#missvane

He didn’t go to parks very often but every now and again the allure of nature would pull him in. It was dreadfully hot but the trees all offered their shade so he could not complain. He was smoking a cigarette, incredibly bored while a Mr. Mcnutt spoke to him about the poetry he wrote (he had noticed Ernest’s book, a collection of sonnets) but Ernest really could not have cared less. He scarcely hid it, either. 

He took another long drag while the gent began explaining his philosophy and just then, he caught sight of a familiar face. 

“Miss Vane!” He called out, interrupting the poor man. “Excuse me Mister . . .” Ernest shook his head, he couldn’t say his name with a straight face. He walked over to her with a grin. “We keep running into each other, do you see? I can talk again.” No longer numb tongued and ditzy the way he’d been the last time they were in one another’s company, though that had been one of the better parts of the night as evidenced by the bruise on his cheek. 

"Why put in the effort when you could just buy it? High cost, low reward." Alexandre pointed out, sighing as he leaned back against a bookcase and Jacques continued to peruse the shelves.

"You sold your soul for artistic skill." Jacques muttered back, although he didn't have the decency to use English to do it. Or, if you asked Jacques, he was the one showing decency  because fewer people would understand when Jacques said something insulting. As he frequently did.

"Tell me, did you buy it?" Alexandre muttered, opening his mouth to make another comment before stopping. There, at the end of the shelf, was a young woman and Alexandre promptly nudged his brother. "Why don't we get an outsider opinion?"

"What?" Looking away from the books, Jacques furrowed his brow. "Why?"

It was too late, Alexandre was moving down the row to the young woman. "Excuse me, my lady, would you be kind enough to solve a disagreement between my brother and I?" He asked politely, charming smile in place while Jacques rolled his eyes. // @missvane​

While he would rather not have to go through a boat ride to experience it, feeling the water of the north sea lapping against him was something that made William think that perhaps traveling to Margate wasn't entirely that bad. Maybe, in a more controlled environment, not even traveling by ship would be too unbearable.

(Not that William was ever going to admit to Effingham that traveling about his ship was at least a more organized experience. No reason to give the man that leverage, his ego didn't require it.)

The waves shifted in and out and a bird cried out overhead, the experience something that tempted a smile to William's face and he allowed it, trusting that no one would see. It was only a slight deepening at the corners of his mouth, no one would detect it anyway.

Or so he thought, expect a figure from the corner of his eye seemed to be growing closer and William smoothed his face as he turned. "Miss Vane." A surprise, but a pleasant one.

"Am I to receive a warning about your swimming habits now?" He teased, recalling her frank attitude during their first encounter. // @missvane​

Something about the atmosphere of the girls' bunks had lent itself to sharing secrets in the dark, where one could be less easily identified, and therefore speak far more freely. Whispered confessions had been tossed out into the darkness for several long minutes now, ranging from silly things to true confessionals. Kate was barely paying attention, in truth; she'd had a bit too much to drink at dinner, and a bit too little food, and was feeling the rocking of the moored ship as thoroughly as if she was still out to sea.

She was rather sure it had been Miss Vane who had been the one to ask if she was alright, but it could have been anyone, really, and it was that thought –– a nameless, faceless, beautiful woman in the dark, listening to her confessional like a Catholic Saint –– that truly loosened her tongue.

Ernest was dreadfully bored, as he often was at functions such as this. It was a decent gathering, sure, but he just couldn’t stand the restraint of it all. He was itching for a scene as he knocked back his third glass of wine and then reached for another, scanning the room for something interesting to focus on. 

He found it. She was dressed so differently from when they met that Ernest didn’t recognize her at first but the moment he did, he was thrilled. That familiar giddiness of something interesting about to happen came over him and he was doing all he could not to bounce on his heels just at the sight. He took several long gulps of wine before waltzing over. 

“You!” He said, when he was just barely in earshot. “You lied to me, whatever for?” He made no attempt to keep his voice down but fortunately the music was loud and this outburst only caused a few turned heads. But turn they did, following the path of his gaze to Ophelia and then back again to him. Strong as such an accusation was his voice carried no malice, on the contrary, both his tone and expression suggested nothing other than amusement.

Also asked by @earlharcourt here!

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic (in a teasing, still friendly way)  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  / pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other (confidantes, what’s another potentially ruinous secret?).

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited on my muses side  /  unrequited on your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .