𝐎𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐂𝐍𝐂𝐂𝐒 : a dependent muse blog for 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐅𝐌𝐒..
𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 ⸻ lady seymour, fiancée to alistair arundel
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⸻⸻⸻ by 𝐗𝐀𝐍 (she/her, 24, est) | credits ⸻⸻⸻
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@opulcnccs
𝐎𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐂𝐍𝐂𝐂𝐒 : a dependent muse blog for 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐅𝐌𝐒..
𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 ⸻ lady seymour, fiancée to alistair arundel
introduction . dossier . biography . visage . isms . pinterest
⸻⸻⸻ by 𝐗𝐀𝐍 (she/her, 24, est) | credits ⸻⸻⸻

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"thank you," he murmured at her cold response to his question. he knew Agnes held no love for him, part of him wondered if she in truth hated him for accepting her father's proposal. agnes was beautiful, graceful, and without a doubt worthy of the Arundel name - in truth if society was to consider she was marrying below her stature. However, it seemed Agnes hadn't been given a choice when it came to the marriage deal and a part of Alastair hated that. He tried his best to accommodate to Agnes' needs and wants and even though he could give her everything coin could buy - she was always so distant.
at the notion of him getting a glass of liquor he tried to smile. "that would be lovely, thank you." he always tried to be kind to Agnes and knew that no matter the affection he pretended to hold a part of him knew she could see right through it. he was just like her, marrying out of duty and not love. "did you get the chance to speak to some of the attendance at the memorial?" he wanted her to socialize and perhaps find some friendships even if they were with unfit figures. He just wanted her content and if he was able to give her a sliver of happiness throughout their engagement and lives - he would feel a little more at ease.
with steady hands agnes opened the crystal vessel, and poured a glass of whiskey for him. she hesitated a moment, then refilled her own. is this what my life has become? am i destined to wait for him, to pour his drinks, to engage in meaningless conversation for the rest of my days? she walked slowly, balancing both glasses in her hand. she briefly considered placing his drink on the table before him, if anything to avoid his touch. she knew that feeling his skin against hers was inevitable, but the thought of another only summoned the memory of the one who was now married herself, across the ocean.
he had always been kind since their first meeting after the agreement had been made. it was clear, however, that his kindness was more out of chivalry than affection, and agnes wouldn't have it any other way, even if his kindness was but a twist in the knife her father had plunged in her heart. she decided against spiting him, carefully handing him the glass so that their fingers did not yet meet. "i did, but most conversation was made with those i was already acquainted with," she replied cooly. "memorials are an awfully morbid place to make introductions." she paused a moment, unsure what to say next. she supposed it was her turn to ask him a question; she was usually not so inelegant in conversation. "and you? did you have any stimulating conversations today?"
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒. closed to isla sinclair @ofgildedhearts 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. the gardens of astor manor 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 & 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. february 1887, garden party
one could feel the sigh of relief that swept through the city streets when invitations of astor gold appeared at the doorsteps of the city's finest. its arrival signaled that the social season would go on — as they all knew that it would — george dupont's demise and the drear and drama that came with it notwithstanding. in truth, agnes was better suited to social events that transpired under the cloak of night. the dresses were finer, and flutes were filled with champagne instead of lemonade.
while they had not been seated at the same table, agnes now strolled with her future in-law, surveying the crowd assembled before them. she held a glass in her hand, partly filled with lemonade, but upon acceptance she'd undone a flask and poured some gin. thus far, if anything endeared her to the arundels, it was their exorbitantly priced liquor cabinet. there was also alastair's cousin, of whom she was fond in part because of her birth superior to her kin. "the astors' charade of our fine london society is almost endearing. i hope for your sake you are a fine croquet player. i, for one, have never had an affinity for games with balls."
closed starter for : Alastair & Agnes @opulcnccs location: Arundel rented living quarters
alastair had been with Montgomery after the memorial of Mr. Dupont and considering his family had taken a carriage back home without him he returned just now when night had fallen. with heavy steps the day behind him had been long and filled with both sorrow, reuniting with old friends, and dread from the high society of New York. As he took his coat off and headed into the living room, he found his fiance with a book in hand, looking out through one of the windows.
Unbuttoning his shirt sleeves he looked at her for a while, wondering if he should say something or retreat into his study - only to emerge when it was time to sleep. he decided on the first. "have dinner been served yet?" such a trivial question, yet he didn't know what else to ask. His engagement to Agnes Seymour was nothing but a formality, an agreement reached between him for knowing he should get married and her father - he didn't actually know. "if not perhaps we can ask the cook to have it ready within the hour?" he asked his eyes still on agnes.
what a sordid affair. while she championed a good bluff at the poker table, she was entirely clueless as to how she might feign sorrow for a man with whom she was unacquainted. though there were more unfamiliar faces in attendance than otherwise, the presence of those with whom she was acquainted signaled to her that george dupont had been an important and influential man. her favorite type of man, if one such existed.
and yet she didn't hesitate to follow when the arundel women made their goodbyes and tucked away into their carriage. noticeably absent was her betrothed, but she didn't mind. after dinner agnes settled into a large chair in the living room with the novel she'd picked up, inspired by her american adventure: nathaniel hawthorne's the scarlet letter. she nursed a glass of whiskey as she flipped through its pages, her mind blissfully lost until she was distracted by the sound of a carriage arriving. she watched as her fiancé exited; she assumed that any other woman's heart would be fluttering at the sight, she found hers utterly unmoved.
she could've laughed at his question, it was so... domestic. "we finished dinner an hour ago," she replied almost coldly, her eyes finally tearing away from the window. "but i had the cook keep a plate warm for when you returned." rising from her seat, her own glass of whiskey in hand, she made her way over to the bell pull that signaled downstairs. "care for a drink in the meantime?"
♙ ⸻ · 。… [ natalie dormer + 35 + cis female + she/her ] the city of new york welcomes agnes seymour to the social season of 1887, the fiancée of alistair arundel. known to be sophisticated and shrewd, their rumored self-important and temporal tendencies might prove to be their unmaking. the street musicians often string along a tune that sounds like red wine supernova by chappell roan whenever they are near, hoping for a coin or two as a reward. unbeknown to their peers, agnes views the social season as something akin to circe's eternal exile but when holding a secret such as having been caught in a scandalous affair with another aristocratic lady, resulting in her hasty engagement to a lesser noble and banishment to america , it would be best to keep their opinions to themselves. ⸻ [ xan + 24 + est + n/a ]

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Sappho, tr. by Anne Carson, from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho
Natalie Dormer as Mrs. Hester Appleyard in Picnic at Hanging Rock (2018)
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