#faintfragility

[nonsensible-blog]

starter for the lovely Miss Vanderbilt @faintfragility

Keep your head down. Work, and don’t question a thing. As much as Phineas hated this work - found it monotonous and boring and dull - he did his best to look toward the bright side of it all. He did have shelter, and food. He had made very few friends, not that he was out looking for pals anyway-- more often than naught, his pals were merely connections in one way or another. It was the money that fueled him, ultimately. His greed and pride, masked easily by excuse after excuse; I have a doll back home waitin’ for me. I’m doing this for her.

Where it wasn’t inherently a lie, it wasn’t all truth either.

Today is a day where he’s stuck in his own head, and yet despite the dust and grime and the grunts and groans of the other workers, Phineas is in rather high spirits. He’s humming to himself, small smile gracing his features as he hammers away at stakes and rocks alike, lifting and pulling and exerting every ounce of energy-- yet he doesn’t feel tired at all. Hot, though... God blazes, it’s hot out and Phineas has long tugged his suspenders off his shoulders to lay by his legs. Hell, he’s even dared to completely remove his button down to tie loosely about his hips.

Well, at least Charity would be happy with how all this hard labour has built him up from that skinny little tailor’s boy.

He’s whistling now, eyes squinting against the last few hours of sunlight. They could pack up soon-- he could eat, gather ‘round with the boys and drink and gamble as he had been prone to a lot lately. Hell, he was good at gambling. He should do it more often. The young man swivels quickly to grab for one of his tools, though barks a surprised shout when he very nearly trips right over another. Phineas wavers off balance for a moment, head jerking so he can toss the sweat dampened bangs from his face to get a better look at who he’d nearly tipped over-- where he expects a smaller worker, he’s taken aback by the elaborate clothing and the very feminine features . . . oh, God in Heaven.

Phineas swallows thickly, hands immediately lifting in a placating manner. Oh, Lord -- he couldn’t afford to lose this job over something as silly as not paying proper attention! “Mm-Miss Vanderbilt, madame.” he’s stumbling over his words, tone gravel and deep with misuse and the dust kicked up each day. “Please, I beg pardon. Forgive me.”

[deoscuridad]

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" sentence starters : literally always accepting @faintfragility​ said: ❝ When we are happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not always happy. ❞

“ If only one could feel nothing at all,  if all could be turned off with the flip of a switch.” By and by he wholeheartedly agreed with her observation. It is perhaps why he has (attempted) to be stoic in the face of all the events that he is witness to. The stoic school often held that to achieve happiness one only had to live in accordance to nature. Of course, the definition of ‘nature’ could be debated. Could nature be akin to the term 'physis', not an object but rather a process - a constant state of flux and metamorphosis. To Sal however, nature came in the form of plants and people that he surrounded himself with. In essence, the exterior of pieces of himself. He picks the up his cup of tea from its nestled place atop the coffee table, a spoon clinking ever so softly against the porceilain surface as he attempts to dissolve the remaining bits of sugar that have settled at the bottom of his cup. “ But then again, what of a being who is happy yet does bad? What of those who do good and yet the world betrays their kindness.  The world. In my experience, hardly anyone, ever, is truly ever happy.”  

[sanctamater]

&& @faintfragility ;;

  CHAMPAGNE GONE FLAT: another tasteless dinner. Affluence bred boredom within the HALLOWED halls of New York’s finest; elegant fingers drumming against the linen of the tablecloth, her movements stiff. Small. A feline mischievousness within her gaze that betrayed how restless she was. Miss Todd ought to have been racing, running; scraping her knees and dancing until the sun came up. She ought to have been cloistered in her offices like a novice: not bedecked in her mother’s jewels and on DISPLAY with the rest the Knickerbocker fillies. How it left a foul taste in her mouth! Swallowed down the ACID and remembered to breathe. In a room full of people she had known since infancy, she felt like an OUTSIDER: suspected the girl to her left might have felt the same. Not one of the fabulous four hundred, not in good graces. Tolerated, perhaps; but not adored..   “Missus Astor is on the WARPATH tonight. Though it’s rare she is not, no?”

[myinventions]

@faintfragility [cont’d]

Immediately diverting himself from staring at those pearls for one moment longer (as though they were something unseemly!), Nikola Tesla cleared his throat.

“-ahem- Oh no, Madam. Nothing at all. Must have been a trick of the light.”

[sanctamater]

faintfragility started following you

[ofwoe]

“Perfection has no place in love.”

          To that, Enola could only smile. The heiress knew more than most the exquisite agony of an imperfect love, but it did not change her views or her faith. “Above all else, clothe yourself with love. Love unites all things in perfect harmony.” It was a rough translation– after all, Enola’s bible was in Italian– but the point remained mostly intact. “There are no perfect people, bellissima, but wherever there is love, true and honest love, there is a manner of perfection.” She hoped that her words would provide some semblance of reassurance in an imperfect world.