closed

[senna_]

It is springtime of 1840. Courting season. Marriage season. This year, the Purcell
family, one of the richest families in all of New York, is determined to play a pa-
rticular role in the game: hosting it, or at least most of the activities, themselv-
es. It is the coming-of-age year for their daughter, and they are determined to
make romance blossom like the flowers in their very backyard. Blocking off part
of their home for their hand-picked guests, the Purcells will be hosting everyth-
ing from balls to afternoon tea parties, hopeful to have most of their guests w-
alk away with marriage in their near future.
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxdiscussion & forms

─ 1-2 characters | keep a variety when it comes to wealth (your characters cannot all be
wealthy & fortunate) | characters can be of all sexualities (just note that MxF is seen as
the ideal pair in this time) | you don't have to be super educated in this time period (I'm
not!) | 4+ lines, pls give us something to work with

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x'''

But, like everything in life, the chance of things running smoot-
hly is close to nothing. From location issues to a fight for power
dominance, it is only a matter of time before things truly fall to
bits and pieces.
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[senna_]

xxx''''
annalise purcell
20, fem
wealth: 10/10
cisza

xx'

leonora bennett
20, fem
wealth: 9/10
kitsune,

xx'

harriet vance
21, fem
wealth: 8/10
sapphic

xx'

anastasia worthington
20, fem
wealth: 7/10
♥Princess of Lions♥

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xx'

jemima fairlie
21, fem
wealth: 6/10
wait for me.

xx'

madeleine greerson
20, fem
wealth: 5/10
rpnt

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jade smith
20, fem
wealth: 4/10
PESKY.

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arabella gill-gisborne
23, fem
wealth: 3/10
wait for me.

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xx'

marjorie larsen
24, fem
wealth: 3/10
Ɗσνєу

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amanda tobin
19, fem
wealth: 2/10
HauntedMansion

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katya derziky
19, fem
wealth: 1/10
lem!!

[senna_]

x'''xx

hugo purcell
24, masc
wealth: 10/10
wait for me.

xx'

ari griffiths
23, masc
wealth: 9/10
Zyn

xx'

jasper addison
23, masc
wealth: 9/10
lem!!

xx'

nathaniel killian
23, masc
wealth: 8/10
.J.Sᴘᴀʀʀᴏᴡ.

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xx'

maxwell wilson
24, masc
wealth: 7/10
lem!!

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sydney camden
23, masc
wealth: 6/10
cisza

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august seal
23, masc
wealth: 6/10
HauntedMansion

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thomas winslowe
24, masc
wealth: 5/10
.J.Sᴘᴀʀʀᴏᴡ.

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xx'

rowan macadaidh
24, masc
wealth: 4/10
oakapples

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vincent baros
22, masc
wealth: 3/10
cisza

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cian mccarthy
24, masc
wealth: 2/10
Zyn

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forrest hegan
22, masc
wealth: 1/10
rpnt

[senna_]

other information: roommates

• Jemima & Marjorie
• Annalise & Leonora
• Jade & Harriet
• Katya, Amanda, Anastasia
• Madeleine & Arabella

• Nathaniel & Forrest
• Rowan & Vincent
• Hugo & August
• Sydney & Cian
• Thomas & Jasper
• Maxwell & Ari

[senna_]

date: sunday, may 10th, 1840
starting time: 2pm
temperature: 16°C / 61°F
weather: sunny, with a bright blue sky & fluffy white clouds. a very low percentage of rain in the evening

other: the guests are arriving at the purcell's house. they will become acquainted with one another over tea, which is occurring in the gardens. the guests will be led to the garden via the servants and will spend a few hours there before preparing themselves for tonight's first ball

[senna_]

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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[senna_]

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋
━━ 20 ● 10/10 ● mentions; hugo, leo, margo ● tags; OPEN

“Annalise, we must get going! Your father will kill us all if we are even a heartbeat late!”

Annalise's fair hands rushed up towards the pale blue bonnet that perched atop her head and gave it one hefty yank, forcing it back over her ears in an attempt to rid the old maid’s voice. She was quite aware of the time, having noticed the sun, while still shining brightly, was not nearly as high as it had been a few hours prior, but she was in no mood to head back home. Instead, she turned her back on Esther, emerald green eyes focusing on the beautiful dark bay draft horse before her, her fingers crawling up and down its soft muzzle. She knew what day it was: it was the start of the flourishing courting season, where the Purcells were determined to find Annie the perfect suitor and send her away with a snap of their fingers. Annalise had little desire to attend such an event, truth be told. Or, at least, not in that current moment. Although quite the dreamer, she had always been indifferent when it came to love. Love from afar, but never too close. Usually, the young woman was all over those events ━ dressing and glimmering herself was her exact cup of tea ━ but tonight's party was different. Today’s events in general, really, even though she did love a good meet-and-greet over a warm cup of tea. She was anxious to even speak of the term. That forbidden M-word. She wanted it so bad, and yet, she was terrified. She didn’t want to give up everything for someone. Her mother had sighed countless times whenever Annie brought the argument up, claiming she had little choice, but Annie often fought back. She had not dared to say a word about this to her father, though, for she feared the conversation would have gone over much, much worse. She hadn’t even said much to Hugo, who was participating himself. She liked teasing him often, given how Charles, only a year older than Annie, had already found a pretty young wife, but she knew their parents would be just as hard on him. If anything, they’d be more strict, for Hugo surely should have been at least properly engaged by now. While Annalise liked to make fun, she did, however, wonder how he truly felt about all of this. Time had slipped through her fingers, and even though she was dying to find out his thoughts on the subject, it seemed to rush right over her head before she had the opportunity to speak of it.

A forceful tug at her elbow made Annalise jolt upright in surprise. The horse in front of her snapped its head up at the same time, a dusty blow staggering from its large nostrils. Lips parted, gaze narrowed, Annie spun around on her heel. A very displeased-looking Esther frowned back at her, nose nearly as rosy red as her flushed cheeks.

“Annalise,” Esther sighed yet again, tightening her grip on Annie’s elbow. She was an older woman, with high seniority. She was one of the few workers that could even touch the children, let alone latch onto them the way Esther was currently doing. A nanny-like figure, she was, and that was properly acknowledged by the Purcells. In other words, it was Esther who often strolled along with them; she didn't take any of their nonsense. But, despite the attitude, she had a kind soul, and Annalise knew this. She simply liked poking at it whenever she could. “We must go. You are quite lucky I am letting you stay in that dress. Your parents would not be happy. I am not happy, but I do as they tell me to.”

“I don’t care what my parents think,” Annalise retorted, nose up in the air. She didn’t even have to think it to know that both herself and Esther were well-aware of how much of a lie that was. Getting on her parents' bad side was absolutely terrifying. More specifically towards her father, really; as much as he loved to spoil her, setting him off was not a pretty sight.

“You are lucky they are too busy gawking over the last bit of details to pay attention to anything else,” Esther continued, turning to quite literally drag Annalise away from the plow horse. “They did not question me when I said we were headed on a walk, but I am not about to take the blow if it clicks in their mind before we are back.”

Annie crinkled her nose, but didn’t say anything more than a muttered “I am heavily convinced this event is solely for Father.” The walk home was dreadful, as if the path had doubled in size. Her legs were tired by the time they got back, and her hands, which were tightly gripping bundles of her skirt, were sore. Nevertheless, Annalise kept quiet. Her parents had been kind, allowing her to take a walk to clear her mind so soon before the chaotic event; she really did not have much to complain about. Even if her poor hands were going to ache all day now. How tragic.

Esther quite literally swatted Annalise away the moment the house was in sight. “You look fine, dear,” she told Annalise, who had hesitated with a look of pure horror when the maid urged her to head straight to the gardens.[i] “I would not send you out into public if you looked like those sickeningly disgusting baby birds we find every year. Your dress does not have a stain on it ━ what a surprise! That horse must have known you had an event to attend to. Off you go now.”

Without another word, the woman had turned and headed towards the main doors, where the servants were setting up for the guests. Annalise remained still for another fleeting second, looking down at her dress. It was true, there was no visible sign of dust or dirt or anything regarding such, and standing under the dozens of hanging baskets surely made her smell of various floral scents. She thanked her bonnet, too; her hair would surely be a mess if she didn’t have it. It probably did now, really, but it could’ve been a lot worse. Convincing herself then that she looked decent enough, Annie headed towards the gates, her steps light, quick, almost flighty. The anxious butterflies had returned once again. Or were they now excited? She couldn’t deny how thrilled she had been upon realizing that both Leo and Margo had received an invitation. She hadn’t had a chance to send out a letter to either of them, but surely they would be coming, right? It would be a relief to see some familiar faces. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she was setting herself up for. It was just a few weeks of fun, right? Parties and games and everything she liked. It couldn't be that bad.

She prayed those weren't her famous last words.

[senna_]

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐒
━━ 22 ● 3/10 ● mentions; none ● tags; OPEN

The inside of Vincent’s stomach was swishing anxiously, as outrageous as the Aegean Sea on a bitter, stormy day. His lithe body swayed naturally with the horse-drawn carriage as it rattled along the road of loose pebbles, hazel eyes staring directly outside, soaking in the views of the endless meadows bordering his ride over. America was something special. He hadn’t yet had much time to stop and explore, for his ride was determined to get him out and moving the second his boat arrived at the shore, but from what he could see, he could tell it was marvellously different than Árgos. He hadn’t once set eyes on an acre of poverty-stricken territory, although based on the way America seemed to put its visuals together, he got the impression it was purposely hidden from the eye of the tourist, or all-around visitor, or some sort of person who wasn’t a proper citizen of the land. Here, in New York specifically, it seemed vision overruled all; it set its status, its reputation, its prize, and that was evident. Where Vincent was from, it was night and day with class. Here, he wondered if he may even have a chance to fit in.

He supposed that was what he was most nervous about. While he was indeed a bit anxious about his English (thank the heavens for studying hard to understand it!), he knew there was bound to be many, many rich families at this event. While it was traditional (it was particularly based in the house of the Purcells because of the rich American family’s spoiled baby girl, after all), it was still nerve-wracking. Of course, they wouldn’t open the doors strictly to working-class men like Vincent. Vincent wasn’t trying to fit in. He was proud of his family, his heritage, his cultural belonging. He wasn’t about to change his personality and inner thoughts to appear suitable and pleasant for those he was about to surround himself around. There was no point, anyway; he had already thought about what would happen if he were to disguise himself as someone with pockets full of money. It didn’t seem worth it. His support for his future life would be flooded with love and adoration, as opposed to fancy gifts and acres of land ━ and he was okay with that. It was a matter of if anyone else was. Perhaps it was that that was most worrisome. What if most of the ladies here were of high authority? He would be a complete mood-breaker when they realized he was amongst the choices of men to choose from. Vincent wasn’t worried about rumours, they could start as many as they pleased, but he wasn’t willing to be the person unintentionally shattering their hopes because of an event he had little control over. He only had control over his final decision, although, given the formidable, fast-paced workers who’d shuffled him all the way from Greece to America in what felt like a matter of seconds, he would not have been too surprised if someone arrived at his door the day of the department if he had refused the offer. What was that to say about the Purcells? Vincent personally hadn’t met any of them; he was quite confident none of his family had. Were they prissy, rude, and looked at those below them as nothing more than specks of dirt on the bottom of their custom-made shoes? It was going to be a challenge to figure out. Or maybe not. He supposed the rich showed their true colours when in charge.

His fingers fiddled with the silver coin his father had given him as the carriage slowed. It wouldn’t get him much, but it was an American coin, and his father had been so excited to give it to Vincent that Vincent really could not refuse. He wouldn’t spend it anyway; it was too precious. Taking a breath in through his nose, chest visibly expanding and collapsing, he rubbed his sweaty palms together, then moved his trembling fingers so he could tuck the coin into the pocket of his pants. His hands fell back into his lap just as the horses came to a complete halt. The door swung open a few seconds later, and Vincent was greeted with a crisp swish of fresh spring air.

“S'efharistó,” he thanked the driver, offering him a tight-lipped smile as he slipped past him. The driver, by no surprise, returned it with nothing more than a slight head nod, barely noticeable if one wasn’t paying close enough attention. Pulling his card from the inner pocket of his tailcoat, Vincent drifted closer to the doors, pecan-brown eyes far too focused on reaching the steps to properly take in the view of the mansion before his very self. He soon fell into line with a chattery bunch of people, all dressed in neutral colours; while he hadn’t stopped to observe them, he could tell the group he had surrounded himself with were of high class. Still, that didn’t seem to discourage him. Nobody knew who he was, anyway. So, stepping up to the large doors with a smile, Vincent handed the worker in black his card, standing in silence with his hands behind his back as he waited for further instruction. It felt like hours, standing against the strong, floral-covered breeze, surrounded by ghostly faces and unnamed bodies, but eventually, the large, intimidating-looking man shifted his body and called to someone else.

“Follow this group around,” he directed Vincent in a curt voice. “Our servant will take you around back.”

It was an odd set-up, but Vincent wasn’t about to question it. For all he knew, one wrong word and out the door he went. He wasn’t about to make a complete fool of himself before the day had even properly begun. With that in mind, he took a somewhat shaky step forward, then another, and another, eventually picking up a steady pace as he followed the thin servant towards the large brass gates out back. Even from where he was, Vincent could already see the large set-up of floral-covered tables. Wiping his sweaty palms against his dark pants, he entered through the gates.

There was no turning back now.

[wait for me.]

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

As far as Hugo was concerned, a woman, unmarried at twenty-three, was an old maid-in-waiting, but a man, unmarried and of the same age, was simply enjoying his youth while it remained at his disposal. If you had asked Hugo about his intentions to marry, he would have proudly stated that he still had a few more years yet before he must wed. How unfortunate, then, that his mother and father thought differently. This was to be his season alongside his baby sister's, so it seemed. How dreadful! If he was to be forced onto the stage, let him at least keep the limelight for himself! With an unamused grunt, Hugo began to use a brush to scrape dirt out from underneath his fingernails. He had spent his morning in the stables with his horse, Claudia, who was due to foal any day now. How dreadful, again, for a man to be called away from his work. Didn't his parents want him to make something of himself? If he was to be married, should he not have a small fortune amassed with which to keep both a wife and children? And to buy property, of course, for once both a wife and a child were acquired, he couldn't live in his father's house any longer. And to be called away for a tea party was doubly terrible. The most to be said was that the tea might warm him up a little, for though it was not cold, it wasn't as warm as a May afternoon ought to be.

Best to find a shred of positivity, he supposed, so that he wouldn't go about the whole day with a frown pulling down either corner of his mouth. After all, it was not implausible that he might find a girl - a girl this very day - whom he liked enough to marry. A great many of the neighborhood ladies were quite pretty (and a fair few of the gentlemen as well, though that did him no good when it came to marriage), and some even seemed to have a strong mind beneath their bonnets. If he could find just one suitable girl, he'd have his parents off of his back. What a glorious thought!

"Mr. Purcell?" Hugo heard from behind him. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder and saw his father's body-man standing in the doorway, "You'll be wanted shortly."

"On my father's orders?"

"Who else's, sir?"

Hugo sighed and pawed himself up out of his chair, grumbling his irritation, mostly as a show for the servant, "Tell him I'm headed down." He said, and then the servant was gone, off to give his report to his father. Hugo huffed and turned towards his mirror. He gave his hair an artful tousle (best not to look too concerned), grabbed his overcoat from off the back of his chair, and made his way down the grand staircase and toward the gardens.

As he came out the back door, he saw his little sister, looking thoroughly pettish as she made her way into the gardens, "Good afternoon, Annie." He called out as he walked over to her. As he approached her, he saw that there was a single strand of hay in Annalise's hair. Anyone else might have missed it, for it blended in with her blond locks, but he was at just the right angle to see its glint. Without asking for permission, he reached out and snagged the strand, extracting it from her hair. He held the piece of hay up between two fingers so she could see what he had recovered, "Who have you been visiting?" He asked playfully, grinning from ear to ear, then tossed the strand to the side, "Was it one of mine or one of father's?"

[oakapples]

𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐡
| 24 years | Scotsman | wealth 4/10 | mentions: none | tags: Vincent |

Did every humble bachelor feel anxious and apprehensive when they are being transported to a mansion? Because Rowan certainly did. His hands, callused from a childhood of farm work, were hot with perspiration and he tried to calm himself with a few deep breaths. What was he so nervous about? It was just a ball.
It was just a ball. Nothing else.
He had flattered lasses here and there, but wasn't keen on romance. Nothing had ever gone beyond an innocent kiss on the forehead. Nobody had ever prompted such feelings of ... of what?
Infatuation? Desire? Love?
Good God. He scoffed at the very thought of it. Still, he was only getting older (and wiser, and handsomer, too, he told himself) and he felt his mother would have wanted him to settle down. His newfound title as Earl required him to consider a partner more carefully. This is about duty, he could hear his father say. Now that he finally had the means to step away from him work at the distillery, he could devote himself to some of life's pleasantries. Hence his acceptance to the Purcells' invitation.

Rowan peered out the carriage window. His head hit the window frame on occasion.
Damn the gravel roads! Horseback was his comfortable mode of travel, but he had too many casks of whiskey to ask a single animal bear its weight. He hoped that he may happen upon a stable and get a good look at American stock. He was expecting muscular thoroughbreds and quarter horses, maybe elegant Arabians. And of course the mighty breeds of draft and work horses. He adored the working breeds, having grown up aiding them with the farm machinery in his boyhood days.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He was too old for getting butterflies at social events. For a moment, he questioned whether he even wanted to fall in love. Was it worth the feeling of wanting to vomit?

He took a sip from his leather flask. The familiar burn of whiskey eased his anxiety slightly, and the carriage gently halted. The driver opened the door and muttered some pleasantry to Rowan as he stepped out from the carriage and onto the trodden road. He cast his gaze on the estate and all of its fanciful ornamentation. No wonder these folks are on his executive buyers list, he thought to himself. The lawn was green, almost as green as the glens of his beloved Scotland. He figured that the gardener and landscaper the Purcells hired were making pretty good coin. Notable about the estate itself was the orange brick, as rudy as his own hair. Brick was, of course, an easy indication of wealth and comfort. The Purcell's mason surely made good coin, too.

A man, presumably a servant in the Purcells' hire, met him at the carriage. "Good morning, Earl MacAdaidh. It's an honor to welcome you to the estate," he said. Rowan was surprised the man knew him by name, having never set foot in American before now. Though his pronunciation was off, Rowan gave a little bow with his head. "Good morning, sir," he replied. "Thank ye kindly." He was still clutching the flask, so he capped it and replaced it into his coat pocket. This was going to be a long day, he thought to himself.

Rowan was escorted across the impressive property, honeybees bumbling lazily across the landscaped gardens that ornamented the lawn. The buzz of bees brought back to mind the many summers Rowan had spent with his mother as a young lad, going out to the combs and carefully collecting honey into mouth-blown glass containers from the nearest village. The Scottish honey was sweet, smooth, and subtle, unlike English honey that seemed to sting the throat and linger on the tongue.

He joined a group of well-dressed gentlemen and ladies. Everybody looked worn from travel, but nonetheless eager to be present. Rowan straightened his coat. Again, his anxiety began churning his stomach, and he reached into his coat pocket once more. He stopped himself; that wouldn't be too proper of him, now would it? He decided instead to engage with the man in front of him. He didn't appear to be speaking with anybody and looked about as anxious as Rowan did. "Excuse me, sir," he said, "Am I standing in the right place?"