CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY (tw: murdah? what murdah?, ableism, debauchery, toxic relationship, etc etc)
There had never been a rose so beautiful, so sweet but this rose had sharp thorns that prepared to rip apart anyone who dare hurt it. Sienna Olivier had always been sharp witted with a venomous tongue and knew exactly what she wanted. The eldest of four girls to French immigrants, the Olivier family joined the ton with ostentatious flair and without worry, since they had been entrenched in the winemaking industry for decades. Lord Olivier only wanted he best for his four daughters and to him that was to set them up for life. That was all Sienna aspired to. She was beautiful yes, but no fool and understood that if she wanted something, she would have to get it for herself and to keep it was something else.
At the age of five, she was promised to another. The man she would marry would only strengthen their family name, a future Lord who she was supposed to love and serve, to be content for the rest of her life. She had dreamed that he was her prince charming, but upon their meeting he was nothing of the sort. Her parents had said that Lord Benedict Grant was damaged and would never become the man she had longed for. Sienna never fought marriage, only to him and pleaded and begged that she be released from this contract. Her cleverness wouldn't allow her to leave well enough alone. Concocting a plan, she was determined to show her father that her future husband had no worth to them, after all, they were the ones with all the power. Instead of fighting a proposal, she suggested something different: a marriage to the younger Grant. Mister Arden Grant had everything that one could desire for their daughter's future husband, other than the title.
The design Sienna had put forth came to fruition at the age of seven and ten when she had married Mister Arden Grant, joining their houses in the eyes of God and the ton. Immediately, the pair were sent to her family's estate in Bordeaux to oversee the wineries that gave her family the wealth that made them contenders in court. Often, Arden and Sienna would escape to the bustling life that Paris offered them. That is where the two experienced the debauchery of the cabaret life Paris offered. Intellects of all walks of life interacted with the pair and offered an experimental lifestyle not bound by any code of morality.
Often, they allowed others into their marital bed and shared whatever desires they had with each other, using anyone to get what they wanted above all else. They lived without shame, without judgement and Sienna thrived, but it was not enough. There was still the subject of his brother, Lord Benedict that hung over Arden's head. It had only been a suggestion, a proposition to rid himself of a problem that lingered. That was only the beginning of their problems. Arden and her were at odds and she could see the cracks in their lives. When he pulled away he drifted towards the one woman she would not allow him to have: her best friend.
Fifteen years. That was how long it took for Arden to 'fall out of love with her.' Sienna did not believe it, not until the process began. After everything the pair had been through, after all they had done, he believed a divorce was warranted. Accused of adultery, Sienna was cast out of high society and she disappeared to the countryside, best friend in tow. If Arden wouldn't have her, she would be damned if he tried to have her best friend.
She is now back in Mayfair, living off the money her mother and sisters give to her to live separate from them. Her heart is still wounded from the crimes her former husband committed against her and plans on exacting her revenge upon him.
Minerva couldn't help but smirk and laugh a bit as she fanned herself.
She wasn't at all scandalized by the prospect of a woman standing or in this case sitting on her own and being independent, but she'd be more pleased if it were any other woman and not Sienna.
"And I expect nothing less from you Miss Olivier. You do put on quite a good show, almost rivals the race itself... arrogant men should indeed be put into their places however." She mused with a smile that wasn't fake nor was it friendly, it was utterly hollow.
Minerva. A woman that reflected her own sharp tongued wit, one who cared less what the entirety of the ton thought of herself. The only difference between the two was that she was forced to hide in shame for months while her former husband acted out on every single one of his desires. Sienna refused to cower any longer.
"Small men need to know their place," she said without a whisper. She would not hold her tongue for the benefit of others, "I am sure he will get over it once his mother eases that wounded heart of his."
Sighing, "and where is your dear husband, Minerva? I thought you would have never left his side?"
whispers left every pair of lips as oliver walked through the crowd and he could feel the searing burn on his back from judgmental stares. he knew the love he and juliet shared would ruin his reputation â the ton was made up of a particularly sanctimonious population â but heâd naively assumed juliet would be free from condemnation. after all, she had done nothing wrong â oliver was the one who deserved to shoulder the blame. heâd left his beloved near the vendors with her cousin, beatrice, before making his way towards the track. in his time serving the house of thorpe, heâd grown fond of one of their horses, andromeda, and he was eager to see her race.
as he searched for andromeda, oliver was shaken by his thoughts by the sound of a woman putting a man in his place â and if he hadnât of known better, he would have assumed it was juliet. turning his head, he noticed lady in crimson that had bested her opponent with such effortless precision that brought an amused smile to oliverâs lips â and a hush to the crowd around her. she sat graceful and unbothered as if she hadnât just chewed a gentleman up and spat him back out. oliver approached her and bowed, his eyes dancing with delight. âi fear that man might die of humiliation,â he chuckled, âdo you perhaps offer lessons?â
Her eyes saw the others whisper as the gentleman sat beside her and if Sienna didn't know better, she would assume they were all for her. A man worthy of scandal? She was intrigued. Smirking, she gave a shrug, "I'm sure he will recover by suppertime," she murmured softly, "a bruised ego hardly stays that way for long, especially when there's an inheritance to support all of it." The men of the ton were allowed to do what they pleased while others sat and watched. Sienna would not allow that same fate to befall her.
Sienna looked over at him, the man had no pretension about him. Someone not of money or status and otherwise unencumbered by the opinions of others, not unlike herself. Raising a brow, "lessons?" Smirking, "I only give lessons to those who can stomach the truth, which not many can handle." Sienna had her fair share of glares and whispers and she would have never shown her face back in this town. However, she refused to allow the sentiments of those lesser than her bother her.
"And what brings you out to the races? By the looks of all others you seem to be draped in scandal and not many could handle that pressure?"
LOUDEST IN A SITUATION AND OBLIVIOUS TO HOW THOSE AROUND SCOFFED OR ROLLED THEIR EYES. The industry in which he was raised and lived was not welcoming to women, but Piet knew not to talk down to them or provide lecture on that which was unfamiliar. The fool in the top hat ran his mouth with a harsh arrogance that gave the impression that it was normally the loudest in the room. The sharp words from the woman caused a silence from the perpetrator and he soon left. âYou did an excellent job in ridding everyone here of that idiot.â Â The top had had moved to a seat far away from them, but the ridiculousness of the hat made him an easy spot. âI have not bet but should I change my mind, Iâll heed your advice and consult a groom or someone familiar with these events.â
Sienna allowed the corner of her mouth to upturn, a small smile, but if anyone questioned it, she would deny it vehemently. âFlattery disguised as wit,â she said, glancing at the stranger with the tilt of her chin that suggested amusement, âa dangerous combination.â Her fan flicked open with a snap, the delicate lace casting a patterned shadow across her face. âYouâd do well to place your coin wisely, should you decide to wager. These creatures,â she gestured toward the track, where the horses lined up in restless anticipation, âdemand more respect than most men Iâve met this morning.â Did Sienna identify more with the horses on the field than the people in the stands
Her gaze lingered a beat longer on the field before drifting back toward him. âTell me, do you often haunt race days, rescuing women from conversational catastrophes, or is today special for you?"
The thunder of hooves and the roar of the crowd would startle a lesser woman, but Sienna was not her. Glares and stares followed her as she walked with purpose, draped in the finest of silks, burning crimson in color. A sly smirk was held beneath red lips as she ignored any whispers that may have been about her. If the people of the Ton weren't mumbling about her, they would be bored senseless.
Sitting among the crowd, she placed her fan delicately upon her lap as she stared out at the track. She had placed her bets already with her own coin, ones she earned with her own merit. Yet, it seemed that a woman who was on her own at the track meant she had no sense of her own as a stranger in a top hat believed himself to be superior in his own thoughts. Rolling her eyes at his own over confidence, "If I required a lecture on the form of a jockey and his horse, I would consult a groom, not a man whose only familiarity with riding is with those who sit upon his lap, ordering him around," she bit back at his arrogance.
Sienna paused, her lips curling into a smile that could only be described as wickedly amused. The air was thick with the scent of pastries, but she was hardly distracted by the scent. Instead, her eyes gleamed as she took in the scene: the earnest apology, the self-conscious shuffle of Isadoraâs feet, the delicate, almost tragic attempt at politeness. It was all too precious.
"Do not apologize, Isa," Sienna scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "they were in your way, not the other way around." Isadora was too soft for her own good, even after all these years of their friendship. Sienna had not felt an ounce of guilt keeping her best friend hidden away from the rest of the ton at the cottage they had resided at. Not when Arden lurked, waiting for her return.
She had refused to divulge anything about Isadora to him during their reunion, rather keeping him on the edge of his seat hungry for more information that only she could provide to him. It was clear that her former husband was only desperate for her best friend because she was just another beautiful pristine thing he could ruin and corrupt. Arden had a way of destroying perfect things.
Stepping into the pĂątisserie, Sienna looked over her shoulder at Isa, "if you want the last lemon tart, you take it by any means necessary," Sienna more than encouraged her to speak her mind and grab what she desired, but she knew Isa did not have the will to take what she wanted. "But pastries are such a menial thing of course, I'd rather see you stand up for something much more enticing."
The front that she had to put on when she was around Sienna had almost been the worst part about her marriage. Having to be as friendly as she possibly could whilst they were in public had almost drove her crazy. She had thought that might be different now. Apparently she was wrong. Millicent was about to ask what had happened but as Sienna turned it back on her, the penny dropped. "He was with someone else?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Another thing that Millicent had always hated to think about - Sienna was supposed to marry Benedict. The simple idea of which made her skin crawl. She could not imagine someone like him with the she devil herself. "Did you come to your senses or did your parents decide for you?" She countered. "Do not pretend that we are the same, Sienna." Millicent was all too aware that she did not have the higher ground here. If anything , she and Sienna were probably on the same level. She just didn't want to admit it. "I do not want freedom. I want my husband and that is what I am here to get."
At least that was one thing that Millicent could admire about Sienna - her determination was second to none. "And how exactly are you going to do that?" It struck Millicent how the differences in the women - and why they were back in London - were the complete opposite of one anothers. One wanted her husband back, the other wanted her husband destroyed.
Waving Millicent's concern away, Sienna brushed it off, "of course he was, the man could never be satiated but I never did mind," she sighed. Had Millicent not known about the understanding the paid had? Shrugging, "my problem with all of this was that it was never disclosed to me or that I was even invited to the festivities," she smirked, sure that the other woman would be clutching her pearls at this point, "the insolent little redhead had the audacity to assume that he would devote his life to her when he could never be faithful to one woman. I was forced to be his martyr," there was venom laced in her voice.
Laughing, "my parents thought it best that I marry a man in good standing," she muttered, "I did not fight them on the matter and only offered suggestions for the alternative." Rolling her eyes, she enjoyed the way Millicent thought she was any better than her. At least for Sienna, there had been no dishonesty between her and her husband. For her, who laid in her bed had been about pleasure and not of emotions. Millicent on the other hand searched for companionship and love in another. Sienna could not help but feel bad for her: settling for something substandard because of some feeling of duty. "We both know that you only want your husband because of some responsibility to society."
Sienna returned a wide smile, one that held all her plans, "I don't need you to worry about that Millie. Everything will fall into place as it should."
Her presence unsettled him, not with discomfort, but with a sense of immediacy he seldom allowed. There was something in the way she carried herselfâdefiant and radiant and weary all at onceâthat made him want to capture her in every medium he knew. Paint her in oil and rage and light. Carve her from marble until she was mythic. Ink her into paper until she was immortal. She was not simply beautiful. She was composed of stories and bruises and fire, and he wanted to honour it all. âI had not meant for you to see it,â he admitted quietly, fingers threading together in front of him in a rare show of uncertainty. âArt isâŠâ he hesitated, searching for a word that might encompass what it felt like to be seen through his own work. âIt is private. Not because it is shamefulâbut because it is honest. Too honest, sometimes.â He gave her a soft, almost boyish smile, the corners of his lips trembling with the effort of it. âStill⊠I am glad you find it good.â He watched her then, a little breathless, studying how she held the sketchbookâlike it was hers, somehow. Like she belonged to the page already. It was unfamiliar, this feeling of being caught and not judged, admired and not mocked. And though he felt unsteady on his feet, he was quietly grateful. To be seen. To be drawn out, if only for a moment.
âJe ne voulais pas ĂȘtre impoliâŠâ
â âI did not mean to be rudeâŠâ
Sienna could often make even the bravest of men quiver where they stood. Her presence had always been a force and was never one to shy away from the attention. She could not blame this man for his pauses and stutters, "you need not worry when the art is this wonderful," she mused. Sienna felt his words ring true. She had been too honey, too forthcoming and that was why Arden decided it was enough. The courts shamed her, sent her off to the countryside to hide, to repent for the sins but they were not only her sins. Her former husband had his owns sins to confront and atone for. That was why she was here: for his remorse, one way or another. "I find that I am too honest," she admitted to him, "it is why people turn away from me, but not you. I believe you see what is truly inside of me.
"Oh, Sienna, do you not see you are stale?" He asked her, slipping his fingers to tangle at the curls at the nap of her neck. She is tilted into a kiss, taste turning to devour. Her lips are tart but her skin sweet, red but not bitten as they had always been when she was still lying next to him. His tongue lashes at the knife she keeps in her moutht to speak. "You do not even taste of another."
Selfishly he wonders if she has been waiting for this momentâ plotting, seething, turning sour like fruit to wine. How lovely she had found him and how bittersweet. Underneath it all, of course, Arden can taste the decay of what he had learned to love. They were not drawn by desire, but convenience of parties outside of themselves. Under the exhaustion of abiding by ever rule did they decree they would waste their fortune on one generation alone. They were full of greed and never satiated, evident in the Sienna's last request. The pedestal in which she stood fractured and they were left in ruin, left to fall apart and be forgotten.
But his breath betrays him, intrigued and on the very edge of finding satisfaction even if only for a night. "We were made to rot, were we not? It is over and done, love, unless you seek to be just a cruel mistress now."
He holds his face in her hands, jaw cut into the palm of his hand so delicately like she made for him so touch and admire.
"We never got to say goodbye," He reminds her softly, enticing by her hand against him enticing him for more. The same gentle touch is cradled to her mouth, a gorgeous shape to convince anyone who listens all is well. He knew better, and he seeks the venom. His thumb runs along that pout, drag out her bottom lip that he kisses quickly. The taste of cherries sits there and he cannot help but wonder how long she wandered unknowingly to any footman or guest. Slipping his thumb into her mouth, he slides it against her tongue until that perfect pout must wrap around his finger. "How much of it can you take?"
"And you taste of every whore you've tried to replace me with," she murmured against his lips, "and I know you've come empty handed every time." Both had let many into their shared bed happily, spreading their love to anyone who dared have enough of a backbone to enjoy it. Yet, he became greedy, needing more than just her and all she could feel was anger. After all that she gave him, all that she made him into. And she would savor every touch, every hungry kiss until she was ready to devour him whole.
"Speaking of whores, how is that sweet little redhead of yours?" Her eyes shot daggers at him, "it's been so long since I have seen her and I do yearn for a toothache." Little Miss Beatrice Bennett. An meek girl who Arden searched for salvation in, trying to rid himself of the sins that they committed together, but just as he did with her, he ruined her too. Took the poor girl's honor, left her the way he left herself. Despite his attempt, he could not hide anything from her and it was just the first of many
Sienna looked up at him obediently, giving him the illusion that every bit of control between that was his to have and to hold, "no we did not, you saw to that Arden. The moment you had filed for divorce." Rolling her eyes, "did you believe I would let you have what was between my legs once more, to worship at my altar after you hurt me so?" Even if her words spewed venom, her face leaned into the soft touch of his hand, basking in the bitterness of his kiss. Wrapping her lips around his finger, a small moan escaped her as she begged for more. Sienna would allow him to have this, allow him to feel safe until she was ready. "It's all yours, Arden," she murmured against his thumb, "take it," she pulled him by his breeches, the feeling of his growing hardness evident against her center.
Sienna could not help but laugh as she read over the scandal sheet once more, finding Edward's name shining bright alongside the woman that he was intended to court, "I never realized how wonderful your name sounds next to the rest of the ton, Edward," she smirked, setting the paper back down to lean over his desk, "Sir Edward, knight in shining armor, set to court a lovely woman of the ton, a Lady, no less," she mused.
No doubt that Sienna's name had never come up in the possible matchmaking conversation the Queen had with her little followers. Sienna's existence had been a spit in the face to their lovely queen. Divorce was not only frowned upon, but a cardinal sin. Arden had managed to ruin whatever reputation she curated for herself over the years. Now she was able to watch from her pedestal as all of them skittered around, panicking by the Queen's demands. Walking around the mahogany desk, she sidled behind him, "can you imagine? Soon I will be calling you sir lord," she whispered in his ear.
closed starter for : @serpentinheels
location : grosvenor street
He was late â again. It was nothing new for Avi, he was disorganized and terrible with time management. Heâd been told time after time, but an old dog certainly couldnât learn new tricks â at least, that was what he told himself. On top of it all, running from one noble house to the other wasnât exactly the easiest feat.
With cobblestones beneath his shoes, Avi darted through the crowd at Grosvenor Street â nearly running into everyone. But heâd done this enough times to learn when to duck and when to turn. Suddenly, his foot caught in a loose cobblestone and he tripped just slightly, his books and papers falling onto the ground below him â at the feet of another. âIâm terribly sorry, I was Iâm a rushâŠ,â he explained, leaning down to pick his belongings up. âI didnât hurt you, did I?â he asked with concern, looking up at who'd been subjected to his clumsiness. He was met with a familiar face and his heart nearly stopped beating in his chest. A shy smile tugged on his lips, âOh...Miss Olivier. Itâs a delight to see you.â
Sienna sometimes strolled Grosvenor street just to watch the bystanders whisper about her. It was something that bided her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to ruin Arden. It would come in time, but she had to be patient. Suddenly, she saw a man trip in front of her, papers scattered all over the street, "I can't say that I am shocked to see a man fawning over," Sienna smirked as she looked up the man that fell to her feet. She was shaking her head, "god no, a man, hurt me?" She shrugged it off as she raised a brow to whoever, "but I do love when they worship me on their knees."
Sienna spotted the face who had fallen in front of her and laughed, "Mister Lakhani? Is that your sweet face?" She chuckled, a sickly sweetness coating her voice. It had been ages since she had seen Avi, a man who would kiss the ground she walked, even when he had become the butt of all her and Arden's jokes. "It seems you have not changed one bit," she smirked widely. Sienna knew the fates were shining upon her when they decided to bring him back into her life.
Millicent might have been one of the oldest people who hadn't heard that Sienna was back in town - but she certainly noticed the stares that the other woman got as she made her way over to them. A snapshot into her own future, perhaps. She had never thought that there would be a time when she and Sienna had something in comment.
A deep sigh fell from Millicents lips as she listened to the other. "Oh, dear, i'm so sorry. The pen works both ways, you know." She spoke, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Perhaps this was the only silver lining of she and Benedict not being together anymore - she no longer had to deal with Sienna.
"That is still to be determined, I suppose." Millicent sighed. She had been hopeful but after their reunion, she wasn't so sure anymore. Benedict certainly seemed to be done with her. "There is talk to divorce. From him. So maybe I will be joining you in exile soon enough." She had created this situation and yet that still didn't stop the self pity party. "Though I wouldn't exactly say that I'm here 'for the fun of it'." She sighed. "Though I'm not surprised that you are. What kind of terror are you going to rein over the Ton now? No reunion with Arden?"
Sighing, "you are right about that but I blame the despair from the," she lowered her voice for the dramatics, "divorce. You see, I took it very hard when Arden betrayed me." It was not a lie, she had been upset but that sadness quickly turned into anger and she vowed she would ruin his life. "I'm sure you understand with what happened with Lord Benedict," pausing, "or was it the other way around? I could not keep up with the gossip I'm sorry."
Sienna pouted, "well I'm sorry to hear about that. I thought you had just come to your senses about Lord Benedict as I did all those years ago." It had once been her fate to marry Benedict, until her parents came to their senses and recognized he was not worth another glance from her. Unfortunately, another woman had to take on that burden instead. "It's not so bad over here," she flashed a sardonic grin, "you will have the freedom I know you have desired, what you tried to achieve." Millicent was exactly like her, just dressed up in a fancy bow. At least Sienna was honest with herself.
Shaking her head, "I'm just here to reclaim what is rightfully mine, what has always been mine," and to make Arden pay for his slights against her," there shall be no reconciliation with Mister Arden," the title of Lord had no place in front of his name. It was only given to him because of her and he should have been thankful for that.
The afternoon light in London was especially kind that dayâdiffused through a gentle haze, turning the cityâs grime into something almost golden. Bastien walked with no real destination, hands tucked neatly behind his back, the edges of his coat fluttering as if stirred by thought. It was one of his better daysâquiet inside, not too burdened by the weight of family or failures or the gnawing sense that he did not quite belong. There were moments like this, fleeting though they were, when he could pretend he was simply an artist in a city that welcomed him. And then he saw her.
It was not the sort of beauty that begged for noticeâit was the kind that halted time, slipping into his senses like a half-remembered melody. Her features were refined, like something carved gently by the sea: high cheekbones, soft mouth, the elegance of her neck turned slightly as she glanced at something across the street. There was an old-world grace to her that seemed untouched by the chaos of London. Her hair gleamed like polished chestnut, her posture calm and self-assured, the set of her shoulders suggesting she had nothing to prove. She wore a gown of pale dove-gray that caught the light in subtle ways, accentuating not just her form, but the quiet command she held over the space around her. To Bastien, she looked like someone who ought to be painted in oils and gold leaf, someone worthy of reverence, of preservation.
He fumbled for his sketchbook with the desperation of a man whoâd spotted divinity in motion, flipping through pages and cursing under his breath in French until he found a blank space. His pencil trembled as he started to trace her silhouette, trying to memorize the line of her brow, the tilt of her chin. And thenâher eyes met his. Not by accident. She looked at him. Directly. Fully. Bastien froze, still holding the pencil to paper, mouth parted slightly as if words might tumble out and save him from his own awe. What came instead, barely above a whisper, was, âMon Dieu⊠youâre beautiful.â
Now that Sienna was back in Mayfair, she refused to stay hidden in shame that was never hers. The divorce was only granted due to Arden's lies about her and she would not be the one to cower. She had her money, the coins she earned doing the disreputable work for the Silver Lantern. It was easy enough and her partnership with the owner was mostly silent and whatever her mother could send it to keep Sienna as far away from her and her sisters as much as possible.
Sienna's return to Mayfair meant the whispers began again. Once more the distinguished ladies of the ton would mumble all about the fall from grace that the former Lady Olivier had and the nerve she had to even return to this town. It was Sienna's job to remind them who out of them could truly ruin another person's life. She would speak candidly to anyone who attempted to throw a snide remark in her direction. It was not her fault that their husbands had mistresses, or problems with liquor or even a gambling problem that was surely to put their entire estate in massive amounts of debt. Sienna was only there to inform the rest of the ton of their indiscretions, with a smile upon her face of course.
Staring was quite common whenever she walked towards the market. How anyone could fathom such a shameful woman escorting herself around was beyond her comprehension, but she would allow the lowly people to watch and learn. Her eyes drifted towards the pair of eyes who seemed to burn holes into her and a sardonic grin appeared upon her face, "mon dieu? Parles-tu français?" It wasn't often she heard a voice call out for her in her native tongue. Arden had been the only one to ever keep a conversation with her in French and now the only words she wanted to spew in their love language was filled with hatred. The young man seemed to be taken by Sienna and she could only bask in the admiration of him, "beautiful, you say?" She leaned towards him, "Je suis plus que belle. Je suis parfaite" she returned a small wink. Sienna would be content with any man who fed her compliments and fawned at the altar of her feet.
"And what is a gentleman like you watching a woman like me, doing?" She peered at the sketchbook in his hand and could see the outline that began to reflect her beauty, "monsieur! Is that supposed to be me?" She asked quickly before pulling the bound notebook from his hands, "I believe this is actually good." she mused.
( @serpentinheels
-- at one of the couple's parties
late, at night )
There's a difference in between dangerous, and lethal games. Toying around with the Sinclair family -- his family, if he wants to be precise -- is partially lethal, partially dangerous, though mostly walking on thin ice. Staring at a married woman like she is heaven brought to earth, is lethal. Especially, when her husband is around. Especially, when the woman looks lethal herself. Elias tries to push his thoughts in other directions -- towards the red wine in his glass, which tastes exceptional, or towards the beautiful decorations spread all throughout the home.
When Sienna approaches him, Elias freezes partially. He does not get up from his chair, instead he looks up at her, and analyzes her features. Yeah. Gorgeous. Deadly. "Good Evening.", Elias greets her, "I am yet to see your husband to thank him for his invitation." He had accepted it -- in hopes of finding out more about Lady Whistledown, and had been greeted with... strange sights. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight?"
Sienna could not easily be kept away from the manor that she once called home. It wouldn't matter if she was shunned from society due to the games her former husband had played with her livelihood. Everything in the home had been hers, given to her upon his death and yet Arden had decided to take it all away. Sienna would make him suffer for the crimes against her. She could blend in with the throngs of people that were beckoned to the extravagant parties he threw in her absence. They were cheap imitations to the ones they had when they stood side by side, but she would ignore his grave mistakes.
Instead, Sienna would enjoy the party, drink the liquors that her husband provided for every lowly person that stepped through the French doors and flatter any man or woman that would catch her previous husband's attention. Including the man who sat by himself, his eyes seeming to contemplate the life before him. A man who liked to watch.
"Sir Elias," she called out with a purr, hovering over him. Her teeth bit into her lips, listening to his quiet thanks and shook her head, "he doesn't need thanks, not when everything here was curated delicately by myself."
Smirking, she placed the fine crystal on the side table before sitting gently on his lap, "I've been having a wonderful time and I believe it will only get better from here," her hand ran through his chestnut locks, her blood red nails scratching against his head, "don't you think, Sir?"
How ever did she returnâ were the design of his rumors true after all, some fortune hidden offshore all those years ago for not a day of rain but a storm like him? Was there a chance she had still won after everything?
"All those years ago, of course not," He agrees, but it is hardly to give into her. "I built all of this around you, Sienna. I can never deny that. This was our stage to be a disgraceâ"
He instills a crack for her to see what's come after, sickly sweet and dying. Though he knows better, because she has never truly been gone. All that is left in the wake of her exile is woven from the very same threads he snipped her free of. She bares only the frayed edges and he still curls them around his finger, inching closer brushing her dark ringlets against his palm. He traces the cut of bone along her collar, trailing up to her chin to tilt her face up to him. Had he forgotten how beautiful she was, or was it simply that time apart made taken away his immunity?
"âand we have moved on to the next act. Your role, my love, has already come to a close."
He steps to the edge of the foot of the bed once more, ripping the comforter out from under her.
Sienna could see in his eyes that he never expected her to return, to come into his life and ruin all that he curated since her exile from society. She needed him to know that without her, he would have nothing. Just like an ouroboros, they would swallow each other whole over and over again just to feel something. There were no others who could give him what he desired most, even if his fickle desires would tell him that he needed something softer and sweeter.
A shudder ran through her as his had traced her collar bone, all of her had been all of his and it was as if nothing had changed between them. Arden needed to be reminded that she was his heaven and hell.
"Is that an invitation, my Lord?" She whispered wistfully against his lips, calling on him with his preferred name. The one that he could have had if he had not been too weak to take it. "Darling, you know the world loves an encore more than anything," she smirked, her hand pressing against the hardness against his breeches, "and it seems you want nothing more than that." It wouldn't take long for him to concede to her. Even after everything, she had an undeniable power over him.
Lightly, she pressed her tongue against his lips, "I am yours for the taking, my Lord and it has been ages since you've touched something so familiar, hasn't it?" His ego could be easily stroked, as long as, "I know you believe that newness excites you, but there has never been another like me to touch you in the way you desire, to make you feel that way. So take what you need."
Gunthers had become a little bit of an escape for Millicent since she had returned back to London. It was a moment of her day where she could have a moment to watch the entire world go by - without worrying where her place within the Ton was. It gave her a chance to catch up on her latest book or formulate a plan to get Benedict back. She had no limit to the amount of useful things that she could do over a cup of tea and a slice of cake.
This particular day, however, a blast from her past walked into the room. Millicent had always been struck by how beautiful Sienna was. But her beauty was only matched by how quick her mouth was. She was a sure fire way to sour Millicents mood.
Don't sit here, don't sit here... Millicent willed. Though, of course, Sienna seemed to make a beeline for her. Nothing had been going right for her since she arrived back in London so why would this? She took a sip of her tea before she looked up at the other woman, "Sienna." She spoke in greeting. "It's been a long time."
Sienna heard the whispers of the other ladies of the ton and frankly, she did not give a single damn about them. How is she back? Doesn't she know that she is utterly disgraced? A woman of divorce, walking around without shame? Sienna would never cower from anyone. Especially a familiar face.
"Millicent!" She called out, high pitched, demanding everyone's attention, "look who has to decided to return to court, just as I have! I did not get a single letter from you when you were away," she smirked. As if either woman would have written to each other if it were not forced. There was so much Sienna could not stand about the woman that sat across from her. Her husband being the most hated.
Rolling her eyes, "yes, it has been a long time, but I guess that is the doing of men, right?" Sienna knew, just like the rest of the ton, about the affair. She did not judge Millicent for her indiscretions, in fact she was almost proud of the woman who was mostly bland in her eyes. "Is there reconciliation with Lord Grant on the horizon?" Smirking, "or are you just back for the fun of it all? Like myself."
