#francescca

[afterdecay]

oh, they would be the talk of the ton if lady whistledown had known. and what a good thing it had been for them to have spent the off season in france – away from wandering eyes and loose lips privy to gossip. these months had been good to them. and while he knows it's only a matter of time before they should return, criston finds himself enjoying their days together to the fullest before their lives become more discreet. more separation between them, with it being frowned upon for an unwed pair to be sharing space unchaperoned as they've been living. even more frowned upon would be the fact he asked her to expose her back to him. he sat beside her in bed, hovering over her with a thin brush and palette in hand. and he began to write her a letter, from one shoulder to the next, make his way lower the more he wrote. parts were original, other parts were quotes of her favorite novels to help support his love letter to her.

❝ would you hold still? ❞ a breathy laughter slips as he watches her squirm for the umpteenth time. ❝ you're going to ruin remarkable penmanship, ❞ he teases, refraining from continuing until his canvas had gone still once more. a few more strokes and he finishes: yours, the man who wishes to call you wife someday soon. he admires his work for a moment before ultimately swiping his thumb across that last line. (in case she were to steal a peek within a mirror and her future desires didn't align with his.) ❝ there. that wasn't too terrible, was it? ❞ 

@francescca re: your wishlist.

[viiscountess]

starter for @francescca <3

kate was still adapting to being viscountess , and head of a household . she may have helped her mama as much as she could in the absence of her father , but mary always remained the head of the household . and although she didn't think she was failing at her new role , she still wasn't confident in calling herself the viscountess . something she did not doubt her skills in , however , was being a s i s t e r . ❛ i know my courting with your brother wasn't exactly––– traditional . but i am here should you need anything . anything at all . ❜

[sanitatcm]

" i'm sorry - " the music stopped abruptly when he entered the room. in truth, he'd been hiding - or at least attempting to hide. to his desperate ears, the sound of a solitary pianoforte had held more promise than the hot, crowded ballroom. if he were not beholden to his friend, he would be home already, reviewing his notes before attending tomorrow morning's lecture... but barring that, this had seemed a more appealing compromise - at least until he realized his presence had disturbed someone else's peace. " i did not mean to interrupt. i was - " he smiled sheepishly. " i was avoiding the ball, i'm afraid. "

starter call. --> @francescca

[olvanya]

“Do you mind if I join you?”

❝    sure.    ❞     she   wasn't   occupied   anyway,   certainly   tarrying   about   with   a   hand   ‘pon   her   hip   and   an   arm   acting   as   perch   for   the   raven   she’s   tending   to.   its   face   switch   sides,   periodically   staring   at   the   other.

❝    don't   mind   the   bird.   he's   my   companion.    ❞ 

𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 ( accepting. )

[dionadaiiraa]

@francescca asked: ⤷ “ how did this happen? ”

𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑺 𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑵 𝑨𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻.  Eden MacTavish held onto the flute of champagne, though it barely took a sip from it. It was hardly his kind of drink, and far too bubbly for his tastes, still, he couldn't keep the smile spreading across his pale features. 

It had been scandalous but no one would step forward to claim responsibility. He looked upon the vandalized portrait of some British noble and chuckled. Someone had taken charcoal and decidedly the ancestor needed a distinguished mustache and an eye patch. 

A generational feud perhaps? Eden didn't know. He didn't know much of the upper echelons of English society. He was there on business, and soon would be returning to his beloved Scotland. 

❝ Ah'm nae sure, ma lady, ah dinna see who did it, but ah reckon' it was some hoodlum.❞ he replied and canted his head to take a better look at the portrait. 

❝ Ah'm sure yer elder brothers will find out who did it, and justice will be swift. ❞ 

[agentinred]

The library was dimly lit, a haven of mahogany shelves and the faint scent of old paper and polished wood. Carmen Wolfe stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. The muffled hum of the ballroom, with its orchestra and cascading laughter, was a distant murmur now, replaced by the soothing silence of solitude. It was, admittedly, ironic to be seeking peace in the very space her adoptive father had insisted she curate tonight. Baron Takemura’s ball was meant to introduce her—his enigmatic ward Countess Wolfe—to London society, a glittering announcement of her place in the ton. Yet, as the hours stretched on, the pageantry had begun to wear t h i n. Every smile exchanged, every compliment given or received, felt like a carefully choreographed scene in a play where the stakes were as sharp as daggers.. & that was all it was..a grand play for all to see.

But this… this was different.     She hadn’t expected to find someone else here. The woman sat in an armchair near the fireplace, the golden light casting a soft glow over her pale blue gown. & Carmen smiled faintly amused at finding a like-minded soul. “Hiding from the spectacle of the 'theater' as well, Miss..?”

@francescca | sc

[awynter]

"Come sit with me?"

“Of course, Miss Francesca.” Anne's lips pulled into a smile as she sat down beside the other. She'd heard enough of the Bridgerton family to know that conversing with one of them was a rare thing indeed--and even rarely for it to be one of the daughters. As the governess for all girls, the only names Anne typically heard of the Bridgertons were the sons. From the eldest serving as Viscount to the youngest earning the hearts of her students. The family was well-known and genuinely well-received, and it surprised her that anyone of such a status would even notice Anne, let alone ask her to sit with them.

"Are you thirsty? I can fetch you a glass of lemonade or champagne, if you'd like."

[kingmaketh1]

lady danbury insisted that he must attend the masquerade ball. criston tried insisting that his appearance wasn't necessary. but the elder woman won that argument and he found himself in attendance wearing a mask. a golden mask that covered only a quarter of his features. fancy, not too overboard. just enough for lady danbury to be appeased that he didn't cop out with a plain black mask. and while the mask was alluring, his personality had been anything but. criston was short with responses to questions. he denied four dance cards thus far. (to his defense, he cannot dance. he was sparing them, really.)

crowded events only makes him fall further into himself. eventually it caught on that he was not here to find a match before the season started. eventually ladies stopped parading his way and gentlemen stop trying to engage in meaningless conversation. he came, he saw -- and quietly slipped away through double doors leading to he hall. criston made haste walking down the hall -- but it was music other than that within te ballroom that stole his attention. he followed the music, past a closed door and found another masked face playing the pianoforte.

the music stopped moments after the door shut behind him. criston froze and he could only stare for a moment before clearing his throat, ❝ apologies, i didn't mean to disturb. i just heard while walking past -- please . . . continue. ❞ finally, something about the masquerade that didn't leave him with dread.

@francescca