kindred spirits.

︵‿︵‿୨   ❥     henceforth they must dwell in the common light of common day. only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost path again; and blessed are they above mortals.

this is a private low activity blog*, focused on creating pre-established connections and plots.    if you are interested in interacting with me, please fill out my interest tracker !!     

* i'm not going to artificially set up a queue to make this blog appear more active.    i am active on this blog (november 2022), but it's more based on interactions and having the right muse to write.   it will go through some activity oscillations but unless i explicitly put this muse on my multi, consider it active!

As Ella spoke, Raylen watched her eagerly. And if he could have seen the look of affection and tenderness that took hold off his eyes before spreading to the rest of his face, he’d have chided himself.

Still… The way she lit up at the memory… Even Raylen couldn’t deny how captivating the maiden was. He could just imagine her: bundled up against the cold, red cheeked and nosed, her curls catching the falling snow and glinting as if it were full of jewels. He could see her flying around on the ice as if she’d had wings. It was such a vision his own cheeks turned pink.

“You never speak of it much. Your father’s.” He pointed out, slipping into French, before he could really take stock of what he was saying, or stop himself from uttering it. And once he realized he’d said it, Raylen was mortified.

“Of, of course you don’t have to. You’re entitled to your past and privacy. It’s just… The times you do bring it up, you… You look so happy. In a different way than you do when something here brings you joy. That’s all.”

thinking of her past had always been a double-edged sword.    the sweet memories awash her with joy and delight, the moments she shared with her parents more precious than any gem ever worn by her stepmother.     pure, bright happiness had existed there, the golden childhood was not a matter of looking back at simpler time with a rose-tinted telescope, it was the sweet reality she never could return to.

coming back to the land of the present after living was a painful experience.   less so now, her present was less cruel than it was before, and the love she and the girls shared was infinitely precious, but she was still longing for something;   a sense of belonging, perhaps.   her time here was counted, after the girls were grown she could also need to leave, and the home she had already fallen in love wiht would be ripped for her once more.    “    it hurts me to think of it.   not at first...   they are such precious memories, i fear i could live in them forever.    ”

  As her words sank in, Raylen slowly lifted his head and turned to look at her. Even the silent tears that dropped to his cheeks couldn't stop the amazed look on his face as he took her in.

This girl, like an angel from a dream... How could she be so young, but so very wise? How could she have such a view of the world? Such faith in others? Raylen had never known anything like it.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded slowly. In that very moment, he knew that the job was hers. Just from that little conversation, her knew that she was the type of woman he wanted his sisters to become; gracious, wise, cheerful, empathetic... And if Giorgia and Bianca could be half the person Ella was, he could consider his job well done.

And she thought him wonderful! What, then, did that make her? He couldn't even think of a word, in any language, that wouldn't fall short or do her an injustice.

"Thank you." He murmured through the lump in his throat. "If... If they can be anything like you, I'll be happy."

pink rose to her cheeks, the unexpected compliment catching her by surprise.    it had been years since she had been complimented by a human;   it was startling different to be touched by the faith of creature like her.   the animal’s praise was generous and pure, she had always counted herself lucky to be counted as one of their friends, but she had been aching for this without knowing.    “    they already seem very happy, you must be very proud of them.    ”

it seemed she had her work cut out for her;    teaching the girls the accomplishments they required to startle society and how to simply be intelligent girls.   the latter they would carry with them always, and though she would not mention it now, glad to see their brother’s opinions had already softened, ella made a note to return to the subject at a later date.

​

This was madness, Éamon thought as he followed the footman into the familiar halls. He really didn’t need a guide to take him through the estate, per se. He and his sister had grown up here, after all; playing boyhood games with Peter and Edmund and companion and honorary siblings to Susan and Lucy. But they were children no longer, and it wasn’t proper to just stroll in unannounced. Particularly when it wasn’t the sisters he’d come to see.

Adjusting his clothes nervously, the Duke of Abercorn tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He could put on an act for the crowds, sure. But in private, when there was no need to play act, he could easily forget the charm and charisma he was supposed to have; his nerves taking over instead.

“Oh!” Éamon gasped as Mary stood, and his eyes landed in the book she’d been reading. “Forgive me, Miss Frame. I didn’t know you were an admirer of Robert Burns.” He gestured to the book and smiled softly, repeating his favorite work.

“Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae farewell, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, no cheerful twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me.

I’ll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Nothing could resist my Nancy; But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love forever. Had we ne'er loved so kindly, Had we ne'er loved so blindly, Never met—or never parted— We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee well, thou first and fairest! Fare thee well, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae farewell, alas, forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee!”

Quickly, though, upon finishing, the Duke cleared his throat and rubbed his lips together. “He was a favorite of my mother’s. She used to read his poems to me every night before I went to sleep. And I read them to my sister. I gave that book to Susan on her twelfth birthday. I don’t believe she liked it very much. Scottish poems aren’t much to her taste, it seems, or maybe just not his… Though Lucy was rather fond of me telling them. Regardless, I’m glad someone is getting use of it.”

Susan was outside, with that stranger? Éamon’s brow quirked. It wasn’t like Mary to leave Su’s side… Let alone to leave her unaccompanied with a possible suitor. Resistant as he was to the idea of actually marrying his old friend, he knew that they both could have had a worse match recommended. And, if nothing else, they could at least have a marriage based on friendship rather than hatred. Even if it meant the choice wasn’t theirs, and love was lacking.

“I would question why you’re in here while she’s out there, but I take it that because Lulu hasn’t come nearly tackling me yet that she’s playing chaperone, then? Let them talk. I didn’t come to see Susan anyway…” He stammered, adjusting his jacket once more.

mary wasn’t sure what she thought of him enjoying the same poetry as her.    and reciting it so well;   he wasn’t another gentlemen who decorated a few lines in order to impress a lady   (   and he’d certainly not waste such material on her   ).    the way his mouth formed around each word betrayed a deep familiarity with the work.    “    it has provided me a peak into a world i have never visited.    ”

“     i’m partial to ‘to a louse’ myself.    ”

“    she was insistent i rest,    ”    neither lady seemed to quite understand, or simply they preferred to pretend they didn’t, that it was her job to accompany them.    whether she was well-rested, something never was, was inconsequential.     it was actually part of the description of both of the jobs she was performing:   detective mary quinn and spinster mary frame both were meant to stay close to susan and keep an eye out for greedy-eyed men like the count.

her objections had been noted.   and ignored.    “    besides,    ”     she tilted her head towards the window,    “     they are close.    ”     the addition was quite unnecessary, and a bad idea in the overall scheme of things, but the idea of éamon thinking she was doing a job rattled her.    “    our precious susan is well-looked after.    ”

@storytelers gets an art prompt

Staring up at the portrait, Lucy's brow furrowed. The subject looked exactly like her friend Charles! But could it be? She'd been told that this piece was over a century old. He had been cursed, yes. And those who she'd helped to restore had gone back to themselves when their stone prisons melted away. But this... Could the curse Charles has been under work in the same way?

If so, it didn't much appear like he'd aged. But what other repercussions could there be? If only she knew more! Then she could be of more help! Charles was suffering. And she felt helpless to make it stop.

Footsteps approached, and she only reluctantly drew her gaze away from the portrait. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him coming toward her. And Lucy wasn't sure if she felt relieved or more distressed.

Slowly, she looked over at him with a pensive expression. "This portrait is beautiful. I was studying the brush strokes and technique at first. But then I started seeing the big picture, not just the minute details... Is this you?"

charles was distracted by her;   the golden hue which formed around her frame, not just her hair, her very essence, a study in sunlight and joy which had made the weary bear interested, and now attracted him like a moth to a flame.

he didn’t know what to make of the others.   so human and alien to him now, his own people strangers, but he knew what to make of her, and most importantly, he inspired a human-like trust in him.    it wasn’t instinct, it was based on the person she was, and how she had already proved herself too him countless times.    it confused him as much as it pleased him.

feeling human again was everything.   

@storytelers sent: “ if anybody were to kiss me, i would want that person to be you. “   ( @starsallalight​ )

love confession starters

Ella's hand froze midway toward the little cluster of flowers she had been going to pick. John had never said anything like that to her before! And she didn't quite know what to make of it.

Or did she?

John, after all, to most people wasn't one to express his feelings or wishes very openly or easily. He was perhaps one of the most private men she'd ever known. But, just as she'd always suspected, the more time they spent together, the more she saw a deeper and more tender side of him. And, silly as it may have been, there was a part of her that thrilled in the fact that it was her he chose to show all of that to. He could have chosen anyone! Could have had anyone!

Ella had felt herself a little absurd to feel that maybe he could choose her. She didn't really have much to offer, after all. Her dowry was long gone. Her house was gone, her title with it. What could she possibly have to give him that he didn't have already? But to hear him say such things, maybe... Maybe he was choosing her regardless of her poverty! In spite of her simplicity and naivety!

Turning away from the flowers, Ella gazed at his face for a long moment. She didn't need to memorize it, having already done so a while ago. Instead, she looked at him simply because she liked to. She liked looking into John's eyes, trying to find what he was thinking or feeling. And he never seemed to mind. Rather, it seemed that John liked looking at her too!

A loving smile tugged at her lips, and Ella stepped closer. Improper as it may have been, she didn't stop herself. Instead, she reached out and laid her hand gently over his. And rising up onto her tip toes, she leaned in and pressed a light, lingering kiss to his cheek.

"You mean a great deal to me too, John." She whispered upon pulling back. "I hope you know that. I haven't been so happy in a very long time. You make me feel hopeful again. That maybe things can get better again."

an eternity seemed to pass between his confession and her smile;   long enough for him to call himself a bastard and a fool half a dozen times.    he had kept those words tightly guarded for so long, her friendship was a lot more than a brute like him could ever hope to achieve.   to risk it?    it wasn’t   —   and it was   —    a spur-of-the-moment decision.  

it was inescapable, the longing in his chest could not be contained.    the moment, however, came unexpectedly:   an opening in their conversation which required total honesty in his reply.     her kiss, in any shape and form, was the one he dreamed of.

“no one,” he repeated earnestly. “no one will ever touch this house again, my Ella. I promise you that. nor shall anyone mistreat you, my wife.” Kit asserted, pressing a warm kiss to his wife’s cheek. he took the hands that were on his chest and danced them playfully upwards to loop around his neck. “this is your home now, as well as the castle. you are free to do with it whatever you wish. i only ask that you may allow your husband to bring himself in sometimes.” he smiled, earnest and hopeful and so damn loving all at once.

with the spring-ferns in bloom, pink and purple flowers dotting the green in the distance, ella had no desire to stay inside of the house;   warm, golden sunlight greeted them as she dragged the king out of the abode she once called home.    “    i thought...    i thought i’d miss it more.    ”    for so long she had felt rooted to the house, a ghost roaming the attic who could never leave or the shackles which kept her earthbound would disappear.    leaving took a lot of courage, and a great deal of love, and home...    home could be anywhere, it didn’t need to be a mausoleum.    “    i’m glad, and i’m happy.    ”    pink skirts skirted around her ankles, as she turned to face him, dropping his hand so she could rest both palms against his chest.    “    still...   ”     emotion swam in her eyes, almost drowning the blue,   “   it feels like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, knowing no one else will mistreat this house.    ”     (   @matchingmagi​ )