nexiliis

|| LOCATION || The Palace

Alisa observed the flow of the Princess' movements. At moments it was as if she were floating on air. Paired with the expression she wore, Genevieve reminded her of many a giddy young woman with their head in the clouds. Perhaps she was simply on a high from the ball, or was there something else that attributed to the bounce in her step. Alisa is admittedly curious, but wonders how best to get the Princess’ attention without coming off as rude. It’s a good thing that she seemed to come back down to reality without her assistance. 

“Fret not Princess, I feared interrupting you would be a shame! You seemed so delightfully wrapped up in your thoughts.” By the topic of choice, Alisa assumes that last night is still heavy on the brain; to be expected of course. “I had a marvellous time,” she smiled in kind. “The ball was indeed a dazzling affair. And thank you, the gown was a labour of love, according to the modiste.” They truly had to love their job in order to be able to craft such marvellous gowns. The time alone it takes to make gowns fit for royalty is enough to have Alisa stressed. “I can only imagine a fraction of what goes into making gowns– yours included!”

The mention of Alisa's father sent a shiver down his spine. He was never fond of the man, but they had gone through the years even with that floating in the back of his mind. He turned slightly. "He threatened you?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "What have you told him so far?" Arthur asked. He nodded his head as Alisa continued to speak, explain her plan, or rather, what she had been doing.

He frowned a bit but nodded again. "Do you think there are more?" He glanced towards the door to the room. Perhaps he had been too loose with the rules and who was hired as their guard. Arthur knew that it was important to understand who was coming into his life. He trusted Alisa's judgement, but he was still surprised that she first mentioned Oskar.

"What else do you know, Alisa? You have to tell me everything."

And told him everything she did. Alisa sat and sometimes stood up to pace while she filled Arthur in about everything. Alisa began from her childhood, straight to the present day, and she left absolutely nothing out. In the end she hoped that he would see her no differently, once all her secrets were now his, but rather understand that all she has done is try to survive, and most importantly protect her new family. In the weeks leading up to the Gemball things had finally started to feel normal again. Alas, she knows that would only be short lived once the ball is over. That’s when Lady Whistledown has her fun by filling the society papers with the happenings of people’s private lives. 

[ time skip ]

Solomon’s due for a nap, but instead of heading straight to his nursery Alisa makes a detour. Ever since the latest Lady Whistledown, the royal family has been struggling on various levels. However, there’s one thing that would always lift their spirits regardless of the circumstances– Solomon. 

Alisa finds her husband in his library, standing before one of the many floor-to-ceiling, open-faced wooden shelves. Her approach is silent as she believes herself to have the upper hand in trying to surprise Arthur. Unfortunately, the allegedly sleepy 12 month old in her arms decided otherwise. “Dada!” Solomon’s head pops up off her shoulder to call out to him. Clearly someone is not sleepy anymore, Alisa silently muses. “We really need to work on your element of surprise, Sol.” Alisa speaks to her son as though he’s fully on board with her plans. “Mein Schatz,” she greets Arthur affectionately. In the midst of that exchange, Solomon starts wriggling to get into his father’s arms. 

manicured nails flip the sign on the shop's entrance to announce it's opening for the day, carefully adjusting the pink and golden welcome to sit perfect within the window of the front door. reaching up, liliana flicks the bell to ensure maximum ringing was available for her customers today - she had a good feeling about today, perhaps it was because lulia had woken her with a sweet song of their homeland. patting down her skirts, the florist took a moment to admire the turquoise silk embroidered with silver and pink lillies along the edges - a gift from one of her customers - looking at her, one would never believe her to be simply a commoner.

the scent of fresh flowers fills the shop as liliana inspects each one of her blooms, collecting the ones that have become weak, wilting or simply faded. if she is to appear the best and become a supplier for the ton, she must show perfection. elegance. success.

"bună dimineaţa," her mother tongue escapes her lips as the bell rings above the door, quickly discarding of the bad flowers in the small back room hidden by a velvet curtain. "good morning, i mean," her accent is thick as she looks to her customer, a charming smile brightening her features as a twinkle shines in her eyes. "are you perhaps seeking a bloom to convey a message to someone or simply to decorate one's home?"

In light of the damage done to her reputation, and by extension the royal family, the decision for her to engage more with Joe Public was made. Therefore, instead of having several florists come to the palace and display their arrangements, Alisa decided to do things differently. Their reign thus far has been one marked with a few missteps, but the unfortunate part is that people expected perfection. The standards they are held to are not only archaic, but stringent as well. 

“Good morning, Miss Toma,” she greeted her with a small smile. “The latter,” she responds to the question. “I came to see the bouquet samples for the state banquet.” The palace had communicated their request in writing over a week ago, so now she’s here to review the options. Within a few weeks there is a state visit scheduled, and everything must go according to plan. “I do not think that I have ever heard you speak in your native tongue– that was Romanian, correct?” 

"Please, no need." Oskar waved away the hand that had gone to help him into the chair. His shoulder was aching and for the first time in a while he could feel the scars on his leg tightening as he moved. It had barely been three days since all the poppy had been removed and he could feel the loss of it. Everything felt strung out. There was a tremble in his hands he couldn't quite hide. "I am not helpless, I can manage."

Entering the inn, Alisa ensures that her hair is still covered along with the lower half of her face. This wouldn’t be the first time that she had to adorn a disguise in order to hunt down Oskar’s whereabouts. In light of everything in the society papers, she needed to be careful where she’s seen, and who she interacts with. After entering the inn, she locates him almost instantly. He looks worse for wear, despite trying to put on a brave face. Before she could get close, someone else interrupted. In turn a cloaked Alisa lurks nearby as she watches the exchange. Once the other person heeds Oskar’s show of bravado and moves on, Alisa makes her move. 

“We need to talk,” she says in lieu of a greeting. Alisa grips the chair to try and stop him from sitting. “Why have you not been responding to my missives?” 

|| LOCATION || The Das Residence; Kavika's room

Riya’s presence in London has been a blessing, even on mornings like this one, where Kavika would rather remain cocooned in her bed, but her sister decided otherwise. “Riya,” Kavika whined, stressing on the vowels of her name. One day they will stop sneaking into each other’s rooms to wake the other up, but today is not that day. 

open starter // Brook's Gentleman Club

Part of gaining information she’s not supposed to be privy to involves subterfuge. How else was her private investigator business meant to thrive? Today she was tasked by a wife to prove that her husband was indeed gambling away her inheritance. The fear of being penniless is one which nearly everyone can relate to. Trailing the husband in question has led a well-disguised Baroness into an establishment she is no stranger to since starting her business. It’s amazing how little the men frequenting this establishment pay little attention to the people around them while they spill all. 

The sound of Nalan’s voice made her freeze at first, but the content had her rolling her eyes. The railroad heir had won the title, as she had hers. It no doubt fueled the alleged Lytton and Das family rivalry; of which Kavika found to be such a waste of her time. Either way, she considers Nalan’s presence to be an unfortunate development. While other patrons would pay her no mind, he may look a little too closely and pick up on her features or the older clothing items she borrowed from his closet. Kavika couldn’t help herself as she purposely bumped into his table on her way out of the establishment. She figured that she was doing the patrons a favour to stop his complaining. Instead of turning to face him, she suddenly darted off, and ran outside and straight into the bustling streets of London.

utterly  drenched.  ramón  sheds  his  waistcoat,  finding  only  minor  relief  in  the  weight  shed.  he  barely  glances  at  his  sketchbook,  unprepared  to  review  the  damage.  of  course,  the  moment  he  relaxed  into  drawing  is  when  fate  decided  to  shove  him  off-course.  running  a  hand  over  his  face,  he  flicks  water  away,  still  trying  to  catch  his  breath.

out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  he  catches  sight  of  another  poor  soul  running.  a  moment's  hesitation  ---  he  hasn't  wished  to  speak  with  many  these  few  days  ---  but  he  steps  toward  the  gazebo's  entrance,  hands  cupping  his  mouth.

One drop, then another, hit the page of her book. A glance up to the sky doesn’t reveal much as the sun is still very much present. Moments later, she would come to regret the decision to finish one more page before summoning her carriage.

Neither parasols nor kittisols could withstand the downpour that she found herself caught in. How had such a delightful day turned sour in an instant? England’s weather is truly a far cry from that of her homeland. Kavika missed the days of enjoying the warm weather, running amongst the flower fields, laying out beneath the trees, and getting lost in the books she would take along with her.

In her haste to find shelter, she gets turned around, the poor visibility also attributes to this. A voice beckons at just the right moment. Kavika sprints off towards it and the shelter in the background. “Thank you!” She pants out the words.

The stranger in the gazebo turns out not to be one at all. The modiste’s assistant, she recognises well. It also seems like they are developing a trend of happenstance meetings when they’re out and about in London. “Mr Bessett, we meet in an unconventional manner yet again.”

Every rise and fall of her chest brings more calm to her racing heartbeat. “An utter mess this day has turned out to be,” she huffs. “Great— it’s all ruined.” The parasol is broken, her book will need a few days by a hearth or in a windowsill to dry, but will it even be readable by then? Kavika refuses to think of her physical appearance at this moment. “Why make these if they’re not going to work in inclement weather?” The whalebone and oil-silk based contraption did not serve its purpose to repel the water, and is now rendered useless.

To say that Tessa was overwhelmed would have been an understatement. It was not a bad feeling feeling, far from it. Tessa felt as though she was swept away in some sparkling dream that was as beautiful as it was disorienting. She preferred the beauty of nature, rolling waves, blooming flowers, but even she couldn't deny that she felt somewhat lost in at all- the last thing that she had expected, however was to quite literally bump into someone.

It was mortifying to say the least, and it had happened so often, perhaps Tessa was more clumsy than she had realized, though she tried to give it no mind and instead of being cruel to herself focus on apology.

Kavika was in the midst of observing an interaction between a couple. Of all places for a lover’s spat, she did not anticipate it would be here. Usually parties are where people put their best foot forward despite what may be occurring behind closed doors. The Baroness became so engrossed in the drama unfolding that she was unaware of an impending clash with another coming her way. 

@nexiliis - Kavika Das

Rosalind had learned rather quickly that the Barnett Gemstone Ball was designed to encourage observation. Every room seemed to invite it. Tonight nothing was as simple as it seemed. Even moonstone had become a declaration whether Rosalind had intended it or not. She had stepped aside near the edge of the room, allowing herself a moment away from the press of introductions and speculations. Her pale silver-blue of gown shifted softly beneath the light. It was then that her gaze settled on a young woman nearby. She was beautiful and sweet-faced, but Rosalind knew better than to trust something that was presented prettily. There was also something lively behind the woman's eyes. The brunette recognized her after a moment, she was Nalan's sister. That alone made her interesting. After a moment, Rosalind approached with a composed but pleasant expressiong. "Lady Kavika," she said warmly, though still with her usual restraint. "I had heard enough of you from brother who I have had the pleasure of crossing path's with. He speaks of his sisters with considerable devotion."

"You are too kind," not many associate Nalan crossing paths with her brother as a delight, pleasure, or any other pleasantry. However, Nalan’s devotion is usually genuine, but in this case she suspects that his motives are less than. As the heir to the Duke it makes Rosalind an influential person for any family to align with. A fact which she obviously would be aware of all her life. The veiled compliment which Lady Whistledown had entrusted upon Rosalind was sure to turn a few heads in her direction, if they weren’t already admiring her grace and beauty. Of which Kavika would lump herself in with those pre-Whistledown’s interests. At the gemball it was a shame that their conversation was cut short by Kavika needing to fulfill a dance card request. 

“Miss Murray, thank you for accepting the invitation to tea.” It was not her doing, but societal rules dictate she acknowledge such regardless. However, she wouldn’t be Kavika without ensuring that her character isn’t completely shaped by that of her parents or Nalan. “In honour of transparency, this was not my idea,” she gestures about them. The lavish light fare before them, and chaperones posted out of earshot but still visible. 

“I would have preferred to call on you or invite you out somewhere.” Kavika had no idea who she was to meet with until it was impossible to make other arrangements. “Please don’t judge this typical display as the extent of my ability to entertain.” It’s not that she would not mind spending time in Rosalind’s presence in general, but drawing rooms can be so stifling. “I find the song and dance of entertaining one via tea and sharing my impressive talents a bit performative.”

Katherine was getting annoyed and admittedly anxious the longer Angelique made her wait. She had said she wanted to meet her in the gardens promptly at this time, so where was she? The girl huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, turning around to see if she could spot someone tall and beautiful (just as she imagined her secret admirer.) Suddenly she felt warm, soft hands covering her eyes and the most angelic voice she had ever heard. Her breath caught in her throat and a grin overcame her face. It was finally happening!

"Oh, my love!" Katherine cooed breathlessly, reaching up to touch the hands covering her eyes. She breathed in deeply, the smell of her perfume was intoxicating and left her pulse racing. Everything about her was perfect, and she hadn't even seen her face! "Yes my love, yes! I will be yours, I will marry you-" Katherine said gleefully and quickly turned around once the hands fell. Then suddenly, everything went in slow motion.

As Katherine turned around to greet her secret lover, the smile on her face disappeared and her stomach dropped. Standing before her was Kavika Das, the woman she had many spats with the previous season. It all ended, she assumed, when she successfully stole the attention of someone they both were pining over away from Kavika. She thought she was so smart, smarter than the Das girl at least. And now here she was, looking like a complete idiot.

Katherine burst out laughing, almost hysterical in the way she laughed although it was completely humorless. "Oh my god! Kavika Das, you vile little snake!" Her words came out sounding completely joyful, but her smile was strained and her eyes practically had flames in them. "You are disgusting, you know that?"

The look on Katherine’s face was priceless. If only she could have an artist capture this so she can hang it up and reminisce on this moment over and over again. Alas, she’s going to have to rely on mental imagery for such. Kavika sees herself laughing about this for months to come. 

The attention of that particular suitor was dashed thanks to the thorn in her side. Katherine truly lives up to her family name. Now she has to endure another season of this ‘find-a-spouse’ dance. There would not be a third season of her being unwed as far as her parents and brother are concerned. The pressure is on, and as a result she’s kicking things up a notch including getting Katherine Thorne out of her way. 

“Why thank you very much,” she smirks, knowing that her success this time was undeniable. “I will never lose to the likes of you, ever!” She chose this moment to remind Katherine of who she decided to tangle with. “I’m not one of these insipid little girls you can just take advantage of. And an—“ her speech is cut off by the arrival of Edith. The chaperone she ditched in order to make her little stunt come off without a hitch. 

“Pardon me, Lady Das, your mother sent me to fetch you.”

Kavika was annoyed by the interruption but said and did nothing to convey such. 

“Just a moment,” she notified a very nervous looking Edith. She no doubt had to scour the venue to locate her once she realised that she’d been given the slip. 

Kavika’s attention flicks back to Katherine. “Till we meet again, mon cœur,” though delivered in hushed tones, she spat the latter with the saccharine venom she’s known for. Kavika then takes her leave with Edith in tow. 

It had been four days since the Gemstone Ball, which Edgar considered more than enough time for London to recover from rain, scandal, and wounded pride. Edgar himself had recovered beautifully. Or, at the very least, he had found something interesting to do. A travelling showman in the square stood with a wooden crate, a large gathering surrounding him. He claimed that the creature within had been brought all the way from the wilds of the Americas. He also claimed it could smell dishonesty, predict marriages, and identify a thief merely by looking into their eyes. Edgar had paid a shilling to see this wild beast - only to discover that it was a goose.

Edgar had crouched before the crate, resting one arm across his knee. "You have crossed an ocean only to be falsely advertised in Mayfair," he murmured sympathetically. "I understand. London has done much the same to me." The goose had stared at him. Then it had bitten him. That ought to have ended the matter. Instead, ten minutes later, the showman was shouting, the crowd was scattering, and Edgar O'Connor was running through the square with the goose tucked beneath one arm.

He turned the corner down an alley and nearly collided with someone. One hand caught their arm to steady them while the goose fought furiously with its wings. Edgar glanced behind him. Two constables had joined the pursuit, looking frantically around for the heir presumptive. Then he looked back at the unfortunate stranger, his expression brightening. "Excellent," he said, holding out the goose. "You are precisely the person I needed." The bird hissed. "Take this. Do not ask questions, and whatever happens, do not let it judge your character."

The stranger protested, hands held up in defense. Then when the goose hissed again, they backed away and turned to run. While fleeing, they bumped into Nathaniel. Turning, to see the commotion, Nathaniel’s brow furrowed at the sight. A panicked stranger, his friend Edgar holding an uneasy beast of a goose, and in the distance constables approaching. What did Edgar do now? Nathaniel asks himself. Adding up the clues could provide varying answers, but all following along the themes, of the goose not being Edgar’s and that he was trying to get rid of it via this unwilling stranger. “It’s a free goose, man, just take it!” he prods the stranger who looks between the both of them before hightailing it away. “Shit! What now?”

The engagement between Dominic and Leonora had been announced. The morning of the announcement, Dominic informed his mother, but she wasn’t exactly pleased. Instead of offering her son congratulations, she offered him criticism. Leonora wasn’t the Murray she wanted for Dominic, but Dominic explained his reasoning. Leonora had experience in a royal court, managing a title and estates. France was different to Ireland, but Dominic had every faith that she would make the perfect marchioness. A title his mother never received, and Dominic always assumed that was the reason for her resentment. His birth meant he was Daniella’s heir, not her. He wouldn’t apologise for that. Dominic was doing what he was born for, what she had him do. 

Dominic already knew today was not the day to remain at home. The lord wasn't sitting; he had no morning appointments to attend to. His brothers couldn’t be found or didn’t want to be. For the first time in a while, Dominic had time. He decided to stop by the hosier's with the sole purpose of looking for an engagement gift, something he could give his future wife without knowing too much about her. It was the way things worked in society. Inside, the hosier was cool and quiet. There was a faint smell of lavender that filled the shop as Dominic paused before the glass counter. Gloves were displayed beneath it, all made with the finest silks and embroidery. One pair caught his eyes. They were ivory lace day gloves with seed pearls sewn in. Behind him, the bell rang. “Maybe you could help this lord decide on a pair." The shop keeper said to whoever was standing behind him. Dominic stepped aside, his eyes not leaving the pair he’d focused on. “What do you think?” He asked whoever came in, “Are these a suitable gift for a future wife?”

"Please, no need." Oskar waved away the hand that had gone to help him into the chair. His shoulder was aching and for the first time in a while he could feel the scars on his leg tightening as he moved. It had barely been three days since all the poppy had been removed and he could feel the loss of it. Everything felt strung out. There was a tremble in his hands he couldn't quite hide. "I am not helpless, I can manage."

"Never said you were helpless, man." Despite the protest he still assists, the Oskar, but partially so. Nathaniel sat back down, leaning back in his seat, getting comfortable again. They were in the the Taproom of the inn so Nathaniel had already his tankard of ale served. However, the barmaid returned to the table nonetheless as he's joined by someone new. "I would say that your drink is on me, but you may take offense that, too," he snickered.

who: laurence & nathaniel

where: howard boxing club

Somedays, a distraction was needed, and that involved some (facetious) entertainment. He entered and took a look around, finding himself a drink first before finding a seat to watch the upcoming match. He had heard that this was the place for socializing, aside from the gentleman's club.

It had been some time getting used to be back in London. He had aired his grievances out while previously in Italy and made his way back to start new. The trouble was finding that path again.

"May I?" the doctor asked, finding his way through the crowd once he spotted an open seat.

Keeping up appearances even if he didn't feel like it is one of things he doesn't like about being back among the Ton. At least the boxing club provided a more informal type setting than a ball for example.

"Of course, there's plenty of room," he gestures to the free seat on his left. The one on his right could be for his brother if he is able to make it. From the jump he did indicate that he may be unable to attend, but Nathaniel still held out hope.

"It seems as though my brother shall not be making it," he comments while observing the time on his pocket watch. "I hope you're up to the challenge of keeping my company, Mister...?"

Except perhaps for Nathaniel, whose eyes showed so many emotions and yet none that Vitoria or Renata knew how to handle.

“This is where I washed ashore, yes.” She grasped at the fabric of her dress tightly enough that her knuckles went white. Had she been wrong? Would he hate her for this deception? It was a terrible secret to have hidden from him. She could solve so many of his family — their family’s— problems with a wave of her hand, if she could ever find it in herself to tell the world the truth.

“I was— I was so afraid. I am afraid, still. The pirates that sunk my ship, that massacred the crew and thought they had done the same to me, they did not know I was a princess. They never would have let me go if they had known. The crew died for me, and my name never left their lips once. None of them even considered it. Their only grave is the ocean and those monsters still out there. They are out there and I — ” She swallowed back a scream of fear, “I am scared. I am a coward. Every way home crosses water. Nathaniel, there are days even bridges feel insurmountable if I am not in the direct center. How could I possibly get home to them? I am not who they remember, I am … I am happier now, here with you, but I was stronger back then. Back before.”

Nathaniel wanted to physically reach out to her, but there was just so much to process at the moment. The tangible evidence was still in his hands, yet he hoped that this was not reality. There’s so much at stake with a secret of this magnitude. He started thinking of ways to protect her, but ended up losing focus to her visibly bad reaction. Soothing Vitoria in her current state was paramount. When her mental anguish presented itself in such a strong physical way he felt powerless to it. “You are not a coward, Tori. You are strong. You were somehow able to function after the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” Many people who’ve shared similar experiences cannot say the same. 

Tucking the documents away into his inner jacket pocket. Nathaniel stepped forward, propriety be damned, he reached for his wife pulling her into his arms. Thankfully, the isolation of their current location shall work in their favour. “The crew, your friends, they were loyal to the end, and did what they could to protect you, darling.” Nathaniel did not picture her asking this of them, but they would have been duty bound to oblige, or something akin to it, something deeper. “If I were them, I would be pleased to know that my sacrifices led to your survival.”

Karma should take care of the pirates at some point or the other, but as for the people lost at sea, he has an idea. Nathaniel releases her enough to see her face. “We could bury them, symbolically I mean.” Obviously their remains shall never be recovered, but having them honoured in some way should help. “As for your family…” Nathaniel exhaled. He didn’t even know where to begin. There was no way she could travel to see them, and revealing the truth to get them to come here would be disastrous. “They should know, but at the same time, they can’t…I- I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Nothing has happened yet he feels like he may eventually lose her, and the life they are just starting to build. 

@nexiliis - Nathaniel Bruce

It was no secret that the Barnett Gemstone Ball rewarded those who wished to be interpreted. Every jewel, every color, every choice of fabric was up for judgment. While she had clocked this prior to her arrival, it was now so much more apparent. Her own gown was pale silver-blue but luminous only when she moved, with her moonstone pendant resting at her throat. While it did not demand attention, she had certainly been receiving some. Rosalind had stepped away from the main congregation of guest when she noticed a familiar figure nearby. It was Lord Nathaniel Bruce. Rosalind knew him through her father. Lord Murray had spoken of the Bruce family and they had cross path's on more than one occasion. The two were certainly not strangers. There had been a time when seeing one Bruce twin, meant immediately looking for the other. Rosalind remembered that much, if only because the confusion they caused seemed to amuse her father. The brunette approached with quiet grace, her expression composed but warmer than it might have been with someone entirely unfamiliar. "Lord Nathaniel. It has been some time," she greeted. "I confess, I almost expected to see your brother near to make me second guess which gentleman I was addressing." Her gaze softened slightly. "Though I understand congratulations are in order. Your return has caused much interest from some."

Nathaniel was perusing the ribbons idly while he waited inside the store. The modiste had just gone to fetch a couple of items when he heard a familiar voice. Rosalind Murray— it takes a moment, but he recognises her and in turn remembers her father fondly. A warm smile softens his features as he greets her. “Indeed it has,” what a long time it’s been. Thanks to the Season bringing all manner of folk back to the city he’s been running into a lot of familiar faces.

“Ah yes, the watchful eyes of the Ton,” he chuckled. Whether it’s wanted or not, attention is a thing garnered in their circles. “My wife and I are doing great in spite of the chatter.” They’re both happy, healthy, and enjoying married life. “You seem in good spirits,” he beams. “How has London been treating you thus far?”