♡ ━━━ purcell's pairings - pls lock

[Mezzo]

♛ 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓
───────「 8/10 | Paired with: Marjorie Larsen | Tags: Annalise | Mentions: x 」


If you were to ask anyone who knew him, especially his collegiate friends, they would invariably tell you the same thing: Leif Devitt was, more than anything else, a party person. Any good celebration and chances were he would find a way to be there, nevermind that he had plenty of other things to think about like what he was going to do with himself now that he’d gotten his diploma - per his parents’ wishes, mind - or what kind of girl he was going to spend the rest of his days with; Leif was perfectly content to push such boring thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the present rather than worry about the future, thank you very much. Some people spent so much time fretting over what was to come that they let the days pass by listlessly, and honestly Leif just didn’t understand that kind of attitude. His parents had tried to instill a sense of responsibility into him but they, like his professors back at Harvard, had found him surprisingly obdurate in his procrastination of life itself… which somewhat surprised Leif because, really, how did anyone think he’d managed to avoid any and all talks of marriage thus far when he was more than at a prime age for it? It was sheer stubbornness, nothing else. And besides, it wasn’t that he was scared of commitment per se - he was sure he would settle down with the right girl when the time came for it - but like he’d told his mates back at school: why did he have to rush into a wedding just because he was around the “right age” for it? Please.

Anyways, as it were, Leif was very much a party person; it wasn’t even the dancing or the formal wear that he enjoyed (frankly speaking, he actually chafed at the idea of having to wear a tuxedo for hours on end - a necessary evil, unfortunately), but the energy and the people. Parties presented a great opportunity to network and meet fascinating new people, or catch up with old friends and hear about their most recent adventures. And besides that, they had a sort of energetic, excited ambience one seldom found elsewhere — Leif never found or met someone who was upset or angry at a celebration, and more often than not he found himself more drunk on the lively atmosphere rather than on the actual drinks presented for the guests. And this was a party for Charles’s one and only baby sister, Annie (was it a bit familiar of him to call her Annie, when he had only ever had cause to know her through his connection to her brother? Maybe so, but hell if Leif cared! Besides, he liked to think that he and Annalise got along, so no harm no foul.), of all people — he would never have missed it for the world, and you can be certain he would have caused a row if he hadn’t received an invitation! It felt like ages since he’d last seen Charles and his sister, and debts had to be paid… social debts, that is. Thankfully, there had been no need for such dramatics, as Leif had - predictably - received the invite in the mail, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was Philip Purcell who’d invited him or, more likely, Charles. In any case, it was no surprise; though he hadn’t personally known or met the Purcells until university, where he’d met and befriended Charles Purcell, Leif’s family was old, wealthy, and prestigious. As lackadaisical, even devilish, as the young Devitt was rumored to be, his genealogy really spoke for itself.

As his carriage pulled up to the Purcell mansion, Leif gave a quick and gracious “Thank you,” to the driver before stepping out, adjusting his mask as he did so. It was a dark blue, just slightly darker than the navy of his evening wear, and while he personally didn’t like wearing such an accessory, he had to admit there was some appeal to the mystery of masquerades. Most of the time, one never knew who they were speaking with! Well, unless you recognized the other person by the sound of their voice or something or other. But still, the mystery of it was nevertheless appealing! A cursory glance around confirmed he was certainly not the first to arrive, as multiple carriages were pulling up and a line had already formed, leading to the entrance of the manor. It’d been some time since he had cause to make a social call and visit the Purcells, but the house looked as splendid as ever. Stepping up to wait in line, Leif pondered as to whether or not he would see Charles at the party; it was his family hosting it, after all. But then again, Charles was a married man now — he might be away attending to his newly budding family or something like that… and didn’t the thought make Leif snicker! He couldn’t help it; it still felt out of sorts trying to reconcile the image of his old school buddy settling down and being happily wed, and the first thing Leif was planning to ask Charles if he saw him tonight was “How does it feel to be whipped?” Still, even if his friend wasn’t there, no doubt some of his Harvard schoolmates would be. As far as Leif knew, all of his peers had come from prestigious and reputable families - that was the world of academia for you, he supposed - and so it would be an utter shock to his system if, beyond Annalise, he didn’t recognize a single soul there, masks or otherwise.

The wait also gave Leif time to think on why, exactly, the Purcells decided to add a shocking new twist to their usual fête: this time around, the attendees were to be matched with their so-called “other half”, and he had to wonder how much stock he should put into that: they didn’t really expect him of all people to marry the girl he would be randomly assigned to for the night, did they? Perish the thought — his parents might want him to hurry up and get hitched already, but he doubted it would be at the expense of marrying a total stranger! Perhaps it was just Philip Purcell being eccentric. It wasn’t like Leif really knew the man anyway. He supposed he would just have to grill Annalise on how much she knew about it - maybe she had suggested the idea, even? Charles had always said she was a bit of a romantic - if he ran into her that evening.

Eventually, he reached the start of the line and sent a disarmingly charming (at least, he’d like to think so!) smile to the servant there as he handed the invitation over. In exchange, a cufflink was dropped into his open palm, one that shined a brilliant and striking shade of aqua. Hm. He was no fashion connoisseur but it was a bit light compared to the rest of his outfit, but no matter. “Please put that on, sir,” the servant said as he stepped out of line, so before he entered the mansion, Leif fastened the cufflink to his dress shirt, then carried on with his business as usual.

Once inside, Leif noticed that he seemed a bit early (he preferred to be stylishly late, but this was alright too!) and before he could think too hard about what to do next - or more likely, who to approach first, for he planned to meet anyone and everyone who was there before the night was up - a lady was making her way toward him with a determined and confident bounce to her step. Was that…? Why yes, it was! Somehow, the lady of the hour had found him already! If it hadn’t been obvious in the proud yet regal way she carried herself, it was by her familiar head of golden blonde hair, and the recognizable scent of Bulgarian rose that followed.

Before he knew it, Annalise Purcell had thrown her arms around him and he laughed heartily at the cheery greeting. “Annie! It’s been far too long, and I see you’re looking as magnificent as ever! But surely you must have guessed I was secretly planning to surprise you on your special night at the moment you least expected it? Alas, shame though it is, it seems you’ve cleverly ruined my surprise already!” he joked good-naturedly as he returned the embrace. Once she pulled back, however, he tutted at her (in good fun, of course, he would never dare to actually talk down to her), “Please, Mister Devitt is my father, you can just call me Leif. Aren’t we friends enough that given names are appropriate?” Raising his arm so she could see the cufflink he’d been given, he gestured to his sleeve and lowered his voice conspiratorially, as if he was somehow telling her his deepest, darkest secrets. “Aqua. I daresay it goes better with your gown than what I’ve got on, but what about you?”

[wait for me.]

𝐉𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞
7/9 | Mentions; Annalise, Leif | Tags; Cosette
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ♜ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Leaving for the ball happened in a flurry of silks and jewels, hugs and kisses, and small gusts from the broad wags of Addy's tail. Jemima's cheeks were still warm with laughter (and from a quick swig from her eldest brother, Gideon's, flask of "liquid courage"), when Gideon passed her up into the carriage. Her sister, Phoebe, was right behind him, mask in hand; it was half black and half white, flecked with a filigree of gold dust along the top ridge, the split sides spiraling one into the other over the nosepiece. Phoebe nudged Gideon out of the way to hand it to Jemima, "What a job Justine has done with you! Papa really ought to give her a raise, don't you think? Now," Phoebe reached out to smooth a bit of Jemima's hair back into place, "Be good, be charming. You don't need my luck, you have your own. Make our family proud, baby sister." Then she closed the carriage door and signaled for the driver that they were ready. As the carriage made its way down the drive, Jemima looked back at the house. Her other brother, Silas, still recovering from an illness, was waving from his sick-room window, his wife silhouetted behind him. She wiggled her fingers in return.

The ride to the Purcell estate was not a terribly long one, but her nerves made it feel centuries longer. Jemima squeezed her gloved hands together, breathing slowly, in through her nose, out through her mouth, hoping that her leg would finally stop shaking. She had been jittery since the Fairlie's town house faded from the horizon and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get it to stop. Her father had been so pleased when she received her invitation, so hopeful she'd be returning to him with a gentleman on her arm: there would be a rich man for her, he said, and perhaps a titled man from Europe! She had been sculpted well, she would be rewarded with someone worthwhile. Phillip Purcell was an old friend, surely he'd never suggest a match with someone entirely unsuited! Her own plan for the party was simple: she would treat it like the piano recitals she gave her father's business friends, she decided. Keep her back straight, her hands relaxed, and her mind on her objective. Find the kindest face in the room and focus on it, memorize it. It had always worked before, why not now? Still, she dreaded letting her father down. When she saw him again, would there be good news and promises on her lips? Or would she have only an apology to offer? She glanced out the window in hopes of finding something to take her mind off of all her worries and was instead confronted with the front gates of the Purcell estate, and the nearly set sun dipping behind and framing the house in golden light. The Land of Milk and Honey. All the air left her lungs in one huff of breath. The Hour of Reckoning was upon her. She cracked her knuckles and brushed down the front of her off-white dress, repositioning herself in her seat, leg still shaking. She tried to distract herself by thinking about what meter her leg was keeping. Was it 2/4? She folded her fingers together again, brought them up to her mouth and blew over her thumbs, before twisting her hands to blow over her pinkies, her good luck ritual. Then, her hands found the mask her sister had pressed into her hands and tied it on, using her up-do as a counterweight. "If you can play Erlkönig," She whispered to herself, right arm aching at the memory of hours upon hours of practicing those endless triplets, "You can do this."

The carriage bumped to a stop and the doors clattered open. Jemima accepted the proffered hand of a valet and stepped down from the carriage. Her toes scuffed the gravel walkway, "Thank you, sir." She said, dipping a nod to the valet. She gave him a half-dollar coin to pass on to the driver. Walking into a party without one or both of her brothers as an escort felt odd, but she knew the paces to follow. She slid into line behind the rest of the guests, thumbing the invitation through an unbuttoned gap in her clasp. Once it came to be her turn, she presented it and was given a small violet brooch in exchange, "For you, miss. Please put this on." Silas would have made a terrible joke of it. Gems for Jem, she could imagine him singing out, sounding all too pleased pleased with himself, and she would've laughed -- out of shame or to encourage him, she simply couldn't say.

As Jemima made her way into the ballroom, fastening the brooch to her dress as she went, she let her eyes flit back and forth, surveying the other attendees. She recognized Annalise almost instantly. They had met only a spare few times in her life, but the other woman's perfectly tended golden hair and almost-controlled bouncing gait gave her away instantly. She was talking to a man that Jemima was certain she had met before, though she couldn't quite lay her finger on who he was. One of her father's students, perhaps? For a moment, her eyes lighted on a blonde woman only a small distance away from her, eyeing the room in a similar way as herself. Jemima offered her a slight strained smile, a mere formality, "Good evening." She said, inclining her head in greeting.

[senna_]

────────:𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙻

''she/her ● 21 ● 10/10 ● bicurious ● mentions; leonora, tag ● tags; leif

It seemed as though a rather aggressive whirlwind of emotions slammed in her, then, as Annalise’s bright emerald eyes skimmed over the undeniable Leif Devitt. Feeling woozy from the overwhelmed heat, a bit lightheaded, she found herself swaying nearly invisibly on her feet – or maybe it was all in her head. Regardless, she could not deny that in that very moment, she did feel the slightest bit off. While it certainly wasn’t due to the excitement of the party (Annalise practically lived at balls, this, a room with perhaps twenty people max so far, was like a breath of fresh air), she couldn’t quite place her finger on the trigger. A distantly familiar face, perhaps? Had Annie ever formally met Leif on her father’s very own property? She was rather sure the only times she had encountered him had been on the very ground of Harvard University, some two hundred miles east of New York. The tiniest of smiles played at her lips at the horrid memories of those many days stuck in a boxy carriage. Annalise did quite enjoy a nice carriage ride, but after more than a day or two, her legs crammed and her back ached; wearing a corset certainly did not help the comfort whatsoever. “Sit up” and “Do not slouch” were phrases she heard nearly a dozen times a day, and while they tended to come from her father more than her mother, not even her mother let her get away with everything. All for a visit to her scholarly brother. Brothers, more or less. Her father had always been active on their academics, and for his boys, that meant sending them off to obtain the best education they could receive. While lucky John had been able to attend the University of Cambridge, and Benedict, McGill, Charles and Anthony went to Harvard. Philip Purcell’s favourite child, apart from herself, of course, was Charles. Annalise was sure it was because Charles appeared to be the walking, living image of Philip himself, but perhaps there was more to it. Regardless, her father had lived visiting Charles often throughout his years in university, and Annalise had always been giddied to tag along. While she had told her father it was to gain further knowledge on the works of university, in reality, it was to people watch. Who was to blame her? A glorified school filled with academically advanced men and women; she couldn’t help herself. And it led to new friendships. Maybe it was more because she squeezed her way into her brother’s conversations than anything else, but that was besides the point. Leif was still here speaking to her, was he not?

“Oh,” she voiced in what appeared to be a matter-of-fact tone, raising her brows and tilting her chin down just a smidge to peer at him in a different way, equipped with a mockingly shocked expression. “Oh, no, I was sure Father would have banned you from stepping foot here. After all, I do believe you played a good part in turning Charles into… Charles.” This, of course, was spoken lightheartedly, despite the look she shot him. If anything, Leif’s bold, outgoing nature helped open up the rest of Charles; her brother had once been a big bookworm, hidden in the shadows with his nose buried deep inside a novel, reluctant to speak more than a word or two. Now, he, although never enough to top Leif’s energy, found a way to make a party a party. His wife, though quiet, seemed to find it rather adoring, too, and while she didn’t encourage him, she didn’t exactly shut him down, either. Charles Purcell returned from Harvard University a completely different man, and after meeting Leif in particular, Annalise had a good idea as to why that was. In fairness, though, her father hadn’t ever pushed away the topic of Charles’s friends when it came up in conversation, and so her words were nothing more than a tease towards the man before her.

She crinkled her nose slightly, which resulted in a fleeting moment of genuine disgust, for the scratchiness of the mask against her nose certainly was far from pleasant, then shook her head. “Eesh. I wouldn’t dare compare you to someone of such nobility. I must write your father a letter of apology when I get the chance.” Then, clasping her hands together, resting them against the head of her skirt, she leaned forward slightly; “As if my father would appreciate if I called to any man with anything less than a ‘sir.’ I am most certain he is lingering around here somewhere. The predator never strays too far from its prey.” She rolled her eyes, ever-so-grateful for her shimmery mask, then straightened her posture again, allowing her gaze to fall down to his outstretched wrist. Humming approvingly, Annalise reached out to place her hands atop his own, turning his wrist to get a better glimpse of the gem he had been given. “It’s quite pretty,” she commented approvingly. “I haven’t yet seen the colours, only my own. It brings out your eyes.” A playful smirk was begging to find its way onto her face, but Annalise managed to, for the most part, bite it back. “Well, as flattered as I am, I’m afraid it won’t be as easy to swap out a gem to match your suit as we would all wish it to be. I suppose, if anything, that would encourage you to find your match sooner; you two can drool over such an outstanding aqua together.” She took the tiniest of steps backward once more – getting too close too soon probably was not on any of her family member’s lists of to-dos for her – and flipped up the crystalized flap of her dress. “Silver,” she told him. “Bland and easy to hide.” What colour was Leo given? Annie knew her dearest friend had received an invitation. She would have to scope her out soon. For now, though, her attention remained on Leif. “How, though – ” a serious look fell across her features – “are you feeling about this whole event? The match matching?”

[senna_]

────────:𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙲𝙸

'''he/him ● 20 ● 3.5/10 ● heterosexual ● mentions; tag ● tags; leonora

For a moment or two, Tate couldn’t quite seem to properly wrap his head around everything that had splayed out before his very eyes. He had been swallowed whole by chaos; everything blurred around him, whipping by as if a greyhound on a run, a hunting dog on a mission, and yet, at the same time, deep down he knew nothing was moving nearly as fast as he felt it was. He staggered slightly as a broad shoulder connected with his own, hazel eyes rather cluelessly striking upwards to catch a glimpse of whom it had been who had run into him. However, a cluster of bodies was swarming towards the opened royal-like gates of the Purcell household, and Tate knew he wasn’t going to ever be able to properly find the collider. It didn’t matter much, anyway, he didn’t have anything to say to them. Tate knew of some men back in his hometown that would gladly lean in for a fight over what was most likely an accident. Tate himself preferred to avoid that sort of situation. There was no point in starting anything like that, anyway. His fingers were still folded in towards his palms, and when he curled them back open, he was relieved to note that the gem cufflinks were still present. That was all that mattered. That and the lady he had accidentally bumped into. And speaking of…

A sugar-sweet voice, soft and musical-sounding, broke the cloud of disarray. “It’s quite chaotic here,” he mused, a sheepish smile still present across his features, even though in reality, nothing about this situation seemed to be of fault of anyone’s. It wasn’t like much could be done, anyway; Tate wasn’t sure how many entrance doors would lead to the ballroom, and he had a feeling the Purcells very likely didn’t want strangers trampling through their however-many-stories-high mansion. “I haven’t been in such a busy place since Italy’s last protest.” A hum of a laugh followed that, and he closed his fingers around his gems once more.

When Tate properly looked up from his gripped cufflinks to get a look at the woman he was conversing with, dare he say this was the first time his breath had been swept away. Although the mask she wore hid a good portion of her features, he was still able to get a decent look at her. The deep wine-red gown she wore complemented her nicely; perfect sunshine-golden curls outlined her face, and her big eyes, honey-coloured and filled with innocence and purity, sucked him right in. “I like your mask,” he blurted, feeling the desperate need to say something in order to break what he feared had turned into an adorned gawk. “It’s very unique.” Then, as if everything she said finally soaked into his mind, he seemed to remember how to breathe, and nodded his head quickly. Forza Tate, datti una regolata! – get it together. Tucking his closed hand behind his back, Tate reached out to take hold of her outstretched one, bringing her knuckles to his lips in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett,” he greeted, finally feeling a bit less flustered. Perhaps that was because more people had shuffled inside, leaving him more space to properly breathe. “Tate Ricci, though you can call me Tate. I’m not too fond of formalities.” His eyes flickered over her once more. “Do you… need help with your brooch, miss?”

[lemon!!]

𝙹𝙰𝚂𝙿𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙳𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙽
8/10 | he/him | Mentions; Annalise, Jemima | Tags; Leif, Annalise
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ★ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jasper was… as always, vaguely removed from the overtly bothered fussing of his parents and the maids that had fitted him in all his finery. He stared himself over in the mirror, eying every detail of his suit. There was no expense spared of course - the young man had been suited as beautifully as possible. It’s not just about you, his father’s words rang sharply in his ears as he breathed a rather unimpressed sigh. The entire family was counting on him to finally settle. Jasper’s antics had caused a fair bit of disruption amongst the social scene, it was time for him to stop being a pariah and seal up the cracks he’d begun to create in the family name. “You look ridiculous.” the voice of the man’s older brother rang from the doorway. Jasper turned to look him up and down, a scowl on his face. “I don’t see you being invited to any parties as of late.” he practically spat in response, eyes rolling as he turned back to himself in the mirror. “That’s because I’m married, little brother. You know this.” to the younger man, Jason’s voice sounded like nails on the chalkboard - excessively irritating. “Of course…” he mumbled, brushing past Jason. The older of the two smelt vaguely of liquor, causing Jasper to bite his tongue for fear of starting a spat before the big event. He wanted to be in fine form. He exited the room, bidding goodbye to his waiting parents before clambering into the carriage that had been sent to collect him.

The Purcell's beautiful estate was not, in honesty, all that far. It was just his internal jitters that made the journey feel ten times longer than it actually was. He stared nonchalantly out of the window as they continued on, finding his mind wandering to what might be waiting for him at this highly esteemed event. He had read the letter dozens of times since it had arrived at the Addison family home - a lady promised to him, an impending love story just waiting to happen. All of this to celebrate the young Annalise’s coming of age. But true love? he had wondered when reading. How can something like that be promised? His thoughts raced, tumbling like an avalanche down a snow covered mountain. What a treacherous thought indeed, of love promised. The curly-haired brunette had thought nothing of marriage for a long time. Not since his last courtship with the lovely Jemima had ended in an abrupt explosion between the two. It left him with a sour opinion of love. The idea of marrying just didn’t seem promising - why have just one woman when he could have numerous fawn over him all at once? These days, the Addison man far preferred a life of adventurous flirtation. He enjoyed learning just how fickle these high society women really were.

As his carriage pulled to a halt outside of the stunning mansion, Jasper graciously thanked the carriage driver with a nod and a tip of his hat before placing the mask over his face. The young man had always had a slight flair for the dramatic so the idea of a masquerade ball had immediately appealed to his inner theatric side. He looked around inquisitively, taking in the scenery as he strolled towards the entrance. He wasn’t the first - and by the number of carriages filing in, identical to the one that had picked him up, he certainly wasn’t the last. Exhaling a rather disdainful sigh, the man stepped up to join the line of eager participants waiting to enter the great hall. He wondered who he might see inside - perhaps Charles, his friend from school? The Purcell’s pride and joy, though the man was likely off supporting his own little family now. Harvard men were typically known to be the type for marriage, the majority of his peers were off galavanting with their wives and their children by now. This was why he was rather surprised that he hadn’t been forced into commitment long before now. Perhaps some more of his Harvard peers, the ones who had avoided settling for this legnth of time? For certain he would see Annalise, it was her party after all. He wondered though if he might see some of his other buddies, or perhaps he might see some of the women he had once partaken in… for fear of other terms, flirtation with.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughtful trance once he arrived at the entrance to the beautiful mansion. “Please sir, your hand,” a woman’s gentle voice lulled him back into the world of the living. The brunette man stared awkwardly at her for a moment before handing over his wrist. “Thank you, sir,” she continued, placing a cufflink into his open palm. The young man eyed it for a moment. It was striking, a beautiful silver gem fashionably placed into the link. He nodded, “Thank you, ma’am.” he replied, tipping his hat once more before carrying on inside the building. A silver cufflink. Interesting, he thought, unable to draw his eyes from the shining gem on his dress shirt.

Once inside though, it was far easier to take his eyes away from the gem. Eyes scanning the scene, he could barely believe the number of simply gorgeous people that had filled the room. Each and every one seemed to have a gemstone that shone against their outfits. The entire idea filled Jasper with great excitement. How much fun there was to be had in a room full of women looking to find love. He moved in further to the party, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone he knew. Luckily, he didn't have to wait too long at all. The darling of the party - Annalise - and his good friend Leif (one of the aforementioned Harvard friends) seemed to be socialising not too far away. That Leif. The mere sight of him announced a good time was to be had tonight.

"Well!" he began, loudly announcing his presence to the pair. "What do we have here?" he couldn't quite stifle the laugh that came from his throat. It certainly was good to see not just one familiar face, but two. "Both as beautiful as ever. I hope I'm not interrupting anything, lovebirds?" he tipped his hat to Annalise, not wanting to come off rude on their meeting. The two were vaguely acquainted through her brothers - but of all the women here, she was the one he was actually concerned about impressing (thanks to her family's kindness).

[RaptureMetro]

⚕︎⚚ 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒿𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓃
───────────────────────────────────────
{ 24 . 2/10 . paired with: Leif Devitt . mentions: tag . tags: Open }

Fate was a tricky mistress, when you try to unravel her mysteries it only leaves you more perplexed, and though the young lady Marjorie did not believe in the ties of fate it seemed that the dame of destiny had other plans for the Larsen family. For when the Purcell’s pristine petition to procure the catering for their daughter’s debutante ball arrived by post, the family was floored by the opportunity they were presented with, and even more so when a few days later an invitation to the very ball was gifted to their oldest. There was something so illusory about the invitation, as if the prospect itself had to be some cruel, elaborately crafted joke on the lower class family to make them look a fool. Surely these noble bloods were having a laugh, or maybe they truly were bored and required some entertainment. Whatever their reasoning 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. Marjorie would show she’s just as silver tongued and charming as any posh, elite woman as long as the prospects for potential patrons were plentiful.

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 the true intention of this party. The Purcell’s must be an eccentric bunch, pairing off their guests in a strange attempt to play matchmaker with those that agreed to attend, it was almost laughable to think that anyone could marry someone they had known for mere hours, and expect to be happy. Was this some kind of social experiment on their part? Or were they simply trying to kill two birds with one stone by finding their daughter an acceptable suitor during her swaray? This strange choice sparked more questions than answers.

Her thoughts returned to reality as her carriage slowed to a halt in front of the Purcell’s mansion, as Marjorie stepped out of the plush sanctum she bid a farewell and thanked the driver, her attention turned towards the grandiose exterior of the mansion, the architecture in Denmark weren’t quite as magnificent and elaborate as the buildings present in America. A falsified air of sophistication and elegance followed her form as she joined the other guests in line, carefully adorning her mask, an elegant emerald green to match her dress. Her hands carefully ran over the fabric smoothing it out making sure her nails didn't snag on the entricate embrodery work, her eyes growing distant as she recalled her mother. She had worked many sleepless nights to put this together before the ball, all so Marjorie would be able to fit in among the upper crust of humanity. A brief, wistful smile holding to her features at the memories, as much as she missed home she just had to remember why she was here.

The reminiscing of her family did not last long, as the queue moved at a much faster pace then she had been expecting and soon it was her turn. Approaching the orderly attendant, she offered up her invitation, gracing the older gentleman with a pleasant smile as he examined it briefly before handing her a beautiful aqua brooch. A puzzled look took hold of her features, was it common for the host of a ball to give away such expensive gifts to their guests? If she had known she would be assigned a particular color she would have made sure to have coordinated her dress a little more appropriately. “Please, put this on” The man stated simply without any other comments before turning towards the next attendee.

Taking a moment to securely fasten the brooch (Marjorie would hate to lose something that looked this expensive) her mind buzzed with a mix of nerves and excitement. She was here, an event such as this working class individuals like herself could only be invited to in their dreams, and yet against all odds she would soon enough be hobnobbing with the elite. Straightening up, she made sure the brooch was pinned on properly before entering through the elegant front entrance of the mansion. Her breath was stolen in mere moments, she should have been prepared for the interior to be as captivating and imposing as the exterior, but somehow she was still left speechless.

Awestruck, hands clasped tightly together, her eyes danced about the multitude of masked guests, it all felt very reminiscent of a fairy tale, but she couldn't allow herself to be wrapped up in that nonsense. Taking a moment to compose herself, it was not becoming of a blossoming entrepreneur to be excited by a simple ball, after all a cool, collected composure was much more cordial. Starting now, there was no time to get lost in silly childish fantasies, now the focus was simply about scouting potential patrons, nothing more and nothing less.

[lemon!!]

𝙹𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙳𝙰 𝚇𝙸𝙰
3/10 | she/her | Mentions; Annalise | Tags; Marjorie
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ☾ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Here it was… the night of the ball. Jade had been mentally preparing for this night for the last number of weeks. Being a social creature was not exactly in the woman’s repertoire of tricks, but she had been practicing really, really hard. Jade had never been too interested in the idea of courting. It all seemed far too fancy for her liking - and she had borne witness to several engagements in her time. As a seamstress, she was used to creating stunning ballgowns and gorgeous apparel for the men and the women that were so involved in high society’s idea of gracious romance. What a joke, she thought. But here she was… ready to be spruced up and made to look pretty. Her girlish looks and lanky awkwardness had never fared her well in the courts of the loveless. As disinterested as she was in finding her one true love, she couldn’t help but wonder what tonight might have in store for her. She didn’t worry too much if she was likely to be satisfied - that was going to be a difficult ask - but she wondered… would the man she was to be coupled with be satisfied with her? The thought immediately made her sick to her stomach. At best, she supposed she might have to be miserable - at worst, she would make a man equally as miserable to the point that they didn’t tolerate, they resented one another. The idea of a ball was making her queasy so she tried to satiate her concern by focusing on the garment that was being constrained to her petite body.

Ruby red. Her favourite colour. She’d made this gown herself, spending weeks and weeks of what spare time she had on creating her own outfit rather than buying one from some out-of-towner. Besides, what would a seamstress be if she didn’t turn up to a ball in her own outfit? Ridiculous, that’s what they would be. But what should have relaxed her tense muscles and even tenser mind only made her more nervous. Seeing herself in the mirror, prettified - hair curled, waist cinched, flowing gown hugging every inch of her tiny frame… it made her feel even more sick than she already had been. She barely recognised the figure in the mirror.

Her mother huffed as Jade wriggled slightly at every touch. “Could you stop moving, child?” the woman scowled in a harsh tone. “Sorry, mother…” she trailed quietly, having to bite her tongue for fear of being reprimanded any more than she already might be for struggling against her mother’s calloused hands. The woman was not, of course, Jade’s biological mother - the woman that held that title had been lost at sea on a journey to America from Korea. Jade had been rescued from the wreck that happened not too far off the coast, granted home in an orphanage and swiftly picked up by Edward and Elizabeth - a gruff seamstress and her undeniably stupid husband. She had been given refuge with the pair as long as she learned to work… and work she did. The girl had become quite the talented dressmaker in her time, often helping to create stunning garments for the likes of the Purcells, whom she was visiting alone for the first time tonight.

Just like her own ruby red gown, it was Jade’s tired hands that were responsible for the periwinkle ensemble that the young Purcell woman would be wearing tonight. That was just another of the factors that had encouraged the young lady to attend the ball tonight. As disinterested as she might have been in love, it wasn’t often that Jade was in the same room as her finest creations while they were actually being worn. No, usually she was in the background. She had seen some of her pieces being worn, but they were usually just the average day to day wear. Nothing special, nothing like this.

Nerves had began to sink in. Her throat threatened to give her away, bile building in the back as though she had seen something sickening. There was surely nothing to be this concerned about - but the young woman’s nervous disposition often got the better of her and tonight was certainly no exception to the rule. The calloused hands of her mother finished lacing up her corseted back before the older woman stepped away, admiring what a fine job she had done of lacing the rather gangly girl into her outfit. “You’ll do me so proud tonight. I’m very sure of it.” Elizabeth breathed a sigh, turning away to look out of the window. Jade couldn’t quite tell what her mother meant - even what was worded like a compliment was laced with a rough tone. “Wh-where is father tonight?” she stammered, only to be met with a glare. “Asleep. As always.” the answer didn’t bring Jade much joy. It only made her more miserable - imagine being trapped in a loveless marriage like this? She couldn’t think of anything worse than ending up some old, unimpressed spinster. Alas… she hoped tonight would leave her with a different impression.

“Your carriage is here.” the woman snipped, gesturing to the window. Jade looked up from admiring her gowned body to see the horses pull up outside her door. And this time, they were here for her. Had this been anyone other than Jade Da Xia, perhaps she would’ve felt grateful - like a princess, like an elegant woman, like someone living a fantasy life… but it was, in fact, still Jade. And she still felt utterly ill with nerves. As she climbed in and waved goodbye to her mother, she couldn’t help but notice the woman’s sullen face. Perhaps if this had been twenty or so years ago, and Elizabeth had been granted the same opportunity things would have been different. Despite the lady’s sunken exterior, she knew that face hid worlds of pain. What would life have been if it had been her instead of Jade? She would never know, it didn’t bear thinking about. It was her. And she should be grateful for this experience.

The journey had been too long for the young woman’s liking - Jade wasn’t used to travelling very far, she simply never had the need and unnecessary travel was far too expensive for her to afford. It just wasn’t worth the money it cost… but tonight was a special occasion! And the transport had cost her nothing, just her presence as requested. As sick as the journey made her, she couldn’t help but watch out of the window the entire time, engrossed with the rolling countryside that passed by her window. As her carriage slowed to a halt outside of the mansion, Jade felt the urge to throw up yet again. She held on, not wishing to making a fool of herself just yet, though the temptation to ask the driver to take her right home again was insanely tempting. She already felt out of her depth here but at least she looked the part?

“Thank you sir!” Jade graciously thanked the man, mustering as much energy and enthusiasm as she could possibly manage as the carriage slipped away into the night again, away from the lively hall that she could hear from here. Taking a deep breath, Jade gripped so tightly to her invitation that her knuckles went ashy white. She took her first steps towards the doors, unable to concentrate fully as she approached the line of people that snaked around the mansion. Who are all of these people? she thought, intrigued by their masks and their costumes - what gorgeous outfits they all wore! The petite woman found herself more interested with the hemlines and the petticoats that swarmed her rather than the hidden faces of the people. She was swiftly snapped back to reality when a voice asked her to present her card. “Your card?” it was a man’s voice, he was smiling. She passed her card to him and in exchange, was given a brooch in a bright pink hue. “Th-thank you sir.” Stepping inside, Jade’s shaky hands attached the brooch to her outfit. An interesting shade, very beautiful, but she couldn’t help being slightly saddened. If she had known this was her colour, she would’ve happily picked another shade of dress to compliment it better. Alas, she was just happy to have been gifted with something that looked so… expensive.

Jade anxiously looked around, deep sigh leaving her lips. With her standoffish aura and her nervous disposition, the young woman felt entirely at odds with everybody around her. They were all so beautiful and she was nothing more than a mere seamstress’s daughter, only here in good faith because of the gown she had so lovingly created for the Purcell woman. She couldn’t even begin to guess any of the names - especially with the masks that covered their faces. In all of her disbelief and concerned nervousness, Jade wasn’t exactly looking where she was going. She backed right into another guest, a delicate woman dressed in a stunning shade of green. “My bad, ma’am.” she offered a quipped apology, unable to talk much for the nerves. Still, she supposed, might as well make the most of this. “Your gown is… beautiful. What a gorgeous colour.”

[poppyxoxo]

𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚

❀ twenty years old ❀ (she/her) ❀ heterosexual ❀ 5-6/10 ❀ mentions: ❀ tags:

Amelia checked her reflection in the mirror just about one dozen times to make sure that the dress fit and suited her. It had been in her family’s store since she could remember but she never would have guessed that she got to wear it. Her mother fussed all around her, cursing herself on unseen faults that Amelia was sure weren’t there. Afterall, the women had designed the dress, so it was only natural that she was picky. “Mother, it looks marvelous. I need to go!” Amelia fretted, forcefully stepping in front of a mirror by her mother’s request. Her eyes widened, twinkling slightly in amazement. Of course, she had dressed herself up on special occasions, but she had never felt this… outstanding in her whole life. “You look so beautiful darling. If only I looked like you at my age” her mother fawned, stepping back to admire her work. “Why would that matter? I married you” her father stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Come on, we’ve got to go”.

Amelia’s leg jumped up and down on the way to the venue, her breathing staggered. She didn’t know what to expect by any means which scared her the most because she always liked to have a handle on things. She glanced out of the carriage window, her eyes catching on almost anything that flew past. Wow, the countryside was so beautiful. She was sure that wherever she was going, it was going to be the most glamourous event ever. Even the invitation she had received was one of the most beautiful pieces of mail she had ever received. She had faintly heard of the event, but it never truly dawned on her that she could possibly be included in something so wonderful. She was ever grateful and could only hope that something would come out of this experience.

After a few more moments of the carriage ride, bright lights began to fill her view while shielding what was to be the most magical building she had ever seen. When they moved past the barrier of bright lights and her eyes adjusted once more, Amelia audibly gasped. “Oh my…” she whispered in total awe of the building. The minutes that followed her departure from the carriage seemed to rush by and Amelia had to stop and remind herself of where she was while making her way up the steps of the building. From the sounds of it, many others had already arrived and were getting to know each other quite well. Her heart hammered against her ribcage at a painful pace. Amelia followed the direction of the workers until she stood in the doorway of a magnificent ballroom. Not only was its architecture dazzling but the colours of the clothes that others wore made her almost wish she had a photographic memory that she could use to paint this moment. After a few more reassuring breaths, Amelia made her way into the room.

Amelia made her way over to a table that held many broaches to which she was greeted by a well dressed man asking her to fasten it to her dress. Amelia thanked him before walking away slowly, still adjusting to her surroundings. She pinned it to her dress and continued to walk further into the room.

[Mezzo]

♛ 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓
───────「 8/10 | Paired with: Marjorie Larsen | Tags: Annalise & Jasper | Mentions: Jemima 」


Ah, there it was, good old Annie with all the wit and expressiveness Leif remembered her to have from those occasional visits she and her family had paid to quaint, little Cambridge (at least compared to the hustle and bustle of Boston and New York!). If he hadn’t been sure about her identity before - which would have been impossible in the first place given her lively greeting - he absolutely knew now by her mannerisms! Even with her visage partially obscured by the resplendent light blue mask she wore, she remained open with her emotions — a trait he liked to think the two of them shared in common, for he also always wore his heart on his sleeve, not bothering with facades or falsities for the sake of a show. Ever since their fateful meeting at Harvard University, when she had accompanied her father to survey the grounds, he had known somehow in his heart that she was someone to keep an eye on even before he knew her to be his good old friend’s younger sister. Maybe it was her beauty and sophistication, no doubt that was the case for many a smitten man and she certainly did look striking in her evening gown, but Leif thought his appreciation for her originated from the way she had the derring-do and the ambition to dream big. Though he had hardly had the occasion to witness it for himself, Charles had often vaunted his baby sister’s talents and ambitions — it seemed almost the opposite of Leif, who had no solid plans for his own future, and while that normally may have intimidated him, she never judged him for it, something he deeply appreciated. If only his parents could take a lesson from her book.

Now, while a shier man might have been cowed by Annalise’s next words paired with that faux piercing expression, Leif could tell it was all in good fun, and he laughed good-naturedly in response, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about! I mean, look at Charles now. He figured it all out in the end, didn’t he? I like to think that was in no small part due to my influence, thank you very much. Oh, and speaking of, he wouldn’t happen to be here tonight, would he?” With that, he looked past her shoulder - not a very difficult feat, he had quite a few inches on her even with the added height of whatever shoes she might be wearing tonight - and pretended to scour the room for the man in question, only to heave an overly dramatic sigh in disappointment. “Perhaps not. I suppose he’s stuck with the old ball and chain for the night?” It was mostly a rhetorical question, there was no doubt that Charles was a family man now, likely attending to his wife happily, and Leif was clearly only jesting. He was sure that Charles’s wife was a good influence on the man, just as he had been back in the day! Why, who else would have dragged that little bookworm, completely unaware of his own thriving potential, out of his shell?! Those were the good old days; he had been all but inseparable from Charles Purcell and their mutual friend, Jasper Addison, also from an equally reputable family. Now, Leif was not a boasting man, far from it, but he knew that other students recognized them when they were out and about on campus - or in town, for that matter - together. They were each other’s perfect partners-in-crime, as it were.

“While you’re at it, please send him my best regards,” Leif joked, not missing a beat, “Perhaps someday he will not come to see me as a disappointment to the family.” All things considered, that was a rather serious topic to be making light of, but he knew deep down that his parents loved him, his happy and carefree childhood being a testament to that fact, though they were more often than not chagrined by his antics these days. It’s just a phase, they sometimes whispered to each other when they didn’t think he could hear, he’ll shape up and be a man of society soon. Admittedly, it was a little sad to think about, but he dismissed that thought quickly. They had never once raised a hand against Leif or his inheritance even despite his obvious disinterest in the family business - as much as some people whispered that it would teach him a thing or two about growing up! - so he took that as a good sign of his future fortunes.

At the mention of Annie’s father, Leif raised an eyebrow, “Oh, should I be more careful? I say, I would rather not be hunted down by an overprotective father, thank you very much.” With that, he once again pretended to survey the area for the man in question, though he suspected that he wouldn’t have recognized Philip Purcell even if he were mingling with the others, the masks doing a surprisingly good job of protecting the true identities of their bearers. He also noted, with his brief inspection, that the party was a smaller, more personable, one than the grand feasts he had grown accustomed to during his Harvard days; when he’d accepted the invitation, he hadn’t quite realized how few attendees there would be, especially given that the Purcells could certainly afford to invite a multitude of people from all over the world. Then again, maybe the number of invitations sent out had something to do with the little surprise they’d cooked up… hm, curious. Well, nevertheless, it was all the same to him; a party was a party, regardless of how many people were there, and he intended to make the best of the situation! Were his mother or father here, they no doubt would have bid him to socialize with the prospects of building business connections, but Leif had no such ulterior motives. He just liked talking to people, simple as that.

Admittedly, when he’d flaunted his aquamarine cufflink to her, Leif hadn’t expected his companion to outright take his hand for a better look at the gemstone, not that he really minded. It had just surprised him, was all; he didn’t personally know many ladies, aside from Annie of course, that would do something so familiar. But then again, they were friends, weren’t they? With his hand in her own, though it lacked something… that certain je ne sais quoi of lovers intertwining their fingers, Leif couldn’t help but notice that her hands were soft, small, and delicate. He suspected that if he wanted to, he could easily envelop them in his own. Her offhand comment about his eyes also surprised him, though mostly because he hadn’t considered that avenue himself, and he also hadn’t suspected that she had noticed the color of his eyes. It seemed that Annalise Purcell was just full of surprises tonight without even trying to be, or was she always this way? He tried to recall their passing interactions at Harvard, but those suddenly seemed a blur. Well, she may or may not have been right; he really didn’t know much about fashion. The navy blue suit that he currently donned had been picked by his mother, who had been absolutely determined that her son would not come to the party of the century looking like the fool he often was made out to be. “Do you think so? I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he admitted honestly, glancing at the cufflink as if seeing it in a new light. At her next words, he heaved a sigh, “I see how it is, you simply do not wish to help out an old friend with this fashion disaster. But I suppose I’ll recover somehow, at least it matches my eyes, as you said.”

“Silver! Well, at least it doesn’t clash with your outfit as mine does,” he quipped after she flipped up her dress just briefly enough for him to get a glimpse, so fleeting that he might’ve missed it if not for her accompanying explanation. “Your father must secretly have something against me, since it seems that he did not pair us together.” A jest, of course, but it would have been so much easier if he was matched to someone that he knew. Well, the night wasn’t over just yet — perhaps that would turn out to be the case after all! At the passing thought, though, he had to wonder if Philip Purcell had picked out the matches by hand, or if he had simply thrown the names of all those who had RSVPed into a hat, mixed it about for a bit, then drawn them to create the pairs. He wasn’t sure which idea sounded funnier in his head, and he had a hard time reconciling the image of Annie’s stern father staying awake at night, drawing up the names and trying to decide who went best with who.

Before Leif could answer Annie’s query, perhaps the question left on everyone’s lips for the night, the pair was suddenly interrupted by a booming, familiar voice. The smile on his face only grew; he didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the speaker. He knew the voice by heart, for they had suffered through their most difficult classes together! “Well, if it isn’t Jasper Addison!” Leif said delightedly as he turned to the newcomer. Were this less of a formal occasion, he might have even dared to throw his arm around his old schoolmate, but alas, he refrained… for now. There would be time for such heartfelt reunions later. “Where have you been? Making yourself scarce since our Harvard days, I daresay! Now I would like to remind you, old friend, that I would much prefer to be called handsome, or dashing, not beautiful. Let’s reserve such compliments for the lady here, shall we?” His tone light-hearted, he gestured at Annalise for good measure. “We were just talking about the matches, and I’m afraid you interrupted me before I could answer Annie. But I do beg your pardon, who are you calling lovebirds? Last I heard, you were involved with the daughter of a certain professor of ours. What happened there?” It did not occur to Leif that whatever had happened was still a sour subject for Jasper; as far as he was concerned, he was simply catching up with his old friend! Part of him felt bad for not having had the opportunity to address Annie’s question, she had posed it so seriously and she deserved a serious response in turn, but Leif demanded answers. There would be time to discuss the matchmaking afterwards, he was sure. Had he known that the Fairlie lady was here as well, he might have laughed at the irony. As it were, ignorance was bliss, and the lord - or Philip himself - seemed to enjoy the added drama of putting the two in the same room.

[nocturna.]

- ───────. ❖|𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋|𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍|❖.───────────────────────────
- - [ 23 yrs ]| [ 8/10 wealth ]| [ 5/10 social ]| [ paired with Jemima Fairlie ]| [ mentions; lady, grouped people ]| [ tags; xx ]

The scowl that was etched into Nathaniel's expression had been upon the man's face for a fortnight; almost immediately after his father told him (rather, screamed to him) of his inclusion to the Purcell's masquerade ball. Nathaniel saw no reason to be included on the invitation list, let alone attend the party. He had little to no interest in finding a woman to settle down with, as he’d made peace with himself long ago - he’d more than likely be the end of any legitimate Killian line. As the only child of an only child, his father saw this matter differently. Tobias Killian had bent over backwards and nearly groveled to his fellow business partner Charles Purcell, for the chance to let his wayward son in on the guest list. Tobias prayed it would be the answer to his son’s reckless ways. He prayed Nathaniel would find the right woman to sweep him off his feet and instill a sense of responsibility into him. This ball was the answer to all of Tobias’s worries. It was the bandage that would finally fix and heal his son. Nathaniel obviously thought otherwise… at first.

He felt like that small boy shipped off to a far away school all those years ago. If he was far from his father’s sight, the troubles he’d been and caused wouldn’t be present on his father’s mind. Just an object being ‘put aside’ until he had some use again. These feelings were nothing new for Nathaniel; He’d grown used to the constant heartache and it barely stung anymore. Alcohol was also a great help in washing away those memories.

The trip by sea was an arduous one at that. Nathaniel had never traveled by steamer before and much to his displeasure, he’d spent the majority of the journey unable to keep any food or drink down. He’d spent much of his time locked up in his cabin, willing the hours to fly by faster.

Nathaniel had planned his arrival to allow two days before the ball to further acquaint himself with the city. The first twenty-four hours were spent unconscious; in an attempt to regain the energy lost crossing the ocean. Yesterday, Nathaniel found himself wandering various burrows throughout the city. Much of it was a dirty and rowdy sort. He’d spent most of his time, nose crinkled in disgust, trying his best to avoid the grime. But he figured this American city was just like any other, there were the impoverished, seedy streets and then there were the ones only permitted for the upper crust. Thankfully his lodgings wouldn’t be within the city limits long, as Charles Purcell was gracious enough to offer up rooms to the guests.

Earlier today, Nathaniel found himself a reputable tailor shop to go over a final fitting to his new suit. He'd commissioned the piece – along with a matching mask – from his favorite shop in London a month prior, and it was entirely perfect. The navy-blue suit was made from fine cloth that resembled satin; a luxurious sheen could be witnessed to the material when the light danced on it just right. His tailor accentuated the suit jacket with an ivory and gold vest and matching silk tie. The result was worth every shilling.

The present moment found Nathaniel (still wearing that signature scowl) seated within a carriage offered up from their gracious host. The carriage had been still for a minute as he took his time fixing the dark blue mask about his cheeks and tying it behind his head. He really didn’t want to be here. He’d have given up the rest of his yearly allowance to simply return home and forget this ever happened. But that was not to be. He let out an annoyed grumble and exited the carriage. The Purcell estate was grand, with spectacularly manicured lawns and shrubbery. It reminded him of many of the English countryside estates his friends and father’s business partners owned. At least the place was easy on the eyes. His brown irises caught the soft train of a woman's gown ascending the stone steps before him and figured he’d take the opportunity for a moment alone. She’d keep the doorman busy for a moment. Nathaniel trudged a few strides away from the house’s entrance to take up a cigarette. He dug into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out a golden cigarette case. He struck up a match using the rough stone wall and inhaled, bringing a bright cherry ember to life. The exhale brought much relief to the man; exactly what he needed.

Nathaniel took the time to finish the cigarette, stalling the inevitable. But he’d come to the conclusion that if he had to be here, he’d have to make the most of it. Surely there would be plenty of beauties here and good music. And better yet, there had to be a refreshments table to liven up his mood. With one last puff, the man flicked the butt into the gravel path. He strode up the expertly carved stone staircase with ease and pulled out his invitation in a swift motion, barely giving the doorman a second glance. “Here you are sir.” Nathaniel looked at a second man with a blank expression. He insisted, offering out his hand for Nathaniel to take its contents. “What’s this?” He asked the men, clearly bewildered. “Compliments of Mr. Purcell, Sir. It will help you find your match.” Match?! Oh, his father really had done it this time… so not only was Nathaniel expected to meet a woman, but he was already matched up with one before even entering the party?! The man uttered a growl before taking the item from the doorman. He entered brightly lit room grumbling before looking at the item. It appeared to be a single cufflink. A beautifully crafted piece with a violet-colored gem – an amethyst cut stone he guessed. But only one? So, this was to be a game of find your match? Oh, how he detested this already. Cursing at how ridiculous mismatched cufflinks would look, he exchanged the golden one on the left sleeve with this new violet one. Part of him didn’t even want to change his cufflink. Whatever would anyone do?

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and made a beeline for the refreshments table. He watched the man fill a crystal cup halfway full of some sort of punch. He prayed there'd be alcohol in it. He motioned to the man to keep filling his cup before Nathaniel took it from the server. A curt nodd was all that was offered in return to the server before he turned away to survey the room. He did have to admit, it was a stunning ballroom. Beautiful wallpaper from floor to ceiling, and the crown molding - oh my. Certainly a much larger room than any he had partied in before. His gaze quickly dropped from the surroundings to his glass. He quickly downed his drink, sucking in a little air after the swallow - there was a little bite to this punch after all. He began to walk around the outer edge of the room, surveying those who were already in attendance. A few had already gathered up, seemingly knowing each other. Must be nice. What he wouldn't have paid to have at least one of his buddies from back home here with him.