Splinter the Stars

Introducing MISS SALIHA  AǦA , gossips whisper behind their hands that the DAUGHTER OF THE OTTOMAN AMBASSADOR can be CURIOUS, RESTLESS & SINCERE. But others speak more openly about how SHE brings to mind hands that struggle to be still unless captured by something - a book, a glass or even held in dance; dark eyes drifting towards windows, mind always drawn to what lies beyond rather than before her; the ability to speak countless foreign languages flawlessly yet still managing to trip over her words; & a well worn stack of maps that spend their time sprawled over the closest surfaces. 

where: argyll ball who: miss saliha ağa​ 

The first night of the season was an important one to be sure, but Thomas had only spoken to a quarter of who he intended to, and was already exhausted.  He forgot just how much energy was expended in niceties, politics and the ever so difficult to balance talk of business without seeming pushy.  The last was the skill he was having to employ the most that very evening, and despite it being one he had honed over years and years, the importance of it now was what made using it so very tiring.  

But still, he persevered, and as he saw a circle of ball-goers chatting, with one person in particular who was on his so-called list, he rallied, and made his way over.  So honed in on the former patron of his father’s that he had given himself a tunnel vision of sorts, no attention paid to the others in the smattering of people, until he was upon then and greeting all politely, his voice faltering as his eyes came to rest on one face in particular.  

“Miss Ağa,” he greeted with a curt nod, taken aback by her presence, but trying his utmost not to show it.  With a few close friends of his family in the group, he was sure many knew of exactly their relationship, or rather, now lack thereof, and he just hoped enough champagne hadn’t been doled out that someone would think it a good idea to comment on it.

But it seemed the Campbell champagne budget was much like their budget for floral design, excessive and large, as someone did just that.  Thomas didn’t quite hear it, but it was something along the lines of ‘you two were attached back in the day, were you not?  surely the need for formality has gone?’

With promise to speak to his intended target later, Thomas quickly but politely excused himself, heading for the balcony and a hopefully sobering breath of fresh air.  

~

Dancing was not just what she enjoyed at balls but rather a method of tolerating and surviving them. The longer she was on the floor flitting between partners the less she had to hold conversations that she had no interest in. Of course she had to interact with her partners but she had always been far more at ease with her attention solely on one person. It was not as though she lacked an interest in people, after all, when her natural curiosity meant that it was all too easy for her to get lost in conversation and ask question after question. But in the groups that tended to gather she found the subjects much more superficial and far less diverting.

Against her better judgement, she had found herself the promise of continuing a discussion about her partner’s travels acting as the lure to reel her in. Given how his tales had managed to fascinate her she had been lulled into thinking that perhaps it would lively enough that she might not regret it. They had even gone as far as to make her laugh, dulling the sting that had felt as the man she had once cared for joined their group and greeted her curtly. Perhaps no less than she deserved but there had been a time when she could expect nothing but warmth when his eyes landed on her. She had yet to get used to the coolness and distance that she felt they now held.

The presence of others lessened the chill when she could simply nod in acknowledgement and turn back to the person next to her to continue their exchange. But it seemed that just as she had come to privately acknowledge the merits of group discussion she was swiftly reminded of why she disliked them as someone’s attempt at a joke made her bristle. The reminder of one of her least favourite memories causes her mood to sour, words growing sharp with tartness as she cannot help but bit back. “It seems as though you have decided it should be so through your lack of tact.” 

With her pretence at politeness broken with her words she turns without an excuse, barely registering that she was not the only one who had chosen to leave the group. It hardly mattered where Thomas was or why he had left, she was not about to look for him. All she knew was that the room was feeling stuffy and small, the crowded room making her long for fresh air. Swift steps were taken towards the nearest balcony, a deep breath taken as soon as she reached the fresher air. It takes her a moment to realise that she is not alone, surprise causing her to speak without thinking. “Thom-” 

His name dies on her lips as she catches herself, a harsh reminder of how much their relationship has changed when she no longer enjoyed the luxury of forgoing formality with him. Throat was cleared as she corrects herself, if only to ensure that she does not forget herself so easily again. “Sir Thomas. Forgive me, I did not mean to be so informal.”  A rare apology leaves her lips, though it is perhaps not the one that he truly deserves to hear. It lingers in the air between them before she decides that she can bear its hovering no longer and speaks again. “I just need a moment and then I shall leave you to your peace.” 

setting: the argyll ball muses: james & open

he had already greeted his hosts, and now was doing a lap around the ballroom, taking in everything and everyone, trying to find a sibling or a friend amongst the groups of people. eventually lord suffolk ended up at a table serving refreshments, and picked up a glass of lemonade. “would you like one?” he asked the person next to him.

~

It was rare she took a break from dancing at a ball when it was the one form of acceptable behaviour she actually enjoyed. In those moments that she did it tended to be out of necessity above all, the need to allow some more air to fill her lungs or find a drink to quench her thirst. As if on cue a glass was offered her way, a blink of surprise given until she gathered herself enough to accept it with the smile she knew was expected from her. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” The daintiness that she was supposed to aim for was forgotten as she took a deep drink, only to reluctantly force herself to continue their exchange. “Is it your timing, your manners or your skills of observation that I must commend?”

With her determination over the years to keep any ties to England as few and far between as possible her social circle could look a little sparse at times. She had long since convinced herself that it was what she preferred and even on the days that she wished she had allowed a few more people into her life, she simply reassured herself that it was for the best. But there were still a few that she could count herself close to and perhaps none understood her quite so well as Nikolai. As the son of an Ambassador he had endured a similar upheaval to her, allowing them invaluable insight into each other, vastly preferable to her when it meant that she didn’t have to waste any time pleading with him to understand her and her ways. Instead it offered a rare and valuable simplicity, the pair of them gravitating towards each other at such events through their shared sense of comradery. Their mutual fondness for dancing also helped. It was easy to pass the night on the dancefloor with him, though she was careful to abide by the rules of the society they found themselves in, as ridiculous as she found them. “The whole Ton will be scandalised if we dance again, a drink instead?”  

Linking her arm through his steps altered to steer them toward refreshments but as they moved she tucked herself closer against his side so dry words could be whispered. “I doubt our fathers would enjoy having to quell the rumours as might as we enjoy fuelling them.” 

Having been bound by duty or honour or some such moral thing to grace such gatherings with her presence for years, she was all too aware of their rules and the requirements that she was supposed to meet. One would think that that might encourage her to abide by them but instead it simply gave her the insight into how to bend them without causing too much of a stir. Whilst she very much disliked being told what to do or having expectations of herself, her loyalty was still to her father and her country. So a balance was always struck, finding a way to dance around what would be considered inappropriate ( most of it needlessly or foolishly so in her opinion ) without ever doing enough to be known as a woman of disrepute. After spending the majority of her evening dancing she had grown bored of the partners available to her when it felt as though she had danced with the vast majority of them endless times before. A new diversion was sought and her attention turned to the card room, an uncommon choice but hardly scandal-worthy.

She had scarcely claimed her own seat when her gaze landed on someone she hoped she might rope into her little game. Smile danced over her lips, flickering with a mischief she tried to down play as her brow rose to pose a question at the familiar blonde. “Shall I deal you in?”