#povvertaken

[wemultitudinous]

THEY CALL HER THE LOST LADY OF WIHTWARA.

          WE IN NORTHUMBRIA CALL HER QUEEN.

// @povvertaken the season 5 we deserve

[aviophobic]

@povvertaken // Leonard & Elfriede 

It isn’t every day the Chief Medical Officer finds himself in the transporter room with a tight grouping of other senior officers, at least not without some of his equipment in tow and a tricorder in his hand. Then again, it isn’t every day they have an esteemed guest from a planet they have yet to personally explore, though Leonard must say that from what he has heard of this one, he wouldn’t mind having a look himself. 

The beaming sequence is approved and within moments there are several figures materializing on the pad in a glowing swirl that never fails to dazzle him momentarily. He doesn’t know much about their visitors, but as he watches the last figure finish manifesting, he thinks he’d like to. 

The Captain is the first to move forward and welcome their guests, most everyone else standing by for further instruction. There are several visitors’ quarters set aside and prepared, yeomen nearby and ready to provide escort. 

[hatilead]

                   HAPPINESS LAYS COLLECTED IN GENTLE CURVE         of lingering smile .        sweet like honey         /         placed neatly next to fine china containing tea .        she isn’t a lady ,       but in the company of mrs aubrey she can almost pretend to be such a thing .          FLOWERS STITCHED THROUGH HAIR  ,       sunlight captured in eyes as she listens to other woman talk ,         cup in hand long since forgotten       (        she has not drank much ,        only from words which leave others’  lips like gospel .       )          

❝     you and mr aubrey seem rather happy together .     ❞        words leave lips before she can stop them from doing so          ;          eager ,       always eager to rush forward and seize day ,     time ,      life even if she possibly could .        ❝     my sisters say it one should consider themselves rather fortunate ,       to find a marriage born from love .     ❞          SIP OF LUKEWARM DRINK AS TIPS OF EARS COLOUR RED              ;            cheeks flushed rosy .          ❝     although i suppose that is the dream of every young lady ,      is it not     ?     ❞

             @povvertaken​       +        godmother mrs aubrey    !

[mcneyhoney]

@povvertaken​

      " i really am  fine,   kris. i just  ---  i need a drink. “    he’s jittery. his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and ring clad fingers have been tearing shreds off of a beermat for nearly fifteen minutes. nervous, y’know? a panic attack this morning when he looked out the window and spotted some shady looking guy in a black suit just hanging out across the street. didn’t have time to refill his prescription before work so he’s been self medicating with tumblers of whiskey all afternoon. 

           a glance in the other’s direction, before he leans across the bar, deciding if the barman was too busy to come make one fucking drink he would just help himself to the bottle.  “ slide me your glass--- “

[fabletold-a]

he had not intended to stay so long when he & his retinue had arrived at the court. he had not intended to come to the court at all, in fact, seeing whitwara as just another place to lay his head on his endless journey, confident his title & reputation would precede him, & grant him a place to stay, but the few nights he had requested of the king who ruled there ( or perhaps, bribed out of him with a generous offering ) had stretched on into weeks, & now, close to a month on, henri still found himself haunting the halls of whitwara, his interest having been piqued by the little court.

more specifically, his interest had been piqued by it’s king. he was used to men who projected an aura of greatness, even though they could never hope to live up to it, whose presence could be eclipsed by a rat scurrying across the room, but he had never expected to meet one like goderic, a man whose title should have brought him the respect he clearly so desperately craved. he had maintained the illusion of nobility for only a day or two before the cracks had begun to appear in the façade, his sense of entitlement apparently at war with his desire for adoration, & though henri could not deny that he was amused by the king’s foolishness, it intrigued him, too. goderic’s actions had led him to quickly believe that though he sat at the head of his great hall, high above the court, the true power of whitwara’s court lay in the hands of someone else. surely, he could delay his journey for a time to sniff them out, & perhaps exert some of his own influence ?

that had been the plan, at least, but though he had spent the month conversing with the other lords of the court, flattering the king at every turn, & searching for the loose thread which, when plucked, would unravel everything & reveal the court’s secrets to him, he had found nothing. goderic blundered ever onwards in his rule, but if there was one who curried special favour with him, whose private advice the fool - king relied upon, henri had yet to discover him. at any other time, it would have driven him to distraction, rage growing from frustration, but his temper was slow to rise in the court of whitwara, & he knew better than to lie to himself as to the reason for it. men were men, & their weaknesses, he knew intimately. power, women, money, standard vices he was more than confident he could take advantage of when the time came, but even the most favoured lords of the court seemed irrelevant, as henri’s had fallen upon a new prize - one he was approaching for the first time, their ❛  casual   ❜ meeting in the halls of the court carefully planned. to approach her directly would be to give the game away, to broadcast his intentions & ambitions & declare to all who watched that the princess had his interest, & put them on guard. a chance meeting, however, a word as they passed each other, those meetings growing more frequent as he settled fully in, becoming a member, rather than a guest, of the court ? who could say what could come of such things.

❛  my lady,  ❜  his purposeful stride was cut short as he came close to her, already bowing in deference ( lower, sharp eyes might note, than he had ever bowed to her brother. )  ❛  i can only apologize that i haven’t been able to speak with you sooner. i know your duties must keep you as busy as the king,  ❜  his eyes were piercing in the light of day, & focused entirely on princess elfriede as he spoke, as if daring her to meet the strength of his gaze.  ❛  i have already spoken to him, but i would like to extend my thanks to you, for allowing me to stay a while at your court. i only regret that it’s taken us so long to speak. your courtiers speak so … favourably of you,  ❜  another momentary glint in his eye as he spoke, before stepping backwards, as if he was entirely ignorant of his insinuation.  ❛  but your time is precious, i’m sure. i won’t take any more of it than i already have,  ❜  & if he had have made any attempt to walk away, perhaps it would have been a believable statement.

@povvertaken  

[aleximedicusa]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙶𝚄𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂.  /  @povvertaken​ asked: “Well this is certainly… incredibly interesting. Nice to meet you.” (from jacob, bbc ghosts verse)

for a man who worked so much with death, lewis had never given much thought to what would happen after his own. every so often, he had contemplated the idea of heaven or hell, but he had given up on stringent religious belief too much to entertain the notion sincerely. what he had not expected, however, was to wake after his death, sitting ethereally up out of his own corpse. positively stunned, he eventually tore his eyes from the body — his body — to stare up at the odd assortment of men and women gathered around him. “ ... what on earth is the meaning of this? ”

[theasteriae-arc]

SEBASTIAN & JACOB. 

PLOTTED STARTER / @povvertaken

The library in Dunston Hall is dark, even though it is the middle of the day. The walls are lined with mahogany shelves, which make the room feel smaller than it actually is, and the heavy curtains are drawn. The only light comes from the red glow of coals in the grate. A figure is crouching on the hearthrug in the gloom, poking at them dispiritedly. Whatever they’ve put on the fire, it seems reluctant to catch. Sebastian watches from the doorway. There’s a flicker of yellow, a lick of orange, a sudden flare that throws the scar on Jacob’s face into sharp relief. 

No one can fault Lord Hawke for his manners or proper conversation in polite company, but he’s not comfortable there, and Sebastian, who had first met him out in the Caribbean, has always thought he looked out of place in these grand rooms, surrounded by books and the societal elite. The Jacob he had known had been rough, curt, and covered in dirt, or worse. So when he steps closer and sees that what Jacob is burning is a bloodstained shirt, he cannot help but smile; this is more like the lover he had known. 

He approaches slowly, carefully. His footsteps have been muffled by the thick carpet, which means he does not dare touch Jacob for fear of startling him, although he finds he would very much like lay his hand upon his shoulder, feel the other man’s fingers curl around his own. Instead, he drops to one knee in front of him, runs the other scrap of white fabric that is waiting to be burned through his fingers. This too is a man’s shirt, so soaked in blood that the stains look more black than red. He glances down at it, then up at Jacob Crane. “What happened? What did you do?” His lips curl upwards at the corners. In Port Royal, Sebastian had been the picture of respectability, a British soldier in a red coat, but since his dismissal and his return to London, their positions have been quite reversed. People in salons sneer at Sebastian, eye him suspiciously when he stands too close to Cecelia, Lady Hawke, society’s darling. He is dishonourable, a dissolute, known to brawl in taverns and keep bad company. And it shows, too, when that smile stretches into grin and he says to Jacob, “Need any help disposing of the bodies?” 

[nimueriesarchives]

ASK FOR A THING, GET THE THING // @povvertaken