Goodness, SEOJUN ‘LEO’ SEONG has arrived in London. HE is 31, of the OXFORDSHIRE SEONGS. Though they are RETURNED to the Season, we can only describe them as EXUBERANT and SCRUPULOUS, dear reader. Accompanied by HIS SISTER, they have settled in and are accepting social calls. But be warned: they are known for their FICKLE NATURE. (Vero, 22, She/Her, EST)
Biography
Have you heard from Minjun?
No- you know our relationship, it’s not like he’s enjoyable to be around. Besides, he’s probably just evading the Season. I would too if I were in his position.
Seojun- you must make haste to Oxford. I fear the worst happened.
News had spread like wildfire amongst Lady Whistledown’s papers and in whispers during tea parties and drowned in ale. The eldest Seong had finally done it; he dug his own grave. The younger one fled with a girl in tow away from the city, during his first season of all after leading many on- only for none to hear. All that was left was Minjun’s reputation, leaving Leo’s in shatters.
The kindred party boy has since returned with a more elusive air to him. He dodges questions now with a dismissive air, unattainable and unwilling to settle, but he is under their thumb. He has always been under Minjun’s thumb. Even though his carriage found sunken off a bridge, the driver and him missing too, it’s as if Leo was stuck in that skeletal grasp.
One thing was certain: his last words weren’t pretty to Minjun, but if he knew the cost, he never would have spoken them into existence.
Headcanons
First name is Seojun, friends have called him Leo since Oxford. Only his mom calls him Seojun, he will be shook if you referred to him as that.
Ancestor is Seong Hon; family relocated from Korea during the 1590s. Acclaim to wealth comes from a long line of scholars, politicians, and lawyers.
Is 6′2ft and the taller brother, as he always bragged.
Has perpetual middle child syndrome. Still hasn’t gone away since his brother’s disappearance.
Enjoys games like chess over physical sports such as fencing.
Jack of all trades, master of none; except for his high alcohol tolerance
Has considered several times while drunk on getting knuckle tattoos from an old Oxford alumni, someone talk him out of it.
Can probably outplay you in several instruments.
Prefers the sweeter things in life.
Rumors
He has a habit of leading women on to believe he will propose then disappear at the last second; was known to have done so his initial season two years ago after abruptly leaving for unspecified reasons.
Is an addict and a cheat like his brother, who allegedly went missing and is presumed dead due to drug involvement.
NOTE: Hey everyone~ this is my second character aside from Dominique Dyer. If anyone wants to establish prior connections or plot for future ones, don’t hesitate to reach out!~
Almacks is an unassuming building, three stories tall with a stone front. Windows look sightlessly onto King Street, their panes reflecting the high blue of the sky and – more frequently – the bustle of Pall Mall.
Some effort has been taken for this event, however. Ribbons garland the iron fence, and two stone pillars are topped with overflowing bouquets of summer roses. Manservants wait outside in their customary navy jackets, brass buttons polished to a bright shine, to assist with carriages as they arrive. King Street is quite busy, of course. There is little time for dallying.
One by one, the ladies of Almacks arrive – the Marchioness, and the Lady Dame, and the Viscountess Castlereagh all sweep through the double doors and disappear inside, quick to assume their places as the high court of the assembly rooms. With them, they bring sisters, cousins, an unmatched son or two. The luncheon – a daringly new affair – is meant for couples, but who is to say that a match cannot be made?
The clocktower on Pall Mall rings out at quarter-till – or is it quarter-past? as a carriage rolls to a stop before the entrance. Are you awkwardly early or dratted late?
—
It’s here! The penultimate event of our Season: Queen Charlotte’s Luncheon – and, consequently, your first decision. The wind is fair on 13 July 1799, clouds puffy and breeze light as the doors of Almacks Assembly Rooms swing open. There are no wrong decisions, here, but you must make one. Your carriage has arrived – are you early or late?
Reply to this post as if it were an open starter, and tell us how your character has prepared, if they are attending with their date (or meeting there), and how they feel about being terribly early (or late!).
Bridget had chatted for a while with the Viscount in her home garden and she was late to the luncheon because of it. They arrived together, arm in arm and she was all smiles once the doors were open, she couldn’t help but gaze at him… her smile on glowing brighter as she looked at him.
She couldn’t help but revel in the shocked faces of the attendees as she showed up… a seamstress who had been the victim of so many nasty rumours during the season… nothing but a seamstress… on the Viscount’s arm with a bright smile on her face.
Her gown that she designed and made herself along with her hat was absolutely fashionable. Her collar that was dropped and her gorgeous dress were the brightest blue and her hat gray but adorned with a blue feather.
Bridget felt no remorse about being late, she was fashionably late and she had arrived with the Viscount who she fancied immensely and she felt within her gut that he felt the same.
She didn’t feel smug… or at the very least she wasn’t showing it but it felt… good to attend such a grand event with a man who had given her Gardenias earlier that same day and gazed at her as if she were the only woman in existence.
Bridget would certainly make Leo feel like the only man in the room that mattered was him and him alone because she was falling… she was falling hard already… the other men were civil acquaintances and friends… and not to mention, some of them just couldn’t stop staring at her… but she didn’t care.
“If only my brother were here to see me, he would surely be speechless.” She whispered to Leo.
Everything from that day felt picturesque, lucid, as if he were dreaming. It wasn’t the fact that they were fashionably late, Leo tended to arrive so at events, not that he paid any mind. Instead, it was on the stanch pristine appearance of the garden surrounding them as they entered the luncheon. Queen Charlotte had been flanked as per usual, speaking behind the veil of a fan. He had always avoided her, especially since Minjun’s disappearance. Even if she were a Queen, he didn’t desire to hear the whispers of the ton reflected his way. They all had questions, and he had no answers to provide; he didn’t feel obligated to entertain them before, nor did he now. He would feign illness to get out of those conversations, hardly attempting to seem invested in the conversation. But those jovial days have sobered, especially now that he had Bridget on his arm — or maybe not.
Bridget.
Being here signified a lot more than he bargained for, for them both, in fact. A marriage between the two would be fruitful for each — he found a wife just as requested and she a man of title. He had anticipated this process to be more grueling, and hell, it most likely was how he built it up in his head. And yet, like the carefully plucked notes of a harp that his sister attempted to perfect as he played in sync with the pianoforte, Bridget had manifested herself. From the day at Hyde, she appeared as she always had, in small doses. Leo had evaded the rose hue that kissed her cheeks often, those captivating green eyes that complimented her teal ensemble as she smiled up at him with glee.
She was radiant in all the ways he used to be, and it frightened Leo. Often he was distant yet kind when arriving to fetch Clara, who would ramble on far too long on the different shades of cream that fit the lacing of her gowns, and who asked way too many questions to Bridget. Leo knew if he stayed in the shop longer, he too would ease into his role as Clara had. And at Hyde he had, swiping her cheek cheekily with a stripe of robin’s egg when she teased the outcome of his painting. The laughter they shared as she acted fussed at first before that impish gaze overtook those damn emerald eyes. She came to life then, and she did now.
To him, Bridget’s presence could light even the dimmest of rooms just with her smile and poised manners. There was a hesitancy in them always, one that he wanted to peel back. Leo couldn’t at the home when visiting earlier as much, with Howard hovering over the duo with a curious expression that he couldn’t decipher — it was one he became acclimated to as a child from his father and grandfather, and so perhaps it should have unnerved him more but in that moment it didn’t. And neither did it phase Bridget. On this day, she seemed an unstoppable force, one that refrained from accepting his suggestion of tailoring a dress just for this occasion. She would enter the luncheon on her terms, as would he. And maybe just for that, would it silence the rest. At least for today.
Often preferring muted classic shades of white and light blue hues, today he wore a loud ensemble just as she. Her grip on his arm was light yet stern with excitement, with his stature relaxed yet perfected as he tended to be at these occasions. With perfected posture from his days with a private tutor, and for the endless challenges of balancing acts between the siblings on winded afternoons whilst the adults had tea. Textbooks dedicated to various laws danced on their skulls, until they toppled down. Her voice had drifted up to him, despite their height difference, a voice he had grown accustomed to listening for unintentionally, even if he wouldn’t want to admit to it then — and most definitely not to her face. Bridget had murmured of Howard, a thought that made him smile at her innocent glow. Whispering back in a deep voice, he shot her a coy yet tender look, one that perhaps took advantage of the fact that they were the closest they’ve been since they met. “A trained eye could be left speechless around you easily. Don’t underestimate yourself, Miss. Umberville.”
presenting; viscount seojun seong & miss bridget umberville
“It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win;” - christopher marlow
There were many things that Leo Seong had been known for, but one of them, at least since Minjun’s disappearance, was not house calls. In his prior seasons, Leo had solidified his reputation through excessive courting, outing with several women at once, numerous formal and morning calls and more. He often could be seen in Hyde Park, teasing a woman on his arm or tucking a flower behind her ear.
It was all a game to him, not in a cruel way, but to win over their affection. Leo enjoyed the company, the doting reactions that they had. For once he had attention on him, something rare when in Minjun’s presence. He seemed to always talk better than him, have the more boisterous laugh, and a gait that commanded the room. In comparison, Leo didn’t have such prominence. He was content with entering and exiting with ease, like a house cat, one who all the neighbors adored and routinely would stop by their pew to give affection to.
The season so far had been more so that, with him dipping his feet outside of the pond in comparison to before. Suddenly, Leo was absent from Hyde Park, rarely in attendance to events and when doing so seemingly couldn’t be found. Although he attended the carnival, even that didn’t hold his attention. The pretty lights, laughter and food, it reminded him too much of what once was. Minjun. So he left after a few conversations, too into his head to keep up with the mama’s advancements.
The viscount was known to not be easy to please, and as his speckle white Arabian horses trotted in front of the Umberville steps, momentarily he felt a rare feeling that he hadn’t felt before. A tightness crept within his chest as he peered out the window, stepping out of his carriage, flowers in hand. Had he brought enough to make an impression, was it rather childish of him to go with something like that instead of not favoring bigger gifts? The way Bridget captured those flowers in oil stayed with him, seeing that radiance she held captivated him as he noticed ever hushed breath she held while contemplating her next stroke. She seemed effortless, and in that moment, although it was their first encounter he wanted — no, he needed more of her.
Even whilst in the flower shop, he found himself fumbling over which flowers seemed to fit her best. Roses and tulips were too bold, and carnations too common. Gardenias — when peering at them, they reminded him of her smile, gentle, intoxicating, and secretive like they were. Would she catch on to the hidden message he was trying to convey? Leo wasn’t sure what to expect when stepping into her home, whilst his presence was announced and accepted. All he knew was of the reputation that proceeded her, including the one of her brother.
“Perhaps a collaboration? I do not know if my painting is up to standard to be in a competition, though it sounds very tempting…” Bridget trailed off with a smirk as she gazed at him briefly, turning her attention back to the canvas with a chuckle.
“Alright a competition between you and I would do wonders. I accept.” Bridget answered.
“Of course Leo, I’ll gladly do so. It does indeed sound like a jolly good plan.” She said with a smile as she gazed at him.
Bridget pulled her sleeves of her dress up and started painting, simple small brushstrokes of a green that was light but not too light made up the flowing grass. The sky had few clouds in it but for effect Bridget threw a couple in, using less of the light blue to make a cloud outline where the sky was in order to make an illusion of wispy clouds. The bark of the trees around them made the painting have a slight foreboding sense with it’s dark color but Bridget wanted the painting to be as realistic as possible. The light and dark greens of the trees however helped and Bridget painted it with ease. Now came the fun part, she painted the pathway that was in the distance and she had space to paint a few lords and ladies walking. One lord wore a top hat, another wore no hat and the lady wore a yellow dress. Finally, she painted the flowers that poked their heads out of the silky green grass… the red flowers, the yellow flowers, purple, blue, pink and orange. To finish she used the white paint to carefully put her signature at the bottom of the canvas, like all great artists did.
“Well, I believe I am finished. How does yours look?” Bridget asked after sighing as she turned to Leo curiously with a smile on her face. She couldn’t stop smiling around him, she had just met him and was already smitten.
Things came easy from their brief time together. Perhaps it was the idyllic atmosphere that Hyde Park created, or the way her emerald eyes came to life at his proposition. Her lips pulled into an effortless invitation as she pulled her chair over, sleeves rising and exposing softness that garnered a hushed blush. Momentarily, he was grateful that they were in the shade, although his porcelain skin surely betrayed him. “It seems competition comes naturally to you — are you hiding something, Bridget? No need to be bashful” he teased, gaze shifting as he plucked his brush once more. A subtle breeze brought a coolness to the sliver of exposed chest that he normally flaunted, setting him alight.
He stole glances her way, watching an intensity that overtook her, one that didn’t reflect in her painting. Her painting encompassed the fleeting rays of sunshine that captured the hazel tones of her hair, an airy quality that he decided fit her. His painting in comparison had become a myriad of intense oils, a messy yet calculated expression. Although he attempted to capture the hues that she was able to easy wield of the wild flowers nearby, they were blurred by the intensity of the water and reeds that stemmed alongside the waterlines. Were those swans that swam, or dormant clouds? One thing was certain — they both had two different outlooks. A pout formed over his full lips, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
For a moment he had been locked into his own world whilst he focused. Prickles of anxiety dappled at his pores it felt, his mind wandering as he overanalyzed what went wrong. How could she capture such beauty in such delicacy? Was she a forest nymph secretly? Or maybe he should have used a pencil outline as a mission statement. He felt eyes on him, someone lurking over their shoulders, only to turn around at the loud huff of a powerful thoroughbred.
Clara had stepped over, hugging him from behind languidly as she rested her chin on his shoulders. “Wow — that is….” her soprano trailed off, tilting her head curiously in a manner that mirrored the older sibling. A subtle snicker had emanated from her, voice teasing as a cheeky grin took over. “My, you’ve made a dog’s breakfast of that haven’t you?”
Rocking back onto her heels, she looked over at Bridget, eyes upturned from her high cheekbones in a cheerful, childish manner. “I must apologize for my brother and his incompetency.” This earned the rising of Leo’s laid back posture, his pout deepening as he grumbled. “그만 해! 우스워 죽겠어!” Paired with a theatrical hand crossed his heart, as if mortally wounded from her chastising, the tilt of his head back placed a cherry on top of his performance. Inkwell locks fell backward, jawline exposed, well aware of his appearance.
Leo was shameless about his looks, knowing he didn’t have to try so hard to appear good — not that it spared him from Clara. This earned an eye roll to which the younger Seong shook her head. About to speak once more, his hand jovially swatted at her forearm, both of them going back and forth in Korean in a childish manner until she left. A heated tint had spread across the tips of his ears, eyes shut to take in the silence as Clara’s shoes departed. Peaking an eye open cheekily, he looked over to his companion’s way and asked, voice lower than before in a graveled tone based on the positioning of his neck. “Just so we’re clear — I would rule her assessment to be clearly biased.”
Bridget smiled. “Liberal interpretation? An interpretation it is indeed.” She said before she curtsied.
“Ah yes! Your sister is one of my best customers. I make sure that her dresses are as lovely as she is. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance Leo. Is this your first time painting a landscape?” She asked curiously.
His voice was as smooth as silk… much like the imported silk she used in order to make ladies nightgowns.
“Of course, I would love to join you.” Bridget said as she sat down.
He was quite tall, and quite handsome which made her blush.
“Perhaps it will ease my affliction…” Her face only growing redder.
She gazed at the painting in front of her and tilted her head, squinting at it.
“It actually doesn’t look that bad, do you mind if I help you with it just a little bit?” She asked as she looked up at him.
“I used to paint in my free time back home in Birmingham. Perhaps I could guide you on a few things? Only if you wish me to do so.” Bridget said with a smile.
Her hair cascaded down in rivulets past her shoulder, snaking around her neck, a detail that drew the viscount’s eye as she curtsied. It was the subtle notes that made the seamstress, just as if she were a new brew for him to explore — one with every sip he spotted, something new, something inviting.
She had a humor to her, one that stepped carefully forth at first, to which he bit his lip with the shake of his head. Not for such remarks that could be deemed unsuitable to be spoken to for a stranger and one of a higher title, but merely because he couldn’t disagree with her. His hands were for finer things as were hers, and muddling with paint wasn’t one of them — not to say he is above that, that is.
It seemed his new guest sensed the hesitancy in his brushstrokes, to which his pale hand rubbed the back of his neck sheepish, elongated fingers dipping briefly into his ink well locks. “Perhaps I am branching out, Bridget” his voice dipped in relaxation as he watched her, smoothing out her dress as she sat on the nearby chair. He pretended to ignore the strawberry tinge that speckled her cheeks.
Turning back to his canvas, his hand seized his weapon, dipped in clover. At first he concerned waving her off, desiring to tell her that each artist has their creative vision. But she spoke of Birmingham, and just for the briefest moment he wondered what her paintings reflected. Probably better than his muddied greens. Smile reflecting hers, he teased in proposition. “If it is a collaboration you wish, then perhaps I am willing. Or — we can make a game out of it.”
A splotch of green kissed his canvas, followed by a careful stroke pushing the paint up with the bottom of his paintbrush. A valiant approach for someone clearly out of their depth. Continuing after eyeing the minor victory, he persisted. “Show me how you capture Hyde Park in your eye. And if it is a fraction as graceful as you are, then perhaps I may reward you. Sounds like a plan?”
Bridget was out walking by herself in Hyde Park. She had a lot to think about due to recent events that had occurred, but her thoughts were interrupted when she turned and saw a man painting, and the painting nearly made her burst out in a fit of laughter.
She decided to approach the painting gentleman.
"My lord, might I inquire exactly what you are painting? It is quite... unlike anything I have seen before." Bridget said with a smirk as she gazed at him.
"I'm Bridget Umberville of the Birmingham Umbervilles, I own a seamstress shoppe here in London. Might I get your name, my lord?" She asked.
Hyde Park had become Leo’s refuge, and not because it was the place to be spotted during the season, to garner the attention and affection of mamas and eligible ladies around, but because the water called to him in summer’s time. There was beauty to be said of the swans that swam past, sitting under a willow that graciously provided shade nearby. His heart stirred at the natural surroundings, and as he said spare canvas littered around his side, he eyed the scene carefully in front of him.
Leo wanted to capture a fraction of this beauty, to soak it in through his pores and etch its features into a picture frame through languid strokes of dyed oils. A picture that could be coveted of these fleeting moments in winter’s time and beyond. Clara had ridden her speckled white horse somewhere, laughing across the water as she attempted to play cricket while riding with her friends, servants clumsily following behind. She was a wild spirit, carefree, like the surrounding air. He hadn’t seen her smile that way for a long while, and so he wanted to bask in this day. And yet, as skilled as he was with his hands, fingertips wielding expertise when plucking at heartstrings, but here they laid useless. He was a patient man, yet impatient all the same.
The shimmering glints of sunlight that filtered through the leaves mocked his messy display, to which Leo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and finger resting under his chin. The top of his white button down tucked in shirt laid unbuttoned, exposing the peaks of his collarbones. There was a sudden breeze that tickled his skin, causing him to turn to find a harmonic stifled laugh. Sticking out his lower lip in a pout, his brown eyes scanned the woman of any familiarity, only to recognize her. It was the woman Clara had mentioned in fleeting passings whilst visiting her shop. His subtle frown pulled back into an eased smile as she approached, despite her oh-so-cruel critique. “Isn’t it obvious?” He mused, right hand unfolding and gesturing to their surroundings. “It is Hyde Park. Taken in-” a pause, reflecting to his painting with wetted lips, “liberal interpretation.”
Bridget needed no introduction, yet appreciated it all the same. Scanning her body, he wondered if she had designed the dress she had adorned that day. Eyes meeting her hushed emerald gaze, he invited her closer. His voice had a silk tenor as he spoke, fitting of a man who didn’t have to try so hard to fit in their surroundings. “Seong Seojun, Viscount of the Oxford Seongs, but call me Leo. Formalities aren’t needed when I am already aware of you, Miss. Umberville. My sister Clara is quite fond of you and your work.” Setting down his paintbrush, his long stature rose, towering over the woman. The spare chair made no noise against the lush grass as it was pulled out for her, a wordless invitation paired with a playful grin, matching her initial expression and words. “Care to join me? I must say, fits of hysteria can be quite concerning. Perhaps resting and enjoying the view can ease your affliction.”
They were all there, the faces she remembered, the ones she’d known. It had only been a summer away, not long enough to do anything, really, by the measure of it. But it gave Lucy distance in more ways than one, and she came back to them like putting on a glove that no longer fit.
A cheer rose from the clearing, fire-sparks sent high into the air. Someone had swallowed a sword or spun a sword or perhaps even became a sword – could they do that now? Before, she would have been amongst them, center-front of the throng. It was difficult to explain why she was not interested in any cavorting parties, why she did not want to play little games. Why she only really spoke to Graham and Frederick, and to them, quite a lot.
They’d all been such good friends,
Approaching the crowd, she peered between the valley created by two shoulders, catching sight of the man as he lifted the sword back out of his throat. Lucy clapped; it was a feat. A man from the crowd stepped up to take a turn, attempting the same daring display. She glanced at her companion, familiar – almost.
“I can’t say I’ve seen this done with much success before.” Lucy commented, a smile beneath her mask.
Embers of hues he hadn’t seen before shimmered in the ever consuming twilight above, lit lamps adding a firefly entrance, guiding his steps. He had lost Clara upon arriving, telling her to not stray too far but that’s what she always does. He couldn’t blame her though, he had been the same way with Minjun. His throat tightened under the silver carved mask, licking his lips as he allowed her to wander. Fuck it — let her have all the fun, someone should enjoy it at least for the two of them.
Before Minjun, he would have treated an event like this as his playground, but things were different now. Their tapestry had been sliced in half, and he had to be the needle that sewed it back together, despite a sizeable gap causing the pattern to not align as it was before.
The ton had always been a game to him, but now it had become a strategic one of chess, suddenly one he didn’t have any interest in anymore. Maybe that happens when you disappear for several seasons, or maybe it’s because he didn’t form many connections whilst there. There was Lavinia from a while ago, and Kittie and Narsis, but things were different then. He had been too young to settle down, and they wanted every bit of him, but he knew he couldn’t give them what they wanted.
So he let them go at the end of each season, sometimes leaving them after fists pounded against his chest, flowers thrown his way, and sobbed gasps. He never meant to hurt them, but their pain was finite. It was for the best. So maybe they married their second or third choice, but they would be happy now. At least that is all that mattered.
A familiarity struck him as he approached a crowd gathering around flames that were extinguished on swallowed gasps. Normally he would have winced at the idea of the pain, then stared with curiosity. But other flames drew him in. He didn’t need to lift her mask to know it was her; her candied ginger hair speaking for her. He knew beautiful eyes laid underneath, a winning smile that always made him somewhat weak in the knees. It was her. So he fell in line where his memory had led him, back to the only familiarity that called to him from such an event.
She spoke in a way that reminded him of the warmth he felt while taking the first sip of tea in the morning. His full lips smiled for the first time since he arrived. “I’m curious, what do you think inclines someone to such an activity? I assume it is well beyond, ‘I wonder if I can fit this sword in my mouth.’ Or do you think it is that simple?”
“Fritz turns into the Snow Prince, while mother and father appear in the snow scene as the Snow King and Queen. Clara sees her brother in the snow playing and dancing fast and furiously, calling on snowflakes and turning, whipping jetés and saut de basques. I enjoy the frivolity of Fritz in the party scene but then really cherish dancing in the snow scene as Clara is watching in the distance.” - quote on Joffrey Ballet’s Snow rendition of the Nutcracker
Whilst his brother was away for the day, Leo decided to dye as many things as he could of his brother’s things the color pink. He enlisted the staff to help him with this affair and did so for no reason at all. They proceeded for weeks to have raspberries, cherries, strawberry jams, desserts, and more consistently. Leo of course paid no mind, but it certainly nauseated the family eventually and served as a daily reminder to Minjun
❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private? Leo public, Lucy private
♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly? Leo openly, Lucy privately
❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine’s day? Leo, he is a huge softy and would love to make her feel like a princess
ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public? Leo, he is physically needy and is all for PDA
💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people? Leo, depending on the moment. He would be embarrassed as hell but he is a melt
💘: who developed a crush on the other first? Leo, he finds her absolutely captivating
💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other? Leo, he tends to over think a lot despite being impulsive
💓: who initiates most physical contact? I’d say its evenly split
💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other? Leo, he probably would send encouraging ones to make her smile
💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities? Potentially both, probably out of boredom while reading things before breakfast or bed, and 100% will tease each other over their findings
💙: who is more protective? Lucy mayhaps
💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other? Leo definitely, I imagine he was prone to being sick as a kid and that didn’t go away while older. Lucy more likely, and he would absolutely tell her the whole time to not worry about him and try to wave her off. He naturally doesn’t like making others worry about or for him
💜: who said “i love you” first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first? Leo may accidentally slip it out during a fight or passionate moment and he would 100% turn into a tomato from embarrassment immediately afterward. She probably also wouldn’t let him forget about that in the future
Welcome to Meme Friday at The Season! 🌸 Each Friday (usually), we’ll post one or two memes for characters to reblog on their accounts. Reblogging the meme indicates that you are accepting asks from it, and that you’re also sending asks out to others. Enjoy!
My muse cannot lie! Send…
💓 - And a name to ask if they would start a relationship with them.
⇕ - And a name to ask if they would sleep with them.
✮- And a name to hear their real feelings for them.
☠ - And a name/ topic to hear what they hate the most about it/them.
✂- For one of the wrost mischief they did.
₪ - For a kink.
回 - For a phobia they have.
✦ - For a guilty pleasure.
Nicknames: Leo, used to wear his hair a tad shaggy in college and was previously cocky in an attempt to rival his brother, earning his nickname Leo
Skeleton: The Second Son
Titles: Viscount
Cast Position: Nobility
Birthdate: September 29th, 1768
Birthplace: Oxfordshire, England
PHYSICALITY.
Height: 6’2”
Body Type: Lean muscular, is a tad insecure due to being teased by his sister a lot about how pale he is
Hair: Dark brown hair that often appears blackish and warms up in the summer. Tends to keep it somewhat long, touching the tips of his ears but nothing crazy. Often keeps it split to the right side, at times will brush it over. When not in the company of anyone, he leaves it shaggy as if he just got out of the shower
Eyes: Brown
Skin: Pale, he gets a reddish blush along his neck, ears, and cheeks whenever drinking. Does not tan typically and goes straight to burning :(
Markings: Freckle/mole by the corner of his right eye. Really wants knuckle tattoos
Walking: Strolls at a leisurely pace, as if he isn’t in any rush
Speech: Tries to come across as smooth, it is a toss up if it works or not. Has a typical British accent
Posture/Bearing: Rigidly straight, overly aware of how others view him
PERSONALITY.
Presentation: When younger, Leo was a more loud persona, but over the years he has toned down, feeling less to prove for himself. However, now that his older brother has left, he tends to be on the shyer side. He doesn’t enjoy socializing as much due to not knowing what the other’s intentions are, nor enjoying the pressure most interactions have these days. At times, he may act aloof just to get out of things; no, he won’t try to act remotely convincing
Interactions: Comfortable with a relaxed air, at times playful. Only recently did his anxiety start getting to him, where now depending on the scenario he can be a tad rigid. Has no real preference between a large or private conversations
Lures: Anything artistic or niche. He’s a curious man by nature, and one with a sweet tooth
Temperament: Truly doesn’t enjoy conflict or mixed signals. He tends to bottle up his emotions due to not wanting to trouble his younger sister and be a good role model for her
Reputation: Reformed aloof party boy with introverted tendencies. Most tend to not respect him as much due to his brother’s reputation and viewing him as a stand in
HABITS.
Favorite Hours: Night owl
Punctuality: A smidge late, but never too late. Never wants to be the first at a party nor the last one standing
Nervous Ticks: Chews the inside of his lip, fidgets with his hands and anything in them, prone to clumsiness especially when nervous
Sleeping Style: Give him pillows or give him death, loves to spoon
EDUCATION.
School: Excelled in the traditional sorts but was a procrastinator lowkey. He often felt burnt out, doing things out of obligation and not because he genuinely wanted to do them. Loved literature and the arts. Specifically, he can play exceedingly well on the viola and violin. Enjoys the cello but finds it clunky
Known Languages: Fluent in English and Korean. Knows some French, Latin, and German due to his schooling
Talents: You name it, and Leo probably knows how to play it. Well versed in chess and can get a bit competitive over small games (he can be a child at heart)
Learning Style: Auditory and verbal, he takes words said seriously
PHILOSOPHY.
Religion: None religious but raised Christian
Superstitions: Writing someone’s name in red ink is a death wish, irrationally dislikes the number four due to being told its bad luck as a kid
Virtues: Humility & Temperance
Vices: Gluttony & Despair
RELATIONSHIPS.
Family: Had a strained relationship with his brother Minjun, is closest to his younger sister Clara. Father always favored the boys but felt as if their relationship was based on merit. His mother had a very naturing persona in comparison but he always wondered if it was out of pity
Friendships: Had many friends in college, would consider himself closest to his sister though in recent years given their brother’s disappearance
Friends in Need: He is the mom friend and will readily listen to you
Needing a Friend: Will have a cry for help while too drunk once in a while, typically feeling reluctant to talk about private things readily
Discord: He’s allergic to conflict but will stick up for himself and those he cares about if needed
Enemies: Those who talk ill of his brother, thats his job obviously
MOTIVATIONS.
Intentions: He’s participating out of obligation now that his brother is gone. He feels pressured to marry, although he secretly is a romantic at heart and would rather wait till he meets the one
Goals: Find out what happened to his brother if possible, get into the beefsteak society, help take down Whistledown, build connections that could serve him well in the future
Fears: Fears he will never be good enough and won’t live up to other’s expectations, since now people expect things of him
Regrets: Would have tried harder to help his brother, especially helping him get sober, rather than viewing him as competition and not his issue
Breakthroughs: Needs someone to help him feel comfortable in his skin again and rid himself of survivor’s guilt. He won’t be able to move on in his life unless he truly confronts his relationship with his brother and with himself. If he doesn’t, his anxiety and insecurities will continue to cause him to self sabotage
Welcome to Meme Friday at The Season! 🌸 Each Friday (usually), we’ll post one or two memes for characters to reblog on their accounts. Reblogging the meme indicates that you are accepting asks from it, and that you’re also sending asks out to others. Enjoy!
Send me a symbol and I’ll tell you about…
🌟 …someone my muse trusts.
💔 …someone who broke my muse’s heart.
💕 …someone my muse loves.
😒 …someone my muse hates.
🔥…someone my muse would die for.
💀 …someone my muse would kill for.
👻 …someone my muse considers a best friend.
💘 …someone my muse has a crush on.
🔪 …someone my muse hurt in the past.
👀 …someone my muse likes, but doesn’t trust.
💩 …someone my muse dislikes, but admires.
👿 …someone my muse used to like, but doesn’t anymore.
😉 …someone my muse has had sex with.
💋 …someone my muse used to date.
😜 …someone who makes my muse laugh.
👪 …someone in my muse’s family.
👑 …someone my muse is jealous of.
👊 …someone who hates my muse.
👫 …someone who has a crush on my muse.
👌 …someone my muse has only met once, but will never forget.
🍓…someone my muse has never met, but wants to meet.
👰 …someone my muse would consider marrying.