Fantasy 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄

[elanara]

it's the first ball of the season, and it is being hosted at none other than at the Townsend’s London estate. It’s a rare occurance, really. The Townsends haven’t held a ball in quite some time — not since the eldest sister Victoria had her debut five years ago. Now, at his youngest sister Felicity’s insistence, the Earl of Sarcliffe has agreed to start off this season by hosting one of the grandest balls of the season. There will be plenty of wine, music, and of course — dancing. Not to mention, some of the most exquisite art displays by some of the best sculptors in Europe. Though it is only the beginning of June, there is still a slight breeze in the air, making the weather suitable enough for the night's festivities to take place outdoors in the garden. And, supposedly, there is to be a brilliant fireworks display at the end of the night.

Every esteemed member of the ton has been invited, including members of the Rev. Despite the horrifying news they received only a couple days ago regarding their deceased friend, they know they must do their best to put on a face, so as not to ruin Alec's sister's official debut. In fact, he has absolutely forbid all members of the Rev to speak of business tonight. But he knows they're all thinking about it. And with enough wine, loose lips are bound to spill dark secrets...

But all shall be well, of course. So long as the wrong ears don't hear them.

Spoiler: mobile friendly

it's the first ball of the season, and it is being hosted at none other than at the Townsend’s London estate. It’s a rare occurance, really. The Townsends haven’t held a ball in quite some time — not since the eldest sister Victoria had her debut five years ago. Now, at his youngest sister Felicity’s insistence, the Earl of Sarcliffe has agreed to start off this season by hosting one of the grandest balls of the season. There will be plenty of wine, music, and of course — dancing. Not to mention, some of the most exquisite art displays by some of the best sculptors in Europe. Though it is only the beginning of June, there is still a slight breeze in the air, making the weather suitable enough for the night's festivities to take place outdoors in the garden. And, supposedly, there is to be a brilliant fireworks display at the end of the night.

Every esteemed member of the ton has been invited, including members of the Rev. Despite the horrifying news they received only a couple days ago regarding their deceased friend, they know they must do their best to put on a face, so as not to ruin Alec's sister's official debut. In fact, he has absolutely forbid all members of the Rev to speak of business tonight. But he knows they're all thinking about it. And with enough wine, loose lips are bound to spill dark secrets...

But all shall be well, of course. So long as the wrong ears don't hear them.

 

[elanara]

Alec disliked parties.

Strongly disliked, in fact. They were a nuisance, drained him of all his social energy, and he couldn't think of a worse way to spend his Saturday evening than being surrounded by every single last member of the ton. Yes, that's correct. While it was his name — the esteemed Earl of Scarcliffe — that was inscribed on the parchment, it was his sister who made sure everyone received an invitation — even the less savory individuals Alec made a point to steer clear of. "We must invite everyone." She had insisted. "Even the Darlington's."

He'd grimaced at that. But didn't protest. To exclude all but one of the ton's major families would have been bad form, and that undoubtedly would have caused people to talk. Not that Alec much cared for the opinions of others. He was, however, quite focused on finding a reasonable match for his sister this year. And the less people thought poorly about his family, the higher her chances were.

That, and he did not find the prospect of Felicity pestering him about ruining her chances at love for the rest of his days in any way appealing.

At any rate.

The guests were finally beginning to arrive. In the background, the quintet — honestly, he thought a quartet would have sufficed, but yet again, his sister insisted — played in the background. Waiters passed around hors d'oeuvres and champagne on fancy, silver platters. The young ladies and gentlemen of the ton mingled about, flirting and gossiping to their heart's content. Meanwhile, Alec was finishing off a glass of brandy in his study. Perhaps it was too early to start drinking, but given the circumstances, he figured it would be alright.

A short time later, he finally stepped through the wide, french doors leading out onto the veranda and made his way down into the gardens. In that same moment, he made eye contact with a certain, familiar face at the edge of the crowd and made a direct beeline for them, moving swiftly past a hoard of mothers eager to sink their claws into him.

"There he is, the Earl! I hear he's worth ten thousand pounds a year" and "You girls better go and introduce yourself before that Clarissa Huntington does" and "Fix your posture. You look like an ugly old hag standing like that!" He overheard them all saying. Their words only inspired him to hasten his pace across the empty dance floor. He knew he wouldn't be able to avoid them all evening and would have to face them eventually. He made a mental note to thank them all for attending later, like any begrudgingly good host would do.

But for now, he simply rushed right passed them, pretending not to notice they were even there.

"Good evening, Helena." He greeted his old friend with a pleasant smile, the look of relief washing over his face. "Thank God you're here. This entire event has already rendered me completely exhausted, I'm afraid." And it had only just begun. "I hope you don't mind if I stick by you all evening. At least that way I might stand a chance at surviving the remainder of the night." A joking remark. But deep down, they both knew he was being entirely serious.


____________________________________
with: junegloom where: edge of the gardens mood: fuck this shit

 

[tieflinq]

As was often the case at balls, Beatrix had sought out a dimly-lit corner as swiftly as was humanly possible. Tonight had provided her with better opportunities than most, too; some of the sculptures dotted artfully around the gardens were the perfect size and shape to mask a reclusive woman with little interest in socialising. She meant no disrespect to Alec, truly. She appreciated that he was bound by obligation to host the ball no matter the circumstances, and he was an awfully good host when all things were considered, but... well, her mind was simply elsewhere tonight. Proximity to so many members of the Reverie always seemed to catalyse her visions, and Beatrix was well aware that one subject in particular would be on all their minds tonight: Lizzy. She had little desire to revisit moments from Lizzy's past on a night like this, and so she was studiously avoiding her host and their friends as much as she was able to.

Though it had been two months since Lizzy's death, visions of her still clung to Beatrix like cobwebs. Even her usual precautions had done little to fend them off, as the laws that had always seemed to dictate her abilities disintegrated in the throes of the Reverie's grief. Though she had diligently worn gloves, had avoided handling Lizzy's things or even lingering near the plants she had tended, had chased the woman's name from her mind almost completely, the visions still came. It was as though grief had become a miasma. It seeped beneath doors and pressed misty fingers against windows, and was so omnipresent that Beatrix's visions of Lizzy continued to flow unabated. Even enroute to the ball, she had found the carriage flickering away around her as the now-familiar sight of Lizzy's greenhouse overtook her. She could smell the pungent tomato vines and feel the weight of the trowel in her hand - and when she looked down, it was not her own gloved hands that greeted her, but Lizzy's sweet pale ones, as plump as Aphrodite's own might have been. It was agony. The vision passed quickly enough, showing Beatrix nothing of use and instead seemingly tormenting her with a mundane moment of Lizzy's life, but it had rattled her so much that she had not even spared Alec a greeting before she swept off in search of privacy in the gardens.

The sculpture behind her cast a moonlit shadow across her face as she leaned back against the plinth, the marble sapping the warmth from her back despite the warm June air. She shivered and slipped her hand into her jacket in search of her pipe and tobacco. It was, of course, frowned upon for a gentlewoman to smoke among such revered company, but Beatrix struggled to care about the opinions of the ton on a night like this. The sharp phosphorus flare of the match below her chin lit her features in sharp relief for a moment: her mouth tightly drawn in concentration, creases forming between her brows from habitual frowning, dark circles beneath her eyes. And then the pipe was lit, and Beatrix was content for a moment. Thoughts of Lizzy were chased away by the warmth unfurling in her chest, and she allowed herself a tired half-smile as she looked up at the summer sky and wondered what the night would bring.

 

[junegloom]

Helena was quite surprised when she received the invitation for the ball. It wasn't a surprise that she was invited, but it was surprising who, of all people, had invited her. The Earl of Sarcliffe was not one for balls, that she was sure of. Helena expected nobody would turn down such an invitation. Not only was this sure to be a grand and eventful ball, but it was thrown by a most eligible bachelor to celebrate the debut of his younger sister. Nearly every unwed member of the ton would be remiss if they did not try to impress either of the hosts.

It was also a light in such a dark time. The loss of Lizzie Howard certainly echoed in the minds and hearts of her fellow members of the Rev. Helena pushed aside those thoughts as they would be of no benefit to her tonight.

It took quite some time to prepare for a ball, but Helena enjoyed it. It was all so regimented and exact. Her hair was braided, twisted, and pinned to perfection, her gloves were spotless, and her dress clung and draped in all the ways it was supposed to. Everything was exactly as it should be. As she arrived, she said her hellos to everyone of consequence, making sure to greet Felicity and thank her for the invitation. However, the host of the evening was nowhere to be seen. Preferring to observe her surroundings before diving into the thick of it, Helena stood off to the side at one of the edges of the garden.

Helena took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter with a gracious smile.

As she looked out on the crowd, she locked eyes with the ever-elusive host. She lifted her chin in acknowledgment as he unceremoniously walked past his waiting guests, who seemed keen to speak with him. Helena couldn't blame him, she did her best to avoid awkward conversations with hopeful suitors that she could tell, at first glance, would not measure up.

"Evening, Alec," she greeted. She often found herself in his company at various social events. They shared a judgmental eye and frequently swapped comments about their surroundings and the others in their presence.

"I don't mind. However, as payment for keeping you sane, I do have one request—just one dance before the night ends." Helena paused to sip her champagne, knowing Alec would not be happy to hear this. She shrugged, unsympathetically. "It is only fair."

Unlike her friend, Helena enjoyed balls, smaller parties, and all the various social events put on each season. Despite her frosty repute, Helena took great joy in dancing and socialization. She wasn't surprised that was how she was perceived as she just preferred to keep everything surface-level, unwilling to let more than a select few past her defenses— that and she rejected any and every suitor who did not meet her impossible standards with great ease. So, if she was going to stick to the sidelines with Alec, he would have to indulge her just once.

"Really, I am surprised you are not hovering over your sister, prepared to strike down every potential suitor that looks at her the wrong way," she teased.

the cold

helena.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Finn Dolan

the dutiful

the ball; smoke break

:/ :/ :/

interactions

Beatrix tieflinq

Before they had even arrived at the Townsend manor, Hana Dolan told her son, "And Finn, dear, don't hover over your sisters so. You frighten away every young gentleman who would ask them for a dance."

Finn sighed. Agnes muttered, "That's the point," sullenly.

"Agnes, darling, you don't need Finn to scare off suitors," their father said very fondly. "You simply need open your mouth."

Agnes looked pleased, but it was their mother's turn to sigh.

"It seems very ill-mannered, to have a ball so soon after Lizzy..." Wini trailed off, biting her lower lip and twisting her fan in her hands. Agnes, sitting next to her, took one of Wini's hands gently in her both of her own. They were a matched set, with their mother's round face and their father's freckles and red hair. Finn was the opposite, with their father's strong cheekbones and their mother's dark hair.

"Oh, Wini, a stóirín," Daniel said gently to his youngest, "It's a hard thing, but life has to go on. And they'll find whoever killed her soon, I'm sure."

"They?" Wini asked.

"The police."

"But you said the police were useless!"

"Did I?"

"Yes," all three of his children said in chorus.

"Repeatedly," Agnes added.

"Frequently," Finn agreed.

"What I meant was," Daniel said, giving his elder two children an annoyed look (which neither took to heart), "Is that the police are most concerned with the peerage. So they'll be working very hard on Lizzy's case, my darling, rest assured."

Wini sniffed and then said, "Alright," very bravely. She sometimes seemed much younger than Agnes, even though they were only two years apart.

"That's my girl," Daniel said encouragingly.

And then they were arriving, Hana giving her children a last check to ensure their hair and clothes were just so as they exited the carriage (and her husband as well, for good measure).

"Remember," Hana added to Finn, straightening his tie. "No hovering."

"Yes, okā san," he said. Agnes made a face over Hana's shoulder at him. Finn shrugged back as their mother went to fix Wini's hair.

"You don't want to dance with pretty boys?" he asked her, knowing full well she would rather be dancing with pretty girls.

"I want a ship," she said sourly, snapping her fan open. Finn could tell by the way she hefted it that it was her heavy iron-ribbed tessen, rather than the delicate wooden fans most of the other ladies would be carrying. It made him feel better about not hovering, at least--anyone who tried to bother her was in danger of getting jabbed in the face with a heavy metal club. Gentlemen usually didn't carry fans, and so his own tessen was tucked into a pocket of his jacket. With two members of the Rev now dead he would have felt more prepared with a sword, but that, of course, would have been considered wildly impolite.

Not that he really thought anyone was going to be murdered tonight, but it was the principal of the thing.

As his mother and sisters moved further into the party Finn trailed for a short time after his father. Daniel rarely stayed in London for the whole season, as his work required following the favorable summer winds and currents, so when he was around it was with an energy that bordered on manic.

But, before Daniel could trap them in a three hour long conversation with some minor lord about the price of tea imports, he said instead, "You should go and ask one of those nice young girls to dance."

"Oh, uh," Finn said eloquently. Daniel rolled his eyes.

"You're too young to act like such a stuffy old man. Go have fun," he said, and gave his son a slight but firm nudge towards the crowd by the dance floor.

Finn liked dancing well enough. He was a swordsman, and dancing wasn't much different--both were all about footwork. But dancing had so many more strings attached, particularly at the first dance of the evening.

Finn could have gone to find another member of the Rev to hide with (as Alec, when Finn caught sight of him again, had apparently done, having latched onto Helena), but though he liked and got on well with them he never quite felt like he was really friends with any of them. They were all from the same social circle. This social circle, of old money and aristocracy and titles, le bon ton, and while they liked and respected Finn, he knew he wasn't one of them. Not really. His father was an opportunistic middle-class Irish social climber and his mother was a foreigner from a high social class that had been abolished around the time of his birth.

Eventually some aristocratic family who had run out of their old money would turn to them for help, and Finn or one of his sisters would find themselves with a broke but well-pedigreed fiance, but it hadn't happened yet. Even when it did Finn didn't expect it would change how they were viewed. Just confirm it really. Opportunistic social climbers.

Worse things to be, Finn supposed.

Walking past one of the statues at the edge of the gardens he almost missed the figure in its shadow, but noticed the glint of a lit match. A second look revealed Beatrix, deep in thought. Though he and Beatrix had rarely actually spoken to each other Finn did consider her a friend---if someone you shared comfortable silences with wasn't a friend, then who was?

"Good evening, Lady Beatrix," he said. "Mind if I join you, or does your meditation require longer solitude?"

coded by natasha.

 

[tieflinq]

The illicit indulgence taken amongst polite company had distracted Beatrix away from her surroundings. Her mind was elsewhere - not in that literal sense brought on by her visions, but in that more mundane way that every daydreamer is prone to. She exhaled smoke slowly, carelessly, and allowed herself to be pleasantly taken by thoughts of livery yards and pheasant populations, all the while looking up at the stars.

Her imaginings were shattered abruptly by Mr. Dolan's arrival. For a split second, she thought, well, I've fucked it here, but then the voice in the darkness was matched to a face, and her distant expression warmed into a crooked smile. "Ah, Mr. Dolan," she said fondly, relief that he was not somebody else clear in her tone. Beatrix had friends outside of the Reverie, of course, but she found them to be... far more adherent to the rules of the ton. She supposed it was the nature of sourcers to be more forgiving of trespasses such as her own - their abilities already set them apart from the rest of society, after all. Besides which, the Reverie was built upon a bond of secrecy, and it would not do to alienate a member who might share the secrets of the source with the outside world. On days where she was feeling less charitable, Beatrix had wondered idly about where the limits of her fellow sourcers lay. Of course there were the usual limits of murder and thievery and such, but other things... Thoughts of Lizzy started to simmer up once more, and she forced herself to focus on the man before her.

"Your company is always welcome." Beatrix gave him a boyish smile and a half-bow, already reaching for her tobacco tin as though she were a host in a drawing room. "I'm afraid you've caught me indulging in some rather unsociable behaviour. One finds that these events are more bearable once the mind has been softened by wine and tobacco - otherwise I may not have the patience for dancing with men who have not been so fortunate as to secure attention from more eligible ladies." Her eyes glittered with mirth. She was sure that Finn knew exactly why she would find such interactions intolerable. "Come, sir, let us be unsociable together before we must perform for the masses, eh?"

@wickedlittlecrita​

 

[mochi bun]

the outcast

location

On the outskirts of the crowd.

mood

Relaxed, yet apprehensive.

mentions

Lady Cordelia Darlington.

Søren Jude Adel.

Lord Søren Jude Adel of Kedleston always found himself arriving fashionable early despite the women in his life. His littlest half-sister, Paralee Adel, was in her second season on the marriage market. As the only male heir and the closest living relative, he was expected to chaperone his sisters as well as accompany Delitha Adel — the widow of his father, Laurence Adel. The two were amicable in public; but, in private, it was a completely different affair. Lady Adel held a strict disdain for Søren that bordered on the ridiculous. He didn't comment often on her remarks, too amicable to deny the woman her begrudging status in his life. He had taken over her home, and her funds, and displayed the imperfect fractures of a once-cherished marriage. It was resentment he was greeted with; yet, he did not feel resented in the slightest. It was what he presented. A bastard in her home, in her marriage, and in her life forevermore.

So, they did not converse plainly. They arrived at the ball early; but, hosts did not often welcome that. He had hoped to converse with Alec; but, it seemed the man was on a mission to play terrible host. Not that Søren could blame. There was an unspoken air of melancholy. The ball skirted the edges of the period of mourning. The death of such an upstanding young woman had brought shock and devastation to the masses. But, a ball was also something lighthearted and fond. It got a touch of sense to the senseless. So, despite reservations, appearances were made. The Adels showed up in their odd trio; Delitha Adel with her stern gaze and comely complexion, Paralee with her strong brown eyes and dark brown locks that she had inherited from their father. And, lastly, in swept Søren with his black curls and his soft brown eyes. He had done the rounds, greeting the acquaintances of their family with light airs, Lady Adel and Paralee in tow.

Lady Adel had a stern expression before she pulled Søren aside, her pursed lips an indicator that she had something important to say. In hushed tones, she had mentioned how she wished to shepherd Paralee in her own way. Namely, in a way that didn't involve Søren being present while she made introductions. He could hardly fault her. Even though he had been in her acquaintance for over five years, she never knew how to introduce him. Lord Adel, the bastard child of her husband, a man who she sometimes felt had ruined her social status and made the matches for her daughters fall to the wayside. It was the truth — a harsh truth, but the truth nonetheless. So, he had bowed his head in acceptance and set about socializing on his lonesome. He greeted a few acquaintances, finding himself sucked into the odd conversation with a couple of gentlemen he had socialized with before.

It was only later in the evening before he found he needed a moment of reprieve. A garden party often meant one could linger on the outskirts of the crowd, nursing a flute of champagne with reprieve. He had a more lax line in his shoulders, his curls brushing over his ears. The wind was soft with the scent of geraniums from the gardens wafting on the breeze. He was close to one of the statues — a pretty frame of a woman wrapped in a sheet and concealing her face in a demure display. He watched the crowd, his dark eyes sweeping unseeingly over faces before he felt a presence at his side.

He nearly started before he turned his head, surprised to find someone he knew hovering so near. A smile tugged at his lips despite himself, tipping his head before flickering about himself with a nervous air. Despite himself, he was aware enough of being close to a crowd to know a gentleman and a gentlewoman alone without a chaperone to feel apprehension creep along his spine.

"Lady Darlington," He greeted, his soft tone sweetened by familiarity. "What a pleasure! How have you faired so far this evening?"

coded by natasha.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Finn Dolan

the dutiful

the ball; smoke break

smoke & bitch

interactions

Beatrix tieflinq

Finn smiled at Beatrix's declaration that his company was always welcome, tucking himself into the shadow of the statue beside her.

"I understand perfectly," Finn said, accepting Beatrix's offered tobacco as he procured his own pipe from a pocket in his jacket. He had never said, and neither had she, but even among the eclectic people of the Rev they had quietly gravitated towards each other, a pair of queer planets grateful for the other's company. "For my part, I prefer not to have a first dance with a young lady looking to read entirely too much into it."

There was a small but grounding ritual to prepping a pipe. Finn wondered as he lit it how long it would be before someone's scandalized mother chased them off from their hiding spot. He grinned at Beatrix's last question and said, "Indeed, and for as long as possible." He inhaled on the pipe before adding, "With luck, our host will be sufficiently distracting. I saw him ignore absolutely every guest to be the first to say hello to Lady Chamberlain when she arrived." It was, in the grand scheme of things, a small and silly thing, but Finn knew the ton could chew on something half as small and silly for weeks, provided the offender was in some way interesting enough. Alec certainly qualified.

 

[jones573]

"You'll know everyone there, won't you?," Surina asked as her hands reflexively smoothed over the skirt of her dress, her fingers creating little currents that ran up against the floral embroidery in the lake of blush pink silk satin.

Her dress was a pale pink, with a gold silk waistband and matching outline along the neck. Gold tulle spilled out above the midlength fluttered sleeves, and the lace overlay along the bottom of the skirt featured pink flowers and golden spangles. Surina positively adored it.

"Most people, yes," her brother agreed absentmindedly. He'd been to a lot of these sort of events before after all, and was a recognized and respected member of the ton.

The Earl of Pembroke had been surprised at the relative silence of the carriage ride so far, but he was not surprised to find it might be ending. It was likely only her nervous excitement that had momentarily quieted his sister, and now that excitement- and anxiety- were growing so strong as to provoke chatter once more. She'd certainly talked of little else for the past few days.

"Well, you have to introduce me. To everyone," Surina insisted. "Everyone has so many friends except me! You kept me cooped up in the countryside so long," she began to complain. There had, of course, been good reason for that- There was little point in making friends if you were going to set them on fire with a sneeze, for example. Perhaps Surina recognized that wisdom, as she remained quiet for the next few minutes as the carriage continued on.

"You are not to just... Hover near me all evening," she instructed. "I won't have you scaring people away."

Ravinder laughed at this. "So which is it- Am I to be making introductions constantly, or always keeping a measured distance?"

Surina waved a hand in dismissal at his humor. "Do not be so difficult, brother!"

"Stop your fretting," Ravinder told her, reaching across to take her hand and squeeze it in his own. "You will do wonderfully. You always do," he said with a smile.

His reassurance fell on deaf ears as the carriage rounded the corner and Surina caught sight of the estate, pulling her hand away.

"Oh! Isn't it magnificent," she gushed. "Look at all those carriages! I can even hear the music already!" She was nearly vibrating with excitement, and Ravinder's smile faltered. He couldn't very well keep her protected forever- Especially now that she had to take her place with the other sourcers at the Rev.

"Has my hair held up all right," Surina demanded to know.

"It looks terrible," Ravinder replied on instinct, so his little sister narrowed her dark eyes at him, and slapped him on the arm.

"It's... Fine," he told her, pretending to consider. "Nice even."

It had been lightly curled, and piled high upon her head in an elegant crest, with a few loose pieces hanging down towards her chin to frame her face. Surina followed trends carefully, and though she liked the style of bangs that working class women were sporting these days... She knew the mothers of eligible bachelors likely did not.

Upon exiting the carriage, the pair made their way to greet the hostess of the ball. Surina did not wish to take up much of Felicity's time as she clearly had many guests to see to, but found her to be absolutely delightful, and informed Ravinder as such.

"She and I will be good friends, I can tell," Surina said happily. "Let us seek out the Earl as well!"

But even a thorough scan of the crowd did not reveal him, and Ravinder advised his sister it would be no trouble to make an introduction later in the evening. In truth, Ravinder suspected that the Earl of Scarcliffe might prefer to be introduced to no one at all at any point in the evening, but his sister's face had already fallen slightly and decided against saying so.

Surina thought it a bit rude to be so negligent of guests, but held her tongue even to her brother. Instead they began their rounds, and Ravinder did what he could to balance his sister's contradictory instructions, making introductions but also stepping slightly to the side after doing so.

He noted Surina's already wide grin brighten even further, and looked for the source of it. Ah.

"Lord Argyle," the Earl of Pembroke greeted Adrian. They'd met before, and though not particularly close, Ravinder had gauged him to be a decent enough fellow, with a keen mind for business matters. "May I have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister, the honourable Lady Surina Chaurdri of Pembroke?"

A step behind her brother, Surina positively beamed- Ravinder clearly had no idea they'd met before, and it seemed an amusing joke to her. Though she supposed that even if he did know, the Rev was a very different environment than a ball- she still had not exactly figured out the social rules the Rev and its members adhered to- and it was only proper that she should have her brother's tacit permission before engaging in conversation with Adrian.

 

[elanara]

Alec almost regretted his decision to come over to Helena in exchange for greeting his guests when she made her request. The obviousness of his feelings were written plainly across his face.

While his own powers were no secret to the other members of the Rev, they were still unaware of the specifics. The fact that he could literally hear another person's thoughts when in physical contact with them was the main reason he avoided balls altogether. The act of socializing alone was already exhausting enough, but being privy to the innermost thoughts of several others over and over was quite overwhelming. That's why he typically kept handshakes brief, hugs to a minimum, and dances, well. Everyone knew how he felt about those.

Helena especially.

"I see you are intent on making this evening that much worse for me, aren't you?" He jested, with a hint of a smirk.

Though, when he thought about it, the amount of times his hand would touch hers wouldn't be that much. Only a few times, actually. It would be quick and in passing, lasting the length of the quartet's beat. Besides, they'd been friends long enough for him to know it wasn't Helena he was worried about.

One quick glance around the room at all the debutantes and their mothers peeking at him from over their shoulders told him enough. They were all eager to secure a dance with him as well — something he dreadfully anticipated when he sent out invitations.

There was, of course, only one other member of the ton that would steal their attention away from him. That person was none other than Stephen Rutledge, the Duke of Caversham. His status as a high ranking member of society, as well as an exceptionally handsome bachelor, made him very popular amongst the ladies ton, married or not. Alec had invited him — albeit informally, over drinks at the Rev — and Rutledge did say he would attend. But Alec knew better than to believe him. Stephen was unreliable in that way — not one for planning ahead, acting on spontaneity and how he felt in one particular moment than by his own word.

And as of right now, he was nowhere to be seen.

As for his sister.

"She's still upstairs getting ready. I don't know why, considering it's already been hours." Alec stated. "Though, now that you mention it, that is an excellent idea. Perhaps I ought to take this as my opportunity to get out of dancing with you to chaperone her the rest of the night." He said, sarcastically. But deep down he knew he would end up indulging his friend anyway, whether he wanted to or not.

 

[opaline]

Cordelia Darlington

the intellectual

interactions Lord Søren Adel

outfit A formal dress.

location Outskirts of the ball.

It was Theodore that accompanied her as a chaperone for the Townsend's event—for painfully obvious reasons. He clearly was not so fond of attending either, but Cordelia had insisted she would attend.

"You shall not be a frustration tonight, I hope?" Cordelia asked as their carriage pulled onto the Townsend's sprawling property.

"Yes," he sighed, clearly exasperated he had been sent at all. "And you shall not create any cause for my worry?"

She laughed, "Now, I cannot promise such things." He only shook his head as he helped her out, taking her arm and navigated the pair to the outdoor setting for the ball. The scent of roses wafted on the fresh air, partnered in a romantic display with the quartet—no, quintet, she realised as they drew closer—for what should have been a perfectly atmospheric ball.

Admittedly, Cordelia did not take well to being told what to do. In any other circumstance, she might find some reason to disagree with Alec Townsend's demand that they not speak of business, or even to reject the invitation to the ball entirely. But it was exceptionally rare the Earl of Scarcliffe hosted in any event, and Cordelia was certain a rejection would quickly fan the flames of theories often spread around the ton for their family's dislike of one another. She also respected his desire to ensure a smooth debut for his youngest sister, and only thinking of her own did she find herself acclimating to the request.

The garden opened up, spotlighting the exquisite sculptures dotted along the edges of the expansive section designated for the ball. They had begun to make the rounds, Cordelia plucking a tall glass of champagne to sip on. A few whispers rippled through the crowds, nothing disruptive for any scandal was well-aged, though the ton loved to debate the status of anything that had not been convincingly laid to rest. The duo paid it no mind.

Theodore's attention was already waning, she noticed, nor did she blame him. They hovered, until his gaze collided with a curvaceous woman with raven curls and his demeanour shifted instantly. He dropped her arm, "Should you need me, do come find me." Theodore was striding away without a thought. Cordelia wondered if he might become something of a rake seeing as he was rather still too young to be seeking a wife, though the Tattler had all but called herself a spinster recently, so the most likely cause of deterioration to the Darlington name should be her.

Cordelia beamed, "Wonderful." Both of them knew there would be no need.

She smoothed her dress, which was somewhere between a soft green and a cream, with stars sparingly embossed into the fabric. It was trimmed with beaded lace, that was lined on the main fabric by embroidered clouds. Miranda had squealed when she saw Cordelia emerge from her chambers, swooning at the beauty of a ballgown. Cordelia had only assured Miranda would wear more remarkable gowns.

Cordelia was wrestled into two dances with two different men, each step felt like a well-rehearsed trampling upon a grave. In consideration of their predicament with Lord Fellham and more recently, Lizzy... a sombreness and tension lay thick enough on the summer air to smother. It irritated her to no end, a conundrum to which she did not immediately have the answers in paper and ink brushing at her fingertips. Or better yet, within grasp in her own mind. If she were truthful, Cordelia only wanted to know what happened to the beloved members, for her heart could not bear the unknown.

The scent of roses coalesced with countless other saccharine flowers, an overwhelmingly dizzying sensation. She unceremoniously downed the last of her champagne, and shuffled her way closer to the outskirts, her gaze landing on Lord Søren Adel who observed the crowds with a distance glossing over his dark eyes.

Cordelia did not miss the slight undertone of nervousness emanating from Søren Adel; neither of their reputations could afford any brewing scandals, however she felt more at ease—there was a reason she hugged the bushes, and held a respectful distance between the two.

"Just fine, Lord Adel." she replied, "I wanted a short reprieve from the... festivities." Any member of the Rev would understand the subtext in her pause. But, she rather enjoyed conversation with Søren and was pleased to speak more freely, despite holding no intention to discuss the issue plaguing everyone's mind.

"It must be a joy of someone with your passion in gardening to partake in a event surrounded by well-maintained grounds. I fear a ball in a library might be the only I would be excessively eager to attend, purely for the books." She mused as they both studied the coming and goings of the dance floor, turning to face him again. "Is your own gardening faring well?" She wondered if perhaps he would have to compensate for the hole left behind by Lizzy and her dominion over plants.

 

[junegloom]

Helena could have laughed at the immediate displeasure evident on Alec's face. The corners of her lips twitched into a small, unpitying smile. The dramatics. It was like she was asking him to poke his eyes out.

"Yes, because one dance is such torture. You'll survive."

She did not care whether he got it over with now or held off until the end of the night. She was going to have her dance whether he liked it or not.

Helena followed Alec's gaze to see all the available young women and their mothers eyeing him up as if they were predators hunting down their prey. Perhaps they are both doing each other a favor. While they were busy talking, they were saving each other from being pursued by members of the ton eager to make a marriage match. However, at this point, Helena would not be surprised if someone was bold enough to interrupt them. It has happened before and it will happen again.

Despite her reputation for rejection, Helena did enjoy flirting and the dance of entertaining those who held interest in her. It did feel nice to feel wanted, even if it was for superficial means or her status. It was almost a game to her to see how far someone could get before ultimately revealing a reason they would fall short of her standards. It was easy to cut things off when your heart was behind a series of defenses.

However, in the aftermath of recent events, Helena was in no mood for games. Yes, she was looking forward to enjoying the night, but her temper was much more sensitive and she didn't want the night spoiled.

She ignored his comments about Felicity taking ages to get ready. He wouldn't understand. Yes, she was taking a long time, longer than she probably should perhaps, but this was more her ball than it was his. Most debutantes want to look nothing short of perfect, especially in their first season. Even Helena, who held no punches when rejecting anyone she deemed unworthy of her hand, felt pressured to uphold a perfect appearance.

"That was not a suggestion, Alec. Let her have her fun. It is her night, after all," She paused a moment, considering her words as she sipped her champagne. "Though, you should keep an eye on her. Who knows what kind of lout would try and take advantage of her?"

It's not that Helena thought Felicity incapable of judging for herself, but she was inexperienced in matters of courting and some of the men on the hunt for brides would do anything. Worse, there could be those who have little to no intention of ever proposing marriage, happy to use naive debutantes for their fun and toss them aside once they are ruined and undesirable.

"This is quite the ball— I'm impressed. Who knew such a spoilsport could put on such an event? I assume Felicity is behind it all," Helena teased.

the cold

helena.

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