closed

[RaptureMetro]

⚕︎⚚ 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒿𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓃 ───────────────────────────────────────
{ 24 . 3/10 . danish . mention(s): Sydney, Jemima . tag(s): Jemima }

Courting Season, the time of year where all young aristocratic women were dolled up, and put on display like prized cattle to be won by the highest bidder. As a surprise to very few, Marjorie was less than thrilled at the prospect of Courting season, though the occasion led to booming business for a few months at the bakery, she had little interest in the whole affair. Why waste time attempting to captivate the hearts of eligible bachelors when there was work to be done? In her opinion, the courting season was only truly fun for those who had money, afterall wasn’t the entire point to marry up so the rich could procure more riches?

Regardless of all the fuss, it was no secret that Marjorie was well past her prime, or that was what societies would say so to speak, afterall most young women in this day and age were married by twenty-two at the latest, and seeing as Marjorie was pushing twenty-five well she did not have many years left to procure a husband. However this suited the young woman just fine, unlike many young bachelorettes Marjorie did not distribute many motherly instincts, and certainly wasn’t too keen on being forced into the role of the quiet little housewife. Both less than desirable qualities when it came to the potential suitors, and if it wasn’t for her mother’s persistence in accepting the Purcell’s gracious offer to attend the season across the sea, she would have skipped out on this year’s courting season like all others. Marjorie was skeptical, but she wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity of a lifetime, with how well known the Purcell’s family name was, it only made sense that the world's finest, aristocrats from all over the world would be attending, and she would be a fool to pass up an opportunity to hobnob with the elite ranks who would be attending this months long swaray.

America, the land of opportunities was foreign to a woman who had never once been outside her hometown of Helsingor. This trip would be no shortage of new and strange experiences. Everything about the eight grueling weeks of travel was foreign; the sights, the smells, the sensations all new and exciting as the miles between her and her family only grew. However these days alone, stuck to the confines of the open sea left Marjorie with much to ponder in regards to her future endeavors. It was no secret older women weren’t as desirable or sought after when it came to courting season, often labeled soon to be Spinsters, or old maids. This little factor didn’t bother Marjorie one bit. Truthfully the idea of settling down scared her, what if she ended up betrothed to someone cruel, with very old fashioned ideals of how a woman and a wife should behave? What if they both wed out of desperation and not for love or happiness? She had no qualms with simply marrying for money if her husband allowed her to stay with her family, but that begged another question. Would she be forced to leave her family behind and return to whatever country her betrothed came from, she couldn’t do that. There were so many uncertainties, so many what ifs that left Marjorie’s head spinning and her heart racing.

Her thoughts returned to the present as her carriage slowed to a halt in front of the Purcell’s mansion, she bid a farewell and thanked the driver as she stepped out of the plush sanctum of the carriage. She would have time to stress about the uncertainties for the future another time, for now she needed to save face and pretend to be a little put together. At least for the sake of procuring potential patrons. Once the carriage pulled away she was greeted by a well dressed ensemble of servants waiting for the honored guests of the hour to arrive. Without a moment's hesitation, she was ushered along through the gardens, all the while Marjorie’s eyes flitted through the well kept vegetation, the gardens were exquisite, how peaceful it seemed out here. She could get lost wandering the estate simply taking in all the majesty of these floral arrangements. Maybe during her extended stay at the Purcell’s manor she could sneak away from some of the more tedious, draining events, and instead indulge in some exploration of the grounds to see what was hidden in all this lavish wonder.

As they rounded the back of the house, the Servant bid the young woman a farewell before turning to make his way back up front. Her eyes danced over the attendees making note of a few faces who were already well engrossed in their conversations, noting quite a few individuals who seemed to be lingering on the outskirts of the party. Her eyes lingered on a taller gentleman who seemed to be nursing whatever drinks they were offering at this event, he was certainly easy on the eyes, but she rather not get dragged into an exasperating conversation with a snooty, arrogant young lad. Instead she turned her attention towards a number of solo partygoers, before settling on a young dark haired woman standing by herself.

“Good Afternoon” Marjorie greeted as she drew closer to the young woman, a warm smile taking hold of her features. She hoped she hadn’t caught the young woman in a bad mood, it did make her curious on why she would be lingering so far away from the rest of the socialization? Afterall wasn’t the entire point of this little get together to create relationships and find potential suitors, “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, you just looked like you could use some company for the time being” Plus it seemed peaceful keeping a distance from the rest of the attendees.

[♥Princess of Lions♥]

- 𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓉𝑜𝓃 -
Female | 20 | 7/10 | Location: Garden | Mentions: Purcell Family, Hugo | Tags: Sydney and Cian

𝔅rilliant rays of golden sunlight streamed through the cracks of Anastasia's curtains, illuminating the silhouette of a young woman sunk deep into a bolstering armchair with her nose tucked away in a book. Nerves had awoken her early and prompted her to read a while by candlelight, the stump of cream colored wax still smoldering atop the table just beside her. The princess pressed her back to the wall of the stables as she pulled the stableboy closer, his gaze dropping to her lips as he leaned in and- Anastasia was ripped from the riveting fairytale by the sound of rapid footsteps headed towards her room. She reluctantly slapped her book shut and hopped to her feet in one swift movement, sliding the novel onto the table and rushing over to her bedside. Her pale pink satin nightgown fluttered behind her as she ran, keeping on her tiptoes to try and stay as quiet as possible. When she arrived to her bedside she threw back the covers and rolled herself into bed, cocooning and burying her cheek in a pillow to pretend she was still asleep.

Her heart raced as not a second later the double wide doors of her chambers flung open, and in marched Odette with a silver tray of steaming breakfast. She carried the tray over to the table by the window and shook her head with a sigh, setting the tray atop the table. "We don't have time for this today, Anastasia. Come on, I know you're awake," Odette probably knew Anastasia better than her own parents. On most days she liked to pretend she was really asleep and sometimes Odette would fall for it, but the tone she used today suggested that wouldn't be a good idea. "I'm sorry. I'm just so nervous about the event today. Father talks about the Purcell boy so often I don't even know who else will be in attendance! What if they're all good friends and I just stick out like a sore thumb?" she replied to Odette, rolling onto her back to stare up at the vibrant red canopy that spanned from her ceiling, bottom lip protruding just slightly in a pout. Odette made her way over to Anastasia's bedside and smiled toward the young woman, moving a hand to brush some wisps of chocolate brown hair from her face. "Well then you'll just be the prettiest sore thumb they ever did see!" she declared in response, drawing a small smile from Anastasia's lips. "Come on now, your father wants you in the carriage before the sun finishes rising."

Anastasia slipped out of bed, bare feet pressing to the cool wooden floorboards as she made her way back over to the little table and sat down for breakfast. The book she had left there seemed to call to her, but Anastasia knew better than to try reading while at breakfast. Odette had disappeared into the other room to prepare a hot bath, so Anastasia was left alone with her thoughts and a plate of toast and eggs, sunny side up. She picked up the toast and dipped it into the yolk of an egg, taking a bite with a blissful hum. Anastasia had always been a foodie but scarcely got to enjoy her meals. Her father monitored her dining habits to ensure she wouldn't get fat. After swallowing the bite of toast, Anastasia picked up the accompanying goblet of orange juice and gulped down half of it. She was just dipping herself a second bite of toast in the egg yolk when Odette came scurrying back in and whisked her away to the bathing chambers where the rest of her crew awaited.

And so Anastasia partook in her typical morning routine; disrobing, a thorough scrub from head to toe, and her least favorite part, the plucking of what felt like every newly discovered hair on her entire body. After bath time, the servants patted her dry and escorted her back into her bedroom where a brand new dress was laid out on the bed. It was fancier than what one would usually wear to a teatime gathering, likely to really make a first impression. The dress had been selected by her father, of course, so Anastasia was not too fond of it. The dress itself was a rich red color, with golden trim and designs adorning the bodice and expanding across the skirts.

When Odette was tightening her corset, Anastasia kept instructing her to pull on the strings more and more, until she could barely breathe and felt somewhat lightheaded. Turning to examine herself in the mirror, Anastasia moved her hands to trace along the forcibly thinned hourglass of her figure. Giving a single nod of approval to Odette, the old woman hesitated before tying it off just a tad bit looser. Anastasia had wanted the corset pulled considerably tighter than usual despite knowing that size reduction was supposed to be a gradual process that took place over time.

Once the corset was on, Anastasia stepped into the dress, slipping her arms through the elegant and flowing sleeves as Odette tugged the skirts up and around her waist. This particular outfit did not require a cage to fluff the skirts. Those were most uncomfortable and tended to leave bruises upon her hips. Her father had undoubtedly packed her an outfit of more grandeur that would require a cage for the evening ball, but Anastasia was thankful she was spared that torture for the time being. Odette finished securing the ties and bows at the back of the dress, and guided Anastasia over to the fireplace. Too much movement made the girl feel dizzy from the shortness of breath, but she remained foolishly confident that she could adjust to such throughout the day for she didn't want to loosen the material any further than Odette already had. Perching herself atop a chair, Anastasia brushed her hair back over her shoulders, and Odette proceeded to neaten it up, slipping in a silver flowery hairband with diamonds at the centers as a final touch to the hairdo.

After all of Anastasia's morning preparations were completed, she stood by the mirror, scrutinizing her appearance as she secured her earrings in. You can do this, she encouraged herself, stepping into her heels and securing their straps on her feet before she made her way towards her bedroom door. She felt distant and heavy, though whether it was a result of her nerves or the tightness of her corset, Anastasia could not tell. Stepping through the doors of her bedroom, a handmaiden who awaited her outside escorted the young woman through the halls of their vacation home and out the front doors to where a carriage awaited her. One of the stableboys was standing with his back too straight, stiff as a board as he opened the door to the carriage and offered a hand to help Anastasia inside.

Thank goodness it's not too hot out, Anastasia thought to herself as she slid into her seat and adjusted the skirts of her dress. The carriage door swung shut behind her and off she went, headed for the Purcell manor. She peered out the small window that separated her from the rest of the world, longing for the novel that Odette had probably slipped back into her bookshelf by now. The ride to the manor would prove to be long and boring, as anticipated. Anastasia spent half of her time trying to lose herself in a daydream, and the other half replaying her father's coaching in her head, telling her all the things she would need to do as a proper young lady to win dear Hugo's heart. Her father was so persistant that Anastasia had almost developed a distaste for Hugo without even knowing him.

As the carriage pulled up to the Purcell manor, Anastasia smoothed her hair and prepared to depart to the gardens. One of their servants escorted her while the rest went to take her luggage to her room. Anastasia was surprised by how many people had already arrived and were mingling about. As the servant who had escorted her there left her side, the young woman swayed briefly, uncertain where to go or who she should approach. Why couldn't they have started with a dinner? At least then she would have an assigned seat and could just make small talk with the people who sat beside her.

Not wanting to look out of place standing at the entrance of the garden all by her lonesome, Anastasia made her way over to a bush where some roses were in full bloom, taking time to admire them and hoping that someone would come approach her first. She leaned in towards the biggest rose she could find and batted her lashes shut, inhaling the pleasant scent of the flower before straightening her posture and fluttering her eyes back open. As she was straightening up, she felt a tug at her hair and immediately froze. You've got to be kidding me, she thought to herself, staying half-hunched as she tugged at her hair to find the bit that was pulled straight. Surely enough, she had gotten herself tangled in some of the thorns. She fumbled for a moment trying to untangle her hair, but her hands became progressively more shaky with nerves. The longer she was stuck in that awkward position the more likely it would be that someone might notice and she'd quickly become a joke. She could already hear her father scolding her, Anastasia, you bring shame upon this family. You couldn't even manage to last five minutes acting like a lady. And so the young woman reacted a bit impulsively, giving her hair a little yank to pull out of the thorn bush. In doing so, she caused herself to stumble backwards, colliding with a nearby warm body.

Oh you've done it now, she thought to herself, twirling around with the beginning of an apology on her lips, "Oh my goodness, please forgive me, I-" As her gaze connected with the gentleman behind her, Anastasia was stunned by the realization that it was none other than Sydney Camden, a once close friend who she hadn't seen in forever. A sharp inhale resounded a gasp of surprise as Anastasia took a step back, gaze flitting over the stature of her old friend. She thought she would never get to see him again, not after the spat with her father, yet there he was, standing right before her in the flesh, handsome as ever. Before she had a chance to formulate some kind of greeting, or any coherent speech at all, one of the high heels beneath her dress sunk in the mud, throwing off her balance and causing Anastasia to fall backwards into yet another bulky figure, heel of her left shoe snapping off with a crack.

[Zyn]

🌿 𝒜𝓇𝒾 𝒢𝓇𝒾𝒻𝒻𝒾𝓉𝒽𝓈 🌿
Wealth: 9/10 || Kiwi || Male || Twenty-Three || Pansexual || wc: 1,009

◤xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx◥
🌿 Tags: Katya
🌿 Mentions: None
🌿 Mood: oh heck gave me a fright
◣xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx◢

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Ari's fingers flitted over the cups, hovering several inches above each cup as though he was just super indecisive. While each cup was beautiful they didn't serve the purpose he was searching for. With each person that wandered into the garden the more his stomach twisted into knots, he was going to look like a fool no matter what he did. Whatever was his father thinking sending him to such a prim and proper party? All the parties he had hosted had felt different, they had started later in the day and the people there had been there just to have fun not to try and search out a partner. He was sure that if the people who were here found out just what his parties were like they would have heart attacks and if they didn't then he was sure they would run the other way. Not that he could really blame them and it wasn't like he was really searching for a partner in all of this. No that was his father, a man who wanted to have as much control over him as possible. This was just one of the many ways his father had made it clear that he, Ari, was nothing more than a puppet for his father to pull the strings on. Something they had done a poor job of in the past, he had no doubt in his mind that this is why his father had such a tight leash on him nowadays. Pushing him to find a wife and settle down and have kids was no doubt his fathers way of adding another way to control him. His fingers stilled for a moment in his searching as he tried to push down those thoughts. They would do him no good now, he was at the party just like his father wanted and there was no point moping about it.

Just as he was about to continue his search, Ari's moping set aside for the moment, a voice startled him. His heart leaped out of his chest and he jumped slightly, whirling to face whomever had snuck up on him. With his wide eyes and hand over his chest he almost looked guilty of something. For a long moment he stared at the brunette before him, her brown eyes watching him curiously. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the thick accent and he filed it away to be recalled later. She seemed different from the high pompous ladies that his father had tried to fling at him on the daily. As his heart slowed down from its neck break pace of trying to beat out of his chest, his expression softened into an easy going smirk. As trademark grin, the one he presented to everyone. "You gave me quite the fight" he admitted, his own kiwi accent coming in strong with twinge of a British accent. He then glanced back at the table. It was like looking at the table a new, his vision cleared and he spotted what he had been searching for. Reaching out he picked up the glass with two ice cubes and what smelled like a exquisite whiskey. He brought the cup to his lips taking a sip and letting the liquid roll on his tongue before swallowing. It was like a relief, knowing his nerves would soon be soothed by this drink. Or perhaps the second but regardless he would be at ease once again shortly and that was all he needed to know to quench some of his anxiety. Shifting his attention back to the woman he had approached him so stealthily he presented the drink with a flourish, an almost genuine grin now gracing his lips. "Just looking for a drink, not really lost but it is very important for an occasion such as this" he explained, feeling a tad bit bad for leaving her hanging even if it was just for a moment.

Then as though a thought had crossed his mind Ari's expression turned curious as he swirled the drink idly in his hand. "You aren't like the others are you?" he started and then an apologetic grin flickered across lips. He hadn't meant for it to come across as conceding, the words had just leapt from his lips before he could consider the weight to them. "I don't mean it in a bad way" he added, his voice echoing the apology that his grin had offered. It was his hope that it would be enough to show that he had no ill intentions behind his lack of thought before running his mouth. His father hated the way he let his mouth run before thinking at times, a side effect of having grown up outside of the scrutiny of the rich. "I have a bit of a reputation you see, most ladies either try and avoid me or gossip about me from some corner for the room" he continued. It was true in general, unless it was a party he himself was hosting most ladies who his father sent his way seemed uncomfortable around him. Not that he could really blame him, his reputation wasn't the best. Something his father was hoping to fix by forcing him to settle into a marriage and having as many kids as possible until a suitable heir was procured. Really and truly at the end of the day that was all that his father cared about. An heir that wasn't such a mess, someone who could continue the family name without bringing shame to the family. "I do apologize I haven't even introduced myself" his grin turned almost sheepish. "I am Ari Griffiths, it is pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your dress is stunning, whoever crafted such a piece did some exceptional work." Dresses weren't something new to him, he had seen plenty but this one in particular stood out for some reason. Maybe it was the craftsman shift or maybe it was the clear love and attention that had gone into every detail.

[wait for me.]

𝐉𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞
⊱ ─── 21 | 6/10 | Mentions; The Purcells, Sydney, Leonora | Tags; Marjorie


Jemima watched as other men and women entered the gardens. She let her eyes wader across the faces of the men, noting the ones with softer eyes and easier gaits, with suits that looked too expensive. She noted the Purcells, clustered with a few of their friends and kept herself close to the wall to make herself feel as small and unnoticeable as possible. This was an easy feat given her already diminutive stature. It was in her nature to fret until everything was perfect, and today was already setting out to be far less than perfect. One hand curled into a fist and she squeezed, hoping to feel her fingernails bite into her palms. Instead, the fabric of her gloves rubbed against itself and kept her from marring her flesh. What was with her today? A fretter she was, but a worrier she was not. She should be out amongst the others, milling about and ensnaring any man that allured her and would be appealing to her father. Her sister had taught her a great deal about flirting, in the seasons before Phoebe became engaged. She had once been rather adept at it, playing the part without gaining too much of a reputation. Some of her father's students, no doubt, remembered her to be a bit of a coquette. Even so, it seemed a much less fun thing to do without her sister egging her on, or her brothers identifying their friends (or enemies) - anyone who it would be fun to mortify or spend a dance with.

As she stewed in her thoughts, another women joined her. She was dark-haired and smelt faintly of sugar and yeast. Jemima breathed in the aroma and was immediately charmed. It reminded her of when she was a very young child, before her mother died, even before her father received his professorship at Harvard, when her mother tried to teach her how to bake bread. She hadn't had the patience to wait for the dough to rise and had scampered off to other lessons before the task was completed. Her fist loosened and she ran one finger across her palm where there was a patch of discolored leather. She turned to the other woman with a bit of a smile, "Good afternoon." She said, "You aren't intruding at all. I quite appreciate your coming over, actually. I dread being the first one to speak."

Jemima ached for a way to introduce herself to the room all at once. The piano recitals she gave at her father's parties always made socialization so much easier. Perhaps she was simply an addict for approval. The compliments she received after a performance often left her feeling as if she were walking on air for the whole rest of the evening -- sometimes for days afterward, if she were given particularly persuasive compliments, or if the person who had given them was particularly good-looking. There was nothing quite like getting a compliment from someone who seemed desirable to bring out one's social side. If the Purcells had a piano she could get in fingers on, even if only for a few bars of music, she would have this party wrapped around her little finger and tucked under her thumb. Was that a conceited thought? Even if it was, Jemima felt certain of it. Her skill with the piano was her greatest accomplishment, and it never failed to charm. Or, at least it hadn't before. Just that thought was enough to bring a light into Jemima's face where it hadn't been before, "I suppose we ought to introduce ourselves, hm? I believe that's the next step, though I am woefully out of practice with these things. I'm Jemima Fairlie, and who might you be?"

[lemon!!]

♕ ━━━ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍
━━━ 23 years | 9/10 | English | mentions: Annalise, Hugo, Leo, Jemima| tags: open!

Disappointment was a feeling all too well known to Jasper Addison. He had known so much of it in his twenty-three years on this earth, more than he would care to admit. Growing up in the lap of luxury, the man had wanted for nothing in his entire life. Whatever he could ask for was practically thrown at his feet. But he had learned that no matter how many worldly possessions one owned, it would never be enough. Such things can be squandered and wasted. Wealth, women, wine - none of it truly made a man happy unless he wanted to be... and Jasper was the king of self sabotage.

That same feeling lodged in the back of his throat today as he stared at himself in the full length mirror. Kitted out in the finest of clothes, Jasper certainly looked the part. Perhaps it wasn't becoming of him to spend so long looking at his reflection, but it was the first time in the last month that the youngest Addison brother had bothered to make any sort of effort. Until now, he had practically gone into hiding. Even Philip Purcell himself had enquired about his whereabouts because despite confirming he would be in attendance at this party, Jasper had made a point of going awol. His time had been spent locked away in his study, dealing with finances, writing a novel, generally keeping away from the drinking and the partying that had, for so long, resulted in his reputation to take... a dire hit. Today would be the test of what people really thought of him. He was to find a wife, whether he wanted one or not. And while partying the anxiety away had sounded tempting these past few weeks, Jasper had decided to disappear instead. If one does not want to be found, one shall not be found. A noise in the background snapped the curly haired man's attention away from his own image - spinning on his heel to find that the sound was nothing more than his fat Persian cat yawning, stretching herself out on his bed as though she had decided that she was to be the designated occupant of such luxury whilst he was gone. The noise made him smile a little, a face that had been so grim as though it was carved of stone suddenly touched by a fleeting moment of content. His sudden attention on her caused the cat to mew - perhaps she was insulted that the man had spent so much time admiring himself and not enough time doting on her every will. "I know, old girl. But I won't be away forever." he cooed, sitting down on the bed beside her. He was careful not to get his clothes covered with hair... that wouldn't be on, and he would have to change.

"Mister Addison! Mister Addison!" a shrill voice rang out into the room. He grimaced. That voice belonged to one Laura Smith, a maid that his parents had kept in their household for ten years now. She had been instructed to go with Jasper to America when he left, to watch over the man's house in New York. The lady was twenty seven years of age, not much of a difference to his twenty three, and she doted on him tirelessly. But he hated her. Unwed, burdened to be a servant to the Addisons forever. One might have assumed she was in love with Jasper, the way she hung on his every word - it wouldn't be unheard of, he had known several of his parents' maids to fall for him in his time. "Mister Addison, your carriage is here!" Laura was outside now, knocking on his door relentlessly. There was a bitterness to her tone. Her voice was particularly grating today, like nails on a chalkboard. He had to compose himself before opening the door, offering a forced smile. "Then I suppose I should be going, yes?"

He had always enjoyed carriage rides. Jasper had a love of travel - literally being on the move, it was one of the only luxuries that actually made him feel good. Seeing places not everyone could afford to visit made the man feel as though he was feeding his soul, more so than if he was chewing on a million dollar feast. But this journey was not one he enjoyed. He was far too restless to pay attention to the rolling hills outside his carriage window, preferring to look down at his feet rather than to the stunning scenery. He could little stop his mind from whirring, every moment leading up to this playing and replaying in his head like a broken record. The idea of love interested him little these days. He had tried it before - needless to say that it hadn't gone so swimmingly for him in the past. His reputation went before him now, a flirt, a womaniser. The truth be told, if he (or rather, his family) had not been as seriously wealthy as they were, women probably wouldn't have looked at him sideways with such a scandalised history. His parents had been disgusted with his recent behaviour. They had been thrilled that he had received an invitation to this party and had all but instructed him to find a good woman to return with. He had found a good woman in the past and let her slip through his fingers, they said, they wouldn't be so forgiving if he were to lose another with his reckless behaviour. He knew deep down that no woman he would ever find would quite compare to the one he had lost. But that was something he had forced himself to come to terms with... and so he had given his half-hearted promise to find a wife and make them happy just as his brothers had done. Whether or not he would keep good on his promise, Jasper wasn't even convinced himself.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn't even notice when the carriage squealed to a halt, horses pawing impatiently as they waited for their command to go again. "Ahem..." the sound of a man clearing his throat broke the airy almost-silence. "Sir... we have arrived at the destination." Jasper looked up from his feet to see an older gentleman looking at him, one eyebrow half raised with an almost discerning expression. "Ah! Yes, very good. Thank you, sir." he nodded, getting up from where he sat to leave the carriage. His hands were shakier than he had expected as he shook the valet's hand, offering a nod and a semi-whispered "Thank you"to the driver. It had gone by so quickly, he was almost taken by surprise.

He had to stop to regain his composure before he strolled inside. Unclench your jaw, stand up straight, shoulders back. Look relaxed but not loose, walk calmly but with purpose. Never let anyone see you sweat. His father's instructions had been grated into him since he was of courting age. But although he had gone a little off the rails recently, he had never forgotten how a man was "supposed" to present. Entering the venue, his eyes scanned the room for anyone he might recognise. He was comforted to see that he wasn't the first one here, but a little put off by being such a latecomer.

He noted several faces he was already aware of - having met a number in person, if not heard about them through the academic grapevine. Annalise Purcell was one, noting her conversing with a few others he recognised. Hugo, her brother, a pretty blonde... Leonora Bennett? He recognised her, despite having never spoken. Wandering further into the crowd of people, he noted a few more arrivals. A lanky brunette and a rather charming looking man conversing over drinks. He wondered how long it would take him to make a trip to that table himself. A dark haired woman and... it couldn't be? If he had been holding a drink, he would have dropped it. Fair skin, brunette hair, warm features that ironically made his blood run cold. His gaze snapped from the all-too-familiar face back to the drinks that the other pair had been conversing over. One of those didn't sound too bad right now.

Of all the parties in all of New York, why this one?

[wait for me.]

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥
——— i. 23 ii. 10/10 iii. Mentions: -- iv. Tags: Annalise, Leonora, Sydney

Hugo laughed at his sister's attempts to stop his hand as he brought it towards her. If she had tried to grab him, he could have easily overpowered her. Getting that straw out of her hair was for her own good, after all. Even tucked under a bonnet, someone else was sure to notice, sooner or later, and they might not be so kind to her as he was. Ruffling her feathers felt like a fair response after her playful bit of ribbing. He could handle himself around women just fine, and their parents couldn't force him to do anything. Heavily suggest, but not force. Or so he hoped, "Yes. A life-saver. You're in my debt now."

As Annalise began to go on about his horse and their father's meddling in both of their lives, Hugo's gaze fell upon a woman who had just entered the party. She was a petite blond slip of a thing, truly precious to behold. There was something about her, perhaps a twist in her hair or a spring in her gait, that felt so familiar to him. Then, that woman's eyes found him and his sister and she began to approach. As she neared, Hugo was surprised to see Annie's old friend, Leonora Bennett. She had been little more than a child the last time he had seen her, a sweet child, granted, but a child nonetheless -- and he had been, too. She was certainly not a child now. He smiled as he took her in. She had grown into herself, gained a certain...perhaps not confidence, but a sort of trust in herself. He suddenly found himself achingly self-conscious. Should he have been more careful with his hair? With the cut of his clothes? Was anything he was wearing out of fashion? Heavens, he'd never thought like this before! But, if there were to be women at these parties as lovely as Leonora had turned out to be, perhaps he would need to change his mind about these things. He saw Leonora's lips moving and was just a moment too slow in realizing what she had said, "I haven't gotten taller. Surely you've just gotten shorter?" He joked, reaching up to smooth out his hair. When they were younger, Hugo had always suspected that Leonora had fancied him. She seemed to get rather doe-eyed around him. He wondered now if that was still the case. He could find worse women than Leonora Bennett. His parents already liked her, and her family! She came from wealth, too, which promised a pretty little dowry. Here she stood: his short-cut to freedom. They wouldn't need to marry or get engaged instantly, of course, and perhaps not at all, but courting her would free him from his parents' watchful eye. He would dance with her at the ball tonight. Maybe he ought to buy her a gift to ensnare her. What did women like? Should he ask Annie? Or would it be odd, since Leonora was her friend?

As he was about to respond to Leonora's question, Hugo was approached by yet another familiar face, this time from behind. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name and, seeing who it was, reached out a hand to grasp Sydney Camden by the arm, "Sydney! How's the pitch been treating you, old boy?" Seeing an old friend was a welcome distraction. If he had spent a moment longer thinking about courtship, he might have become a simpering pup like Charles had turned out to be.

[lemon!!]

❥ ━━━ 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐘𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐊𝐘
━━━ 19 years | 1/10 | Russian | mentions: Annalise | tags: Ari

There was a rush of relief that rolled over the brunette's body like a tidalwave - how lucky she was that the first person she had worked up the courage to talk to wasn't too stuck up to look in her direction. She had been worried about her status since she first received that letter inviting her to come. If names and bloodlines held any weight here, her's certainly wasn't worth more than a pound. It had sort of been filed into the back of her mind how different she was until she actually arrived. Finally seeing this all up close and personal was actually sort of terrifying for the young seamstress. She had never experienced anything like this at all... bearing witness to the beautiful upperclass women with their stunning gowns, gorgeous hair, well-trained etiquette and words that seemed to flow from their lips as if from the quills of a poet... it was more nerve-wracking than she had anticipated. In all fairness, her sisters had warned her against this. No matter how much you practice, they'd scorned, unless you were born and bred like this, you're going to stick out like a sore thumb. At the time, Katya wondered if perhaps they were just saying that to make her feel bad - jealousy was a disease that often ran rampant amongst the sisters at the dress shop. Well... at least she had landed on her feet.

Katya couldn't quite help it, the sides of her mouth turning up into a soft little smile. It seemed like an an automatic response to the smirk that creeped across the man's handsome features - undeniably infectious, although he seemed to know that. Charming, in a sort of rugged sense of the word. "Oh! I didn't mean to startle you!" Katya tried her hardest not to laugh - her mother would've scolded her. Not the time for laughter, probably not appropriate, but she couldn't help but chuckle just a little. Imagine that! Mousy Katya, giving someone a fright! It was rather funny in her eyes. She watched him with piqued curiosity, what an interesting fellow he seemed to be, just from his mannerisms. There was something oddly comforting about his presence in a way that she simply could not explain. She kept quiet, opting not to speak a word as she watched his hand reach forward for a glass filled with a rather strongly scented liquid. She could smell the booze in it from here. Katya didn't dare touch a glass herself - she had never tried alcohol, she wouldn't know what was acceptable for a lady to drink. The curious expression waived into another soft grin as the man so extravagantly presented the glass, another small chuckle leaving her lips. Her hands clapped quietly together, laughing. "You've found it!"

His words momentarily brought about an icy shiver down the girl's spine. Not like the others? Her worried expression quickly changed when he corrected himself - she hadn't been concerned about an unimpressed tone.. more so that she worried that she was presenting herself in a fashion that wasn't correct of a lady. She was grateful that hadn't been the case. Katya breathed a sigh of relief. "No, not really." she admitted. It felt safe to do so - the charming man didn't seem to be the type to judge or sneer. "I've never really done... parties or the like... before.." her words faltered - she closed her eyes for a moment, regaining composure before she spoke and embarrassed herself further. Katya chewed down on the inside of her lip, listening to him speak. Perhaps his talk of reputation ought to make her bolt in the other direction but she found herself utterly fascinated by all he had to say. Her eyes scanned the room, curious to catch a glimpse of any such lady making a beeline for the other direction. She tilted her head to the side, the sort of movement an intrigued puppy might make when listening intently. It seemed almost automatic - but she couldn't allow herself to slip just yet! Catching herself in the act, she straightened herself up, changing the movement for a nod rather than a tilt.

"Ari! What a lovely name - and a pleasure to meet you too!" she chuckled a little at his sheepish grin. She paused for a moment, before realising she too had forgotten to make an introduction. "Oh! My name is Katya Derziky." she grinned. Despite his apparent reputation, Ari had a warmth to him that left her comfortable speaking to him. She couldn't quite hide the soft crimson that rose to her cheeks at his compliment. Katya wasn't used to such complimentary words - not in person anyway, she had just receieved thanks for her pieces through word of mouth... usually relayed to her by her mother. "Why thank you! I actually made this one myself, I'm a seamstress. Annalise has worn my dresses before, I believe that is why I was invited. " she chuckled, followed by another pause. Mother had told her not to let her pride get the better of her... she was trying, of course, but it was very difficult not to talk about something she was most proud of. "My apologies... I should know not to ramble. What do you think of the party?"

[senna_]

𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐃𝐄𝐍
━━ 23 ● 6/10 ● mentions; marjorie, ari, anastasia, tags ● tags; anastasia, hugo

The carriages appeared to have all been aiming for the same, given that alarming amount of people that had flooded the gates soon after his own arrival. Sydney couldn’t help but wonder how many people had received an invite. The invite itself was rather discrete, eager to keep the guests surprised – and it was successful. While the surprise was neither leaning towards a positive or a negative side of things, coming in with little to no expectations regarding the venue and the people were allowing things that wouldn’t usually catch his attention, do just that. In a way, it made people-watching more fun. He had been scolded by his father countless times about his contentment regarding such a thing (staring looked like sizing up competition, and while it was the Camden’s duty to stay on top of the business, scaring off investors would get them nowhere), but his father wasn’t here. No, he was far gone now, and Sydney had plenty of control over what he could and would do. And if he wanted to stand in the shadows and let his dark gaze graze the faces of those around him, then he would do just that.

He was quick to catch the gaze of a pretty woman nearby. He didn’t have to be close to see that she looked a bit uneasy. He quirked a brow, allowing his eye to shoot back over to the loquacious Purcell siblings. How low class did they go? Or, if not that, then was it true that not everyone here had good relations to the Purcells themselves? Perhaps the pretty woman simply wasn’t a party person; surely there were some wealthy aristocratic children that weren’t into that. Sydney wasn’t about to call himself “rich” by any means, but he wasn’t overly fond of them. He had a good feeling Hugo probably wasn’t the most pleased with this set-up, either. A tea party and a ball in one night? This was most certainly an Annalise Purcell party after all. Or simply a Philip Purcell one: Sydney didn’t have to know the man thoroughly in depth to know his chaotic obsession over lavishing, over-the-top get-togethers. Who could blame him, when looking at it from an unbiased perspective? The man had money and he wanted to use it. While it was unfair to some, and seen as excessive for others, that was how it often went.

That’s how it went for his father. Only, the money was not spent on lively parties for his children. Or, child. Or for his wife. And karma paid in full.

Sighing through his nose, Sydney tore his gaze away from the Purcells and continued looking onward. There was another man that caught his attention, quite close to him, grabbing a drink. A mop of curls sat atop his head, and dark circles were visible under his eyes. A traveller, no doubt. How cruel of the Purcells to host so much so soon, he thought to himself, the notion lighthearted, with a serious undertone. He had been lucky enough to be in New York during the week the event was beginning, but if it hadn’t been for that meeting, he would have been back in England. Surely not everyone here was from New York? America, even. And the carriages were only just arriving? No wonder that man was snatching drinks off that table like he was collecting coins from a table.

In one fluid motion, Sydney tipped back his head and finished off the bitter drink in his glass. He didn’t recognize the taste, but it contained a good bit of sweetness, followed-up by a sting in the throat. Delightful enough to drink another, but Sydney wasn’t about to get himself completely wasted before the party had even begun. Drunk at a tea party? Now that would be ridiculous. With that, he turned, placing the empty glass back on the table to be collected. Thankfully, by now Hugo had acted on his comment, so Sydney didn’t have to stand about looking completely out of place for much longer.

The familiar boom of a voice was oddly nostalgic; how long had it truly been since the last time these two shared a conversation? Enough to bring back memories, that was for sure. Hugo had certainly gotten much taller, and filled out to fit it, too. Still, the look in his eye was as familiar as ever. Yes, this was the Hugo Purcell Sydney knew, without a doubt. “Hugo,” Sydney voiced yet again. “It’s nice to see you are still in one piece.” A sigh fled from his lips and he gave a shake of his head. “Oh, you know,” he returned, putting on an ever-so-fake grin. “Life is top-dollar now. Although I cannot possibly imagine I’m having more fun than you are. A tea party, Mister Purcell? Oh, have you gotten that desperate for love? Your family truly does go all-out when they want to.”

A snort of laughter followed that, but before he had a chance to say anything further, a large amount of weight was thrown into his side. Caught off guard, Sydney quickly side-stepped, head snapping to the left to see what it was, or rather, who, that had just collided into him.

And for a moment, the look on Sydney’s face was enough to convince someone that he had just seen a ghost.

It couldn’t be. And yet, it most certainly was. Anastasia Worthington, looking just as beautiful as ever. That familiar look of innocence adorning her face; wide cocoa-brown eyes; a sheepish expression present. Why was she here? Never had the Purcell's name come up in conversation, whether that was between them or their fathers. Was this a trick? It was unmistakenly her; there was no way Sydney could mistake her for someone else, or vise versa. But here? Right now? Right in front of him? “Your-” he started, motioning to her silver headband, which was slightly crooked, likely from her clumsy stumble forward. But his words seemed to catch in his throat, and he did nothing more than clear it before glancing back at Hugo. Don’t stare. Don’t admire. You know how this ended the first time.

“I-” There were few times Sydney could consider himself at a loss for words, and right now was one of them. A rosy shade had skimmed his cheeks as his gaze continued to flit from the woman in red to Hugo. “I don’t presume you happen to know your clumsy guest here, do you? Lucky of me to have put down my glass ━ I haven't another suit on me at this current moment.” he voiced to the Purcell son, gaze inquisitively lingering on Anastasia once more before forcing his eyes on the blond in front of him, determined to make it seem like he lacked any connection to the woman who had just taken a tumble.

[♥Princess of Lions♥]

- Daravia Castellanos -
Female | 21 | 9/10 | Location: Garden | Mentions: N/A | Tags: Jasper

Daravia awoke with the rise of the sun, stretching her arms with a yawn and rolling out of bed. She smacked the button beside her bed to ring for the help and made her way over to the little breakfast nook where she sat and ate alone each morning. Sitting in the chair, Daravia’s fingernails drummed softly atop the marble tabletop, mentally counting the seconds it took for the servants to arrive at her room with her breakfast. “You’re late,” she commented coldly as one of the kitchen staff hurried in with a silver plate lined with gold. Atop the plate was a meager poached egg delicately propped within a small goblet that was decorated by the Castellano family crest.

“‘m so sorry, miss, it won’t happen again,” the servant humbly murmured, avoiding eye contact as she presented the plate before her mistress and set it on the table. “Better not, lest I have to fire you,” Daravia responded. The servant woman briefly jolted and hurried from the room in a tizzy. Once she had left, Daravia snorted and made quick work of the egg. She had never actually fired anyone before, but enjoyed scaring the newbies with her threats every now and then. Kept them on their toes and in good shape.

After breakfast, some of the older servants made their way into Daravia’s bedchambers to prepare her for the trip to the Purcell manor. It had been something she was planning and looking forward to for quite some time now. “Goo’ mornin’ miss Daravia, ‘ave you thought about what you’d like to wear today?” a middle aged blonde woman had asked her. “Morning Callie, I think I’ll wear the blue for tea and save the black for the evening ball,” she replied, lifting her arms up so the servants could disrobe and dress her. Callie was perhaps the only person in the world who truly cared for Daravia. She had raised her for the first 5 years of her life, before she was passed on to teachers for training.

Daravia was adorned in a corset and baby blue gown, fluffy and light for the teatime in the garden and lace blue slippers to match. She selected a necklace of pearls with matching pearl earrings for jewelry, elegant yet simple and shiny enough to complement the softer blue of her outfit. Sitting back in a chair by the fireplace, she brushed her hair back over her shoulders and the servants proceeded to curl the elegant brown locks. After each curl cooled, Daravia would test them by shaking out her hair, making the servants redo any of the pieces that didn’t have the proper bounce to them.

Finally, for the finishing touches, Daravia slid her chair up to her makeup table where she applied some blush to her cheeks and selected a tube of lipstick. Tanned fingertips twisted up bold red lipstick, one of the earliest prototypes of the brand. Daravia slowly slid the waxy red substance along her bottom lip from one side all the way to the other, pausing and withdrawing her hand just an inch to rub her lips together. Leaning in closer to the glossy clean mirror, the young woman examined her reflection closely. She moved a thumb to the bottom corner of her lip and carefully rubbed away a stray smear of red before straightening her posture and closing up the tube of lipstick. Her fingers then lingered over to various bottles of perfume, head slightly tilting as her fingertips brushed across the smooth glass of each bottle, trying to decide which one she wanted to use for tea. Settling upon a strong honeysuckle scent, Daravia coated herself in spritzes before rising to a stand.

“Ladies! Bring the carriage around!” Daravia commanded, and off the servants went, all except for Callie. “You look right beautiful, miss Daravia,” the woman complimented with an adoring smile. “I know!” Daravia responded, shaking out the curls of her hair before looking towards Callie and adding, “..thank you.”

Callie escorted Daravia out to the carriage and waved as wide as she could to see the young woman off. Daravia offered a small wave in response and looked straight ahead as the carriage set off. Neither her parents nor any of her siblings were there to say goodbye. In fact, most of the time Daravia had no idea where they were, and it was unlikely that they kept tabs on her either, not unless she stirred up enough trouble for someone to notice.

She arrived at the Purcell manor fashionably late, just as she had planned, and stepped from her carriage with the help of one of the Purcell servants. Daravia didn’t even spare a glance in the servant’s direction and merely allowed them to escort her towards the gardens. As she emerged at the top of the staircase overseeing the tea party, she surveyed the groups that had already started to gather, and also took care to pick out lonely stragglers. One man in particular caught her attention, a smirk spreading across her lips as she honed in on him. A black panther catching sight of her prey, Daravia descended the steps smoothly and swiftly, approaching the man with purpose.

As she neared him, the smell of her honeysuckle perfume wafted through the air around her. The aroma drifted with the afternoon breeze; it was not suffocatingly strong but enough to be noticed. She stopped about an arms lengths in front of the man and made sure to catch his eyes before speaking. “Well well well, if it isn’t the fabled Jasper Addison, who knew you’d be coming to this little old thing? Rumor has it you’ve been MIA from the party scene; have you come back just to meet me?” she asked, batting her eyelashes with a charming smile, though she was clearly just teasing. Her gaze flicked up and down his stature, as if sizing him up as she lifted a hand to stroke her fingertips across the silky smooth surface of the pearls on her necklace.

“My girls have told me all about what a heartbreaker you are, didn’t think you’d show up to something like this. Daravia Castellanos, I believe I’ve met some of your siblings before but you’re certainly more attractive; no wonder they get so jealous,” she complemented, though one would be hard pressed to tell whether she meant it or not. Daravia had made it her business to know everything about everyone who was anyone, and the Addisons were certainly high on that list. Stories of Jasper in particular had always been intriguing to Daravia. Hoping to find another party animal to shake things up with her, Daravia had no clue that Jasper was presently trying to walk the straight and narrow. The young woman extended her hand towards Jasper, half turned so he could either kiss the back of it or give her a handshake, whatever suited him best in the moment. “It’s truly a pleasure to finally meet you.”

[wait for me.]

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐥-𝐆𝐢𝐬𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞
——— i. 23 ii. 3/10 iii. Mentions: --- iv. Tags: Maxwell

Arabella had seen a great many things in her life. She had been at the bedsides of countless laboring women, had tended to those sick with tuberculosis - at risk to her own life - and had spent three months touring her father's homeland. She had known opulence before, but only by brief glimpses. A crystal chandelier here, a coach and four there. Looking at the Purcell estate, it occurred to her that those beautiful brick walls were to be her home for the time being. A jolt of electricity went through her at that thought, shocking her heart to life. Arabella had never thought of herself as a romantic, but perhaps this season would prove that she had been all along. It would make sense, considering her parents had had quite the fairy-tale romance. Despite her mother losing her job at the end of it. Though, perhaps that was no great loss at all. Her mother never mourned it. It seemed to only enter her mother's mind to remind her of how she met her husband, the father of her children, the love of her life...Ugh. Perhaps that was a bit much. Or perhaps she only thought that because it was her parents and a shred of childish disgust still remained in her.

Stepping down from the carriage, an escort provided by the Purcells, helped down the step by a valet, also provided by the Purcells, Arabella felt herself smiling like a fool. She had the chance to capture this opulence for herself. She had only to find the right man, and she would never be without it again. No more shivering in the winter, no more dresses that were more patches than dress. The dress she was wearing now was the finest day-dress anyone in her family owned, and she was going to a party that would be filled to the brim with women who had wardrobes full of dresses finer and more expensive than hers, and men who could afford to stock wardrobes with the same. One good man was all it would take. She set her shoulders back and carried herself across the grounds and around to the gardens, as directed by the servants, to the tea party. It did not occur to her until she saw the other attendants milling about that she had no idea how to handle herself at such functions. Making her best guess, she made her way to one of the tables and plucked up a small shortbread cookie. She set to munching with great purpose, surveying her surroundings carefully, trying to find someone in a situation similar to her own.

She saw a man with golden-blond hair standing all on his lonesome, making a similar survey of the room. She made her way over to him, a little worried she was being presumptuous, but not so worried as to step herself, "Good afternoon, sir." She said, "I hope you don't mind my approach, but you were alone, and that seems a dreadful place to find oneself on a day like today. "