Bridgerton | Official RP Thread


Dance number two Atlas Delaney


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

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

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


@sunflowerjm - Atlas

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rose among dandelions


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


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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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


let me down slowly


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

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

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

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


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

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Emma Wycliff


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


@Ouijaloveletters - Edgar >.<

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Dance 1: Edmund Wycliff


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

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

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

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

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


@Littlefeets - Edmund

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

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

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

@CerealKiller

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

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

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

“I… I cannot, sir”

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

“S…Sir…”

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

“Three… Weeks?”

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

“Oh, I don’t…”

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

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

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

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

So yes…

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

@CrazyCaliope - Phoebe

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Dance 1: Bridget Beckham

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

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

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

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


@Bluecookies - Bridget

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovely… just… lovely.

““Did you actually shrink?”

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

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

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

@Madilnel - Bully

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

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Post dance I • With Magnus


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

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

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


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Pre-Dance 2: with Ambrose Ramsbury


As Phoebe left the dance floor, a familiar sense of unease began to settle within her as her eyes went in every direction, looking at all that was around her. Suddenly occurring to her rapidly increasing heart rate that she was once again in this dazzling ballroom filled with many guests, which seemed to grow larger and more imposing by the minute. It felt suffocating as her racing heart was beating a frantic rhythm in her chest, and panic slid into the unfocused corners of her mind. The noise around her grew louder, amplifying her anxiety as it drowned out any attempt to find her own calming thoughts.

Her breath grew shallow and her palms clammy as she tried to steady herself and find a focus on something, anything. Could she find that quiet(ish) corner again? She needed it to regain her composure. Looking for that corner was hard to concentrate on with the laughter, chatter, and elegant movements of the dancers. Phoebe’s shoulders slumped and her gaze cast to the floor as she struggled to regain her composure.
Peering downward, she only saw a pair of larger medium-high boots in murky deep blue boots as she was suddenly jolted. Instinctively, she reached out to steady herself from falling to the floor, she clutched the sleeve of the jacket who had bumped into her. She was grateful for the help, in return, to steady her too.

As the man released his hold on her, Phoebe straightened herself and tentatively accepted the kiss on her hand he had offered her, attempting to appreciate his display of courtesy. Hear his apologetic tone and seeing what seemed to be a sincere expression, she gave a humble smile and replied, “Thank you, sir. No harm done, I assure you. I do appreciate your swift assistance.” Her eyes lingered on the man for a moment, then quickly downward again, focusing back on his shoes. It was now she noticed the finishing on the stitching, much like her father’s work. These seemed to be his work. “Excuse me, sir,” Phoebe began, not lifting her head. “I noticed the exquisite craftsmanship of the boots you’re wearing. Did you by any chance purchase them recently?”


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Dance II • With Azucena


Cassian couldn’t help but be intrigued by Lady Azucena’s playful response. Her words carried a hint of mischief, and he found himself drawn to her spirited demeanor. With a gentle tug, he helped her regain her balance, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared amusement.

“If I believed it to be an act my lady,” he replied with a teasing glint in his own eyes, “I might have just let you fall, but I couldn’t bear to see such a graceful lady stumble.”

As they faced each other, he noticed that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze, a fact that didn’t escape his notice. She introduced herself with a graceful curtsy, and Cassian was taken by her formal yet polite manner. “Lady Azucena, Marchioness of Spain,” he repeated, acknowledging her title with a nod.

"The pleasure is entirely mine” Cassian’s smile held a genuine warmth, and he found himself intrigued by this unexpected interaction with lady azucena “Lord Cassian Ellis, Duke of a place not nearly as interesting as Spain, and… perhaps your next dance partner, my lady?” He offered, wearing a playful yet charming smile. He arched an eyebrow slightly as he posed the question, adding a touch of intrigue to the moment.


@raviola Azuzu

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

Magnus listened to Dorothea’s response, his irritation giving way to both surprise and intrigue. Her words held strength and determination, which he couldn’t help but admire despite her initial rudeness. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the right a few degrees. “Well, Lady Addington, it seems you possess a sharp tongue and aren’t afraid to use it. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

Magnus took a brief pause as he considered her words and his expression softening slightly. “You’re right, my behaviour was uncalled for,” he conceded, meeting her gaze. “While I may not have the best reputation, I assure you that I can engage in a more civilised exchange. As it happens, my desire has never been to prove it to you, not even two years ago upon your coming out.”


Sorry, it’s very short. I be very sleepy and wanted to post for you while you’re awake. Also, I hope I remembered that correctly about it being two years ago. If not, I can change it.

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Dance #2: Future Duke Orpheus


Belle couldn’t help but notice Orpheus, his lips caught between his teeth, a subtle smile playing upon his features. Her own expression shifted, was he laughing at her again? Yes, indeed that seemed to be the case. She reached up to grab her hat before realizing that she had given the hat to her aunt after the presentation and she frowned once more. With her hat she could hide her expressions and emotions better when it in front of the crowd- a better way to not be perceived or seen. She wondered why had she allowed aunt Camille to take her hat? Right, because she had demanded for it.

Orpheus began to talk about Belle’s relationship with Josephine and how she speaks of Josephine as if she is distanced from her her through marriage but was she not? Josephine already was a mother of twins, a married woman, she still lived in france but every time Belle had visit she was not there- and Belle had spent the first years of Josephine marriage at school, at the academy. "I speak of her as a distance figure because she is, there are so many things that make her distance and yet not much things that make her close,’ Belle did not know why she was telling him this but she was, her eyes scanning his to see how he was feeling, to see his response, “Most is an overestimate,” Belle said because it was- Belle loved Josephine but she never admired her the most, she never wanted to be like Josephine after all Josephine was like a contradictory of Belle. She accepts the life she has, she lives in, Belle does not accept it- she wants to fight the situation, she wants to find a new direction, something Josephine would not do because as Belle always saw her she was weak. She looked away subtly when he had said her relationship with Josephine was not beyond repair- it was not and Belle knew it and yet she did not want to be the first to apologize to Josephine, she had nothing to apologize for she felt. She wanted Josephine to apologize to her as Josephine had so much to apologize for and Belle, well Belle was made of pride. "It takes time to fix broken things, She said turning back to face him. He had offered advice and perhaps it would be in Belle’s best interest to accept because after all he was closer to her than Belle. It seemed that water was thicker than blood. "I don’t want your advice, give it to Josephine, someone who will appreciate it." Her voice becoming older. Josephine and her were better sure than before, during the years Belle was in the academy and she had married, Belle had met her nephews and plays with them from time to time- But Josephine and her had never really sat down to talk- to become Belle and Josephine again, but they were simply Belle… With Josephine now.

Belle went silent watching Orpheus as they dance, the music being their only background. Till Belle had spoke and Orpheus had responded. He responded with the talks of flowers- of roses which was her and of dandelions which was Josephine or everyone else. He talked about roses being worth the pain, though his toes might argue the contrary and a flicker of a smile had passed her face till she turned away and then turn to him dropping it. She remembered this was Orpheus even if he was drunk and might not remember it, she should not smile too much. He was frustrating not someone who could make her laugh and she should leave it that but she had to admit he was quite amusing. "Then perhaps it is in the best interests of all to hold unto hope, so they won’t have to face the thorns of the roses. Focus on the dandelions first and maybe a rose might come later, " Hope would come first and passion next.

Orpheus then began to ask if she had any other question and Belle thought about it, biting her lips, did she? No, no she did not. This was one of the first times that questions did not form in Belle’s head, perhaps they were to come later- she thought yes. But now, she guesses she would give him the privilege of asking. “I do not. Since you have answered all my questions, It would be fair to answer any question you may have. Do you have any?” She wondered what type of question shall he ask of her.


@DandelionKate

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frendzzz
(I tried to find a fitting song that gave happy friends but I couldn’t sooo here’s the wanted LMAO)


“I must take my leave.” Ilyas stated suddenly, not meeting the eyes of Corin or Harrison as he quickly departed. It was a shock for Corin as well, as he had hoped for a much warmer reception into high society, and the country, by his closest friend.

However, Corin could not resist the urge to give Ilyas a firm pat on his backside as he scampered off toward a dark-haired girl at the provisions table.

Corin ran his eyes along the girl’s features, her frame, her hair, her stature. She seemed exactly the type Ilyas would typically pounce on. Corin had to admit as well, he could see why Ilyas might feel so drawn to her. She was quite lovely. Perhaps, Ilyas left so suddenly, as Harrison had insulted a woman he was interested in courting. If Ilyas and Orpheus were both to court the same woman, it was sure to start up a fight.

Orpheus spoke little of his relationship with Ilyas to Corin outside of the fact that he detested him. Corin once wrote about his friend and the time they had together during the spring festival, and Orpheus had replied with a simple; ‘I thought you to keep better company, cousin. It seems I was mistaken.‘

Corin did not pry into their previous encounters, as he did not care to hear them. It was far from desirable to have your closest friend and only family hate each other, so Corin opted to ignore the issue all together to avoid conflict.

Corin glanced between Ilyas and Aurelia again, their physical contact and direct gazes not going unnoticed. Maybe Corin had been right in his assessment, although the look in Miss Ellis’ eyes was a far cry from adoration. Corin was determined to find out more about the girl and why the people around him seemed so fixated on her.

“Ah, that must be the infamous Miss Ellis that he has left us for, no?” Corin glanced back at Harrison briefly.

“You were his friend before I, Lord Davis. If you feel so keen on planting a facer, I shall not be the one to stop you. In fact, it would be most satisfying to watch.” Corin smirked, patting Harrison’s shoulder reassuringly.

“His disrespect stems from an absent mind and a busy heart, friend. Do not let yourself linger on his shortcomings for too long or you might question your relationship entirely.” Corin chuckled to himself again, knowing the frustrations Harrison was experiencing to some extent. “Come, some good has been brought of our brief interaction, as we are now friends. Let us drink and be joyful as much as the festivities and nature of the night will allow.” Corin held up his flask to cheers Harrison’s idle champagne flute.

“Ilyas has told me you are equally as popular with the women here. You must introduce me. Being from a foreign land, and holding no legitimate title does not bode well for marriage prospects, you see.” Corin found himself laughing slightly again. Was it the tea? Was it the atmosphere? Something had caused such a stir in positive emotion, and as quickly as he had noticed it, he shut it down.

Corin stopped short in his laugh, letting his face fall back into his usual blank resting expression.

‘Laughter is not a privilege you enjoy.’ He reminded himself, taking another swig from his flask, and a deep breath.


mentioned :
Harrison (@Kristi)
Ilyas (@Madilnel)
Aurelia (@benitz786)
Orpheus

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dance two: albina northwick


Atlas sighed at Albina’s question about what his dream was later in life for his future. “I have a lot of dreams for my future, Miss Lady Albina, but in short, I wish to explore the world without any worries from home.” He merely stated, for he was unable to tell her about his true dreams. Atlas had many dreams for the future; he wished to just be free and not have to worry about settling down or taking over his family’s business. He wished to be free of torment from his family’s secret, and he wished to have his little sister back. Atlas would dream of taking Adeline around the world and showing her that there was more out there before she married and had a family of her own. But for now, that was all it was—dreams and wishes.

Atlas chuckled nervously. Yes, he had to admit Albina was beautiful, but for the moment, he did not have eyes for another lady. Especially after his last incident, he could not handle going through such things again. “Trust me when I say, Lady Albina, that I am more than capable of handling an intriguing lady. Yet I do not think it is in my best interest to do so.” He said with a small laugh as he tried to hide his saddened eyes; just thinking about his past made his heart ache.

“I believe that is true; as I said before, I find you to be a very interesting lady.” Atlas smiled before he continued to hear as she spoke once more, yet his mind had wondered off for a bit. He had made a promise to himself that he would put such things behind him. He had been doing a great job of doing so, but it is true what they say: you can never escape something you never found closure with. Atlas regained his composure and began to listen to Albina once more as she described her desire to explore Egypt. “That sounds quite intriguing. I have not considered visiting there yet, but the way you speak of it makes it sound like it is worth a visit. As for myself, I have not been to many destinations, but of the ones I have visited, none have captivated me. I will say that I rarely plan my trips; I usually go wherever the next ship takes me.” As they moved closer, he paused for a moment before whispering to her. “I would not mind having company on my next trip.”


orp: @Jass albina

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I will keep trying


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


As Belle continued her dismissal of advice about Josephine, he felt his frustrations grow. She held a relationship perfectly capable of repair, unlike many of his own, yet she did not rush to the solution? It aggravated him to no end. For if he could repair the relationships he had lost, he would pay any price.
To him, Belle seemed most ignorant to the opportunities life had afforded her. Nearly, ungrateful as she was given a loving family, plenty of friends, a large title, ample wealth, dozens of suitors, and a beauty that paled to none. A set of circumstances Orpheus would kill for.
However, Orpheus also understood Belle in a way. A girl, put forth with pressures and expectations by her family, and society, that she did not wish to fulfill. In that, they were the same. Orpheus understood the aching weight of familial duties and expectations better than anyone, and similarly, he attempted to defy them in every conceivable way. Yet, like Belle, he found himself at the Queen’s ball, staring at faces that all held their own ideas of what he should be. Of what a Duke should look like. Of the kind of courtship he should have. It gave him a headache.
“Then perhaps it is in the best interests of all to hold unto hope, so they won’t have to face the thorns of the roses. Focus on the dandelions first and maybe a rose might come later,” Belle replied to his previous metaphor. Orpheus gave an exasperated sigh as it seemed the thorns were going to win this battle of conversation. At least, he would not press her further on it.
“Perhaps, little flower.” Orpheus gave a small smile, attempting to reclaim his thoughts, and not wanting to argue with her on the topic further.
However, he would bypass hundreds of dandelions for a single rose. That much he knew, always.
“It would be fair to answer any question you may have. Do you have any?” Belle offered an opening, one Orpheus had been most anticipating.
Since Josephine had first asked him to talk with Belle in the garden, Orpheus often wondered about Belle’s silent thoughts. However, they were always silent as Belle never spoke to him. Orpheus had been curious to discuss her mind with her. So curious, in fact, when presented with the opportunity, he did not know where to start.
Before he had the opportunity to process or think of a proper question, words began to fall from his mouth.

Alcohol is a cruel mistress.

“Why do you hate me so? For if I have done something to garner such displeasure, I would surely apologize.” Orpheus was shocked by his own words and how straight forward they came across. However, it was a question he had always wondered most about.
What about him made her dislike him? What about his presence set her frustrations off? Why, despite his efforts, did she continue her hatred when her family seemed so warmed to him? What had he done?

For if there was one thing Orpheus could not stand…it was rejection.


mentioned :
Belle (@Kristi)

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Dance #2: Future Duke Orpheus


losing my mind


Belle’s lips curved with amusement as she observed Orpheus dropping the argument of the his customary floral metaphors. It was a familiar pattern in her interactions with people, where her unwavering determination often saw her triumphing in debates. This was one of the times that Belle could admit that she was truthfully her mother’s daughter, driven by an unyielding pride coursing through the veins. If such a thing as a fatal flaw, a concept that ventured beyond the realms of literature existed, then Belle would readily concede her’s to be hubris and pride. She has long believed that she could excel in all things, was somewhat superior to most people in intelligence, skills and a lot of things, and truthfully history has yet to prove her wrong.

Talking to Orpheus though, had proven to not have been worst than she had thought, perhaps it was due to the fact that Orpheus currently was not a sober man but talking to him- as much as it nerved her, it was also quite amusing. It would not be a lie to say that perhaps, PERHAPS she was enjoying herself. Maybe the music was getting to her head or perhaps it was the fact she had been able to venture into someone’s else head, thoughts and ideas for less than an hour. She has been curious about Orpheus yes, everyone makes her curious, makes her think- why are they like that? Why are they loved? Why are they hate? What sort of childhood did they have? She always asked herself when she came in contact with another person, whether or not she chose to interact with the people, she was intrigued by people. She had often wished she could read minds, so she can understand a person better without having to talk to them because Belle unless she was already friendly with someone was not the best at socializing, she was often told by her friends that at first when they had met her- she came of, her aura came out as cold, judgmental and that if they were to make a single mistake, her lips would curl to disapproval. That was often how she was described as from the people who first meet her, it was honestly quite interesting how your thoughts can change when you truly get to know someone. She wondered, and still wonder now though how do the people she called ‘friends’ truly think of her now? Was she caring? Was she perhaps still cold to them? Was she kind?

Astonishing, or truly not, Belle had once again ventured into her thoughts. She seemed to be doing that a lot, thinking, it was perhaps the best thing she was good at. If they were giving medals and increasing ranks simply for thinking, Belle would have won all the meals. She let out a sigh as she waited for Orpheus question- truthfully she wondered, what may he ask? What would it be that would be the first question he had ever asked her and that Belle would respond truthfully?

“Why do you hate me so? For if I have done something to garner such displeasure, I would surely apologize."

Belle blinked.

Hate did she hate him? No, she did not think so, the word ‘hate’ was something she reserved for a few as though a lot of people in society could be considered hateable, they was a chart, Belle thinks, a chart of displeasure and the word ‘hatred’ falls at the very end.’ Orpheus was not even close to the middle of the ‘displeasure’ chart, he was simply in the mild or more than mild annoyance place. But she could see why he wondered such after all, Belle had told him time and time he frustrated her to the very core and he did. “Have I ever told you that I hate you?” She asked her eyebrows raising in questioning, "I said that you are frustrating yes and because you are, you frustrate me to the very core because truthfully I am finding reasons to hate you as you, to increase your position in my displeasure chart because perhaps I am jealous of your relation with Josephine… She started, "I find displeasure in the way you always seem to be in quite a positive mood and come to me though I have called you frustrating many times. And I do not fully trust you, most people I hear from think of you as really nice- as really kind, and perhaps you are kind but I do know that you are not that kind. You seem to be hiding a lot, and I do not trust many people," Belle had always thought that Orpheus was not as sweet as people made him out to believe- there was more to him, more layers that Belle had always wanted to wait for them to expose themselves. Give her a reason to hate him- perhaps he was a rake? Treated those below him badly? The first one seemed more likely than the later though, Perhaps he was not the best of relatives? Whatever it was, Belle knew there was something.


@DandelionKate - Orpheus

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