Seems to me that we’re in need of some sprucing up around here.
Desperately.

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@thecalliaarcher
Seems to me that we’re in need of some sprucing up around here.
Desperately.
That’s why my parents love him! But here I was thinkin’ that ya only married him for the social status.
No, hardly. The Archer's are not Scarborough's but we are not anything lower than Upper Class. I love your brother. Kenneth has been my entire world since the day we began to court. It was the war that rocked us, Pace. Surely you can see that.
Of course I’m right ‘bout this. I know Kenny better than anyone! He always does what’s smart, yeah?
Mm. Yes, Pace. Your brother is a very intelligent man. One of the many reasons I married him.
There is never nothing to do. There is always something. You’re just not searching in the right places.
I'm afraid I've been stuck inside all afternoon, Darling. So other than yelling at the help there's not been much entertainment. Tell me, anything new in the world?
Maybe he knows ya treat them all the same—meanin’ fake—in the end, so he’s savin’ you the time and effort of losin’ them.
I suppose you are right.
Oh- how rare it is to see a fight break out right on the main road....
What would you like me to say? “Poor Callia” like everybody else? “Poor Callia, left all alone in that big house of hers while her husband is away…” “Poor Callia.”
I don’t speak in cryptic riddles, but alright Callia, whatever you say.
As you wish, Marguerite. As usual.
There’s tons to do when you have friends. But I guess you wouldn’t know much ‘bout that, now would ya?
No, Pace. I suppose I wouldn't since your brother decided to nearly kill anyone that came near me before he left. Doesn't leave you to many friendly faces in his absence.
So dreadful when there's nothing to do..
Oh- how rare it is to see a fight break out right on the main road....
And whose fault was that? Whose fault was it that you stormed out of the room that night? Who fault was it that you made all of your foolish decisions?
Sometimes even the hired help are better judges of character than those who pretend they are pure.
Just like you to blame the entire thing on me when yet, you've taken not a single chance to understand my story or my pain.
I may or may not pretend to be pure when I am anything but, however at least I do not assume before asking. If anything I am far too curious, but it gets me answers. And answers lead me to not assume.
Oh- how rare it is to see a fight break out right on the main road....
Correction, I may know of multiple men Darling…
… Lads are for those who seek lower class company, though, you would know of no such thing would you?
I know men of the lower class yes, as you know many men of the Upper West Side. They are our hired help, I cannot imagine what more you are implying…but I suppose to speak such things like a common whore, you would need to know a bit about being one.
You speak as if you have any idea of who I am. If I am not mistaken dear Marguerite you've no Earthly idea of that any longer. And it would suit you well not to pretend such. Perhaps you were born in the wrong class, due to your lack of manners language. Why even a stable boy would know better.
Oh- how rare it is to see a fight break out right on the main road....
You’re talented at putting nice words in my mouth, you should try your own, dear.
You would know something about two lads, wouldn’t you, Callia?
Correction, I may know of multiple men Darling...
... Lads are for those who seek lower class company, though, you would know of no such thing would you?
Influential Mitchell. || Anette & Callia
"That is such a beautiful name." To Anette Callia’s life sounded like a fairytale, a dream that she herself will be living. Remembering the stares she got the young brunette wondered if maybe and possibly she was already living this lovely life? She felt even a bit empowered with this thought and her already great mood turned to an excellent one. Happy that Lucien had met Callia which was the possible prompting for her to be nice to Anette. She didn’t mind this though, sure that more of Callia’s affections were because of her individual character and not because of her brother.
"Thank you Callia." Her voice was incredibly sincere. "I have only seen it two or three times to be honest, could we maybe go and have a small appearance there? Please? Do you think a lot Callia?" Anette asked playfully. "Alright, no thanks necessary." She was quite oblivious to the elegant woman’s faking and deemed her slightly forced expressions as something she would keep private.
Anette gazed at her fingers at the comment, is that what all the elite girls wore in New York? Gloves did sound very lovely, why not? “That would be great! Thank you Callia, once again. You’re too kind. Where do you shop for gloves in New York? Actually where do you shop for anything in New York?”
“Perhaps a stop at Central Park could be arranged.” She grinned at the girl’s excitement. To be so young and naïve again. Though Callia was no old maiden, she was no longer the youngest catch of New York either, though she preferred to think otherwise, it was a well-known truth; Beautiful she was, youngest she was not. She peered at the girl as she joked of Callia’s previous thought comments, though she quickly straightened out her furrowed brow and replaced it with a smile of the genuine nature, bowing her head slightly in agreement. “That I do, Anette.” Her laugh was boisterous though she did not quite feel it, not in that moment. “Why yes, all of the Upper East Side women must be at their best, and to not wear gloves means touching things that those who do not care to cleanse have as well. Though I highly doubt they’ve touched any designers wears other than to mend them.” She laughed once more, leaning across to pat the girl’s knee. “Shopping is done at the best in the Square, and that is where I will be taking you, we can make a stop at the Park along the way?” She phrased it as a question but it was not an option. She lingered her hand across the leather seat of the carriage, so delicately and pristinely practiced that she hardly touched the interior at all. “To the Square if you please, I think it is time Miss Mitchell had a proper glance into the city.” She grinned at the coach and listened to the satisfying click of his tongue as the carriage graced the two women with a start, beginning their journey for their adventurous day she had planned for the both of them.
Oh- how rare it is to see a fight break out right on the main road....
You are as childish as ever, Callia.
You despise me so and yet you always pop up at the most inopportune times.
A pleasure to see you too, Marguerite. Though it would seem the more child-ish of the two would be you, since it seems you enjoy watching lads fights for no reason at all.
Yet? Isn’t your dear husband returning to town soon?
Where might you be going with this Vincent?
Oh- how rare it is to see a fight break out right on the main road....
I may or may not be enjoying this.
It would not surprise me if it were not the latter.
Cheaters Never Prosper. || Marguerite & Callia - Flashback
Staring across at her from across the room, Marguerite’s clenched her jaw and folded her arms across her chest defensively. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do, or what even she had seen her best friend doing with an unknown man outside of her wedding ring. Either way, it confused Marguerite, even more so that Callia didn’t seen to trust her; or that someone Marguerite believed she was close to was as distant to her as everybody else amongst their circle seemed to be. It didn’t help that Marguerite’s already minuscule group of close acquaintances seemed to be shrinking by the hour, and there was nothing she could do about it…no magic command to make it stop or for Callia to explain her actions. But then again, she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to hear frantic excuses and pleads not to tell anyone. The displacement of trust was already enough to slap Marguerite squarely across the face.
Rolling her eyes as Callia’s chin began to tremble, she shook her head. It was typical Callia, always crying to get herself out of even the most fickle of pickles. They had been friends for so long, and the two knew one another like the back of their hands…which meant Marguerite knew her little tricks, her secrets, what made her tic and what hurt her the most. But then again, Callia knew all those things about Marguerite too, and she had to have known this would hurt her, would she not? Since when had the two kept secrets from each other? Lied to each other? Abandoned one another in a room full of people that they knew resented them both? That wasn’t their friendship, that wasn’t how it had ever been…and the fact that it had become that so evidently now was even worse than the reality that Callia was keeping things from her. “Need I quote you? ‘Why, Mar, I’m so in love…he’s the one for me.’ I remembered when you cried when he left for war the first time. Was that all an act? If it was, I must say that I cannot possibly bring myself to understand why on Earth you’d have lied to me or simply not told me about your discontent. I have always been there for you Callia. You are more to me a sister than my own, and you blame it on the fact that nobody ever asks about you— but you know that is not true Callia…it has never been true,” Marguerite spoke harshly and quickly, not tripping over her own words once. They were too fueled by anger to let slip out carelessly, and each word was precise and cutting— just how she wanted them to be. “You know as well as I do that you have always had men doting on you and bowing at your feet. You are Callia Archer, of course you have, and to claim otherwise is as insulting to me as your own mistrust in me. Do you take me for a fool, truly? Despite how long I have known you?” she said, her voice rising with every word, not even bothering to keep it down. It rose up like bile in her throat, and suddenly she was saying all the things that Callia deserved to hear. “I judge you because I know you….because I have every right to. I have been through everything with you. I stood alongside you as you said your vows to Kenneth and cried more at your own happiness on your wedding day,” she said coldly, distancing herself from the situation, her brain on automatic as it formed words with her mouth. “You knew what marriage entailed, just as you knew that remaining unmarried allowed you to gallivant around with whomever you wanted with only the knowledge of those in our class. You knew that getting married would end the games, and it was you who made that sacrifice. So how is it that you are still cheating, still playing your own games and I have been condemned by society for remaining unmarried. I am living the life I now realize you wished you still could, and we understood what both marriage and remaining alone meant…and I chose this for myself…and you have taken everything that you think you deserve, but don’t. Because you don’t deserve it Callia. I am rather surprised no one has told you up until now, but you can’t have everything!” she said, her face distraught and coiling up with anger as she looked at the person she used to call a friend.
Callia could rant and rave, cry and grieve all day, though she knew the Marguerite was far too smart for it to work on her. Callia stared into the vanity mirror she now stood in front of, her gaze meeting the reflection. Her make-up was slightly smeared from the tears that had fallen, and though Mar never had to know, they were real. She wiped them and cleaned herself up while her friend continued to talk behind her, allowing the words to sink in, but keeping the hard features in tact. She did not want Marguerite to know the truth any longer. She could lose her faith, her trust, and her friendship – It wasn’t worth telling her how in pain she really was. She cleared her throat and turning around, her hands moving to swipe at the non-existent wrinkles of the skirt. She began to stride towards Marguerite but before she came to nose to nose with the woman she stopped, the only sound was the echoing click of her heels hidden beneath the hem of the dress. It took quite a few gathering minutes to address Mar, as Callia did not have the strength nor the patience to explain any further. When Callia Archer was calm in a time like this, it was a sign that Hell was opening it’s gates further for her inevitable entrance, she didn’t bat so much as an eyelash. Marguerite would not tell, she would not reveal what happened here because if she did she knew Callia would reveal her for what she really was as well. Clearing her throat she crossed her wrists and clasped her hands in front of her, speaking with a steady voice. “Marguerite, I did and do love my husband for many reasons, and perhaps if you were in our relationship you could see that promises have been broken on both ends. Bruises, emotions, tears… But you are not. You will never be in Kenneth and I’s relationship and though I tell you things of it, it will never amount to what we truly are… or was.” Her eyes softened as she narrowed them, tilting her head slightly as she continued on. “I am finished here, Marguerite. I have been worn to the bones with unreliable people in my life and if I must add another to the lengthy list then it is what has come to happen.” She murmured, and leaned her face forward slightly, her voice lowering to but a whisper. “I truly am sorry for all of your short comings in life, Marguerite, but a perfect life on the outside – Callia Archer or not – is never what it seems between the cracks.” Lowering her gaze for a hesitant moment as she contained herself she straightened her posture back to its substantial edge. It was if for a moment, the most broken side of her blurred her entire existence when she met Mar’s eyes, but the moment she turned to leave it was gone. Like a wisp in the wind it was no more and would never be again. And until the day it revealed itself she would never recognize it was ever even there. She turned and made her way for the double doors to the chamber, expecting Mar to yell after her, or even grab her arm – but somewhere deep inside she hoped not, because she wouldn’t have the strength to remain calm any longer.