multi-museblog

dependent blog for The Ton HQ; home to Ceara Dempsey, Genevieve de La Croix, and Riya Das

[lavieenton]

— welcome to lavieenton —

multimuse blog for The Ton HQ

Genevieve de La Croix

Ceara Dempsey

Riya Das

about the author: (lucky, 23, she/her/hers, central time, triggers: sexual assault and suicide)

DRAFTS: 3

tasks

Genevieve: musings, visage

1. home sweet home

2. family ties

3. gem of a character

4. soundtrack of our lives

Ceara: musings, visage

1. home sweet home

2. family ties

3. gem of a character

4. soundtrack of our lives

Riya: musings, visage

1. home sweet home

2. family ties

3. gem of a character

4. soundtrack of our lives

[lavieenton]

Genevieve perked up when she realized who she had come across. What was the duke doing here? Nevermind that, she thought. She could question him tomorrow when the evening was not buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

"Tiger's Eye is beautiful, I hear," she said. "You reflect the gem well, but I did not see you at the docks upon my departure from France. And yet we arrived at the same time. Why is that, Your Grace?"

She found her eyes narrowing, strangely suspicous of him. His tone alone let her know he was not prepared to see her, let alone speak with her.

[reveryfm]

Claude had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, which was saying a lot, considering the various compromising positions he had found himself in over the years. He cleared his throat in a thinly-veiled attempt to fully recover his composure. "Merci, Your Highness, your approval is duly noted." He paused, thinking his words through carefully before straightening up a little taller. "Ah, see, I was not upon the docks for I have been in England for... quite some time, now. I have not been to France for many years." He managed one of his charming smiles, and a laugh, though it didn't quite reach his eyes the same. "I cannot be in two places at once, it is impossible."

[lavieenton]

Genevieve was never one to trust liars. Little white lies were one thing, but a full-blown plot to ensure a lie stays afloat? It was strange and unseemly to her. And the duke's insistence that he hadn't been in their home country aggravated her to frustrating heights.

Casually, she asked, "Do you think me a fool, Your Grace? That is not a trick question, by the way, so I would appreicate a forward response." She did not have time for jokes that didn't land or further lies. She wanted honesty, and while she had no power over him in London, she would still find a way to get the answer she wanted from him.

[lavieenton]

Ceara sensed the wave of melancholy surrounding the young woman. Although she had reassured that she hadn't invaded her solace, something in her belly said that she was intruding on something private to her. She stayed, but not for herself. She wanted to know more about her.

She bowed her own head. "Ms. Ceara Dempsey," she introduced. "This is all a bit overwhelming, isn't it? I've personally never been to a ball before so, so the environment is quite...a strange experience."

Hopefully, Ms. Leonora knew she was not alone in the overwhelm.

[v1dua]

her father would have stamped his cane down and made some raucus causing joke to cheer her up, her mother would have wrapped her up in her arms and sang a lullaby to make everything better. she was home in england, surrounded by family who love her, and yet she has never been more alone.

"a pleasure, ms dempsey." a nod of her head and nora's smile slowly vanishes, features cracking under the weight of the stares, tiredness and anxiety present beneath her eyes and at the corners of her lips. "it is, i'm afraid. it all can be too much - the noise, decorations, the people."

a sigh.

"i would much rather be home in my study or my bed."

[lavieenton]

Ceara could only describe Nora as *weary*. She wasn't exactly sure why, but she wanted to offer a respite for the woman. An escape away from the fuss of the ball, of the people. Of everything having to do with tonight.

Gnawing at her lower lip, she said, "Would you like to accompany me outside? The rain has stopped I believe, and a bit of fresh air is always helpful. Plus, I heard the Barnetts have had new flowers planted just for tonight."

The ball was nearing its end, but she extended her hand regardless. It was up to Nora if she wanted to follow along. But Ceara did not want to allow this woman to just sulk in dark alcoves until the evening ceased. It was unseemly, in her mind.

[lavieenton]

His french, exquisite and comfortable, made her visibly perk up. Genevieve nodded and quickly replied, "Oui! C'est ma langue maternelle. Ça fait du bien de parler comme ça, plutôt que de devoir toujours parler anglais." (Yes! It's my native tongue. It feels better speaking like this than always having to speak English.) She was much more inclined to speak to him now, even despite her noticing the seamless perfection of his attire.

"Unfortunately, some people have been wearing their gems as if, mm, comme si c'était un cirque," she said, lowering her voice as if anyone could decipher their conversation with a single look. Genevieve smiled proudly then, always happy to explain why she chose the pink diamond. "Precisely, sir. It is one of the birthstones for October, based on my findings, and I adore the softness of the pink. Would I be too forward asking your name, sir?"

[debonheurs]

his  own  countenance  shifts  for  the  better.  although  he  has  encountered  multiple  people  who  speak  french,  to  be  able  to  speak  with  liberation  in  settings  like  this  seems  rare.  so  he  too  relaxes  into  the  language,  switching  so  that  they  both  be  more  comfortable.  he  taught  ramón  the  basics,  and  the  house  was  filled  with  the  sounds  at  first,  but  english  overran  the  beautiful  nature  of  it.  “mm,  english  is  unlucky  a  language.  it  prevails  over  everyone  and  sounds  so  harsh  and  ugly.”  offering  smirk,  little  dimple  in  his  cheek  showing.  he  holds  no  resentment  over  english  itself  but  rather  how  it's  wielded. “they  must.  to  many  here,  it's  a  performance.  they  must  outshine  the  diamond  even  if  the  hour  is  already  chosen  for  them.  some  can't  accept  defeat.”  he  cannot  either,  but  not  when  it  comes  to  these  attentions.  las  prefers  to  fade  into  the  background  and  not  be  observed  as  the  most  important  person  in  the  room,  although  as  the  night  wears  on,  their  sharp  realisation  settles:  most  recognise  them.  it's  a  bit  off  to  not  be  recognised.  part  of  them  enjoys  it  and  the  other  part  …  “lasaru  bessette.”  a  small  bow  at  the  peak  of  his  waist,  lapel  tucked  against  his  chest  with  his  hand.  “enchanté,  boldness  is  what  carves  you  a  path  in  this  world,  your  grace.  i  would  say  not  to  lose  that  quality.”  it  would  be  a  sad  day  indeed  to  see  emboldened  people  become  small  and  demure.

[lavieenton]

Genevieve noticed the lightness around him, finding it suited him better than the dark and brooding disposition. Though, that fit him as well to the naked eye. She found herself actually giggling at the insult. She did find English to be quite an unattractive language. It was clunky and awkward in some parts, but too simplistic in others. Though, she would give Edgar the compliment of making it sound more beautiful. He did not use it as a weapon, more a writer creating prose. He made it beautiful, worth listening to.

She found much comfort in Lasaru's company. He was funny, but not to a degree of cruelty. It was like speaking to a favored relative after months or years apart, familiar but respectful. "This entire gathering is evidence of your words, monsieur," she agreed simply, glancing around the room once more. Her eyes fixed themselves on the French doors that led to the gardens, the ghost of a smile shifting her features.

Looking back at them, she gave an elegant curtsy. "Thank you, Lasaru Bessette," she drawled. "Will you be staying in London indefinitely or is this a temporary stay? If so, I would love to visit your modiste in the coming week."

[lavieenton]

Genevieve gave a polite nod, but she did let out a soft laugh. "You look much younger than nine and twenty. Here I thought you were closer towards me at three and twenty," she teased. Her mother had always told her not to mention someone's age, though she found that to be ridiculous. Age was but a set of time someone lived upon earth. They spoke of their age casually, so why should she not do the same with her own?

She shook her head, grinning. "Not even a little. But, I agree. Especially here. All of the noise of others is aggravating," she huffed. The question forced her to think, mouth twisting. Truth be told, she gave little thought to what people were whispering about the Barnetts. It only ruined the charm of their event.

"I have been trying to ignore them," Genevieve admitted, looking at them again after focusing on a couple engaging in the Turquoise Dance. "They've hosted this beautiful gathering and...rumors only ruin such a thing. Though, the masked diamond individuals seem to make a mockery of any rumors. Like a weapon, of sorts. What have you thought about them?"

[debonheurs]

in their mind, their age claims no fear. why give it the satisfaction? there are already enough reminders and stressors without them coming from within your own mind. aera demurely covers their mouth with a gloved hand to laugh. "i swear, the only difference between the nine and three of twenty is that lower heels feel better on the soles of one's feet." and they had not been much of a wearer of heels as of late, now that they think about it. "i'm on your side with that. it's a mockery. i've a feeling the newspapers will be gaining some secrets, in that ... writer's column? yes?" a nagging feeling settles in their gut. the gossip column, more than likely, but some of the odd news ended up being true. and who informs this column? they don't like to be the one to think of it; that's somebody else's job. if something broke about them, then they'd know where it stemmed from. "something beautiful must always have a crowd around it claiming it to be anything but." they flick their fingertips across the scattered dancers. "some people cannot live without dragging you down with them, including friends or partners. it's why i struggle to find one." a vague wondering overcomes them, was that too much information to share? oh, well, does it matter? i'd rather be the one sharing it than handing over the power to somebody else.

[lavieenton]

It was a shame Genevieve was unable to meet Aera last season, as they were a delight amidst the chaos of feigned nobility and whispers amongst the ballroom. They spoke eloquently and without mockery, she would never have believed they hadn't met, for it was easy to speak with them. More than people the princess *was* acquainted with. Considering the highness of her own heels, a smile made its way onto her face. "I have something to look forward to in the coming years is what you are implying," she said, voice lilted as she teased.

"Oh, yes. Uhm...Whistlebright? Whisperdown? Whistledown!" She did not care enough to seriously correct herself on the column's name, but alas. It was all the citizens of Mayfair spoke of. "I find the writer to be quite odd, hiding and such while they spill secrets. And a ball like this only offers ammunition and content for them to fuss over, would it not?"

Genevieve turned to Aera and eyed them for a long moment. An idea sparked her mind, as it had every time she met a new person. "Come to the palace tomorrow," she requested. "I am unlikely to drag you down, as I have quite nimble arms, and we can continue our conversation in a much quieter space than the shambles of the Barnett residence."

[lavieenton]

"If Appa is not scowling, that means he may not detest the rumors he is hearing either," Riya noted, bordering playful but knowing there was some truth in the matter. Their father did not take kindly to any scandal, and if it involved his children, he likely would pretend they hardly existed. It was painful, but it functioned as a lesson. Never cross yourself with any mistakes as a Das. "You are his only son. His disdain for you is a temporary issue, in his mind. There is no one else like you."

It was both a compliment and a fact. Nalan was the eldest son, which meant their father was likely to take the things foretold in Whistledown as a measly stain to be laundered. His prodigal son would return, she was sure. But her mind fixated on the potential suitors he listed, her nose scrunching.

Riya ultimately shook her head. "I do not think the marquess and me would be well-suited. Mister Thorne and me are not close enough to even consider courtship yet, but I suppose a French duke will do. I will have to see about him," she decided, already sounding quite exhausted. This was why business, travel, and education meant more to her than any marriage market.

"Oh? You have big ambitions tonight, brother," she mused, breaking into a grin. "I heard they are quite strong women, the both of them. And that the princess wears a necklace made of real diamonds cut for her."

[dasxnalan]

Rithul and Kavya Das wanted only the best for their children, they all knew that, but things only heightened when the personal invitation to attend the social season came last year. Kavika was the only child with something to show for it aside from scandal and although the barony was hers, Nalan liked to think it was his for the running. “Temporary does not feel like it belongs in appa’s vocabulary but I know for a fact he still has hope for you, as do I. You are unique in yourself Riya, London will see it and I will be working on a match for you, but I will be chasing money-grabbers away.” As the eldest Nalan had grown accustomed to the finest of things such as an education that most would want, travelling that many could only dream of, it was a life that had been fulfilling and now Nalan needed settling, but he did not want just anyone. A lady with a title of her own was something but for that there was a princess of France or a future countess he had set his sights on.  “You would be well suited for either one of them dear sister, I only wish you could see your value. Why could you not be a marchioness, duchess or a countess, I think either one would be something you would excel at.”  

[lavieenton]

Maybe she *was* being a bit hard on herself. But after so long of the same thing, Riya never expected things to change with their parents. They were set in their ways, and she never saw that changing unless a miracle was bestowed upon them. And she was sure that would not occur without divine intervention of whatever kind.

"Just as you willed away the masked individual here?"

She was smiling this time, his words softening her heart and the cold exterior she had put between her and their parents. The fear of their rejection and disappointment was stronger than the energy to prove them wrong. But her smiling lasted as long as it had appeared, shaking her head at his sentiments.

"I appreciate that, brother. But again, the marquess and me are not well-suited and Tobias is only a friend, for now," Riya said, her eyes glazing over in detachment. "I am sure I would, but I would like my spouse to actually want me, not accept me as their...designated place for creating heirs and nothing more."

She bordered between being picky and wary of the eligible suitors about town. "But...that does not mean there is not hope for either of us. You will surely do well being a count or a prince. You've got the taste to prove so."

[lavieenton]

He was right. She was terrible at feigning indifference, especially with him. Even after all these years, he had a way of completely unraveling her until she was nothing more than his. He knew how to play her, and Ceara fell for it, like she had the first time around. It sickened her, in hindsight, but she was still eager enough to taste the regret on his lips, almost tasting just as bittersweet as her own. If this was the reward for failing at pretending, she would continue making it clear how much his presence was a bother and a gift.

Ceara's gaze was glassy and distracted, lashes grouping from the rain pattering in thicker sheets. But she narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak. And yet, he'd found another way to keep her silent on the matter. She was still quite cross with him, more than that, but his mouth mapping out her skin quieted any possible argument from brewing.

"No," she breathed, bordering after a moment's hesitation, simply turning her or tilting her head to bare whatever part of her he wanted to reach. Her hair stuck to her cheeks and neck, but she could hardly make out the feeling when his lips became a welcoming distraction. Maybe she did hate him, still. But not for the reasons she thought. She hated that he knew how to placate her after all this time. That he broke her down so easily, despite the effort and time she put into steeling herself.

To her detriment, Ceara tried chasing his lips when he broke their kiss. Goddamn fiend, he was. With a breathless laugh, she said, "That varies, at the moment. You are on the list, either way. But I think the more important question is..." A kiss landed on the corner of his mouth. "...what is it that you want, Lord O'Connor?"

The title was playful this time, not filled with such venom and resentment when they'd reconnected at the bookshop. A peculiar turn around, to be sure.

[lorddominic]

Dominic noted Ceara’s actions immediately. The way she followed him the moment he broke away from their kiss. It was instinct, fuelled by their past. Inside, all he could feel was satisfaction. Satisfaction that he’d done this, amidst the rain and the ball’s music in the background. It would’ve been romantic if she didn’t hate him. Her breathless laugh made him smile. “No?” He asked, echoing softly. “I thought you’d hate me forever.” He smiled. It was an infuriatingly smug smile. If she hated him, it would still be something. Anger wasn’t the opposite of whatever they shared. Anger was still passion; it still needed to feel something with the other person. It was still something that required effort. 

He’d closed his eyes when Ceara kissed him again. The temptation felt familiar, but nothing had changed. Everything that had separated them years ago was still in place. Dominic knew there wasn’t anything he could offer that was permanent. He needed a wife from a respected family, a woman that was raised within their societies and knew the expectations. His hand settled against her cheek, kissing her in the rain. “I want to enjoy this moment,” he said, finally pulling away. “I don’t want to talk about futures or expectations. I just want this for now.” Dominic wasn’t cruel enough to lie and offer things he had no intention of fulfilling. He was still the marquess; she was still a tutor. Nothing in their circumstances had changed.

[lavieenton]

She had put seventeen years of her life into hating him. Or at least, hating what he'd done. A terrible, vulnerable part of her loved him, even more than herself. And that was dwindling after every kiss he took and she gave. His smile did anger her, but it was the sort of anger that could be kissed or laughed away. it was frustration, knowing he knew how to speak to her, touch her. He was getting what he wanted, and in a sick sort of way, so was she. "I wanted to hate you forever," she revealed. "But that becomes exhausting after a while."

In essence, it was easier to pretend he didn't exist. It was effort, but effort that didn't become a complete hinderance on her life. It wasn't like his life had been hindered by her absence. He was still looking for a wife, was he not? And she was still teaching. Life had moved on, so why hadn't she? Why hadn't either of them?

Ceara noticed a familiar vulnerability in him. His night wasn't going the way he wanted. Was that why he sought her out? She should have been angry or flattered, but...her heart simply ached. Ached for what she knew, for what he wanted instead of what was required of him. And he wanted her, and that was enough for her after this horrible night.

"Alright," she agreed, her lips turning up into a smile. But as she did so and stepped closer, something fell from her bosom in a wet heap. The letter. Glancing down, she inhaled sharply beneath her breath and reached down to swipe it before he could, mind suddenly jumbled with the makings of their past that bled into the present.

[lavieenton]

Ceara didn't respond to his statement, under the assumption that he was processing her revelation. It was a bit much to take in. Granted, she was in Dominic's place as the person who engaged in something she likely shouldn't've. She hadn't told her own sister, believing it was no business of hers what she did. Did he feel the same? Frederic was unaware, she assumed their other brother was too, so perhaps.

"Precisely," she agreed with a sigh. "Which is why I wanted you to hear it from someone who wasn't him. He would deny any involvement with me to keep his reputation as pristine as possible, but you know this already."

At the mention of his mothers, she hummed in agreement and smiled. They were quite lovely, it would have been intimidating if she allowed the thoughts to linger any longer. But she sighed again and chewed the inside of her lip.

"I was tired of carrying it on my own," Ceara finally said. "And...Mary trusts you, so I presume you are someone worth trusting. You have no reason to trust me, but I will give you honesty."

[youngoconner]

Frederic was looking at her, and he was just processing it all. His brother, whom he thought followed the rules with an iron fist. The man who put his title and money above all else….had sneaked someone who he'd didn't have that…into their home? right under his nose??

"He would never admit it. He'd treat you as if you weren't anything, "He said it, and he wasn't even trying to be mean about it.

He stiffen slightly when she brings up Mary. Does she really trust him still? even after everything? He looked at her. "I like the honesty," he wasn't sure why but there was something about her.

"I will only say this once- so listen, ok?" He tells her. "I know I'm not the O'Connor that you wanted it from. But I am sorry for what Dominic did…" he wasn't really looking at her. " Whatever he did- I'm sure he did was cruel and uncalled for," He tells her. He wasn't even sure why he was saying sorry- He just knew what it's like to want Dominic to say sorry and get nothing.

[lavieenton]

Ceara didn't respond, green eyes growing hazy as she lost herself in insecurities and doubts. The only thing she did her best not to think about was the memories. It would hurt so much more than it had in previous years, and she hated the possibility. Frederic was right. He had treated her that way the first time, there was nothing stopping him from doing it again. And knowing he would deny any involvement only made her stomach turn.

What she hadn't expected--or even thought to ask for--was an apology. But hearing it was foreign. And hearing it from the mouth of an O'Connor had her considering whether or not she had died without realizing it. Keeping her tears at bay, she muttered a, "Thank you. And I'm sorry for what he did to dissolve your engagement to Mary. It was unfair to the both of you, truly."

[lavieenton]

Upon exploring the party and all it had to offer, Riya found herself swept up into a dance with someone she would deem an angel. Charlotte was the epitome of kindness and joyful energy. Not to mention, the young woman was gorgeous. Her face was sweet and she smiled as if the stars hung above her head. And, if Riya stared for too long, they surely did.

"You are enjoyable yourself," she chirped, a breathless laugh escaping as she floated her way to the refreshments table for another lemonade. Dancing surely took its toll on the rest of her, but all could be ignored with great company. Riya bit her lip and admitted, "I have been quite struck by everything here, so I have yet to do any activities."

Her smile was softened as she looked at Charlotte. "I am sure there will be only kind things said about you, Miss Charlotte. You could not hurt a fly, of that I'm sure."

[calins-et-bisous]

Riya Das was sparkling in her dress and under the chandeliers of the ballroom. She looked elegant and beautiful, and Charlotte couldn't take her eyes off of her. Because of her occupation, people assumed Charlotte to be promiscuous. But that couldn't be further from the truth. She was willing to do what she had to to keep a patron happy, but it wasn't the kind of life she truly wanted for herself. Still, she could appreciate beauty when she saw it.

Charlotte beamed at the other and followed her over to the refreshments. She picked up a lemonade as well, deciding to let herself enjoy the sweet beverage. "Is this not the most magical event you have ever been to?" She said dreamily, looking around the ballroom at all the gems everywhere. "It is like we have been shrunk down and dropped inside a jewlery box!" She laughed as well, her face flushed from all the dancing she had been up to. "What has bee your favorite activity then, Miss Das?"

A shy smile appeared on her lips and her eyes fluttered down at her cup with another soft chuckle. "Thank you, you are too kind. I am grateful to have been welcomed to London with open arms, I just hope everyone will be as sweet as you have been."

[lavieenton]

As Charlotte marveled at the ballroom's enchantments, Riya was able to ogle her properly. Well, not that the notion itself was proper, which struck her as odd because she had never been exactly improper in English society. But this lovely woman had her unable to look away, unwilling to part from her unless the evening required it of her or another person approached.

"It is," she agreed, finally bringing herself back to the present as she sipped at her lemonade. A distraction was much needed. "Certainly! Though, I do believe pearls have their own special box with velvet lining, so you would be above the rest of us."

Was she...flirting? Oh goodness, she had never been good at it, and she worried it wasn't aligning in her favor. "The dances," she finally answered. "There are some I am familiar with, but there have been new ones that have been quite a treat watching. What about yours, Miss Charlotte? And please, call me Riya. First names are where kindness begins, so I should hope you come to know many tonight."

[lavieenton]

"My parents," Riya admitted. For all their insistence upon disregarding her life choices, they gave her the freedom to do as she pleased since she came of age. Even before that, with some restrictions. "I had a desire to travel from a young age, and they fed into it as long as it was educational until I could travel on my own." It was one of the many things she was grateful for, even if they pretended their eldest daughter did not exist.

She thought it was odd that both Thorne siblings were unable to travel, sad even. But she didn't make that known just yet, only set on answering Kitty's questions. "Italy," she said, eyes alight. "The history, the beauty, the food. It was all amazing. I do hope you are able to see it one day. You *and* your brother."

Riya's smile faded. Katherine had every right to be suspicious of her given the feud between her and Kavika. But she wasn't Kavika, even if she adored her sister dearly. "She has told me about you, yes," she confirmed. "...quite loudly in our letters. But I do still want genuine help. I have no intentions of sowing further dissent or ruining your life because of my sister. You have my word, Miss Thorne."

[thornykitty]

"Hmm, I imagine you learned quite a lot on your travels." Clearly Riya was a well-educated young lady, and that was something that Kitty had to admire. A pretty face and a smart mind was always something that was admirable.

Katherine's eyes lit up at the mention of Italy. "The fashion! Italy has some beautiful pieces, from what I've seen and heard. Perhaps I will make my way there one day." She didn't really care if Tobias went, just as long as she was able to go. Clearly, Riya had spoken to him before, which she kept a mental note on.

She studied the other woman's face intently, critically. At this time, Kavika had not done anything to get retaliation on Kitty yet. She was suspicious, but Riya seemed to be different from her younger sister. Still, being vigilant was in her best interest. "What did she say about me?" She had to ask, surely the snake called her awful things. "And what do you have to offer me in exchange? I suppose I can help you, Miss Das, but I will not give my expertise freely."

[lavieenton]

"I have," she boasted, though not pridefully. It was a fact, nothing more. Riya was proud to be well-educated through her travels, but she did not find herself superior because of it. In fact, she felt...isolated. Only a handful a people, excluding her family, could understand that.

Kavika's negative sentiments about Kitty did not leave her, though as she observed the young woman, she wasn't rude by any means. And her interest in her travels delighted her, so perhaps that added to her bias that she wasn't all bad in some aspect. "I believe it," she chirped. "Oh, their pieces are divine. I was able to wear one while I attempted courting an Earl there, though I had to return it soon after."

Riya didn't want to say everything that Kavika told her about Kitty. How she was annoying, vindictive, *messy* in the drama sense. It would send the poor girl in a tailspin. "Well, it was not kind, if you can imagine. She describe you as an annoying cat rather than a person, so that was quite confusing for a few of our letters."

Sighing, she said, "I have clothes. I can have them tailored for your size and sent to your residence in exchange. Pieces from all over the world and jewels for miles that I do not need."

[lavieenton]

Ceara stared at the princess for a moment. Perhaps it was her age or the fact that there had been enough drama for the night to make her patience wane, but she found it incredibly odd for a royal to want to hear about the sad machinations of a commoner's life. But, with a resigned sigh, she decided to indulge her.

"I was proposed to this afternoon," she said. "It was sudden, and instead of giving an answer, I ran." Whistledown would have a field day with that, but she kept vague on who did what exactly. "And...a new friend I've made has shown her true colors to me in the worst of ways and tried to ruin my attire for the evening. And to top it all off..."

She was exhausted all over again. "...A previous lover of mine has returned to my life, and I fear I owe them more than I want to, knowing how hard loving them *is*. I am not sure you can help in any way, Your Highness, as much of my problems are my own doing."

[prinxesssophia]

There was much to be said about Lady Whistledown, the anonymous writer had tapped into something uncanny, something no one could have anticipated in terms of enjoyment and that was the commentary on the common-folk. Those who had a hand in society, but before the princess’s decree, could only watch for a far and now they were mentioned just as much as those who deemed themselves their betters. “I take it from your reaction that this is not a welcomed proposal or else you would be sporting a new ring upon your finger? Such decisions should not be taken lightly, a marriage is almost impossible to undo and if there are doubts, you must not ignore them for long.” Divorce was certainly an option in only the most dire situations but such a thing was still unheard of, and for a princess like Sophia, divorce was not a thing that should ever be considered or else it would bring more shame upon her family, more shame than the princess had already brought. “You have had quite the proposal, an almost ruined dress and a former lover. Your problems may be of your own doing but that does not mean you have to suffer such things in silence or consumed in the loneliness of it all. A friend who ruins a dress intentionally is no friend at all, as for your lover, you owe them nothing if you deem it so.” Such things were easily managed when those so afflicted by such dramas understood their own power and control within it. If a friendship was souring, the woman could either rise above it and end it or outmaneuver them, but such things could also apply to her romantic entanglements.

[lavieenton]

Ceara wasn't sure how she had stooped to such a level. Speaking to the princess about her plights in the middle of a ball was not something she would ever dream of...because it was surely quite embarrassing. Princess Sophia was not the source of such a lowly level, in fact, quite the opposite.

"It was not welcomed," she confirmed. "I mean, we had just met a few days ago, and then he was proposing by accident. I'm not someone suited for marriage." I'm not worth that, she wanted to say, but that was too melancholy. Her own insecurities were warring with her desire to keep her image sharp and secure.

She did admire Sophia's advice. She was right, of course. About all of it, but Ceara wasn't ready to admit that. Perhaps it was why she held onto resentment so easily, even as she grew older. She wanted to move on, enjoy the rest of her evening. But everyone she was working to avoid was in the ballroom, either sulking themselves or trying to make the best of the night.

"I suppose you are correct on that notion," Ceara said, looking down at her hands as she wrung her fingers. "I...it is my own self that gives them all of this will over me. It used to be easy not to, but coming back to London has...forced all these complications to arise in myself that I hadn't dealt with."

[lavieenton]

Ceara's shoulders dropped, finding herself more comfortable around him. Granted, she was unaware that she was speaking to the King, not having seen any portraits of him or things like that to know, so the likelihood of her comfort lasting was not strong. Her eyes visibly softened at the compliment, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

"It's a lullaby my Ma sang to me and my sister," she explained. "I keep it close to my heart when I need her but cannot reach her. Or...I sing it. Would you like to hear the rest? It's...a bit long, but it is meant to lull, not entertain, per se."

She would never have offered to sing anything, let alone something as personal as a suantraí. But this man's calmness and evident need for peace himself made her want to share her own comfort. Being kind was odd, but welcome.

[mcstardently]

Arthur smiled as she relaxed a bit more at his words. He never wanted to cause discomfort. And that made him relax as well. Knowing that it was one thing that he had under control. But he knew the feeling well, the feeling of calm when it came to something familiar. It was a welcome feeling.

"If you are most willing," Arthur said, gesturing for her to continue. Now that she had mentioned it, he was more than a little curious, and he would gently insist on her continuing because of his piqued curiosity. Maybe being king could make him that more persuasive.

[lavieenton]

Ceara cleared her throat and began to sing. Her voice was soft, evidently untrained. But the lullaby was soothing and haunting all at once and her heart was in it almost as much as it was when she was teaching. She switched seamlessly between English and Irish, trying to accomodate the fact that he likely didn't speak her native tongue. It was no problem, though it made the song last longer.

Once she finished, she took a deep breath. Her chest felt lighter, the burden of her concerns temporarily fixed by childhood memories and the ability to share them with someone. "My mam sings it much better, but...I do hope it eased your mind as much as it does mine."

[lavieenton]

Genevieve's smile bloomed at the compliment, folding her hands behind her back. For all she hated about Mayfair, she was confident in knowing most of the people she had come across were kind and willing to interact with newcomers. Granted, newcomers were all the rage in London.

"Thank you," she cooed. "I wanted a soft color and pink diamonds are soft, especially for their rarity. Your father is correct on the matter, though. Citrine is glowing, but not blinding. Will you do me the honor of a dance? I am sure you will dazzle further on the dance floor."

[mcstardently]

Harriett smiled back, watching her carefully. There was something different (in a good way) that she couldn't quite figure out. That was something rare for her as she typically could clock things quite easily just from being observant.

"You are welcome," Harriet gave a bow of her head with a smile. "It represents a softer side of the sun," she said with a bit more warmth in her words. The warmth reached into her cheeks and settled on her skin. "I would love to," she said, giving a slightly clumsy curtsy.

[lavieenton]

Genevieve happily took Harriet's hand and hurried along to the dance floor. She knew the people of Mayfair were--to put it lightly--an uptight gathering. Sometimes, more than her own people in Versailles. But she knew she had to abide by the customs, even if she had been struggling to do so for the better part of her arrival.

"I have heard through many whispers and vines that your sister and her new husband eloped. How have you felt about such things?"

As she asked, the princess twirled Harriet beneath her arm, a smooth and delicate movement before they were face-to-face again. If she wanted to know more about what had been occurring just before her arrival, she would have rather asked than read a pamphlet from an anonymous writer.

[lavieenton]

Ceara was acutely aware of his focused disposition, and it brought her out of her own self-depricating mindlock. For now, at least. The point of attending this ball was not to sulk in the shadows, but that was where she found herself and it was hard to push herself out of that mindset, these feelings.

"I wish it were that simple," she drawled, wringing her fingers. "A proposal gone awry, more like." To think that she was proposed to--albeit accidentally--and her first instinct was to flee. It was an embarrassment. She was an embarassment. Her mind quieted at his admission, face softening. "It is a bit much, isn't it? All of this grandeur and nearly everyone in Mayfair cramped in one ballroom. But is that why you are hiding?"

Upon his curiosity, she glanced down at her dress. She wished it had been hers alone, she had felt beautiful in it before she arrived. Before Kitty's suggestions made her second-guess herself. "I will be frank: I'm not sure. I am borrowing this from someone. Lady Katherine Thorne? She's the chirpy, pretty one who's been running about all night."

Ceara actually let out a soft laugh, thankful she knew enough French to understand him. "Mon pauvre," she tried playfully before admitting, "My French is not the greatest just yet."

[debonheurs]

a flickering of acknowledgement passes over his face. "ah ... then my condolences. love is not a source of luck." not for me either, but he supposes the last person she would want to hear about is someone with so many distant bygones and hopefuls. "did you not wish for it?" any awkward situation sometimes requires a good fleeing. lasaru has seen many flee from the measurements stool upon realising their good friends chose the exact same designs without collaborating with them. hurt feelings were hurt feelings no matter the cause, and he takes in a breath that sounds like the seaside to his ears, scraping his throat. "it's been too long since i've been asked to any party worthy of nobility, mademoiselle, i find the rules draining." despite how long he has lived in them, bore witness to them up close. his ears perk at the name. "it's difficult to miss her, i think. when she's out there displeased, she's quite loud, quacking as a duck in a small pond so as not to be outdone, yes? she asked me for new shoes." not really a secret, as eventually, they would be worn and seen, but las finds it difficult to hide a smile. a young lady calling another young lady chirpy is ... interesting.

[lavieenton]

His tone was not lost on her. It wasn't hard to tell when someone understood the plights and difficulties of love. But she didn't dare pry. She'd done enough even mentioning that love was an issue for her, why make it worse with asking about his love life--or lack thereof?

Ceara sighed and shook her head, the guilt gnawing at her for the honesty. "I do not believe in marriage, if I must be frank. Everything I know about it is usually a farce for connections and riches, not love." But his mirrored frankness brought on a soft smile, admiring his bluntness. He reminded her of her father, something that brought a sense of comfort she sought since she returned, since re-acquainting herself with Dominic.

"You've described her perfectly," she said with an almost humorless laugh, looking away from them to sigh. "What is she displeased about? You surely are making the shoes, she would be quite loud about it otherwise. I know she is displeased with me after our tense ride here."

[lavieenton]

Genevieve found herself listetning to Elliot intently. He spoke quite eloquently and it sucked her into their conversation completely, bordering on diplomatic as she stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her. "I admire your thinking. It goes beyond the simplicity of a gem color, which makes balls like these even better to enjoy." He hadn't found a gem for the sake of it and came. He was methodical, considerate. Good traits for a friend while she was in Mayfair.

Making their way to the middle of the ballroom, she beamed at the compliment. "Thank you," she cooed, getting into position for the next themed dance. "Mistaken or unaware of the pink diamond's rarity. But enough about me. Tell me about yourself, sir. I have a sneaking suspicion you are not from Mayfair, but do enlighten me." It wasn't a demand, so much as it was a simple request that he could decline, should he choose to.

[elliottxcarlisle]

"Color, while important in considering one's outfit, only goes so far. Especially at an event such as this when everyone will be seeking to look their best, to stand out, to be....in the perspective of the gem, a cut above." He followed her, getting into position as she posed her question to him, asking him to tell her about himself, and her belief that he was not a native of Mayfair. A smile pulling at his lips as they started to follow the steps of the dance. Elliot in flow with those around them.

"Unfortunately, your sneaking suspicion is inaccurate. I fear I am very much from Mayfair, both born and raised here. My father is a member of the Admiralty, so was my grandfather before him, and both were very proud of our families military service. I did not quite follow in their footsteps, I chose to serve in the army, rather than the navy. I had a very promising career, that the war unfortunately cut short. Saving the lives of some of the men under me, I took a nasty wound in my shoulder, but after coming back home, I ran to represent Westminster in Parliament and won the seat." Elliot usually did not talk so much about himself, and yet, here he was running his mouth like it was nothing. "And by any means, should my tales begin to bore you, do not fear stopping me from rambling on."

[lavieenton]

Genevieve liked his wording. It was intellectually stimulating for someone like her, someone who had conversed with enough people to find certain conversations dull and meaningless. But as they glided across the ballroom floor, she knew Elliot was far from a dull man with a pretty face. Another potential friend, she hoped.

But as she continued listening to him unravel his life to her, her eyes widened. He was so *interesting*, he couldn't have possibly been from Mayfair. She had set her eyes on Edgar, and he did not hail from here originally. "You are quite brave, sir," she complimented, voice growing solemn but lilting in surprise. "That means I likely was supposed to meet you earlier when I arrived."

The thought made her grimace. She could have come to know Elliot much sooner, what a shame. Genevieve tried ignoring the brief wave of guilt and laughed at his warning. "Oh, nonsense. Your tales are much more interesting than mine."

[mcstardently]

who: laurence & open

where: barnett residence

when: gemstone ball

He took a seat, curious as to what was happening. He had heard bits of whispers about reading rubies or something of the sort, and seen some partygoers going outside as well towards the gardens. Laurence glanced over at the person sitting nearest to him.

"Do you think they have any truth to them? The fortunes, I mean," he sat up a bit more with his drink and nodded towards the curtain--meant to be mysterious in purpose, was almost concerning. But it seemed to fit the theme. "I am quite enjoying the night, however. So tell me, do you have any predictions for the evening?"

[lavieenton]

After dancing and speaking to any many people as she could, her excitement dwindled to a quiet exhaustion. So, she slunk along the Barnett walls and found herself settled in a seat, sitting straight but emulating evident tiredness. All her energy was put into her happiness and elation, so now--with the mix of so much lemonade--she was beginning to crash.

Hearing a person speak, Riya looked over to see who it was talking to her. He was unfamiliar, but quite handsome. "I think there may be some truth to them, should they be blanket statement," she admitted, tilting her head. She smiled at his words and hummed in thought. "My predictions are...that there will surely be some form of drama between nobles here. There is always bound to be. A young lady hiding a swollen belly, perhaps."

It was a half-joke, but she believed it to be true of someone. "What of you, sir? What are your predictions?"

[lilithgifs]

[ GIF PACK ] - chase infiniti in 'various interviews'

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