- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Genres
- I'm up for any sort of genre - just send me a PM with thoughts and we can figure something out!
"Have a pleasant evening, Duchess, and thank you again for allowing me the honor of your abode. Be well and faire well," is all Matthew says as he drips away into the crowed, wanting to scan a few more people before leaving.
He did not like, at all really, the fact that Amelia couldn't have taken him home with her that night but he let the issue go. After a few more drinks, he left the party, giving his best wishes to authoritative figures such as the Queen and the various Lords and Ladies. What he did not expect, however, was to find a woman waiting for him in his carriage. She had eyes as deep as a canyon the color of rich chocolate matching the curly blonde hair that bounces down to her shoulders. Her hat covers the left side of her face, nothing too fancy or upper class but just enough to demand his attention. Without question, he steps inside, ordering the driver to simply take a stroll around London's heart while they speak. Now with two letters in his possession, a kiss on the cheek, and a quick farewell, she is dropped off at an appropriate spot. Matthew is taken home.
The Captain doesn't sleep for a time traveler's energy comes from the ticking of the clock, not the toll of the body. His night and most of the next day is spent in Paris at a cafe on a small winding street. He is working, listening to the buzz around him and waiting for a delivery of the letter he was handed the night of the ball. A meeting is made, parchment exchanged, and both gentlemen move on their way. Coming back to his present time in a flash of blue light, Matthew makes his way into another carriage, one that has been waiting for him to be taken to the Duchess' estate.
The drive is relatively short for normal folk but it feels like hours for a time traveler. When he arrives, he is greeted by the butler and a few of the servants. He is asked to wait in the parlor and he does so with his arms crossed behind his back. His double breasted jacket, as deep a black as the checkered tiles on the floor, swaying at his thighs. The top hat is pressed between his fingers, a smart dressed man for what feels like a royal household.
He did not like, at all really, the fact that Amelia couldn't have taken him home with her that night but he let the issue go. After a few more drinks, he left the party, giving his best wishes to authoritative figures such as the Queen and the various Lords and Ladies. What he did not expect, however, was to find a woman waiting for him in his carriage. She had eyes as deep as a canyon the color of rich chocolate matching the curly blonde hair that bounces down to her shoulders. Her hat covers the left side of her face, nothing too fancy or upper class but just enough to demand his attention. Without question, he steps inside, ordering the driver to simply take a stroll around London's heart while they speak. Now with two letters in his possession, a kiss on the cheek, and a quick farewell, she is dropped off at an appropriate spot. Matthew is taken home.
The Captain doesn't sleep for a time traveler's energy comes from the ticking of the clock, not the toll of the body. His night and most of the next day is spent in Paris at a cafe on a small winding street. He is working, listening to the buzz around him and waiting for a delivery of the letter he was handed the night of the ball. A meeting is made, parchment exchanged, and both gentlemen move on their way. Coming back to his present time in a flash of blue light, Matthew makes his way into another carriage, one that has been waiting for him to be taken to the Duchess' estate.
The drive is relatively short for normal folk but it feels like hours for a time traveler. When he arrives, he is greeted by the butler and a few of the servants. He is asked to wait in the parlor and he does so with his arms crossed behind his back. His double breasted jacket, as deep a black as the checkered tiles on the floor, swaying at his thighs. The top hat is pressed between his fingers, a smart dressed man for what feels like a royal household.