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@benjaminayles

In London, Maggie tended to arise early and retire late. There was an overabundance of social calls to make, fabrics to approve for dresses and the like, and sometimes, if she was lucky, a rare hour or two she could spend doing some deemed-acceptable leisure activity, always with the accompaniment of one or more persons. It took not sleeping in order to have any sort of personal time for herself. It was all so tenuous - everything here felt spun out on a small thread, liable to snap in an instant. The lack of sleep probably contributed to that impression, but Maggie was jittery. At least with her position she had a say in dictating what some of the day’s activities would entail, but fewer than she hoped in these earliest days of the season, where much time was spent paying visits to her father’s old acquaintances and irritable cousins who had also made their way to the ton so as not to start a feud she had neither the time nor the patience for.

One escape had become Hyde Park. She took to riding most evenings, in the open carriage bearing her name and crest or sometimes on horseback, unless rain or snow prohibited. It was beautiful, and would be even more so as the seasons changed to springtime and the park became lush with greenery once more. It allowed her to look and be looked at in a way that wasn’t displeasing. Maggie did take pride in being admired, to a point. That point would usually be the moment when she sensed the layer of falseness underneath a compliment, or animosity in a glance. Animosity…

“Stop the carriage,” she ordered, holding up a hand to her driver, who pulled over to the side to let others pass. Smoothing an evergreen skirt, she craned her neck forward. “Mr. Ayles? Is that you?” It was only proper to acknowledge an acquaintance of hers when meeting out in public, despite how…fragile their connection may be.

benjaminayles

From the moment she had been born, Isa had never been well. At first, it was that she wouldn’t eat, she was too cold, she didn’t weigh what a normal, healthy baby should. Benjamin, at only seven years old, was banished from the nursery, choosing instead to sit outside the giant oak door that barred him from his sister, and press his ear against it; listening, always listening, for the sounds of her cries. By some miracle, Isa lived past her infancy, and whilst their mother did not, those weeks and months spent desperate to see his sister morphed into what one could only call an interminable bond, drawing Benjamin to her like a moth to flame. His desire to protect her never faltered, loath was he to even truly let her out of his sight for too long; although work often called him away, and now, too, all these inordinate society events he had the misfortune to attend; events which he took great pains to keep her from, despite her protestations. As a form of penance, Benjamin took whatever evenings he could to spend with her, in-between meetings and hearings and whatever happenings were on at the ton.

Presently, he had taken to walking with her in Hyde Park, her arm coiled around his as they slowly picked their way forward along the snow-strewn path. They made an odd pair, undoubtedly; the newly made barrister in his disagreeable clothes with his waif of a sister who rarely left the house, walking as slowly as one was allowed to on such a busy route, talking comfortably about the events of the day. As such, it was the last thing on his mind to cross paths with someone he might know, and at the utterance of his name it took him a few moments to realise who it was that was calling him.

“Lady Roseberry.” Benjamin stopped, loosing his arm from his sister’s as he took in the sight of the Countess of Roseberry in her great carriage, the sides emblazoned with her family’s crest; a stark reminder of who and what he wasn’t. His lip curled a little, and he turned to Isa, ushering her further onward -- promising to rejoin her as soon as he could. “Forgive me, my Lady, I did not expect to see you on my walk.” He bowed his head toward her, then straightened, trying his best to keep her attention on him, a pleasantry already warm on his tongue. “It is a fine evening for it, is it not?”

#maggie: 001.#// i think ben needs a nap

isabella-aldwyn·:

Every tense movement, every inch of the body of this man emanated an aura of irritation. He did not need a word to translate his exasperation with the situation. Though Bella had apologized only moments earlier out of habit and instinct, she was quickly regretting her hasty courtesy as she caught the sour expression on his face. Taking in his fine coat, she only assumed that he was a man of good standing, which quite frankly, began adding to the girl’s own irritation. This only grew as this man, without so much as a second glance, had the gall to chastise her. When he was just as responsible for their collision as she.

All of only 5 feet and some, Bella raised herself to her tallest height, the human equivalent of raising her hackles. “Well sir” The sheepish politeness she had shown earlier dissipated immediately, replaced with a dangerous sharpness. Everything in her posture maintained as if they were two friends speaking. Unfortunately, that was far from so. “I certainly can say the same thing to you. Please do try to pay more attention next time before you bowl over another lady in your path, else next time she may actually be injured. I am not. Thank you for asking, of course.” It was difficult to keep the accusation from her voice. As she glanced down at the book she had so helpfully returned to its owner (and really, she should not have bothered, especially if there was no gratitude to be displayed), she silently willed that a bit of the snow had stained a page or two. Or ten. Whatever would succeed in irritating this grumpy man more. “In fact, I believe you have not apologized as of yet for your carelessness.” A slight pause before a sarcastic, “Sir” was added to the end of her sentence.

The brunette crossed her arms then as she was struck with a realization, her furrowed brows loosening into an impish grin. Bella was not one to pass on an opportunity to scold him in return. “If these streets are so dangerous, that is quite ungentlemanly of you to turn your back on me. I cannot imagine an upstanding man like yourself would be so discourteous, so ill-mannered.” Her voice was honey and nectar, despite her words setting a trap. “A gentleman who was so quick to warn me of prudence could not possibly leave a defenseless lady to her own devices, such as myself, to make her own way out of these cold – wintery – dark alleyways.”

An innocent flutter of her lashes framed her dark eyes. “Would you?”

If there was one particular human habit that Benjamin despised the most: it would be the folly of being late. It reeked of presumption, of having something else better to do, somewhere else better to be; and yet with one innocuous turn into this alleyway, he had rather resigned himself to that very fate. Even as he made to remove himself from the situation, and hurry on back home to see that Isa hadn’t been chasing cats around the garden again, the lady in front of him continued on, and -- was she now reprimanding him?

It took just about all of his (rather fragile) sense of propriety not to twist his mouth into a smirk at her tone. “Certainly, my lady, I shall stringently endeavour to look out for petite persons such as yourself the next time I traverse this particular street.” Benjamin had already resigned himself to the fact that this woman would not let him away quite so easily. If he were any other man, perhaps, he would feel chastised. However, it was almost an occupational hazard of his, receiving the occasional dressing down from people from all walks of life, and maintaining, throughout, an unimpressed visage. He cleared his throat, speaking quickly as to facilitate his escape. “You are quite right. You have my apologies, and my well wishes for your continued good health. Now, if that will be all--”

Benjamin might have even kept that quiet confidence, had the next few words not been said. Within one fell swoop, he had been ensnared, held tight by the moral duty of a gentleman and the whims of a lady to escort her to wheresoever she may choose to go. (A small part of him, tucked away in a place he vehemently ignored, was rather impressed.) “A gentleman wouldn’t dare.” Benjamin straightened up, following his words with a firmly pressed smile that in no way reached his eyes. So be it. “Benjamin Ayles, at your service.”

With one hand, he gestured for her to lead the way, keeping his jaw firmly set so as to not give away any more of his displeasure. Benjamin fell into step beside her, keeping a fair distance between them, fingers drumming mindlessly against the damp hard-cover of his papers. He let the silence stretch, until, despite himself, he could keep quiet no longer.

“Do you make a habit of ruining the books of people you’ve only just met, or was it simply my poor fortune that led me here this day?”

#bella: 001.#// WHAT an introduction

lustandlordsrp

It’s Meme Time, folks. Every weekend (or at sporadic times because we love surprise memes), the main will post memes for muses to reblog on their accounts. When you reblog the meme, you are accepting asks from it and also sending asks to others who have also reblogged it. Feel free to ask and answer whenever you want to, and they’re not restricted to the weekend! [Feel free to post any of your own memes as well! But you know that you can rely on us for meme fun. We gotchu. Tag is ll.meme]

- - - - - - -

ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ɢᴏᴅ

aphrodite what do you find most attractive in a person? (physical and personality wise) apollo what do you love about art? ares what’s the thing that makes you angriest? artemis what are your feelings on hunting? athena what’s a fun fact that you know that others might not? chronus what do you hate about time? demeter what’s your favorite flower? dionysus what’s your favorite drink? (alcoholic or not) eros how would you describe love? hades what’s your favorite thing about winter? hephaestus do you feel that you are a hard worker? hera what’s something you want in a marriage/relationship? hermes where would you like to travel on a month-long trip? hestia what’s something you enjoy about your family? hypnos do you have a favorite dream? persephone are you indecisive? poseidon what do you most love about the ocean? thanatos what do you think about death? zeus what’s your favorite type of weather?

#memes.

lustandlordsrp

The Outsider | Benjamin

Thirty | Mr. Benjamin Ayles Untitled Gentry, Barrister

Formally or Informally Announced: Mr. Benjamin Ayles

Addressed on Formal or Informal Social Correspondence: Mr. Benjamin Ayles

Formal Correspondence Salutation: “Sir,” or “Dear Sir,”

Informal Correspondence Salutation: “Dear Mr. Ayles,” or, more familiarly, “Dear Ayles,”

Addressed in Speech: Mr. Benjamin Ayles, Mr. Ayles, or, more familiarly, Ayles

Referred to in Speech: Mr. Benjamin Ayles or Mr. Ayles

Social Correspondence Signature: Benjamin Ayles

Keep reading

#bio.

isabella-aldwyn

January 1811 ( starter for @benjaminayles )

Bella was late. It was not the first time, and it would not be the last. And she wasn’t concerned. Not yet, at least. The day had been a common dance she participated in with her governess or Mother. Embroider aimlessly or some other dainty lady-like task as she took social calls with her mother and sisters. Do her best to convince anyone to let her take a stroll through town. Be denied. Draw up a persuasive excuse to go into town. Give her chaperone a run-around and then taste freedom to stroll through the market and through town. But now she was late for supper and no doubt, she was going to getting a tongue lashing. Curving into the quieter alleys so she could avoid the bustle in the main streets, she fell into a hasty pace, as much of a run as she could in skirts. So often she was undisturbed in her rushed clamber back to the Aldwyn residence that she was momentarily stunned as she crashed headfirst into a chest, effectively knocking the man’s effects from his hands and practically knocking the wind out of the girl’s lungs.

She gave a little cry of surprise, before regaining some semblance of balance. Instinctively, she gasped out a, “My apologies, Sir” before glancing up to focus on who she had charged into. Unsteadily, Bella picked her skirts up and ducked down to swoop the book up, offering it back to the man. “I did not expect anyone on this route. I was not looking at where I stepped.” And she hadn’t. Why would she? This was a shortcut that her cousin had showed her to get back to the estate quickly and what made it such an effective route was how desolate it often was. Part of her knew the precarious situation she found herself in but the impact of knocking into muscle and bone was enough to daze her.

benjaminayles

The cold felt particularly cruel that day as Benjamin weaved in-and-out of the maze of London’s streets. Upon leaving his home that morning, he had felt well dressed enough to brave mid-winter’s embrace; however, it did not take long for him to sorely regret his choice of coat and lack of hat and gloves. Isabella, his sister, had merely laughed at him on his way out; still not accustomed to seeing him dressed in such a fashion -- in fashion, as it were. Accordingly, he still felt rather foolish upon spying himself in a mirror, barely recognising the man who not only a few months ago could never have dreamed to afford such fine clothing. (And further still, underneath his skin and clawing at his chest, was the guilt of even buying it at all.) Still, Benjamin pushed on, further and further into London’s heart, checking his timepiece periodically. His meeting had gone well, or at least as well as to be expected, and his sister would be expecting him back at home within the hour -- which, given the rate of London’s mid-day traffic, was a goal that would never be met without adjustments.

Benjamin let out an irritable sigh, then turned abruptly to a side-street that would cut away from the main road. In actuality, the change of route would hardly save him any time, but it would at least take him away from the press and pull of people; Londoners, in all their heaving glory, stepping into and out of each other’s paths in time with the thrum of the city. He took a moment to pause in the half-shadow of the alley, thumbing aimlessly down the spine of the book his fellow lawyer had given him; notes on a particular case he had wanted Benjamin to look over -- only for the book to suddenly be thrust from his hands, something small but insistent colliding with his chest, forcibly pushing him backwards a few steps. “Damn it, what on earth --” Benjamin found his footing quickly, annoyance roiling within him, ready to chasten whatever urchin had bumped into him for sport.

Much to his surprise, and his chagrin, Benjamin’s gaze found that of a lady’s, and he immediately took a further step back, stare flicking between the newly soiled book and the woman in front of him. “I --” Instincts kicking in, he bowed his head, jaw tight. “Madam, please do try to pay more attention next time.” After a pause, he took the proffered book, tucking it back underneath his arm. “These side streets can be dangerous.” With that, Benjamin made to take his leave, offering her a stiff bow as his exit.

#bella: 001.#// i RAMBLED pls forgive me

rvlston

open starter it was no wonder that winter’s icy fingers had quickly tined over like hoarfrost in december. but hope, when before had nary been given a chance, has woken and started to tame the settling chill. the new year boded renewed energy and came with a yearning that the coming month will mark the start of a new chapter that the people so craved after a long period of mourning. so with the last dregs of last night’s tea and chamomile left on the vanity, londoners made their way about the city as if their life depended on it.

Circumstances sometimes can be both fortunate and unfortunate at the same time oddly enough.

In this instance, as Byron St. Clair took in the sights of the hustle and bustle, he recognized how fortunate he was to find himself back in the city so unlike any other. A city that, no matter where he visited or would settle, would always be his first. He had grown up in the country as most children of polite society did. So it was no surprise that his first real taste of adventure had been spread across the landscape of London town—a fact that made sure his somewhat sentimental heart latched onto it.

What was unfortunate, however, was that he’d been rudely reminded of how busy it could be even in winter as a landau sped down the street a sliver too close to where he’d been meaning to cross. Byron stumbled back enough to avoid being trampled but fate was not as kind to his top hat that dove in doom’s way in its master’s stead. “Blast.” Byron cursed, uncaring who stood within earshot.

benjaminayles

Benjamin had always found London to be a difficult place. Despite living within its smoky, ruined heart; despite having been brought up breathing in its fumes and sleeping in its clutches -- something about the grey city had never agreed with him. It was a thought that weighed heavily on his mind as he moved swiftly through a swath of people in its streets, or at least, attempted to. On more than one occasion, he was forced to pause in his tracks and nod his head in deference to a passing couple crossing perpendicular to him; his own natural instinct to stop and wait still there, coiling in his gut. Only a few months ago, he would’ve been invisible to them. Now, however, they too inclined their heads politely toward him, seeing a certain familiarity within Benjamin; something he couldn’t quite digest.

It was on one such happening, paused on the side of the road, that he saw the moment disaster struck: a gentleman’s top hat, deflated and trampled by a carriage, the item crushed quickly underfoot. Benjamin, for his part, at least had the propriety to stifle his laugh of surprise; turning abruptly to see the aforementioned gentleman staring out toward his recently departed accessory with irritation. Recovering almost immediately, he cleared his throat, altogether suddenly far too conscious of the itch of his cravat against his skin, the obvious newness of his clothes, the stench of unpreparedness rolling off him in waves. “My… apologies, sir. Certainly unfortunate.”