how fare thee?

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

open starter !

He knew nothing about any of these people ; Everett did not keep up with the gossip of the town, nor did anyone of such status particularly speak to him outside of the Talbots and Priscilla Cavendish. With every word shared he found himself waiting for someone to point him out, to tell him he did not belong and he must leave, despite the open invitation to the lower class. He was sure when Mei spoke she was dismissing him, finding him too unkempt, seeing right through his hand-me-down suit and refusing his company, and he couldn't say that he minded much . . . but she spoke again as he made to step away and he froze, eyebrows pulling together momentarily before his face softened. If he could relate to anyone, it was an outcast. ❝ I would not fret, ❞ he finally spoke, ❝ I believe I have been cursed since birth. ❞

"So lovely!" And she was so excited to be one of them, soon. Even if she wasn't, she loved watching others all the same. She looked over to the other young lady before her, her eyes softened from her excited state and a warm smile graced her face. Harriet Cavendish; she was her age by a year or so and she had an older sister just like her. She hadn't met her before, but her sister made sure to brief her on the noble families before their arrival.

❝ The pleasure is mine, ❞ she smiled, returning a curtsey to Noemie and wondering in that moment if perhaps she could make friends, too. Everyone looked so beautiful and intimidating, and Noemie did too, but speaking to her . . . she seemed so kind, it would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone who understood. While she had her sister, she wouldn't dare make Priscilla believe that she was not capable of finding a match. She already thought her silly, it seemed, for believing in love.

"Focus, Harriet. Do not apologize to me, get out there and make sure you aren't stuck to the wall the whole night. Wallflowers are not sought after." Everyone knew that. And while Priscilla might not have understood her sister's desperation for a love match, she knew that she had to find someone and that wouldn't happen if she was hiding away. The question caught her a tad off guard, but she recovered quickly. "It's simply a different kind of excitement now, my excitement is in finding you a match instead of finding one myself."

Somehow, she was sure she'd be less nervous if Priscilla wasn't here, if she wasn't worried of messing up beneath her watchful eye. Truthfully, she just needed to sneak off, find a mirror, reassure herself she was beautiful. A little pep talk, and she could unknot her nerves. Surely. ❝ I am grateful, ❞ Harriet stated, and it was true, even if she was also more worried. ❝ I suppose that means I should . . . get out there, then. ❞

── .✦ ​🇦​​🇸​​🇮​​🇫​ ​🇸​​🇦​​🇷​​🇦​​🇫​.

❝ I see, ❞ Harriet stated, though she didn't — not really. She envied it still, the girl that had the chance she was sure she would never get. She could not measure up to her own sister, how could she expect to outdo a ballroom of girls? She was sure he was right, that it would be overwhelming, and all of the men would not have her best interest at heart . . . but to be looked at as if she were a prize, as if she were the key to someone's happiness . . . ❝ I do believe it would be quite exciting. ❞

His commentary brought a hint of smugness to the grin upon her lips. Calling her by name at the Queen's ball was audacious, even by Everett's standards, but she was not the impressionable kind, and her glance was locked to his steadily, with measured poise. "I'll gladly take any ears that are willing to indulge me, Mr. Bolivar, and my rambling. Especially under an enchanting night sky like the one we're graced with tonight. I warn you, I too can be quite boring" She mimicked his tone, finding entertainment in walking a tightrope between familiarity and propriety. "As for our dearest Lords, and the dancing, and the courting–" could she explain to him how they continuously appalled her in their veiled approaches and dissimulations? Knowing Everett, she would much rather entertain him, in charm and intelligence that were decidedly coarse, but so very real, unblemished with the falsehoods of courtly interests. But that could not be said out loud – not there, at least. "– I suppose their enthusiasm has worn me out already, if you'll believe it."

He frowned ever so slightly when she didn't call out his greeting ; he had only said it to get a reaction from her, not to be disrespectful. If anything, Veronica Talbot was one of few in the room that he actually did respect. ❝ You're a different sort of boring, lady Veronica, ❞ he informed her, his frown transforming into a smirk of playfulness. He did believe it, he himself more exhausted from being inside the ballroom only watching the others interact than he was after a full day of shoveling manure. He could not actually imagine being the one holding a dance card, nor the men in stuffy suits approaching the ladies. It was clear to him this was not the life he was cut out for, and Everett was surprisingly okay with that. ❝ How dreadful. They do seem to be an excitable lot. ❞

pleased to see everett opposite of her, daniela couldn't help but sigh in relief as his tongue immediately poked fun at the excessive decor, humming through tight-pressed lips as the corners quirked up into what could be labeled a smile. " i often look up at them and wish they'd fall down atop of me, " she quipped, eyes flickering to either side of them, checking to ensure they had no unwelcome listeners as they mocked the queen's hand-selected ornamentations.

❝ Careful, they would expect you to work with to broken legs. ❞ That was just an assumption on his part, of course, but he wouldn't be surprised ; in his experience, there was a true lack of empathy the higher in society you found yourself. There were exceptions to every rule, of course, he didn't much mind working for the Talbots, but then he didn't much mind tending to horses either. They were much better listeners than the human sort.

Priscilla tried to fight against every instinct in her soul not to roll her eyes at her sister, knowing that the one thing that would get in Harriet's way tonight and every night to follow, would be herself. It was beyond vexing knowing that her sister wanted to find a match, a love match above all things, and yet she couldn't muster up the confidence to be the center of attention. To be the one lady all the suitors would fight for. "Stop fussing, Harriet. If you didn't look beautiful, do you really believe I would have let you out of the manor?" Her voice was low, whispered as to not draw attention but sharp enough to make her point.

❝ I'm sorry, ❞ Harriet murmured, her eyes dropping briefly — she knew that her sister was being honest, that she would tell her if he looked silly. She seemed more adamant about her finding a husband than Harriet was herself, after all. It wasn't the marriage he wanted, it was simply someone to hold and kiss, someone to want her, to need her. ❝ Do you miss it? ❞ She found herself asking without thinking it over, her gaze lifting to meet Priscila's again. ❝ The excitement? ❞

lucy’s gaze flickered with amusement as she took in everett’s appearance—unpolished yet undeniably intriguing. there was something about his bluntness that caught her off guard, a refreshing change from the usual polished phrases and insincere compliments she was accustomed to. she leaned in slightly, her voice soft but laced with a playful edge. "several bottles, you say? that might just do the trick, but i suspect it’s not the wine that truly vexes you." her eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and mischief as she studied him, noting the way he stood out among the finely dressed crowd. "you’re not here for the pleasantries, are you?"

❝ Do I look out of place? ❞ At his own question, Everett brought his glass to his lips, a poor attempt to hide the smirk on them. He was almost proud of it, in some strange way, how out of place he was here, though it was all luck where he had ended up . . . or the lack thereof. It was strange to think that in another lifetime, decades ago, this may have been the sort of ball his mother would be attending. Had he not been conceived, of course, and gotten in the way. He knew little about Lucia Bolivar's past, the sort of money she came from, but he had picked up enough hints to know it was closer to this than the life he had grown accustomed to.

Open starter! -- The Queen's Diamond Ball | Noemie Talbot

❝ They look so lovely, don't they? ❞ Harriet, inching towards the other young woman, wore a rueful smile. She had thought the dancing would be what she excelled at ; she spent enough of her free time twirling around her room, after all, sometimes even swaying with her pillow for practice. But how was she meant to stand out when every woman on the floor looked as graceful as a princess?

open starter ft. lady veronica talbot // accepting replies; location — the queen's diamond ball, the terrace overlooking the gardens. tw: alcohol use

His regret of arriving was wavering ; for several moments Everett would find himself considering leaving, slipping out the doors and assuming no one would really notice his absence, if they had noticed his presence at all. But there were other moments, where his curiosity won and he found himself with another drink in hand, debating staying until the end. If he had suffered through pleasantries so far, surely he could make it another hour or two . . . however long these events were meant to last.

open to anyone.

❝ It's lovely, ❞ Harriet smiled, having retreated a bit from the main crowd. Of course, she would later wonder why she got overlooked, but she was used to falling into the shadows, so much so that she only made it easier to go unnoticed without realizing that she was doing it until it was far too late. ❝ She is quite lucky, whoever she may be, don't you believe so? ❞ She left the other part unspoken, the part where she would give just about anything to be the center of attention.

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢

One may look at the life Everett had led and assume he would give anything to be part of the higher class. It would be a reasonable thought but alas, it could not be further from the truth. From the moment he'd walked through the doors, it had only solidified how little he cared to mingle with the wealthy. While he would prefer steady income, while he wished his mother had opportunity to see the best doctors wen she fell ill, no part of him longed to be involved with . . . this.