henrie latymer

[miss-kore]

Closed starter for @henrie-latymer​ As Kore opened the back door of the tea room the wind whistled through the doorway. She shut it swiftly, wincing as the wood banged against the doorframe. Snow caught in her curls and she wrapped herself in her arms. Normally she didn’t mind the little tea dates her aunt set her up with but the women she was seated with were vapid and painfully boring. Going on about what nice muffs they would buy during the festival and who they hoped would ask them to skate. Kore had rolled her eyes which garnered her a glare from her aunt. 

So she did what she always did– sneak away. Though usually her escapades took place in the spring or summer when she didn’t have to worry about wind and snow. Her thick coat was checked at the front of the establishment. Kore had only managed to sneak out though the service door in the back. Rubbing her arms she walked briskly back to the main road. She still had her pocketbook. With the humble bit of money she had she could walk to the bookstore down a block and spend a good hour or two there. Then pay for the trouble by buying herself a new book. She preferred philosophy and natural sciences but Kore would read anything put in front of her– especially when the alternative option was small talk.

Caught up in her thoughts she did not notice the slab of ice in her path– till she was slipping forward. She reached out to catch herself only to be caught by someone else. Kore blinked, scared to look up at her savior. Which was worse? Knowing the person who had caught her or having it be a complete stranger? Not wanting to be a coward she finally lifted her head. “My Lord–” she stammered. Oh, knowing her savior was worse, much worse. Lord Henrie Latymer, a seasoned dodger of the London Season. Kore had met him briefly at a ball in the fall. But despite their brief interaction she found the Lord favorable. He even spoke with her about her plans to travel one day, something which most men baulked. “Lord Henrie, my apologies–” she attempted to stand on her own only to slip once more on a small patch of ice, grabbing Henrie’s shoulder. 

[henrie-latymer]

It was dreadfully boring today, Henrie thought as he wandered through the London streets. He had woken late to find most of his family enjoying the winter festivities, and while he had every intention of joining them eventually, he thought he’d stroll through London on his own without his pestering mother and sisters. But Henrie had no destination, no companion to bother, and worst of all, very little pocket money. With a sigh, Henrie weighed his options – join his family at the skating rink, where his mother would cajole him to skate with Lady Whats-her-name; or take his coins to the nearest tavern and find warmth amongst the strangers and the ale. It wasn’t a difficult decision after all.

He took off in the direction of the tavern – or would’ve, if he wasn’t suddenly face-to-face with a lady who was about to succumb to the icy streets. Henrie reached out quickly, grabbing her waist to keep her from sliding to the ground, and said a quick prayer of thanks to his sturdy winter boots for keeping them both upright. “Might I suggest a different pair of shoes?” Henrie said, stifling a laugh at her look of surprise. “No apology needed, and I do believe we have met before, though the circumstances were much preferred --- oof!” She had slipped again, and the tug on his shoulder was enough to send them both off balance.

Henrie slid against the ice (damn these shoes, they were supposed to be invincible!) and fell to his knees, the woman – Miss Kore, he believed - sliding down with him. Henrie had expected to feel horror or embarrassment, but for some reason, laughter was bubbling up inside him. “Well, it seems we are no match for this ice, my lady!” he exclaimed, chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. “My apologies, Miss Kore, I do hope you’re not hurt!”

[henrie-latymer]

lady-ralston​:

Clutching her coat to her chest with one hand while the other gathered and lifted her skirt to save the fabric from any mud stain, Kitty internally cursed herself for underestimating the power of the Londinense weather. The morning had looked to beautiful, no one could have foretold such a windy afternoon. At least she had opted for one of her heavier dresses, by all means it could definitely be worse.

A smile of relief went through her face when the doors of the theatre came into her sight, almost as if she was seeing the pearly gates of Heaven instead. She fastened her pace at the promise of a warm shelter but made a point to not quite rush - ‘A lady never rushes, Catherine. A lady glides’. She was halfway up the stairs when she noticed the man at the door, holding it open and trying to disguise his coldness just as well as she had tried to disguise her haste. “  Thank you very much, Sir, ” she said as she passed him and smiled at his next statement. “ I think I would settle with a warm cup of tea and perhaps a thicker coat, but I do share the sentiment. This weather came out of nowhere, don’t you think? ”

❋❋❋

- 

Henrie followed the blonde into the foyer, the heavy wooden door slamming shut against the frost. He shook off his coat and scarf, feeling much like a snake shedding off layers, and smiled at his new companion. “Well, then tea is what you shall have! I believe we have made it just in time to enjoy a beverage before sneaking to our seats.” He motioned for her to follow him to the service counter and asked for two teas, and turned back to her. “Henrie Latymer, at your service, my lady,” he smiled, a quick bow completing the standard proper introduction. “I hope I am not keeping you from meeting your companions? I have an awful habit of forgetting other people may have other plans that do not include me.”

[henrie-latymer]

isabella-aldwyn​:

“I seem to be doing an abysmal job in guarding our drinks but that would be quite rude of me to not share with a gentleman who is so kindly taking the time to greet me.” Bella wondered if her question had rid this man of any suspicions of her identity, or at least thrown him off the trail of thought. That he believed her to be a lady reminded Bella that she needed to shed years of etiquette ingrained into her, lest someone see through her ruse. Though, she found it surprisingly  easy, head heavy with drink, to slouch slightly as she leaned towards the man across the table. “Your compliment is duly noted, and might I add, greatly appreciated. Though I certainly cannot compete with you in grace. You made quite an entrance on your way to my table.” Was she flirting a bit with a strange gentleman that she was meeting in the middle of a bar? Perhaps. But how often did she get the chance to do so freely with anyone without a chaperone in sight or a hovering Mama measuring her up and down for her worth in matching her precious baby.

Young eyes glittered with awe and fascination, widening as the woman tried to drum up her imagination to produce matching imagery to the story being told. This was exactly what she hoped to hear on her trip to the tavern. No, it was beyond her wildest dreams. Her father and brothers had often shooed her out from the room when conversation turned grim or towards subjects that were unfitting for a lady’s ears, to her utter annoyance. Her heart thud, both at hearing such foreign topics and also at the thought of a severed leg – what did a limb look like when bitten off by a shark. “Do you think the Captain retained his severed leg?” She asked curiously. “Imagine – in a chest like a trophy.”

A gulp later and she was now holding her face in her hands in a way that this man very evidently held all of her attention. “ My name is Isabella. I do not often have the chance to visit the tavern.” Or never, but she would not highlight that little fact. Inching the other tankards of ale forward, she flashed her teeth widely, as dazzling as she was capable of. “I don’t believe my friends will be returning any time soon. In the mean time, can we…” This was yet another item she hoped to check off on her trip to the tavern. But she was not sure how to describe the task. Barely able to contain her excitement, her hand briefly moved from her chin to gesture as if downing a mug. “I often see avid drinkers down their drink in one go as fast as they can. Will you finish these drinks with me right now? And then you must tell me why you found yourself in the high seas.” 

- 

‘Well, she is certainly not like any lady I’ve met,’ Henrie thought, bemused at her eager attention to his pirate story, and his eyebrows raised at her question. He laughed, mostly from surprise but also amusement at this girl who seemed to have an imagination to rival his. “I heard he kept the leg in his bedchambers until the stench was too great to bear… then he forced his captives to remove the decaying flesh and muscle until the shining bone was revealed.” Henrie had heard this, but it had been from a drunken soldier at the Spanish port. The same soldier had revealed the entire story of Captain Diego to him and his Aunt Elly, and Henrie had listened with fascination at the idea of pirates and captivity and adventures. Unfortunately, the story he was relaying in this bar tonight was not his own. He’d never been on a ship overtaken by pirates, though he had suffered through storms and a particularly bad case of food poisoning. He had commandeered this story as he did with others, but Henrie was eager to one day experience all these adventures first-hand. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Isabella,” Henrie smiled, tipping his hat towards her. “Henrie Latymer, at your service, and glad to be your new companion for the evening until your friends return - if they have not frozen to ice outside.” He frowned towards the front door, where each time it opened spurred a new gust of icy wind into the tavern. 

But turning back to Isabella, he laughed gleefully at her suggestion. “Miss, I would believe wholeheartedly that you have been to many taverns, as finishing your drink in one gulp is quite a welcome challenge around here.” Henrie lifted his glass to clink with hers, and with a smile, drank the remaining ale (if it dribbled a bit down his chin, he did not notice - after all, this was far from his first ale of the night and one stops caring about those sort of things very quickly). When he finished, he sighed and leaned back against the wall, his stomach tightening from fullness. “Miss Isabella, I believe I have led you to believe my adventures are boundless.” Henrie shrugged his shoulders and stared at his empty glass. “Unfortunately my high tales are much more subdued. You see, I traveled the region with my Aunt, and our adventures at sea consisted mainly of throwing rats out of our rooms and exchanging stories with tired seafolk, men who were weathered from years of brutal ocean air, but who rarely encountered pirates or sea demons.” Henrie smiled at Isabella. “My secret is this - pirates seem to want nothing to do with me, they must find me dreadfully boring.”

[henrie-latymer]

eiraeth​:

Tears of happiness spilled down her cheeks, and she barely noticed when he held her hand. Eira could hardly believe this was really happening, that he was actually standing there in front of her. She had wasted so much time alone! She would not have had to be homeless, for surely her family would have protected her, if only she had not been so naive and so trusting of that cruel woman. 

“Yes, please.”, she immediately agreed, following him towards the door, her reticule clutched in her empty hand. When he looked back at her again, she smiled and shook her head. “No, I left there a few years ago. I have been in London, but now I live with Lady Westhorpe. So much has happened, but I will try to explain.”, she promised, though she knew it would be difficult to reveal the truth of everything she had been up to; perhaps she would have to be vague about certain things she had to do to get by when she was homeless. 

Moving towards the door again, she asked him, “How long have you been in London, Henrie? How is ….everyone?”

-

“Well, I am glad to hear you left that horrid place,” Henrie muttered, though by her tone it likely had not been a simple transition. “That wretched woman deserves the gallows for her crimes, to fake a lady’s death –“ Henrie stopped himself from continuing, as the entire experience must still pain his cousin. He would help Eira bring retribution upon her stepmother, but now was not the time to dwell on revenge.

Henrie smiled at his cousin as they walked out of the shop, nodding a few stores down at the fashionable clothing store he had escaped from. “My family is well, my sisters are all married and our family grows larger each year. In fact, Frances is pregnant with her first child, you’d think my mother would be tired of grandkids by now but she somehow is more excited than ever.” He laughed, shaking his head at his mother’s endless joy. “I am grateful, it helps take the attention away from me and my utter lack of marriage proposals – at least until the next ball rolls around and she’s pinching me to ask some poor soul to dance.” He smiled once again at his cousin, glad to have a familial companion who was closer in age and therefore not married – that he knew of. “Cousin, please tell me more about you, how did you come to live with Lady Westhorpe? Is it a good arrangement? My mother would surely have you come stay with us if it is disagreeable to you or Lady Westhorpe.”

[henrie-latymer]

@eiraeth​

prompt : touch

flashback: summer 1805

The summer heat had felt stifling, at least when inside the house. Outside though, the breeze seemed to linger at Henrie’s feet and ruffle his hair, gently carrying away his thoughts and leaving him feeling free. Henrie looked over at his cousin Eira, who had been visiting for the past week but was set to return to home soon – she seemed pensive, lost in too many thoughts where he had none. “Eira,” he said gently, lightly rubbing her shoulder to get her attention. “You seem much farther away than usual, cousin. What are you dreaming of today?” 

[henrie-latymer]

@peeress​

The Latymer family prided themselves on their exquisite dining room, which took up an entire floor of their London residence. The size was necessary to accommodate their growing family – after all, four of the five Latymer children were married, and of course, they had their own children. As such, their weekly dinners were busy affairs, intensified by the frequent invitation to other members of London society to join for dinner and cards. Tonight was one of these nights, and as Henrie sat down amidst the deafening noise of children crying and laughing, men bragging about Parliament happenings, and women gossiping about the newest marriage announcement, he felt like his head would unscrew loose from turning between conversations.

So instead, Henrie turned to his neighbor, a beautiful blonde who had been introduced to him as a new addition to London society, Lady Rosenberry. His sister had whispered about her introduction to society, and sworn she had turned down 20 marriage proposals already, finding each man to be beneath her status. Henrie had initially written it off as petty gossip, but after glancing at the woman, he could almost believe it – she seemed to float above the dinner hall, poised and elegant but also completely unattainable.

Henrie smiled amusingly at the blonde, nodding his head towards his family members. “I do hope we do not scare you away from London, Lady Rosenberry. Though I imagine you are grateful to be in the company of mostly married couples, away from your adoring suitors.” He shrugged his shoulders with a smile. “I have heard you’ve turned down quite a few gentlemen - I shall refrain from adding my own proposal to the mix, I can get quite down when rejected."

[henrie-latymer]

@lady-ralston​

prompt: open

Pulling his coat tighter against his chest, Henrie pushed onwards through the windy streets of London, his destination only a few steps ahead yet somehow seeming like miles away. Why had he ignored his sister’s offer to share her carriage to the theatre? His pride and independence was so often ruining his comfort, but a man should be able to walk a mile, weather be damned. “And damned it is,” Henrie mumbled, finally reaching the heavy wooden doors of the theatre, where most of society had already shuffled to their seats or were finishing their drinks in the lobby. He pushed at the doors, eager to escape into the warmth, when a cursory backwards glance revealed a blonde rushing up the steps. If Henrie was chilled to the bone, he could only imagine what the woman felt, as female fashion left little in ways of comfort against the cold. He smiled at her, trying to disguise his chattering teeth. “After you, please!” Henrie said, pushing the door wider to accommodate. “Let us hope this play is set in hell, with plenty of fire breathing demons.”

[shesnake]

Dev Patel in The Wedding Guest (2018) dir. Michael Winterbottom

[henrie-latymer]

@francine-oakland​

Henrie could not remember whose house he was currently at. It was a ball, that he was sure of, as he gazed around the room at the dancing pairs. But whose? His mother had told him a thousand times, but it had fallen on deaf ears - Henrie wanted to please his mother and eventually find a wife, but he had no confidence that he would find her by waltzing. So now here he was, left alone by his sisters who had been gossiping about the eligible women and who they would marry, and wondering where the hell he was (and how quickly he could escape…) Henrie turned another corner and busied himself with a new drink - when this drink was through, he’d leave, unless he could find someone to discuss anything other than possible matches.

The drinks had been laid out decoratively on a table, and standing by that table was a couple, engaged in lively conversation. But as Henrie furtively looked over, he realized it was a one-sided discussion, the fellow talking animatedly to a young lady who seemed eager to be anywhere but her current position. “— you see, the price of corn has gone up to seventy shillings per quarter! It’s an abomination to the Crown, who demanded it be regulated at sixty-six shillings, but do these heathens care about the will of the King? My word, this corn from the Americas is being treated like gold, do you not agree?”

Henrie stifled a grin, his drink already loosening his tongue past proper behavior would allow. He knew the man, a pig-headed land owner who detested the Americas and spouted falsehoods at any moment, in the loudest tone possible. Henrie sauntered up to the pair, throwing an easy glance at the burly fellow. “My sir, I could not help overhearing, but have you heard the latest rumor from the docks?” He pursed his lips, looking grim at the discussion. “The Americas have been sending demon corn - why, my fields planted some of the wheat brought from America and it wilted immediately, and the rot spread to the roots of my good wheat!” Henrie shook his head, and patted the man on the shoulder. “I’m sure an intelligent man such as yourself did not make the same mistake I did, and plant the enemy corn amongst your own garden.” The man’s eyes widened and he mumbled a quick “of course not, excuse me” before escaping into the crowd. Henrie chuckled and turned to the woman. “My apologies, miss, I hope I did not ruin your enlightening discussion. I merely hoped to save a man from a horrible fate.”

[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]

- - - - - - -

𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 prompts featuring nonverbal scenarios. [ send the following starter prompts to a muse to start a thread ] 

guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.

shelter protect them.

shove push them.

loop drape an arm around their shoulders.

touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand.

kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.

palm smack them upside the head.

bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.

aid help them with a task.

note pass a note to them.

cry wipe away their tears.

wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.

bandage patch them up when they get hurt.

heal take care of them when they get sick.

book silently read a story with them.

carry pick them up.

scrap punch them.

cherry find blood on them.

sit help them sit down.

medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.

steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up.

beat dance with them.

stare stare them down.

off track get lost with them.

no shaking their head in disagreement.

yes nodding their head in agreement.

rush tackle them to the ground.

open hold the door open for them.

[henrie-latymer]

@benjaminayles​

The letter Henrie had received that morning had turned his household into a hurricane, with him at the center. He was fuming with anger at an unknown relative - Nicholas Poole, had anyone even heard of him? - who had the audacity to claim ownership of his Aunt Elly’s vast estate. He was Aunt Elly’s husband’s son, apparently, though it was common knowledge that Uncle Peter had never been able to sire a child and the pair had married quite young, so where did this son come from?

“Hell, most likely,” Henrie scoffed to no one, stuffing his papers into his briefcase angrily. He was off to find a lawyer, someone who could help him decipher Aunt Elly’s will. She had rewritten it hundreds of times, and each time Henrie had looked at it with her patiently, pointing out inconsistencies or name misspellings. But this Nicholas Poole claimed he’d found a loophole, where he was entitled to the estate despite Aunt Elly leaving it to Henrie and his brother and sisters, with strict orders to use it only as a vacation home and to only sell if the family became impoverished. Henrie was taking to the streets of London, and would find the best damn lawyer he could and destroy this Nicholas Poole.

The name on the office door sounded vaguely familiar, Henrie thought as he marched to his first recommendation. Benjamin Ayles was a name he’d heard before, but not due to legal pursuits. He shrugged it off and opened the door, walking steadfastly to the man behind the desk. “Mr. Ayles, I require your legal assistance in the matter of my aunt’s will. A man with no proper authority is threatening to defy her last wishes, and I will not have it be so.” Henrie pulled some crumpled papers from his bag and slumped into the seat, his defiant air deflating. “It is most frustrating, you know. My Aunt Elly surely would’ve remembered if she had a son.”

[henrie-latymer]

task one : henrie’s playlist

the beatles // here comes the sun

it’s been a long cold lonely winter … the smiles returning to the faces

the arkells // saturday night 

Saturday night in a world of possibilities, that look in your eye and the whole city’s glistenin’, so tell me your type, because right now I’m listening

too much wine // the fratellis 

I give away my blood for a sign, until my ship comes in I’m going to drink myself too much wine

fall out boy // alone together 

I don’t know where you’re going but do you have room for one more troubled soul?

dolly parton // wildflowers 

just a wild mountain rose needing freedom to grow, so I ran fearing not where I’d go

bruce springsteen // born to run 

oh baby, this town rips the bones from your back, it’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap, we gotta get out while we’re young

harry styles // golden 

I’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky, browns my skin just right, you’re so golden

[henrie-latymer]

eiraeth​:

One of Eira’s favorite places in London was The Temple of the Muses– at least her favorite place which was indoors. When she hadn’t any other plans and the weather was too poor to be outside for long, she could while away the entire day perusing the shelves, admiring the beautiful volumes and wishing she had the money to purchase them all. Some days she enjoyed people watching, seeing others enjoy the same thing she did always gave her an odd sort of satisfaction. It was like seeing someone you had never met but she would have wanted to count them among her friends just because they appreciate literature.

So caught up inside her own inner musings, she did not notice the young man staring at her until she heard him say her name. That caught her attention immediately, and she looked at him quickly, taken aback by how familiar he seemed. The possibility hit her in a flash and then sank in who he reminded her of, and she went even paler than her usual shade. When he shook her shoulder, she was a bit shocked, but grateful too, for at least he had proven that he was not a ghost. 

Forgetting her manners in her shock, she stared at him. “Me? I’m Eira. Are you Henrie?”, she asked, the truth of it sinking in, that her stepmother must have lied to her about this, too. She was such an idiot for believing anything that woman had told her! “I’m not dead, as you can see. But you’re not, either!” Quickly hugging him tight, she grinned even as tears came to her eyes. Suddenly aware that they were attracting far too much attention, she let go of him. “I… we have much to discuss. Would you care to join me for tea later this afternoon? Or now, if you have time.” Concern etched onto her face, now that she had seen him, she was almost afraid to blink for fear he would disappear again and she would be alone once more.

-

Henrie could’ve laughed, if the situation was not as serious. His cousin was alive, and after spending the last four years assuming she was dead, it seemed almost unbelievably comical to have believed the farce. Henrie hugged her back, the preying eyes of shop patrons the last of his concerns. “Oh Eira, it is such a relief to see you, I cannot imagine being happier than this moment.” He pulled back but grabbed her hand, unwilling to let go in case she disappeared into the crowds and out of his life once more. 

“We must talk, I cannot fathom how this moment has come to be.” Henrie’s mind wandered to his sisters, who were in the nearby shop, and how joyous the family reunion would be. But for now, he intended to keep it a secret from his sisters - after all, this was a shocking twist of events, and Henrie needed to discover how it all came to be before he pursued action against Eira’s cruel stepmother. “Tea would be wonderful - or something stronger, if you have it - let us go now.” Henrie took a step towards the entrance, before turning on his heel with a question. “But where are you living? Surely not with that wretched woman who called herself your stepmother?” He hadn’t heard any whispers of Eira, if his family had known it would’ve been the talk of the town, and would have reached his ears, even while he was staying with Aunt. Had she been in town this entire time, just hidden out of sight?

[henrie-latymer]

isabella-aldwyn​:

This might have been one of the riskier schemes Bella had attempted. Enough that Nancy, her personal maid who often followed along with her ideas (albeit with some heel digging) did not want to accompany her alone. This was the woman who had been convinced by Bella to attend Byron’s bachelor apartment with her in the dead of the night. The woman who had stood by as bella swam in a lake with a strange artist she met in the middle of the forest. Nancy was a good sport, but this idea that bella had suggested had far exceeded any semblance of sanity. It was downright idiotic as bella once again stepped out into the tightrope of propriety by wanting to visit a tavern where they could drink freely. Nancy only agreed if the reinforcements were brought in – namely in the form of Robin, the coachman. 

They were just three chums enjoying the night together, at least that is what bella told herself, as the trio entered the tavern. In the chilly evening air, the hood over her head did not seem out of place. Not a soul would be suspicious of a cloak at this time of the year. They made their way to a table in the back corner, far away enough from the crackling fire and the various flickers of candlelight that Bella felt comfortable lowering her hood. From the angle the shadow fell, her appearance would simply be a silhouette unless someone approached their table closely. Which was exactly what happened as a man boisterously dropped into where Nancy had sat only moments ago. Bella, Nancy and Robin had made merry for the past hour, just as the young girl had hoped they would. Tankards of ale later and Nancy and Robin were getting on masterfully. Too masterfully. That was how Bella, despite being doubly chaperoned, found herself alone – inebriated and amused – at the table as her two chaperones ‘needed air’ together. Amused at the turn of events, Bella greeted the man with light-headed ardor. “Oh, very graceful, sir. Do you happen to be a dancer?” 

Her lips twisted into a dramatically dejected pout as she pushed one of their untouched ales towards the man. “My companions do not seem to be returning any time soon. They have much to say to each other, it seems.” Though all too quickly, a large grin began to light her relaxed features. It was impossible to hold onto her feigned sulking. Not when she had drank much more than she probably should have. “ I would very much appreciate your company.” A spirited giggle escaped her at the thought that the surprising twist of the night had left bella alone with a strange gentleman. 

Somehow, this man through his drunken fervor had picked up on her nobility. She wondered if she should admit to her title. Without thinking much more on it, instead directed by the bubbles of alcohol filling her chest, she declared deviously, “I am flattered that you believe me a lady. But what would a lady be doing at a tavern so late into the night?” Although, she did sympathize with his sentiment, sharing a similar sorrow towards the impending Season. That Parliament was back in session meant time was slowly ticking towards bella’s inevitable debut. “Are gentlemen not often looking forward to Society’s beginning? I am astounded with this confession.”

Bella took a large gulp of her ale, enjoying that she did not have to sip meekly, before deliberately slamming it down with satisfaction. An urgency set over her as she suddenly looked the man dead in the eye. “Is it true pirates have wooden legs? Have you seen one?”

Henrie graciously took the offered ale (his had disappeared long ago - how had that happened?) and tipped the glass towards her with a nod before taking a sip. “Your companions must be well-assured of your abilities, then, if they leave you here to guard full glasses of ales by yourself. Though -“ he grinned over his cup at the girl. “You seem to be giving them away freely.”

Henrie paused, taking in her next statement. So she was not a lady, then? Well, it was unusual that a noblewoman would be seated alone in a tavern at night, drinking beer from stained cups and laughing freely with strange men. Henrie had been wrong before, and he would be wrong again - that was as guaranteed as London rain. “My apologies, miss, I only meant that you possess grace that is not usually found this late at night, I mean it only as a compliment.”

He laughed aloud as she gulped her drink and slammed it against the table and followed suit, eager to forget about the upcoming season. Henrie waved his hand dramatically. “Oh, let’s forget about the damned Season. The pirates, though…” his eyes gleamed with excitement. “Of course it’s true! I saw one on the high seas in Spain, he was covered in tattoos and his clothes were in tatters. We saw his wooden leg through his pants hole, scratched up and covered in marks, as if someone had tried to hack it to pieces and failed.” Henrie leaned in closer and his voice dropped to a whisper. “They claimed his leg was taken by a shark, who had jumped out of the sea and pulled him under, but the Captain - Captain Diego de Palo - cut the vicious beast with his hidden dagger, and escaped holding his severed leg in his hands.” Henrie sat back awaiting a reaction - if the girl was a noblewoman the story would definitely offend her sensibilities.

[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.

[henrie-latymer]

Henrie had business in town - or at least, that was what he’d told his scowling mother as he sped out the door. In truth, he knew his mother had planned on having the Parson sisters to tea, and she had high hopes that the eldest would catch his eye. He’d seen the eldest, and spoken to her at dinner last year, and he highly doubted her conversation would be much improved. Henrie was saving himself from a great headache.

So instead, he was wandering the busy London streets, unsure of his final destination yet eager for something that would satisfy the rest of his day’s activity. He’d been pondering stopping to pick up sweets for his family (to placate his mother) when he heard a man curse and saw the distorted shape of a hat fly through the chilly air. Henrie grinned at the familiar voice. “Byron, my friend, better your hat than your foot!” he cried out with a laugh, patting his old companion on the shoulder. “The London horses are not Eton-bred, these beasts do not care whether you are a Lord or a dropped crumpet.” Henrie nodded towards the bustling street. “That was not your favorite hat, I hope?”

[strangehighs-archive]

THE PERSONAL HISTORY OF DAVID COPPERFIELD (2019) dir. Armando Iannucci

[henrie-latymer]

chronus, hestia

hestia - enjoy about family :

my family has grown exponentially in the last few years. my siblings are all married, each with their own brood of children. the dinners are quite thunderous, as little bodies get underfoot while the adults try not to scream. i adore my nieces and nephews, who have wild imaginations and boundless energy. i don’t enjoy the constant questions about my own future children, however. that can wait a bit, can’t it?