#alastrinie

[georgebcleyn-blog]

He had thought it hearsay. Tattle-mongering, hollow wineskin of words passed around courtiers, perhaps even a cruelly complex design, given the circumstances. The precise contraptions of their roles and their play: a bed-hopping adulteress, an insular statesman and the knave with a barren wife. Yes, he had thought it some inhumane ruse. And then he saw Alastrine’s face blanching before him in a marooned alley. Blood seeping out with such intensity that he almost expected to have it spotting the snow and the stones - the statuary reminders that they were fixtures and appendages to this castle, this king, nothing more. And he knew it was the truest thing that ever concerned him.

George’s back thudded on the wall that cornered him. The oil cloth from the torches, smeared with tar and ignited like pyres, cast a dreary light upon his face. “I believe you have news.” It was all he could say. It was all the darkness could bear.

@alastrinie

[edwardscymour]

EDWARD & ALASTRINE SEYMOUR. ( @alastrinie )

[coquettisms]

~|~ random smol starter for @alastrinie​ ~|~

“You summoned, m’lady?” the black haired woman inquired as she entered the lavish chamber of the Duchess. As far as employers went, Octavia couldn’t really say much against her. She had served under a most shrewish and demanding old crone before, so there was not much now that would phase Octavia.

[edwardscymour]

@alastrinie

                                  The table was arranged ornately without a single detail of opulence discarded or overlooked. Filigreed invitations had all been filled, Lord Berkshire’s popularity making itself known as the upper crust of court, nobles and gentry alike, gathered for the occasion of the Viscount’s annual Hampton reception. Seated beside his wife and glad to bear witness to her hosting abilities, Edward glanced down the table at its ginger array of guest – ever cautious not to disturb the crown with such a gathering of ‘powerful’ aristocrats – making note of the arrival of several well-known nobles. Somerset bent his neck slightly to accomodate the chatter and whispered into his wife’s ear, ❛ I was not aware that Berkshire’s sick-bed nurse had become his wife. ❜

The night ensued without so much as a hitch, in spite of the titters that abounded regarding to Berkshire’s marital indiscretion; yet although the atmosphere was most pleasant Somerset was eager to see the evening draw to a close and relished in the luxury of bidding adieu. Even more so, the duke felt as though an exonerated man when, the duchess in tow, he stepped into the sumptuous comfort of the Seymour’s Hampton apartments and was instantaneously greeted by the cheery blazing of the hearth. ❛ I’ve arranged for a basin and ewer to be prepared if your grace desires it. There is a chill tonight, and I would not see you catch cold as a result of a night I would have willingly forgone were Lord Berkshire not a bosom friend of yours. ❜

[coquettisms]

@alastrinie wanted a random mischief and shenanigans starter !

“I promise, nobody will see us. Not even most servants frequent this area,” Octavia reassured the Duchess. “If you want to know how to sneak all proper commoner like then this is what you put up with.” She poked her head around a doorway before signaling Trinie forward. “This isn’t even the hard way.”

[joannawcrwick]

@alastrinie

         –   There were few families in court as well-known and as elusive as the Seymours – second only to the Yorkist brood who’s history had been enfolded in decades of discord and displacement. On the flip side, the story of the Seymour’s rapid ascent to the crest of the king’s favor was widely known, and yet little was known of its constituents. The details of their intellect and military pursuits, trappings that propelled them into positions of power, were famed throughout court and Joanna was privy to them, as she ought to have been. 

Edward Seymour, despite being a companion to her husband, was a courtier who Joanna had been explicitly admonished against. Although she needn’t be reminded not to cross him – his pursuits with her dearest cousin Anne and his recent entanglement with Sarah Talbot in mind – she had to wonder if his wife, Alastrine, was made of the same steely, wicked components. It was her luck to be seated beside the duchess during a customary banquet held in honour of the king. As the orchestra struck up a strident volta, Joanna rose her voice and canted her head toward the flaxen-haired peeress, watching with a narrowed-gaze as steeled as ice as courtiers fell over one another, lifted their skirts and lowered their décolletage to any passing face, whilst drowning in chalices upon chalices of wine. 

“ It seems the tempo tonight is ostentatious displays of affection. Our king ought to reconsider his stance as defender of the faith – when his court has become a hotspot of hedonism and lechery. ”

[catherinepcrr]

@alastrinie

           –  Looking inward at the dynamics of courtly life often posed the misconception that the coterie of titled ladies and gentlemen within it was indeed wide. Yet despite of the rather limited gaggle of aristocrats in the realm, entrance into their lavish society was strictly forbidden to those of the laity – or even the landed gentry – if not incredibly difficult to obtain, such in the case of Lady Bessie Blount who sacrificed her integrity for the taste of the oyster bed blue bloods tasted from. 

And so, to her most profound chagrin, Catherine was often subjected to Lady Seymour’s company. Despite sharing blood and coming close to being her sisters-in-law, there was a great and unspoken rift between them, one keenly felt at the table of Lady Dorchester’s dining room. The frequently ridiculed, sometimes mocked Lady Dorchester had invited the peeresses of the realm to a sewing circle that segued into luncheon, and if not for the limitless supply of wine being dished out Catherine might have feigned headache to excuse herself from Seymour’s company, who seemed to be sending daggers gifted in tight smiles to her with every word spoken. And whilst the surrounding company might have been ignorant to the implicit insults being shared between them, Catherine was not. 

“ Lady Seymour. You must forgive my curiosity – I only wish into inquire on behalf of Lord Seymour’s health. Some moons ago it was whispered that we were to expect an heir in the family. Correct me if I’m wrong, but such rumours could only be proven true were there a byblow in the family, for you yourself are clearly not with child. How truly odious, that such whispers have not been put to a halt. ”

[edwardscymour]

@alastrinie (continued from x)

    “Do we really?” Alastrine took her husband’s hands tenderly in her’s–though, that was a false pretense. Her grip was like a vice, strong and unwavering, so that he should not escape. She tilted her head, pushing out her bottom lip, earning her a certain look from Edward… which, further encouraged her, of course.

    “Forgive me for startling you with the impetuosity of my sentiments, my dear Edward. But it cannot have escaped your notice that for some time past, the friendship I have felt for you has ripened into a deeper feeling. A feeling more beautiful, more pure, more sacred. Dare I name it? Can it be love?”

               Words such as love ought to be spoken with the tongue of caress by which they are borne, not with venom laced in each uttered syllable and distinct tease wedged between the teeth that shone as Alastrine’s mouth lifted into a poisonous smirk. Nails burrowed beneath his skin, Edward slipped his arm from his wife’s vice of a grip – as he so habitually did, establishing a berth between them as wide and as deep as Calais – but her hold only strengthened and he found himself prisoner to her whims. “Do not act the fool, Alastrine, it does not become you,” seethed Edward, with none of the partiality that a husband endows his dutiful spouse. He shrugged her advances, brushed away the silly notion of love, and turned to her own briefly to bid her departure, although his eyes lingered for the briefest of moments on features that he found altogether captivating. “Have you no commitments to see to this evening? Your presence is no longer desired–there are finances to be seen to.”