#ch: benoit

At Lady Adeline’s words, she let her jaw drop open, though the sound that came out did not seem horrified as perhaps it should have. Mina did not feel horrified as perhaps she should have. She glanced to the door, but it was closed, still. The girls who had been fitting them were all on the other side of the door, making some rush adjustment to Lady Adeline’s dress, which simply had to be finished within the hour. No one would be coming, and they were very much alone.

“You want to,” the Lady herself continued, interrupting Mina’s thoughts. Or, perhaps she was continuing them. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me. And I’ve certainly noticed you.” She punctuated the words with a dramatic sweep of Mina’s body, wearing only her corset and petticoats as her own dress was being altered after a sudden change in the theme of the Orslette Ball.

Mina sputtered a moment, looking for the right words. She didn’t much want to lie, after all, so she couldn’t deny that she’d wanted to. But saying so felt like telling too much, too fast. It didn’t allow her to hold any of her cards. “I’m hard not to notice,” she answered, avoiding any conversation of what she wanted for the moment. “I’m the only one they introduce as Miss. Every Lady’s mother is furious at the dances I get from all the unmarried gentlemen.”

“You have no interest in gentlemen,” Lady Adeline said, taking a step closer. Mina refused to step back, staring the stunningly beautiful lady eye-to-eye. “Do you?”

“None that I’ve met,” Mina answered truthfully.

Adeline took another step closer. “And the ladies?” she asked. That was more tactful than her original approach, Mina noted. 

“One or two has caught my eye.”

Adeline did not step closer at that, so Mina did. “Or two?”

“Or perhaps just one.” By then, they were scant inches apart. It was hardly any movement at all, and then their lips brushed against one another’s.

Benoit/Clarence

“Quite,” Bennie answered, almost unthinkingly. Not almost. Entirely unthinkingly. Normally, Benoit Mercer was a thoughtful man, but he’d long since learned not to waste his faculties giving much thought to what Clarence said. It was rarely of import. He liked the man, sure, but he still had not changed his opionion that Clarence was no intellectual. Rather, he’d decided it didn’t matter that Clarence was no intellectual, because he had other, better qualities that did matter.

In this instance, however, it occured to him that perhaps he should have listened to the question before answering, given Clarence’s reaction. “Well,” he said in that staged, declarative sort of way he had of speaking. “Are you going to, or aren’t you?”

“Am I going to what?”

“Kiss me. I can start it, if you’d prefer.” He’d stoped walking, and turned to face Bennie squarely. Bennie turned too, but he doubted he looked as firm as Clarence did. First of all, he had a significantly smaller, slighter frame. Second, and most important of all, he was utterly stupified by the words, and had no doubt that it showed on his face. 

“I beg your pardon?” He didn’t mean to sound offended or displeased with the idea, and if he did, Clarence didn’t seem to notice or mind. Belatedly, what he’d agreed to occured to him. We’re alone now; you could kiss me. Quite, indeed. To Bennie’s mild shock, the idea did not offend or displease him. He’d already learned, with his perhaps-not-so-hateful wife, that he did not mind kissing, but the idea of kissing a man was novel and generally viewed with offense. He’d never known one before, but there had been talk of boys who liked other boys at school. They were always looked down on as freaks. 

It was to her surprise, then, to find the woman in question still awake, writing in the notebook the Wise Woman had given her by the dying light of the fireplace. Lily had taught her before to replenish the fire with her own power so as not to waste firewood, but the pile had diminished nonetheless. Perhaps burning it by hand reminded her of home--Lily would have no way to tell. “You’re still up,” she said as she walked in.

Immediately, Sandra sat upright, closing the book and looking up at Lily with a peculiar look on her face. A sort of smile, warm and sunny. As if Lily’s return was the most miraculous occurance, even though she’d left all her things here with a promise to return soon, and Nonnin to fetch her if something happened. The bird called loudly from his corner. She stayed up all night waiting for you he grumbled, displeased by everything, as always.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, as though the bird had spoken aloud.

He hadn’t, but Sandra understood nonetheless. She always understood. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

The words tugged at Lily, making her want something she could not name. “Oh,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I took so long, then.”

“It’s fine,” Sandra answered too quickly, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant...”

“I understand,” Lily filled in for her, entering the room fully and sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’ll just wash up and we can settle down for the night.”

“I’d like that,” Sandra answered, though she didn’t need to. “I’d like that a lot.”

Benoit/Clarence

It was unlike Bennie not to sleep through the night, truth be told. He was, in sleep habits as in all things, immensely practical. Sleeping through the night allowed him to be awake early, and thus to complete his tasks. Of course, he stayed up late enough for the kinds of politics required of a man of his stations which did not take place in the House of Lords, but he rarely went out cavorting, and when he arrived home, he went promptly to sleep so he could be up early the next morning. Or early by nobility’s standards. Still, some nights even he woke with a start, surprised but not upset with himself. Normally, in such a case, he went to his library for a night cap and to retrieve a book, and then returned to bed.

That was his plan, when the light from one of the many other bedrooms in the manor caught his eye. Westin had planned to stay the night--what was he doing up. Bennie grabbed a robe and padded into his room, curiosity winning out over his natural desire to leave others to their own business.

“Westin?” he called out, peering into the room to find the other man pacing about. “Westin, what the devil are you doing awake so late?”

“I just don’t understand it, Benoit,” he answered, as if they had been talking for hours. They had not, and Bennie certainly did not recall asking him to call him by his Christian name. “Not one bit.”

“Understand what?” he asked with a sigh, entering the room and closing the door. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, wondering what he was missing that was keeping another man up.

“Any of it. Just any of it.”

Benoit let out another sigh, adjusting his robe. “Would you like some brandy?” he asked, shoring up as much patience as he could.

“A drink! Capital idea!” Westin’s countenance brightened significanty at the word, and Bennie couldn’t help but quirk up one side of his lip. The man was certainly...prone to high emotions, wasn’t he?

She had loved her. Past tense. But she remembered that feeling, the warm comfortable weight of her presence. It was better than any luxury offered in any lordship she’d visited. She glanced at Sandra, training on the far side of the meadow, and it settled down on her shoulders like a blanket. The way light shone off her hair pulled at Lilliel, a strange wanting to touch it. To feel how soft it probably was.

She loved Sandra. She couldn’t imagine how it had snuck up on her, but she did. “I love you,” she whispered, testing the sound out.

“Huh?” Sandra asked, turning around. It was impossible for her to have heard the specific words, but the reaction was enough to leave Lily a blushing mess.

She took a moment to gather herself before she dared attempt to answer her. “You look…good. With your power. You’ve grown so much.”

More than any compliment on her appearance, Lily knew Sandra would take such a compliment to heart. She still shrunk when receiving them, but the smile on her face was so satisfying. Lily was in deep. “Thanks.”

Bennie/Adeline

It was not something he’d particularly wanted. Falling in love with one’s wife was gauche at best. The Mercer line had lost some of their shine, yes, but Benoit’s whole goal was to bring them back to their former glory, not taint their good name with something as crass as romance. Really, he ought to be ashamed of himself. Adeline would certainly find it pathetic. Adeline, with her acerbic tongue and her wit and her absolute impatience for everything he believed in. It was a wonder, truly, that they managed to speak. Let alone fall in love.

Or he’d fallen in love. Perhaps that was the worst part of it. He had had little interest in bedsport, with or before her, and unfortunately for him, she seemed to feel more or less the same. Well, not the same. She had much more interest in bedsport–it seemed that her disinterest was with him. She willingly tolerated him only as a means to her end. It should have cheapened their intimacies, but their mutual distaste for one another fueled it in a way Bennie had assumed only existed in tawdry writings.

Except that now he’d gone and ruined it. After all, how could he maintain his hatred of her, which was the basis of their only passion, if he did not, in truth, hate her? It was not that he required relations to want her–to the contrary, he probably would have preferred to leave relations to the side beyond his duty to his line–but she was so fond of them. She enjoyed them, and he enjoyed bringing her satisfaction, both in the bed and in the only seemingly fulfilling part of their relationship.

It was a disappointment, plain and simple, and he would have to get over it. After all, a measly thing such as love should not stand a chance against logic and reason and duty. He would simply overcome the feeling so that he could resume his tenuous relationship to his wife, his slowly budding friendship to Clarence, and his confusion over what exactly Lady Westin was to his Adeline. 

…

Even his relations with his wife were improved. Her personality, like most others’, was tamed by the chill, brought from the hellish manner she usual held to a more relaxed one which he could actually manage. God help him, they’d even had a pleasant conversation the night before. They’d exchanged playful barbs, as opposed to the usual malicious ones.

He turned to check in on her, since Wil had been walking rather slowly, only to feel a sharp, cold, wet impact on his chest. He glanced down at the projectile before meeting his wife’s stare. It wasn’t the usual spiteful one he was used to. It was a smile. A grin, even. And although Bennie had always been a serious person, he had been a child once, and he knew there was only one way to respond to such an act.

He scooped up some snow himself, balling it and throwing it before she was ready for him.

✉for my muses reaction to finding a cute love note from your muse. (bonus points: tell me what the note says)

Wilhelmina sighed, glancing out the window. The land had nearly frozen over, and Adeline was nowhere to be found. Probably off with her husband, leaving Mina to fend for herself. Even Lord Westin had left her, something Mina had not realized was even possible, with the way he doted around her. In some way, his leaving actually hurt worse, for Adeline had always been her own person, whereas Westin, she expected to wait on her.

Stepping away from the window, she went to pick up her stitching. Mother had told her that she needed to practice more. It was what the nobility did, she said. It was not as though she had anything else to do. But when she lifted the basket, a small piece of paper fell out. Naturally, she had to pick it up and examine it.

My dearest, darling Wilhelmina,

I think often, this winter, of Hades and Persephone. When she went to the Underworld, to be with him, we are left with cold, but she is warm with her loved one. So it is with us. We are forced out of Town by the cold, but our warmth can keep us warm, together, for these months.

Let us spend these months as those ancient stories intended: together. I am finishing my work on the estate early. Please, come join me for a walk on this frosty day, and then warm with me in the kitchens? I will wait for you by the stables.

In love always,

Clarence

By the time she finished reading, she’d unconsciously made her way to her closet, where her warmest winter dress sat, waiting, inviting her to slide it on. Her heart beat fast, a smile on her lips.

the emoticon they’d use most often

😊

what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Quiet, but mostly the same. She’s used to running on no sleep

their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Warmed milk with a little honey in it. Though she finds hot chocolate very exciting too!

how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

In the Shadowmists, she goes into a clearing and lets loose her power. Once it’s out of her system, she usually feels better. If she can’t do that, she likes to paint.

what they wanted to be when they grew up

Um, part of the High Court? It’s the only job she knew existed. Maybe mage for a kingdom but she can’t imagine taking sides between Western and Eastern Kingdoms.

their favorite kind of weather

Foggy and pleasantly cool. Like the Shadowmists!

thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

She’s a mezzo-soprano. Her voice is nice but not incredible. 

how/what they like to draw or doodle

Swirls, squiggly lines, and abstract shapes that may or may not be runes accidentally

Wilhelmina

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

“Me and Mrs. Jones” by Billy Paul“I Will” by MoZella“Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon“I Really Like You” by Carly Rae Jepsen

the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

When she’s working on her sewing. It’s so boring.

the game they’d destroy everyone else at

Gin Rummy. She’s got great luck with it.

the emoticon they’d use most often

😘 probably

what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Whiny and impatient.

their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Tea! A proper English cup of tea is good for the soul

how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

She takes a long bath and combs her hair. Mina loves some old fashioned self-care. She also puts on perfume. Se thinks smelling nice is the best way to care for herself.

what they wanted to be when they grew up

If she could have a job? She would’ve liked to be a flowershop owner or something quiet and quaint like that, you know.

their favorite kind of weather

Breezy, with some cloud cover. Not too hot and not too cold.

thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

She has a soprano voice. It’s very good, actually. She has to compensate for not being titled by being very accomplished.

how/what they like to draw or doodle

Flowers or fruits. She’s done so many still-life paintings in her life, she can’t help it.

Benoit

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

“Merry-Go-Round of Life” from Howl’s Moving Castle“Good Grief” by Bastille“Blackbird” by the Beatles“Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd

the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

At dinner. He eats and gets tired and just poops out.

the game they’d destroy everyone else at

Something lame like Pong or something?

the emoticon they’d use most often

😑

what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Short-tempered and even less social than normal.

their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Coffee in the morning. Tea at night. He takes his coffee with a splash of cream and a half a spoon of sugar, and his tea black.

how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

He throws himself into his work--managing his estate or whatever other business thing he needs to do

what they wanted to be when they grew up

A captain in the army. He nearly enlisted but decided not to because his family needed him to put their reputation back together more.

their favorite kind of weather

Cold and dry. Like a crisp winter day

thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

He’s a tenor with an okay voice. Not particularly good but not entirely unpleasant either.

how/what they like to draw or doodle