marigold ambrose. twenty-two. "she was a moon flower, only blooming at night. she never would let anyone close enough to see her true light." written by clover.
the moment she felt it, marigold hated herself for it. she would later lie awake questioning why her first reaction as the chaos erupted around her had been to search for duchess ambrose. "mother?" she called quietly, eyes flickering from one face to another as she walked through the crowd of people, knowing that even if she did spot her mother then she would not recognise her and neither would her mother recognise her. maybe it was due to her young age, or perhaps she had grown so dependent in her gilded cage that she was unable to stand on her own two feet, but she was desperately seeking out all she had ever known. the only constant in her life was her mother, and while that was mostly the problem, it was also a crutch she had always used when she was scared of the unknown. her home might have always felt like a prison, but at least it was familiar and safe. then she came across someone whose eyes seemed to linger on her. "mother?" marigold asked tentatively, this time directed at the stranger in front of her — and for the first time in her life, she was actually hoping it truly was the duchess ambrose.
who - theodore goldhorn + @scnguineus, @protegoisms + open
where - goldhorn estate hallway
it didn't cross Theodore's mind at all that the evening's ball would take such a sudden turn. In truth, he found it thrilling and loved watching everyone around him fall into somewhat of a panic as they seemed bewildered about what actions to take. himself? he was happy, he looked like the Winger lord and damn, he was handsome. "still with this face you look like you wish to devour me." he smirked and chuckled.
mari felt as if she was trapped in some strange nightmare. she had come to the ball to be presented to the ton, to finally put some faces to the names her mother had drilled into her — but now no names fit the hundred of faces present at the ball. her gaze flickered through the crowd before falling on a man. the only one who seemed quite amused with all this. and then he looked at her. marigold's eyes widened as she got called out so directly. "i wasn't! i was just looking to see if i could find someone i recognise." she had been staring a little, but she would not admit to that - and besides, she was mostly staring because she had no idea where to turn her gaze to. she had been looking for her own face since the transformations happened, but she had not yet spotted it among the crowd. "... although now that i think about it that was a silly strategy." while she felt a little embarrassed, she also felt lighter in a way. she could hide behind this new face, it was a literal mask to wear. "do you recognise this face?"
who: alexander whisp & open
where: the goldhorn ballroom
alexander stalked through the crowded ballroom, shoving others out of his without so much as a second glance. like a wild animal, a frustrated growl rumbled at the very back of his throat. feminine. familiar. he knew exactly whose face it was he wore. any other time he may have used this to his advantage, toyed with charles a little (if he could even find him) but now wasn't the time for games, fun as they may be. this was deliberate and he wanted to know who'd done it and why. surely it had been a dark wizard, someone hoping to take advantage while the others were frantically searching the sea of mismatched faces for their loved ones. alexander didn't have any loved ones to speak of so (naturally) he was looking for himself. he grabbed the nearest person by the elbow and swung them around to face him, fingers digging into the meat of their arm. "where is alexander whisp?" he demanded.
marigold had never felt more confused and displaced in her entire life. everything was new to her. she had originally seen the ball as a blessing, an easy way of presenting herself to the rest of the ton. but it had so quickly backfired on her. now even the few faces that she had started to recognise were worn by strangers. while making her way through the crowd, she was suddenly grabbed by someone else. "ow! let go!" marigold yanked her arm to herself. she did not even think of her behaviour. it was unnatural and deeply unnerving being in another body, so she had no patience for the usual polite pleasantries. at the very least she had landed in the body of another young woman. "i don't even recognise this face. i don't know most people here which is quite a disadvantage in this current situation." then she stopped and realised what the stranger actually said. "alexander whisp?" she repeated as the truth dawned on her. "well, this must be extra strange for you." it was a dry remark considering the chaos around them.
letha knew her question was unwanted and more than anything, out of place. she looked away from the young woman for a short minute before turning back, a small smile upon her lips this time. "it does not, forgive my intrusion." she pressed on. She was beautiful, the brunette in front of her, curls resembling the ones she had herself, curls which in her childhood had made her feel rather plain but they suited her perfectly - framed her face and made that charming glow she uttered even more present. "it is lovely to meet you lady marigold, I used to know your mother quite well." she was pushing it. she didn't wish for anyone to see the pain lady ambrose had caused her, but she couldn't give the impression to the child that she was bothered either. "may I invite you for a cup of tea? even if this paper contains articles and happenings-" Letha smiled once more, this time with her eyes. "nothing is more satisfying than true companionship."
marigold was slightly surprised that letha had claimed to know her mother well. in truth, she had never asked questions about duchess delacour. it was not unusual for her mother to ask her to stay away from people. while she had noted duchess ambrose spoke with more malice about letha, mari had never thought to question why. she doubted that her mother would have given her a truthful answer anyway. "i believe my mother has mentioned you, but you must forgive me for not remembering the details. she has tried her best to introduce me to every noble house in london — and while i am better at retaining knowledge than most even i cannot remember everything." it was a lie, of course, but she would not repeat the colourful phrases her mother had used about duchess delacour. marigold knew that she should politely decline the invitation and move on, but there was something intriguing about the woman. maybe it was because her mother had specifically told her to stay away. mari found it hard to resist digging deeper when being told something was forbidden. "it would be an honour to drink a cup of tea with you, duchess."
Arienne's uncle had been called away for business that day, which meant that Arienne could sneak out; she had found herself out walking around and people watching until someone began speaking to her. She leaned over the woman's shoulder and peaked at the story, rolling her eyes at the story. "I imagine muggles would be far less shocked if they were already aware that witches and wizards exist," she sighed before turning back to her winning smile. "Greetings Lady Ambrose, I am Arienne Windlemore, niece of Baron Windlemore. You can call me Arienne though. I hardly deserve such formality. And have you returned for the season then? Is your mother also one of those on the prowl for a husband for you?" Arienne shook her head with a chuckle. "I'm sorry, I should mention that I have this bad habit of saying exactly what I'm thinking."
marigold did her best to try and keep up with arienne's fast speech but it was difficult to process it all. she picked up on the important bits. it felt strange to stray from formality, her mother would not like it. "nonsense, you deserve every formality. it's a pleasure to meet you, lady arienne." mari felt better sticking to the script — for now at least. it was a comfort to behave like she had been taught. "ah yes, i strongly suspect my mother chose the date of our return carefully. i have no doubt she wishes to have me wed by the end of the year." marigold smiled and felt a little more at ease with arienne. "you are in the same boat, yes?" her faint french accent broke through. she laughed along with the other lady. "i can tell but i admire that in a person."
how many years had passed since her childhood friend had left her halfway through the gates to the afterlife? only having the nurse deliver the news of her stillborn child and her closest companion leaving her behind. something old and withered lit inside letha and she wondered if the child before her was the reason her friend had left her. Had she been carrying the same deep secret as she had back then? "duchess letha Delacour." she replied with half a smile, unsure if she was happy to see someone who brought the one person she could never forgive back. "you were born in London? may I ask what hospital?" she tried to seem calm, but she was anything but. Was her mother close by? would she barge out here and attack her? or would she pretend she didn't exist? how many nights hadn't she longed for her closest companion just to find nothing? she would never forgive her and therefore never forgive this child.
marigold fought the urge to gasp as the lady introduced herself. her mother had told her countless times on their journey to england to stay away from letha. she had heard every insult imaginable said about this woman. for a moment, she wondered if it was best to simply leave, but mari was also curious as to why she had been asked to stay away. "pleasure to meet you, duchess delacour." she was not sure it was really a pleasure. she had only found their interaction to be quite unnerving, but marigold relied on her training to be as gracious as possible despite what her mother might wish. but then she was thrown another curve ball. what hospital was she born? what an odd question to ask a stranger. suddenly she wondered if the duchess was quite well, maybe this is why her mother wanted her to stay away. "i do not know, i must confess i have never thought to ask." since she had not grown up in england, she had never wondered about such a thing — and she rarely was the one to start conversations with her mother. "does it have any significance where i was born?" maybe it was important to the local people for some reason.
he wasn't sure what had set him off, one moment he had been browsing the wares on offer in one of the stores when he had suddenly felt an overwhelming need to escape. it was well known that the reeves family worked in protection and it would not look good for the eldest reeves child to be seen reacting this way to a simple crowded shop. he excused himself with a polite smile, fidgeting with his signet ring as he exited, the streets were still crowded, but the cool air helped, and to maintain the guise of nothing being wrong, ben grabbed a newspaper and pretended to read it as he calmed himself down. "pardon?" a voice breaking him from his thoughts, a welcome distraction. "oh you wouldn't like your teapot to give you all the gossip from the kitchen? how there are certain glasses that are just so wine-y." he joked, folding the paper under his arm and turning his full attention to the young lady. "well welcome back to london lady amrose, lord benedict reeves at your service. how are you finding your return to our fair city?"
was it a stupid joke? yes. but did it make her chuckle? yes. not really because she appreciated the clever twist of words, but because he thought of it and had no shame in sharing it. there was a charm to that, a kindness. it was less polished than the stiff and uninspiring conversations mari was forced to have with strangers when her mother hosted events. "it's a pleasure to meet you, lord reeves." it was not often marigold said that and meant it, but she had a feeling that she would definitely come to mean those words. "i find it very exciting! while i love france, i have always been curious about the country of my birth. and i believe it's healthy with a fresh start once in a while." marigold had needed it, she had been quietly dying on the inside in that empty house in paris. "i think my mother told me about your family, you have several siblings, do you not?" she would not repeat what had mother had said, not of it had been particularly kind.
letha had found her way into town, wishing to pick up her own and Prudence's newly made dresses at the seamstress. She had however stopped to pick up the newspaper, finding herself halfway disappointed that certain wizards and witches couldn't hide their tracks better. with her eyes on the paper, she heard a voice, someone speaking to her. She looked up at the "Ambrose" name and found a beautiful young woman. Letha felt rather shocked wondering when on earth Duchess Ambrose had been with child. "Did you say Ambrose?" she frowned and looked the girl up and down. She didn't look like the duchess, didn't have her eyes nor her face shape. She felt rather out of place, especially since she hated the duchess more than anyone. "When did you arrive in London child?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, not saying who she was just yet. She closed the newspaper and looked her up and down, an unsettling feeling in her bones.
marigold was prepared to go through all the motions of polite conversation, but the woman did not react as she expected her to. and this is where the young lady struggled. she could follow a script, her mother had drilled her enough on how to behave and what to say in response to the usual polite introductions, but without knowing anything about the stranger, she had nothing to go on. "yes, ambrose." marigold was quickly learning that some people had particular feelings about that name. "oh, we arrived only a few days ago. i was born here in london, you see, but we moved to france not long after my birth." mari spoke with a faint french accent, it was not strong as she had only picked it up during school, but there were hints of it. "and you are?" she hoped that would prompt the woman to introduce herself.
as soon as she arrived in england with her mother, she felt more alive than she had done in years. she felt invigorated by the thought of wiping the slate clean. this time marigold was determined not to get caught in her mother's spiderweb of shallow friendships that would rise or perish with social status. but where to start? it was easier to strike up a conversation at a ball. mari saw a figure standing close by, they were skimming the front page of the daily prophet and she decided to seize her chance. "a talking teapot?" she chirped up, a bright smile on her lips. "oh dear, the muggle must have gotten quite the fright — even i would!" it was not the most elegant way to strike up a conversation, but it had managed to catch their attention. "you know, i do not believe our paths have crossed yet. my mother and i only recently returned to london. i'm marigold ambrose, daughter of the duchess." she remembered to add that part now since she had been met with confusion before.
kit could not stop pacing, his green eyes downcast and his hands tucked neatly behind his back. now that he'd been named the diamond, his parents had even higher expectations for him, and thus far, nothing had changed. perhaps not even such a prestigious title could make someone as dull as he was into someone desirable. he rarely spent time outside the fenrin estate and when he did, he was hardly sociable, merely flitting about the outskirts of the crowd and drinking until it made those who bothered to strike up conversation with him the least bit interesting. the fact that he did not have a ledger or glass in hand at that very moment was a rarity. he risked a glance at the visitor seated on the settee and offered them a polite smile, which ended up looking much more like a grimace. ❝ i don't imagine this is what you were picturing when you came to gawk at the man named the diamond of the season. i'm not certain why she picked me either, perhaps your time would be better spent at the goldhorn estate, with lady irene. ❞
while marigold was excited by the idea of starting a new life in england, she also dreaded having to be paraded around to a whole new society. but there was no escaping it, so instead, she tried to embrace it. if she wanted to make friends, she had to make an effort, they would not magically jump out of her books. when brought to the fenrin estate, she smiled and greeted everyone nicely, introducing herself to the fenrin family. she had been told that one of the sons had been declared as the diamond of the season — a concept she found odd. she was grateful that they had not arrived in london earlier, her mother would have been pushing for her to get such a title. “oh no, i didn’t come to gawk!” marigold quickly assured him. “i simply find it is often easier to go along with my mother’s ideas instead of fighting them, but i promise you that i came with no expectation.” of course her mother would send her to the doorstep of the diamond. "so i take it you do not relish in the idea of being a diamond? i cannot blame you, i must admit i find myself relieved to have not been considered at all."
[ rose williams , 22 , cis woman , she/her ] have you seen , MARIGOLD AMBROSE the WITCH has entered court? said to be INTELLIGENT + ELOQUENT , we can only hope their good qualities outshine that they are also SELF-DESTRUCTIVE + OBSESSIVE . when asked about them , people are always reminded of: smeared scribbles written in black ink on yellowed pages, moving shadows in a moonlit room, an ornate golden mirror and the unnerving sound of a pounding heartbeat. they are THE LADY OF HOUSE AMBROSE. they believe in THEMSELVES. may their wand guide them to absolution.
FACTS
full name: marigold henrietta ambrose.
nicknames: mari, goldie.
title: lady marigold ambrose, daughter of duchess ambrose.
age: twenty-two.
sexuality: bisexual.
relationship status: unmarried, not engaged.
languages: english (with a mild french accent), french.
looks: dark hair, brown eyes.
wizarding school: beauxbatons (had she attended hogwarts, she would have been in ravenclaw).
patronus: blackbird.
wand: ash, dragon heartstring, 12″, stiff.
STORY
marigold grew up in france and only recently returned to england with her mother, the duchess ambrose. despite having an english mother, she had a classic french upbringing and attended beauxbatons instead of hogwarts. all she has ever known is france. despite living a privileged life with glamour and riches, marigold grew up extremely lonely in a big empty house. there were no children around, only her. it always felt like she lived with a stranger instead of a mother, she has never once felt loved by the duchess ambrose. due to not being around children growing up, the young witch mainly entertained herself with books — and later she began writing poetry. her poems were dark and reeking of melancholy, so marigold never showed them to anyone, and she knew her mother would only laugh at her words. the duchess had given her a bright name, a golden name, but she always felt unable to live up to it. she was not sunshine personified, she was midnight rain.
school became her saving grace and marigold discovered new sides to herself at beauxbatons. the biggest one was that she actually learned how to make true friends. she was a master at small talk, of being polite and charming as she had been taught, but she never made a real human connection before starting school. the moment she said goodbye to her mother, something inside her changed, a weight was lifted from her shoulders. marigold had always thought herself incapable of making friends, she had thought that she needed no one but herself. her years at school were her happiest by far. she wrote fewer poems but she filled her hours alongside her little group of friends. the young lady was finally content. when she graduated from beauxbatons marigold truly believed that everything would change, but almost immediately she found herself falling back into the same pattern, her mother made sure of that. the house was still empty, filled with beautiful things and balls hosted every month, but her mother still felt like a stranger. countless poems were written, all filled with gloom and despair, a wish for a different life. she wanted her old life with her friends back, she did not want to meet french noblemen and women whose vainess rivaled that of her mother. but then one day the duchess suddenly announced they would return to england. mari decided then and there this was her chance to finally escape the numbness, to finally feel something again, even if her mother has proven to be more set on finding a suitable husband for her daughter than to help marigold grow into her own person.
the day after returning to london marigold ventured out to the shops, her object of desire being a new hat and after introducing herself to the shopkeeper, she overheard two women nearby whispering about her mother, how they had no idea that the duchess had a child. at first marigold did not think anything of it, but somehow the thought planted itself in her subconscious and it is currently haunting her. mari knows that she was born in england, surely the ladies must just be remembering wrong. she knows it makes no sense. why would the duchess raise another’s child... but what if there is a reason why the duchess has never loved her — one other than her not living up to her mother’s expectations?
PERSONALITY
marigold is an introvert that has been molded into an extrovert. it saps a lot of her energy, but she can smile, small talk and entertain with the best of them. some part of her enjoys knowing that she can put an act on so well. she is fiercely intelligent, scoring high marks in all her classes in school, and she actually enjoys learning and spends a lot of time with her nose in books. she is most skilled at charms which makes her a dangerous duelist, she is also very creative with her choice of spells. she is generally pleasant to be around, marigold takes no enjoyment in other people’s suffering, but neither does she go to great lengths to make others happy.
due to her unhappy childhood, she can get caught up in her sadness. it can take such a deep hold that she becomes self-destructive. there is also a deep rooted rage inside her. it rarely bubbles to the surface but when it does, mari has no control of herself. none of her poems before she started school has survived, she burned them all in a fit of rage years ago. marigold has a tendency to be obsessive, she finds it hard to stop or let go when something has managed to capture her interest. this has led to countless sleepless nights spent thinking, reading or writing about the same subject over and over again.
she is in the process of figuring out who she truly is without the influence of her friends, of her mother or her old life in france.
