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cosette amaira dehlavi, seasonsfm.

　　the sun warms those gathered at st. hampton's court palace, soft rays peeking through clouds sparse, meager and white. though spring has not yet fully come, flowers bloom regardless, florets of all shades dotting the party in hues incomparable. it's unlike anything cosette has ever seen ; scenery like this, people like this, the respectability and decency they don like silk. back home springtime brings hard work, boats full of carp, bream and trout ⎯⎯ rope bared hands collecting calluses, days ending with a burn in sinew that feels good. earned. here it begets something else entirely, no markets full of fresh fish and a lack of refinement but produce and hagglers all the same. she should be out there among them, using this precious opportunity to find her own catch, but instead she's retired to a game tent, shade providing privacy for something she knows it shouldn’t. wagers. she's up a few shillings, whist games played, becoming whist games won. lips have found themselves in a eternal smile, not the one she's been donning for most of the day, forced and sterile, but something genuine, wolfish in it's own right. ❝ i think we should up the stakes, do you not? ❞

#seasons.starter #seasons.gardenparty #we made it!

regenc1es

⤷ 𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 : the great exhibition room . 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠 : open , accepting replies .

“ some people take art to be a way to express emotions . ” she started , gaze never leaving the painting hanging on the wall . “ others see it as a way of eternalising the present . ” finally , amélia looked at the person standing next to her at the exhibit . “ which of those are you ? unless … you are a secret third option , with a different view entirely . if that is the case , please , do tell . i would be delighted to hear it . ”

foragens

　　❝ i will be truthful, i know not much of art. ❞ words are said softly as they gaze at the piece before them, eyes not once forsaking the scene laid bare. there was something gripping about it, stirring. relatable in a way she didn't want to unfurl or sit with. ❝ i think people make what they know. if it is pain that you know … it is pain that is reflected. ❞ a pause, a turn their way. ❝ what do you think of art? ❞

MISS COSETTE AMAIRA DEHLAVI

/ clumsy in every nature but physical ; boots caked in mud and grime, evidence of a night spent in an unsavory manner ; warm notes of amber, vanilla and tobacco acting as announcement ; sea salt craved and yearned for ...

full name: cosette amaira dehlavi alias: aira, amy, though most just call her by her first name. date of birth: the 24th of october. age: 25. gender: woman. pronouns: she + they. orientation: pansexual. past residence: whistable, a small seaside town most popular for it's oyster harvesting and fishing trade. current residence: winthrop manor, elingwood. occupation: previously a fisher folk for the dehlavi fishery. education: none in a higher context, however is proficient in boating, knot tying, gear maintenance, reading the water and other tools of the trade, as she was raised up on a boat for most of her life. she is also skillful at gutting, salting and packing fish + shucking. faceclaim: anya chalotra. hair: dark brown, nearly black. eyes: dark midnight blue. height: 5'6. build: lithe and lean, years spent working on the harbor has kept her strong. accent: light, lifted, what one would called a country version of english. distinguishing features: long flowing hair that's usually kept in a loose braid and out of the way. a perpetual pout that never seems to disappear. likes: crabbing. reading, though it takes her quite a while to finish a book. feeding horses. the smell of saltwater. gambling and cards; first picked up through her brother and then sustained with coworkers and friends. whiskey. fresh cream and berries. fresh cream and anything. seafood. people watching. tobacco. cleaning, keeping things neat and in order. dislikes: anything that has to do with how a woman "should" behave, long walks that seem to lead nowhere. not being productive, she always has to feel like she's moving forward somehow, someway. the ton. father: aravind dehlavi † mother: eleanor hastings dehlavi † spouse: none. siblings: bram eugene dehlavi. at the current moment is not on speaking terms with him after he used dehlavi fishey as collateral for his gambling debts and lost it. children: none, though there seems to be a bird that frequents the elingwood gardens, one she's grown quite fond of watching and sneaking day old pastries to.

#seasons.intro