention to it, especially since she knew that if she got nervous enough, some of her native tongue would start poking through

@Kristi - Klaus

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Dorothea’s eyes met Emmanuel’s, a mix of emotions swirling within her. Seeing him there, unexpected yet achingly familiar, stirred memories she had long attempted to bury beneath the facade of moving on. “Any… potential prospects caught your attention just yet?" She inquired softly, a subtle curiosity weaving through her words. His presence invoked a pang of nostalgia, a bittersweet reminder of a past she had once wished would be her future.

When Dorothea thanked him for his condolences, she sensed Emmanuel’s relief at her newfound safety was genuine. “So am I, but life does tend to be rather surprising” The shared acknowledgment that James’ demise, while inherently sad, freed her from the clutches of an abusive past lingered unspoken between them. The things most people did not know, but at the time, Emmanuel was not most people, he was peace. His sympathetic smile mirrored the understanding they shared, an unspoken communion in the face of life’s twists and turns.

As he lifted her chin with a gentle hand, Dorothea met his eyes, and his question about the lavenders sparked a flicker of recognition. His recounting of the moments when he secretly brought her favourite flowers to her evoked a bittersweet smile. “Of course I remember, ” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The shared memories of their hidden love affair painted a delicate portrait of a time that had both its joys and sorrows. “I could not forget it, even if I sometimes wished I could” she admitted. After all, forgetting might have been the easiest way to go on at the time, knowing that this man who once came and brought her flowers on a rainy day would never be hers, but only in secret, only a part.

@raviola Emmanuel


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Pardon him, Klaus was not one to make assumptions of a lady’s opinions- no, no he was more like one to exaggerate their opinions of him and make himself feel small. Moreover, whether an assumption-er or an exaggerator, Klaus was not expecting the words that left the lady’s lips.

The words were not bad, no, no or at least he did not think they were bad, where they bad? Was Klaus a fool who could not pick up the tone of people? If so, no wonder his father his father was quite disappointed him- but no no, Klaus did not think it was so bad or at least that bad that he was not from England right? Did she wish for an English man? Because his mind was filled with such questions, Klaus had hesitated when he opened his lips to speak, “I’m… From Germany,” his voice was smaller and softer than he would have liked, thus he had “I’m from Saxony, Germany, Ms.Mehta” repeated. “And No, no no it’s ok to intrude, feel free to intrude.” Please don’t because that would make Klaus nervous but he had to say that because he just had to right, “But is there a-” He trailed off, adjusting his collar as he found himself getting nervous “Is there something wrong with not being from England?” He had questioned all so innocently, she was a foreigner too and perhaps she wished to live in england and was here to find an english husband. He had found himself bowing as he apologized, telling her sorry if he was not what she wanted.

After all that was the only thing he knew how to do too quite well, apologize. Apologies always flowed from his tongue like water from a waterfall. His sister had always told him that if everything fails apologize, be a respectable gentleman and he always found himself apologizing towards his father for things that were beyond his control. But of course, apologies were not the only thing Klaus was good at for, for he was also good at riding horses- he thinks, but whether he thinks so or not, the conversation had shifted towards horses. “I have not ridden quite often as well,” He said, glad to find a common ground between them, though their reasons for riding were perhaps not the same. His reason for riding was that Klaus did not want to go anywhere, he would have preferred to trap himself in his manor and mourn quite pathetically. “Pardon me, but if i am allowed to ask why do you not ride much?” He continued, The words were not bad, no, no or at least he did not think they were bad, where they bad? Was Klaus a fool who could not pick up the tone of people? If so, no wonder his father his father was quite disappointed him- but no no, Klaus did not think it was so bad or at least that bad that he was not from England right? Did she wish for an English man? Because his mind was filled with such questions, Klaus had hesitated when he opened his lips to speak, “I’m… From Germany,” his voice was smaller and softer than he would have liked, thus he had “I’m from Saxony, Germany, Ms.Mehta” repeated. “And No, no no it’s ok to intrude, feel free to intrude.” Please don’t because that would make Klaus nervous but he had to say that because he just had to right, “You do not need to answer if you hold no wish for it, sorry, pretend my lips were sealed. Do you have a favorite horse breed?" He asked, hoping that would have been a better non privacy intruding question to ask a ms.

Talking to ladies or anyone truly, was not a skill Klaus would pride himself on having, in fact it was an elusive skill. Such as controlling his body emotions were, he found his face turning shades of red when the misses had told him not to apologize for his rambling for she found it charming. “Lovely,” Klaus found himself saying as he stared at Priti. He blinked, “I meant the scenery is quite lovely not that you aren’t lovely, in fact you are lovelier than the scenary and the commentary was directed at you.” He shook his head, offering a small smile, “I am not very good at social conversations, from whatt I made clear.” He chuckled a little at that.

As Priti expressed her desire to continue their conversation and take a seat, Klaus felt a rush of gratitude towards her for her kindness and understanding. He walked her towards a spot where they are quite a lot of people, but there was also a little privacy, hoping for her to feel comfortable with more people and of course because a man and woman cannot be alone, it was only right through society’s eyes. “My lady if may ask what is your favorite food?”