#fortunebuoyed

[fanatiquee]

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep?

𝓡𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓶 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓜𝓮𝓶𝓮! ooc:

I love this question, because I have a very particular voice in mind when it comes to Louis. In the books he’s often described as speaking very quietly, or softly, and his speech is always measured and accented. It’s remarked far more often that Louis has an accent than a lot of the other characters (who also have accents) and I think, although A.R just describes it as French, Louis’ French accent is definitely colonial. It’s influenced by the Creole Patois but also by Occitan, since Parisian French wasn’t the lingua franca of France when his family moved to New Orleans, and some of that natural French regional variation would have followed them. It’s a very ambling cadence. As far as the actual sound of it, I imagine it’s very smooth, generally middling, more on the tenor side but there’s definitely a softness there, it isn’t resonant by any means, it tends to pitch upward more often than downward, unless he’s angry, and then I think he’s definitely relying on the lower part of his register. But overall, it’s quite light and as I said, smooth, in general speech.  

[desanctii]

@fortunebuoyed​ said: ❓+ Armand

“Armand is, in every sense of the word, my concern. For a creature that brushed my life so briefly, he has a habit of sticking around. And who can deny it? I took him in out of... Well, a strategic sort of thinking, for one, but also out of love. It seems to baffle people that these two should co-exist in the mind. I wanted to save him. I believed that was what I was doing. You must understand how certain I was, to understand the depth of my error. Saved or not, I took a child and turned it into something else. So whatever this new creature is, whatever he became and will become, it is by my hand that he exists. 

I watch him with the concern any man should show his creations. He is no longer the child I knew, that boy who’d cling to my robes in fear and sorrow, who’d seek my embrace or my praise and try to win me over with earnest arguments. He is a man grown and he had to grow all on his own. I owe him a lifetime, and I cannot give it back to him. I orphaned him twice. So when he tells me he does not despise me, might even care for me, I do not believe him. But perhaps I do this, also, because that makes it easier for me. I am not above the path of least resistance. As long as he doesn’t try to understand me, I do not have to explain. As long as he does not forgive me, I do not have to face what needs forgiving. We keep a gentlemanly distance, a sense of understanding, I hope, that whatever we must speak of, we will speak of another time. 

--All that aside, I loved him. I have never made this a secret, I don’t see why I should start now. I loved that boy as I would love my own son. And I am proud of the man he has become. The world would be lesser without him in it.”

[obediencess]

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊: 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉 ✥ @fortunebuoyed​​ ✥ for Cirila Montoya “I love retirement and silence, because I can live with my thoughts and recollections of past days.”

They had been diligently working in silence for some time, if only to appease the shadow lingering in the doorway. Cirila’s mother trusted Riccardo implicitly after receiving glowing recommendations from other mother’s whose daughter’s had been instructed by him. She nevertheless felt the need to verify such claims with her own two eyes, now and again. But satisfied at last, she was gone, and Cirila came to life once more in all her vivid, unusual luster. “What is it they say about idle hands, my lady?” Riccardo answered, a good-natured grin pressing his lips, teasing above all else. A hint of a dimple appeared in an bronzy, smiling cheek. “But you are right, perhaps this is why I find silence so very difficult, why I must fill it with my idle talk, it keeps my mind from wandering, from thinking too much of past days,” he said this without sadness, the boyish warmth about his face untouched, save for the slight sorrowful pinch between his brows. The expression was swiftly smoothed, and Riccardo forced himself to re-animation. “Do you dislike Paris so much that you must retreat into memory for comfort? Paris does not dislike you, in fact, I think it suits you well,” he told her, pushing the sleeves of his linen work shirt to his elbows so as not to smear charcoal on it. He leaned across the table to look at her sketch board. She already had an accomplished study of the fruit bowl Riccardo had arranged for her, and he quirked his head as he assessed it. “Your perspective is improving, Cirila.”

[helenaus]

@fortunebuoyed​ liked a starter call

The maid had told her not to approach the man, even attempted to grab her wrist, but despite Minette’s feeble constitution, her determination prevented the poor servant from holding her back. Her small heels echoed against the marble floor, rushed and full of anxiety. She caught him descending the stairs and hurriedly stepped in front of him, fleetingly thinking about how mother would have berated her for this unladylike behavior, and then she flashed a sweet, apologetic smile. The kind that she used to get out of trouble.

“Forgive me, sir”, she said in her softest, most dovelike tone. “I am told you come from England”. Her mother tongue felt unnatural: the words did not flow quite smoothly without betraying the french accent of Henriette of England who was, ironically, completely french: her dress, however sadly outdated for a princess, had been sewn in french fashion; the golden braids which begun at the back of her head and descended to one of her shoulders may have been made by her own hands instead of a lady’s maid, as a girl of her rank should have had, but it was still in the same style the french ladies wore, even her manners were completely french: there was not much of England in her at all, except for one thing. “I apologize for interrupting your path, I was meaning to ask whether you have any news of my father? King Charles?”, she asked, eyes wide with expectation.

[amepcrdue]

⚔ @fortunebuoyed​ has crossed paths with 𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖑 ⚔

he found himself drawn to this place. it wasn’t his first time in athens, far from it. and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. spending years upon years on this earth, it had been interesting to see how this place has changed over the years... and how much had stayed the same. ruins of ancient temples peered over the horizon, bleached bone white in the light of the moon. this was his favorite time to walk the streets, when others were still milling about but most had already turned in. he could think here, not feel like the throngs of people were suffocating him in heartbeats and general... humanity. he hadn’t been like them in centuries. something, however, caught is notice right away. a woman up ahead, attire definitely not matching the locals. she was striking, but that wasn’t what caught him... no, the lack of heartbeat did. she was something else, perhaps something like him. a slight smirk ghosted at the corner of his lip as he continued to walk her way, a flash of red in his eyes as perhaps an indication that he too was not of men like the others that still walked the streets.

                                                               ❝ a lovely evening for a stroll, wouldn't you think? ❞ his greek was impeccable, as if he had lived here his entire life.

[aleximedicusa]

@fortunebuoyed​ asked: “Seems like we’re gonna be stuck on this train for an extra three hours.” From Mercy

          with a soft groan, lewis let his head fall sideways to thud against the glass of the train’s window. given how new the railway systems — and, indeed, rail travel in general — were, he supposed he ought to expect some hiccups and delays, but three hours was a frankly ridiculous length of time to wait in the summer heat. “ oh, capital. at this rate, it will be well into tomorrow by the time we reach manchester. ”

[perladivenezia]

🥃 + Was Armand always, ahhh... Like /that?/ (from Daniel)

🥃 + a question for my muse to answer. If they refuse to answer, they have to take a shot.

“You see, it is not that I do not want to answer but I genuinely don’t know what you mean... If I had to guess I would say yes, he has always been a bit like that”

[penguinpositivity]

I wanna send a shout out to @sinnhelmingr / @fortunebuoyed. Kaiden is one of my best friends, a delight on the dash and OOC. We will always have Roswell (that's something of an inside joke)