#stjusts

[forlibcrty]

@stjusts asked: 💬

"there will be plenty more before this is over."

[forlibcrty]

@stjusts asked: you call that a ghost story?

"it is not a ghost story." connor's reply was sharp, almost exasperated. whatever his vision had been, he was certain it was nothing to do with ghosts or anything remotely so fanciful. the woman in the vision had spoken not from beyond the veil, but from somewhere else entirely. connor could not pretend, admittedly, to know what she was, but whatever she'd shown him was far from a ghost story. that much, he had to believe. "... never mind. you would not understand."

[redemn]

his  senses  are  always  on  higher  alert  when  it's  dark  out  .      which  is  why  ,      when  he  hears  the  tap  of  a  shoe  heel  somewhere  to  his  left  ,      he's  drawing  in  just  shy  of  a  blink  .      it  takes  him  longer  than  that  to  finally  make  out  the  figure  in  the  waxing  light  :      only  a  lone  woman  who's  strayed  away  from  the  nearby  town  .

@stjusts  .      ❝  at  dusk  and  dawn  …  it’s  easy  for  all  sorts  of  things  to  sneak  by  .      ❞

❝        sure  it  is  ,      ma'am    …    just  weren't  expectin'  anyone  like  a  woman  t'sneak  by  me  .        ❞        he  pauses  ,      as  if  just  realising  how  his  words  might  possibly  be  taken  ,      and  holds  a  hand  out  in  a  show  of  regret  .        ❝        meanin'  no  offense  .      guess  you're  the  quick  and  quiet  type  .  would'a  been  more  surprised  if  you  were  a  bear  ,      at  least  .      so  ,      uh    …    when  you  compare  it  to  that  ,      i  ain't  unhappy  to  see  you  .        ❞

he  replaces  his  pistol  back  into  its  holster  ,      recovering  himself  back  into  a  less  threatening  stance  .      she's  calmer  than  him  ,      or  so  that  is  how  he  takes  her  current  attitude  .      it's  almost  embarrassing  to  him  .        ❝        you  ain't  gotta  worry  .      won't  hurt  you  now  i  know  you  ain't  somethin'  wild  .        ❞

╰ ゜TLOZ : TP STARTERS.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

[sanitatcm]

@stjusts said: “you stayed?” 🤭🤭

for a moment, he is self-conscious as he looks at her, nestled amongst a mess of sheets and pillows. last evening, there had been a hundred reasons not to accept her invitation, to return home before they crossed the careful boundaries of decorum. that was what a gentleman would have done. it was what he ought to have done... but as he watches her, the moment of doubt passes and is replaced by a soft smile. and a rush of the night's heady memories.

he had awoken first - slowly, blinking in the pale morning light. her warmth beside him and her dark curls spilling over the pillows had kept him firmly between the sheets. so it had happened at last. the unspoken connection between them, the one tense with untouched desires and still-raw wounds had finally won out over respectable breeding and social strictures. lying beside her, it had taken every ounce of strength he had not to pull her close. to bury his face in her hair once more and feel her skin on his. it was only the glimpse he'd caught of the clock on the mantle and the knowledge that servants would soon be stirring that had stayed his hands and at last reluctantly drew him out of bed. it would be a mark on both their reputations if his presence was detected...

he had been pulling on his clothes when the sound of her sleep-rough voice reached him.

" do you wish i had not? " he replies, lips still curved in an affectionate smile. forgetting the stockings he'd been fumbling with, he crosses to the bed and sits down beside her. he indulges then in the luxury he'd previously denied himself. searching in the sheets a moment, he finds her hand and brings her palm to his lips before linking their fingers. " in any case, i cannot pretend to regret it... " but his smile wavers then. " though i doubt i ought to stay much longer... "

[lecredo]

@stjusts asked: “i have no interest being used as a pawn in someone else’s game.” lol and lmao

it was frankly almost impressive, how spectacularly this mission had gone to shit. it was supposed to be easy reconnaissance — snoop around london a little, find some scraps of information about this so-called pimpernel, and return to paris with the findings. child's play, compared with some of the things arno had been tasked with. after infiltrating palaces and cathedrals to cut the throats of some of the most well-guarded figures in france, how difficult could a bit of spying be?

famous last words.

the appearance of a committee member here was worrying enough. even if arno was technically on the same side, committee meant scrutiny, and scrutiny never boded well. merely having to look over his shoulder for a skulking little fox at his heel was one thing; the sudden addition of blackmail, on top of it all, was further complication he didn't need. oh, bellec would have his head for this mess.

resting an elbow on the bookshelf and leaning his weight against it, he rubbed a gloved hand across his forehead. "... can you not just tell chauvelin that you know nothing?" even as he said it, the proposal sounded flat. they both knew chauvelin was not the sort of man to give up so easily. "or— or perhaps just steer him in another direction?"

[secondbcrn]

it was not until a shadow fell over the grass that he realized he'd been discovered - and that his hour of surreptitious sketching was at an end. stuffing his small sketchbook back into his breast pocket, he glanced up to see their hostess. his mother had been delighted to receive the invitation to lady blakeney's garden party, and so of course the rest of them had followed along dutifully in tow. but they had not been there half an hour before hyacinth and gregory had taken to scampering about the lawn like wildcats and eloise had retreated to the well-stocked library. for his own part, he'd made pleasant conversation until the picturesque prospect of the river called him to abandon colin at the buffet table and reach for his pencil. but maybe it was for the best that he'd been interrupted - he wasn't getting the effect of the light right anyway...

he smiled apologetically as he scrambled to his feet, hoping she hadn't taken too much notice of the way he'd been inelegantly sprawled across her lawn. " i promise i do not usually avoid company, " he said sheepishly. " i'm afraid your view was just too enticing to resist... "

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 -> @stjusts

[dolcesuono]

she knew she ought to appear less intrigued. after all, she had a career of her own. a season contract with the paris opera. she was set to open as iphigénie in three days. she had every cause to be at one of the coveted salons of marguerite st. just. and yet... she felt a rare twinge of nerves as she was ushered into the apartment. but when she found her hostess, she kept her cool, unperturbed smile in place. the young woman was as beautiful tonight as when she'd seen her on stage a few nights prior. " thank you for inviting me, " she said in french. after a beat, her smile became a smirk. " i am pleased that my englishness did not put you off too badly - i am a great admirer of yours, mademoiselle... "

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 -> @stjusts

[covrroucer]

@stjusts asked: if a beautiful woman disagrees with me, i will immediately change my view. i've no principles.

chauvelin only barely managed not to choke on his wine at that. marguerite had always been brash, to say the least, and he'd grown accustomed to that — but every so often, she came out with something so entirely left-field that it knocked the breath out of him. coughing slightly, grinning, he shook his head. "we both know that is not entirely true, but i take your point."