Event #1: A New Year's Fête

[wren.]

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PARRIS

The way Micah startles, the tip of his cane clacking loudly against the floor, makes him grin ear to ear. He hadn't expected to be so successful in frightening him in a room filled with people. "Well, since you're always so desperate for my company, I thought I'd do you the kindness," he flirts. It's all he can do against Micah's earnest smile and the racing of his heart, lest he make his own fondness for the man too obvious. "Just your ears?" he smirks, though Micah can't see his more lecherous expression. No doubt he can hear it in his voice, though. "I'm sure you can replace your cane just fine without stealing from my humble savings."

He mirrors the man's position against the wall. "It's strange to see you over here; it almost creates the illusion that you are shy." The idea is laughable, Micah being the biggest attention seeker he's ever met. "Why aren't you dancing? Has no one caught your interest?" Men such as them, that is, men attracted to other men, often find themselves isolated off to a corner, unsure of how to approach the object of their affections and even more unsure of how to dance with them should they agree. Micah, though, is well-versed in the art of dancing, something he has been glad to show Parris in the privacy of the man's home, and if there's anything Micah lacks, it's shame. If he wants to dance with someone, he'll ask.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

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BENEDICT

This is horribly embarassing. Standing here on the outskirts of his Grace Thomas Caldwell's ballroom, hands clasped behind his back, attempting to find something to keep him himself busy so he doesn't look as awkward as he feels. He knows no one here except for Mr. Roosevelt, whose invitation it felt rude to turn down given the man's kind patronage. As to where said man is now, he hasn't the slightest clue, the crowd thick and obscuring any hope he has of finding his patron. He's not sure what he'd say if he were to find him anyway besides a polite thanks for inviting him.

Perhaps he should feel more comfortable here, this being a ball where people of all class are attending, but even the breach of class divisions can't shake his worry about if he's holding himself too stiffly, if he's dressed nicely enough, if his face looks too grim to be approachable. He can give a sermon to a crowd of people without batting an eye, but it's much easier to read from a book to those who have come specifically to hear your voice than it is to talk about trivialities with strangers.

He's not one for dancing, either, though not because he gives any credit to the idea that a clergyman should not dance, but because he isn't quite sure how to dance proper. Drinking, too, is a vice he prefers to avoid, having seen its malignant effects on many men and women.

"Well, if I find Mr. Roosevelt, I can at least thank him for the invitation and then be on my way," he reasons to himself. Making an appearance is the polite thing to do, but he needn't stay for long. Plus, if he's at least looking for him, it gives him something to do other than stand like a statue in the corner.

With a sigh, he dislodges himself, knees cracking as they break their locked placement, wading through the crowd as gracefully and discreetly as possible.

「 N/A 」

code by wren.

 

[MaryGold]

Percival Egerton

Sanity played no role in Percival's decision to attend the ball held by Duke Cadwell of all Lords, and it played zero part in him getting into a carriage with Reuben. Because if any sound mind had thought it through, then they would know that Thomas Cadwell's most respectable trait was being of royal blood, and being stuck in a small four-walled box with a military boy like Reuben may drive out whatever clarity his mind had left. But alas, Percy had already promised his youngest sibling that they would go to this ball and that they would go together. Even if it killed him inside

And it did. Just a tad.

The decision was made by duty and duty alone. So he sucked up his attitude, dressed in his best garbs, and smiled when his brother came along. The knight of the family, how honorable. Words he said aloud upon the first day of Reuben's return, but not again. No, he had to think of something more stinging in sarcasm. Harriet would surely swat him for it, or worse, pout.

"He's your brother! You haven't seen him in years, at least pretend to be happy to see him alive."

Her nagging earlier in the day rang through his ears as he boarded their carriage. It stung, even now, because he was happy Reuben was alive and well. Happy to see him? That was still on the table.

Still, Percy could behave. Or at least try to. He would for Harriet. Try. Only try.

"This is going to be so fun." Harriet smiled, "the first time we've all been together in a while -- well, minus Lexie." He voice saddened slightly at the mention of their sibling, the little troublemaker off studying hard and having no time for parties. Still better than becoming a military dog, but Percy smiled and kept that one to himself.

"I think we'll have our hands full with Ruby alone," Percy leaned back in his seat, locking his gaze on his brother. "I don't think even the English military could tame you."

@wren.

 

[wren.]

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REUBEN

It's strange how foreign something once as familiar as your reflection can become. He was raised among "gentler" society, and yet, returning back to it after spending the last few years mostly among fellow army men, as unsanitized in their demeanor as they are physically, it feels alien. He feels out of place, stuffed back into clothes that have been tailored perfectly to his form and yet feel ill-fitting. At least he can keep his badges on his chest.

Of course, it's not that he has been isolated from the general public these last few years; he enjoys a tavern trip on nights of revelry just as much as any soldier, and he attends the occasional ball that they are allowed to, having always loved to dance. Still, none of those occasions were near as sophisticated as this one. Then again, being hosted by his Grace Thomas Caldwell, it won't nearly be as dignified as one would expect. At least, if John is to be believed about the other man's illicit conduct.

If nothing else, he's glad to be able to see his siblings again, even if that also means suffering the brunt of Percy's ill temper. "All that I've done protecting our country and this is how you greet me?" he'd huffed, failing to hide his mischievous glee, just waiting for the man to go on another one of his anti-English rants, insisting that their country is Ireland, and Reuben (or more likely, Pádraig) is a traitor to insist otherwise. At least Harriet had been thrilled to see him, and he'd nearly fainted seeing how much she'd grown. It was actually some effort lifting her up and spinning her around.

They hadn't had long to catch up before they all had to head to bed to give themselves ample time to rest before the party. Before he knew it, they were stuffed into a small carriage together, Reuben having to rearrange his long legs every few minutes but only managing to shift them into another odd angle. He grins at his sister's enthusiasm, squeezing her hand sympathetically as she mourns the absence of their brother. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of parties in the future for all four of us to enjoy together. I am willing to bet that all that studying will drive Lexie stir-crazy eventually and we will have to wrangle him back into propriety," he theorizes, exaggerating to make her laugh.

Of course Percy has to ruin any good mood he creates. In the safe privacy of their carriage, he doesn't hesitate to stick his tongue out at his older brother in childish contempt. "Thank you for the compliment, I pride myself on maintaining my individuality and free spirit. Your moroseness was a great cautionary tale for me." To outside ears, the words might be interpreted as scathing, but he says them with little actual maliciousness.

Poor Harriet looks ready to throw herself out of the carriage to escape the two of them by the time they finally arrive at Caldwell's townhome. The three of them enter with surprising grace for their sour back-and-forth, and Reuben is quick to take up a glass of champagne. "Now, Harriet, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he advises, the picture of a proper responsible older brother.

"So my options are limitless?" she snarks, eyes twinkling with mirth.

He hides his grin behind a swig of champagne.

「 @MaryGold 」

code by wren.

 

[Nemopedia]

Albert Rosier

Male | 29 | Lord/Duke of Northumberland

---

The sarcasm in which Albert was met was no stranger to him. Stranger was he, who had changed so much over the span of the years since he had gained his title and position and even that queerness in behaviour could no longer be dismissed by filial piety and mourning trauma.

"No, certainly, whatever else is a duke to do," Albert responded with a sigh, the scoff and insult only so thinly covered before he rose his own glass of wine and drank much in the same way as the Duke of Westclere did, eyes locking with that gravity that has held Albert in its grasp ever since his tragedy.

The answer was that there was nothing for a duke to do, and that dreadful reality was an obstacle to Albert who had many better things to do were he not Albert Rosier, Duke of Northumberland.

His saving grace, a far more pleasant sight than Thomas, came in the form of Julia Nicholson, dear friend of his sister, now lost to whatever river her soul had crossed. A persistent one at that as her eyes spelled out a burning question that all asked themselves who knew of Albert's activities the past six years.

"Miss," came the equally curt greeting, though the mild smile could not be subdued before Albert covered it by sipping from his wine once more. Adelaide would have despised the charade just as much as her dear friend did, Albert knew, and it was only for her that the viscount's daughter bothered with both Albert and Thomas at all, her reputation in tatters.

"The viscount seems quite well, he spoke vigorously in parliament, though none of his words seem to align with Miss Nicholson, shamefully enough," Albert spoke up, but his expression wasn't half as amused as he made himself sound, the start of a storm rumbling within his eyes before something within the crowd catches his attention, his characteristic amiability returning.

"Speaking of vigorous," he says, drawing the attention towards a seething Lady Raina Somers ready to give more than a card to a most unfortunate guard of the prince's entourage.

The perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of one Earl Lambert, a gracious presence more friendly with Thomas than to Albert, seeing the difference of address despite equal ranks between both dukes. "You are not, I was about to ask miss Nicholson if she had her first dance," Albert responds, knowing full-well that Julia had not. Putting his glass down on the side of the balcony, the wide wooden surface serving to balance in the hopes no clumsy elbow would nudge it over the edge, Albert turns his free hand towards both friends (as far as either could be considered a friend in his current position), as the question of the night sounded;

"Care for a dance?" Not as formal as what most requests were, but Julia and Albert were too familiar for that sort of formality, with an obvious distaste to share, the remaining Rosier was eager to not only observe the theatrics summoned by Lady Somers. There was much to discuss, after all.

@Kuno @firejay1 @MaryGold

 

[Nemopedia]

August (Yilmaz)

Male | 24 | Sultanzade / Mr.

---

Had Caleb missed Raina's presence in the crowd? Prince Yilmaz found amusement in that, his lips pressed together as he tried not to smile too widely. "I suppose you shall find out," he breathes, still suppressing his own amusement at the innocent question asked before a loud and roaring demand sounded, all formality and address cleared as people turned around in offence at the sound of a lady referring to a man by his given name alone followed by the mightiest and loudest curse of all.

"I shall excuse myself, my suggestion that you find a partner for a dance still stands, though it will not be me," the foreign royalty tells his guard jovially before slipping into the crowd, nimble in his escape for the many parties he has attended before the pull of a social call causes August to be introduced to one particular lady in need of a first dance.

OOC: RIP Caleb and this is an opening and set-up for anyone in need of a dancing partner.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

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MICAH

Ever since Parris entered his life, Micah had a hard time not wanting to monopolize his attention. He wasn't really sure what it was about all of Parris' light ribbing, the way his tone dipped every time he offered him the subtlest hint of a flirt, the way his chuckle made the damned heat pool in the-

Okay, well, he very certain that he wanted to sleep with him. He'd made that very clear, very early on in their silly little friendship, but he still felt like sometimes he was a little too attached to him. On most days, Micah was an attention whore, because nothing really made him bloom like curious, enthralled eyes on him. So this was normal, him hungering for someone to keep him busy, someone to enchant and be enchanted by. Why it had to be Parris though... Mmm, well, he just couldn't help himself, honestly. Even while Parris teased him for being desperate for his company, all he wanted was to hear his name on his tongue again.

Still, this was a party and it wouldn't do for him to spend the entire night throwing himself all over his friend's feet for his attention. "How generous of you. And yes, just my ears." he cooed knowingly, correcting Parris with a little chuckle and tiny wave of his hand, "I will be sure to bill you for the damages soon. You know me. I've got important investments to make for something-or-other."

When asked about why he was standing off to the side, instead of mingling, Micah only sighed in a mock forlorn manner. "None yet. The only two men I've spoken to tonight nearly bored me to tears." His hands settled, deciding against fidgeting now, his chin tilted slightly to the side in a questioning manner, "Did you just arrive now? Or were you skittering around looking to startle every single pretty blind man in the area?"

「 @wren. 」

code by wren.

 

[firejay1]

Julia Nicholson​

Thankfully, before Julia had to answer anything acceptably nice about her parents, Bertie filled in for her. The perfect mix of complimentary and perfectly encompassing why she despised her father. Perfect. She curtsied. "I'd be delighted."

She impatiently reached out her hand to allow Duke Rosier to take it. As he swept them into a dance, she asked, "It's been some time. Have you and Sol been well? And the investigation? Any updates?"

 

[Nemopedia]

Frederick Wellington

Male | 23 | mr.

---

He had promised mummy at least two dances with ladies he hasn't danced with before and that were not his sisters. A reasonable count, seeing the amount of faces within the room, but considering how long Frederick had been introduced and his infamous reputation of being a clumsy dancer his prospects of willing partners that didn't look like they would rather die were low.

A promise was a promise, however and Frederick was, for all his business oriented plans, still his mother's son through and through, scanning the crowd to look for anyone to be introduced to and get over his first two dances stat. A fruitless endeavour as soon Frederick decided to just approach a missus he didn't recognise, or think he didn't recognise and bowed with a pleasant smile.

"Care for an introduction, miss?" he boldly would ask, determined to fulfil mummy's wish and avoid any of her complaints for the night.

Ooc: for anyone that needs to somehow introduce their lady-character.

 

[MaryGold]

Percival Egerton

Point in case. Reuben was the most insufferable one out of them all. His quips were well received. And in the Egerton family that meant eye-roll(s), snorting, puffed chests, and raised eyebrows. Percy, however, stuck with the simple eye-roll and said nothing more until they were officially in the ball. He had to save his younger doe of a sister some peace.

And though Percy was not a fan of the English and their pompous ways, he could not deny they knew how to throw a party. Even if the host was a rake, gambling, drinking, and indulging in women. The wealthy always did seem to be he worst part of most societies. They were always the funniest since they were the ones to break their own rules while enforcing them.

Percy shook his head at the thought, grabbing a glass to drink from. The champagne was good at least. And the music was jovial.

"Hariett."

"Harriett!"

His voice rang in unison with the arrival of another who sprung up on them. Percy set his eyes on the man, Viscount Robert Mowbray. He was young, much younger than the other lords who filled the house, but a Viscount by right nonetheless. And with an eye for Harriet, who looked just as enraptured. An exchange of looks between them that Percival had noticed more than once during their "friendship".

Seeming to remember himself, he looked to Percival, and his wide smile shrunk just slightly. "Lord Egerton, I was hoping to see you here." Meaning he was hoping Harriet would attend.

"I couldn't turn down an invite from the Duke." Which explained why his sister was so eager to attend the ball.

The viscount looked from Percy to Reuben with a questioning look in his eyes. One that Harriet was quick to answer. "My brother! Sir Reuben Egerton."

"Oh, yes! Miss Egerton has talked abundantly about you. It is a pleasure to finally meet you." He did seem genuinely pleased to meet him, but his eyes quickly wandered back to Harriet. "I wanted to ask you, are you free for this dance?"

The redhead didn't even check her card before answering. "I am," she extended her hand to him.

Percival watched the two step into the dance floor with laughter in his eyes. "I suppose she has left us to behave ourselves without her." Percy said to Reuben as seriously as possible, but the look on his face was anything but. Harriet being around only kept their bickering from being heavy, but never truly stepped it completely.

Now, however, Percival was not in the mood to insult his brother. Gossiping about Lord Mowbray was far more interesting. "I think he is rather plain looking." He said with a shrug. "Harriet thinks he's beautiful, he precise words. And he is very gentle in nature, and more interested in arts and plants. She is very fond of him and he of her. I think it won't be long before he asks for her hand."

@wren.

 

[wren.]

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PARRIS

"Oh, and we can't have Lord Micah Snow getting bored," he purrs, tone far too pleased and affectionately condescending to even run tangent to sympathy. He circles him, a habit he's fallen into since he's begun spending time with the man, enjoying the way Micah's head swivels around to locate him. Maybe it's a need to feel powerful that he ought to examine more thoroughly, but he likes making Micah feel surrounded and trapped by him. It's only fair given the grip Micah has established over his heart.

"I imagine most of the people here are dreadfully boring," he agrees, his own head swiveling to examine the tiresome crowd, uncaring who might overhear him and take offense. "All manners and no substance, most of them." The most levity seems to be coming from those who have already begun dancing, but even some of them look much too serious for what is supposed to be an enjoyable activity.

He grins wolfishly at Micah's question. "The latter, of course. Unfortunately, I've had to make do with you," he teases. "Actually, I've only just arrived. Fortunate that I happened upon you so quickly." Yes, 'happened upon' is much safer than admitting he'd been actively searching for him.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

code by wren.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

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MICAH

Parris liked to toy with him. Micah often wondered how deep that amusement ran. He circled him like a hungry shark, his familiar voice the only thing pointing Lord Snow to where he was, since the sound of his footfalls were impossible to hear over the chatter of the crowd. He turned at the same speed, however, tilting his head at times if he helped him hear better. If playing children's games, walking in circles, pleased Parris, Micah would spin himself silly. He could hear the smirk on his face, the warmth in his cooed words.

"Of course not." he agreed, nodding in a very, very serious manner, befitting of their important conversation, "Luckily, you are here to keep me busy. Any longer and I believe I would have had to cause a ruckus." Though it wasn't as if Micah particularly thrived within chaos, he did not see it as an enemy, but more so a friendly acquaintance that sometimes broke through the humdrum of daily life to make things more interesting.

As for Parris joking around with him, Micah only chuckled quietly, an almost affectionate shake of his head impossible to hold back in that moment. "I'm glad I don't have much competition, then. What would I do without you here to tease me? Rot away from lack of attention, I'm sure." His voice was light and airy, but he half-meant it. He would not pass away with Parris' attentions, but he certainly wouldn't enjoy losing it.

After a half beat, he turned slightly, facing himself towards those dancing in the center of the room. "Speaking of a lack of attention, would you like to find a spare balcony with me? I'd quite like some fresh air. And perhaps some privacy." The edge of his words were darker than they were innocent and friendly, a flirtatious lilt to his final words, even if he knew that Parris likely would not take him seriously. Unfortunately, he rarely seemed to, even if he engaged in the verbal dance of what Micah felt like was flirtation every time they spoke.

「 @wren. 」

code by wren.

 

[Kuno]

Thomas Caldwell

Albert truly had a knack for avoiding him. If looks could pin one to a surface, the fellow nobleman would have been speared to the spot by the Duke of Westclere's intent stare. Though he smiled politely, a fire raged behind those compelling eyes of his.

"Enjoy yourselves," Thomas said with false cheer as Albert absconded with Julia. The blithering fools - they could have at least made some effort to be discreet.

But never mind them. John, his other good friend, had arrived. Thomas made a show of inclining his head and repeating his ranked title in lieu of greeting...before promptly destroying all show of decorum with a firm slap on his shoulder.

"It's about time you arrived. The party's been lacking without your company," He teased, smiling ruefully. The whole business with Albert began to fade into the back of his mind as he neatly swiped John's glass of wine from him. He took a hearty drink of it before passing it back with a wink. "Good stuff. What have you been employed with these days, old boy?"

He leaned in, drawing his voice down to a mischievous whisper.

"Or should I say, whom?"

@MaryGold

 

[Kuno]

Marianna Lambert

Surely, Lord Caldwell's home was much larger than it seemed at the moment. The swell of people on the ballroom floor had reduced his grandiose architecture to no more than a commoner's hall; the room was so frugal with space that every step in any direction threatened to invade the personal space of another's and flirt with impropriety. Marianna squeezed, excused, and danced her way through best as she could, but even so-

How on earth was she still in the ballroom?

"Surely we must be in an endless hall," the young lady teased, turning back to her companion. But Lisa had abruptly vanished. Marianna spun about, trying her best to sidestep the dancing couples as she looked out for her companion.

It was only natural that she did not see him.

There was a sudden pressure that first stopped her dead in her tracks, then yanked her backwards with an abrupt release. The shift in weight caught her off-guard, and in the blink of an eye, she found herself falling backwards, gravity pitching her down onto--

--someone's arms. A man's arms. Stunned into silence, Marianna stared for a moment, processing the realization that she was, in fact, being held. And not just by any man.

A young, handsome man.

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

It was the small mercies in life that made all the difference. The noblewomen all but hid behind her fan and did her best to recover as her assailant - and rescuer - made apologies, smoothly introducing himself in the aftermath. Marianna's eyes scrutinized him, but not unkindly.

"It's alright," She finally said, "Thank you, sir. If you hadn't have caught me, I would have fallen to the floor."

Mr. Alexander Dean, he had called himself. Marianna tentatively moved the fan away, looking up at Alexander from her lashes.

"I am Lady Marianna Lambert."

@TerraBooma

 

[MaryGold]

John Lambert

"That's an inquiry I should be asking you, Duke of Westclere." John snickered from behind his glass. He went for a sip of his wine and only got a drop in return. It seemed Thomas had drank the most of it, and for that John frowned at him for a second before he passed the glass off to a passing servant. "I noticed a few respectable ladies sending you messages with fans." John teased, raising his hand to cover the bottom half of his face, mimicking the language of fans.

As soon as said ladies got involved with Thomas, they would not be respectable for very long. And of course, their husbands wouldn't be too pleased. "I myself have been rather well-behaved for the past fortnight. I have been getting acquainted with Viscount Gillingham's nephew. We have gotten rather close during his stay. Sadly, he must return to his home in Bath." And not a moment too soon. He was beginning to get too attached to John. He didn't need to divulge details for Thomas to understand the true meaning behind his "responsible" account. He had answered his question.

Aha! Wine. John quickly plucked two more glasses from the next servant who came by them. "Now tell me, Thomas," John handed the second glass to Thomas. If he could, he wanted to drink enough to have a good time but stay respectable. He would die before he publicly tarnished the Lambert name. "What activities do you have planned tonight aside from dancing and playing cards? I am looking for a rather memorable night and you have never failed to deliver before. Should we make a gamble on your guests? Play a game of our own?"

John drank from his glass and sighed. God, that really was good stuff.

@Kuno

 

[TerraBooma]

The good news was that she hadn't been hurt. Even better, it appeared as if she wasn't furiously enraged for the sin of accidentally tripping such a beautiful young lady. Shame, worry and concern had all flashed over the navy man's face, and he helped set her uptright as Alexander mentally chastised himself for what must have been the greatest social faux pas you could possibly do in your debut event in high society. As she introduced himself, Mr. Dean realized two very fundamental, very important things.

The lady he tripped was very likely one of the rich and elite members of society that he had been seeking to connect with in the first place
Noble Women, or at least this noble woman in particular, were gorgeous.

He stepped back, both to give her some measure of personal space beyond what he had violated, and to get a better look at her in general. Every time she moved the fan, it was as if he was experiencing some kind of fanciful reveal. He had never understood the use for those things, but he was beginning to appreciate them for the wonders that they must have been.

"I, thank you Mar- Lady Lambert." He was always hazy on how the elites wanted to be adressed. Best to stick to military rules; rank and last name were probably the best path forward, especially when your introduction consisted of almost bowling someone over in the first place. Coughing to clear his throat and regain what he hoped was a measure of decency, he smiled. It was an easy going grin- one that conveyed quite a bit of life behind those sparkling eyes. Alexander was nothing if not resourceful, and the way she was scrutinizing him...maybe he could make it a more memorable event for the better?

"If I...may be so bold. Perhaps I could ask you for a dance? As a more formal apology for my rather rude feet that seem to have adjusted far too much to seal life for my own good. I promise, my dancing feet are a tad more deft than my walking feet; not much dancing to be had out at sea you see. So they're still much more regulated to grounded affairs."

 

[wren.]

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PARRIS

Parris laughs at the overt flirtation, rolling his eyes even though Micah can't see it. No doubt he hears it in his tone when he replies, "You've only just arrived and you're already feeling randy? God help us all." Still, he moves to the man's side, letting him take his arm as he is wont to do so that he can guide him toward the nearest balcony.

"I could be leading us entirely in the wrong direction." he muses as they maneuver through the crowd. "I've never been here before, after all. I am maybe the worst person you could trust." With anything, really. It's absurd the level of grace that Micah has shown him despite being fully aware that Parris has made a(n admittedly meager) life for himself through deception and violence. He could slit the man's throat and steal his valuables at any moment, yet Micah welcomes him into his home and invites him to keep him company. He must know that he won't do it. He hates that he's right.

It takes a while of searching, and plenty of grumbling, to find a balcony not already occupied by other guests. Eventually, though, they find it, and Parris breathes in the cool evening air deeply. He pulls his arm away from Micah's, instead leaning both his arms against the balcony railing.

The sky is beautiful, all inky and pockmarked by stars, like someone flicked a paintbrush covered in white paint onto a black canvas. It's been a while since he's taken a moment to appreciate it. Normally, if he's out at night, it's for much more nefarious purposes than stargazing. "Do you ever wish you could see?" he asks suddenly, scrutinizing the other man's face for signs that he has gone too far.

It's a question he's wondered for a while but has always side-stepped. He doesn't want to imply that Micah should want to see, or that his being blind makes him broken, but he also doesn't want to make assumptions about Micah's feelings.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

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REUBEN

Anything more that Reuben can think to say is interrupted by an unfamiliar voice calling for their sister, and he stares over his champagne glass at a forgettably handsome young face making their way towards them. His eyes are completely glued to Harriet, a wide grin splitting his face and showing his hand. One look at the fool and anyone can tell he's hopelessly in love.

Harriet looks equally charmed by him, though. She had mentioned someone in her letters to him, a gentle lord with fair hair and dark eyes, what was the name... Morray?

The young lord addresses Percy first, unsurprisingly, looking slightly embarrassed to have not addressed him sooner. While he's not really Reuben's type, and too young for him anyway, he can see why Harriet is taken with him; he has the charm of a puppy bounding up to its master. When this (still unnamed) young man turns his eyes to him, he wiggles his fingers in greeting, a cheeky 'hello, I'm here too.'

Harriet is quick to introduce him before he has to trouble himself with it, taking another sip of champagne to hide his smirk at her use of his title. While he's quite used to hearing it at this point from other military men, he hasn't had much chance to listen to it emerge from the lips of his family.

"I've heard a great deal about you as well," he says, ignoring the subtle jab of Harriet's elbow into his side.

The two disappear into the dancing crowd together, smiling more happily than some of the long-married couples.

"I'm happy for them," he decides. "I agree that he isn't the handsomest man I've seen, but he strikes me as a kind fellow, and at least adoring of dear Harriet. So long as she is happy, I don't much care about anything else. It seems far too common for couplings to forgo love and passion for the sake of status and wealth. I guess it ascertains security, but if you're not happy, then what's the point? I do hope I'll be able to make it to the wedding."

「 @MaryGold 」

code by wren.

 

[MaryGold]

Percival Egerton

Percival watched his younger brother, peering at him from the corners of his eye as he spoke. He was stomachable when he was not trying to find every way to get under his skin, not that Percy wasn't the same as him. But to have him back and enjoy mundane conversations of their sister and her love life or any other gossip one would see the ladies of London chatter about, it was ... nice. He felt content at that moment, even finding himself humming to the violins playing in the background.

"Under no circumstances should you miss our sister's wedding, Reuben," Percy demanded him. There was a little smile blossoming on his face as he turned his head to look directly at him. Percy was no fool, he knew it was difficult to make any occasion when you were in the military. He had been in a war before, a war he lost nearly everything to. It was exactly why one must always make the utmost effort to attend to the more important and happier things in life, to remember what they were fighting for and who was waiting for them when they came back. "Do not say you hope, Ruby, say that you will." He nudged his arm with his elbow.

If not for himself, then at least for Harriet. Their parents would not be there, so at least all her brothers should. The voice of their mother telling them to stick together still whispered into Percy's ears years later.

Percy downed the rest of his drink and gestured to the crowd. "Perhaps you should find yourself a dance partner, brother." He smirked. His words had an obvious double meaning to them. "There's plenty of young eligible bachelorettes here to take up in arms - ah, though you prefer bachelors, am I correct? There is plenty of those too."

He scanned the crowd and said rather cheekily, "I'd suggest you the duke himself as you deserve no less, but if what I hear is correct he has a particular interest in ... attached ladies." He nodded his head in the direction of their blond host. Obnoxious and not at all respectable, but he was handsome if he had nothing else going for him. And of course his title and wealth. "And his companions are hardly any better."

The baron opened his mouth to say more about rather suitable bachelors in the room to introduce Reuben to when his eye caught sight of a familiar face. "How do you feel about a man of God?" Percy nodded his head in the direction of his - could he say friend? Benedict was a man he had talked with more than he did anyone else these days. Though it was easily part of his job, Percy still felt a relationship had blossomed between the two of them.

@wren.

 

[wren.]

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REUBEN

It's not often that he sees his brother smile, so the sight is enough to draw a cheeky grin from him in turn. "I'm sure I can figure something out," he muses, "I'm sure they wouldn't notice if I just snuck away into the night." Of course, he wouldn't actually do that, even if he wanted to. While he wishes he could say that his sister's wedding means more to him than his reputation, it would be a lie. He's worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to throw it all away.

Following Percy's lead, he drains the rest of his champagne, calling softly to one of the servants for another glass while Percy jabbers. "Both genders have their virtues, though serving in the military for the last three years has certainly allowed me a more thorough appreciation of the male sex," he simpers, his implications clear. Not that his older brother would enjoy hearing about any of his entanglements.

"The duke? You flatter me," he laughs, genuinely surprised by the ease with which Percy had given the compliment. He follows his gaze to said duke, acknowledging the man only for a moment before his eyes turn to the far more familiar face with him. "No better at all, I'm afraid," he says, grinning despite himself, boring holes into the side of John's head with his eyes. "I have had the displeasure of spending the last few years with Lord Lambert and can confirm that he is nothing but trouble. Worse than myself, if you'd believe it."

Embarrassed at the eye of being caught staring, he lets his gaze sweep the room aimlessly, settling on those he finds handsome or interesting enough to stand out amongst the crowd. He laughs at Percy's suggestion of his pursuing a man of God. "Are you hoping he might rub off on me?" he asks, feeling quite proud of himself for the innuendo. The man Percy seems to be talking about is handsome, he'll admit, though he's wearing a stern expression that reeks of discomfort. "While the idea of seducing someone so virtuous is tempting, it would be a doomed relationship from the start. I heard they still cannot marry someone of the same sex; family values and all that. He is quite nice to look at, though, isn't he? What a waste."

He turns toward his brother, a hand on his hip. "And what about you? Before you start matchmaking for me, you should be more concerned about yourself. You're the eldest who should be married by now. Still too mad at the English to have a little fun?"

「 @MaryGold 」

code by wren.