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averageallogene · 1 year

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hi! ive been thinking abt this for a while but could you do lyney x mermaid! reader 🩷

Lyney ♡⊹˚ Solace [SFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; fluffy fluff with a side of hurt/comfort, just because Lyney deserves the love :( ♡ ; reader is a mermaid! cw for diving (in case of any phobias!) ; Also mild spoilers of Act I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest.

3k words.

notes. Hi dear anon! ♡ Your wish is my command. Lyney with a mermaid reader is such a sweet idea, my fingers just began flying across the keyboard <3. I went with a fem. reader this time, I hope that's okay! If not, don't be shy to request a gn! version and I'll see what I can do. I hope you enjoy! ✧˖°.

The crowd cheered wildly, a standing ovation following as the pair extended their arms. Embracing the whistles and the praise was a reward the magicians were more than welcoming towards, even if reacting in different ways. A deep bow followed suit, the clapping growing louder, the cheering continuing for long minutes straight. The wooden floor boards beneath them even trembled, the mere satisfaction of their audience being utterly felt by the two even as they finally were released from the spotlight as the curtain slowly descended.

Lyney and Lynette had remained there, hands held together, him smiling and her remaining elegantly still up until they were no longer faced with their crowd. It was only after the maroon fabric concealed them that they could finally relax their muscles, their hands lowering before letting their breath go freely. Another show was successful, much to their pleasure.

"Good work, dear Lynette." He'd congratulated his brilliant sister, smiling with pride whilst attempting to conceal the way he was tired. It was unsuccessful, yet his sister didn't comment on it.

"You as well." She quietly hummed, the two exiting the stage before equally congratulating their team for their efforts. It was only as they were assured they were alone, that she spoke again. "Did you find anything?"

Lyney took his intricate hat off, gently placing it on top of his vanity. He focused to no point in particular, his gaze getting lost on the most minor of details as he sighed quietly.

"No, I didn't. I couldn't… Go far." Beneath his breath he admitted, his fingertips tracing the edge of his top hat as he could watch from the corner of his eye his sister, who remained still. "I think it's too early for us to go back on the hunt so boldly, no?"

"You might be right," Lynette's brows visibly furrowed. "Yet still, we can't fail Father either."

Silence. Lyney -could feel the knot on his throat tighten. Suddenly, his dressing room felt suffocating.

"I know." Was all he mustered. Nothing more was needed, anyway. Lynette knew she was touching a sore topic, and as such she herself stopped from speaking further about it.

It simply was still too fresh. Lyney feared he'd get himself, or worse his sister, in any trouble were he to attempt to further investigate the Oratrice right now… surely Father would understand. Right?

His head weighed heavy, spinning uncontrollably with everything that swarmed his mind for those past couple of days. He barely managed to account for everything being in its right place before he was already out the door and towards the Opera's exit, his sister inquiring hastily.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I just need some fresh air." He offered her a tired, albeit still honest smile.

"Ah, I see." She was quick to understand, nodding her head. "Just be back in time to spend some time with Freminet. We promised."

"Do not worry dear Lynette, my little brain shan't fail me." He waved her off with a hum, his feet quickly sending him flying off the tall and imposing building.

The bustling sounds of the crowd slowly dissipated, the blurry conversations blown with the wind as Lyney felt the breeze caress his face. His black boots carried him off to one of the shore lines of the sea, his expression finally letting go of all the tension he hadn't realized he had up until then.

There were no roaring cheers, no suffocating applause, no rush between his colleagues to rearrange and secure props. There were no Archons to amuse, no Fathers to make proud. There was no need for a charming magician, nor the need of loyalty of one of the House of Hearth.

"Lyney! You made it!"

There was only need for him to be Lyney, himself. And at that moment he smiled vividly, rivaling the very sun with how bright he shined. His pace became slightly quicker, crossing through the pearly sands as he reached one of the taller rocks near the shore.

There stood one of the very few people he knew he could be truly himself with. One that cared for him as he was, one that had no ulterior motives for wanting to love him. An enchanting figure to his life, a breath of fresh air that helped him calm from all his worries.

"Of course I made it, I'd never promise something I didn't intend on upholding my dear!" He laughed quietly, carelessly entering the refreshing waters until they were up to halfway his thighs. He opened his arms with twice the energy and yearning he’d usually display, enveloping his love in his warm embrace as she giggled blissfully. “Have you been waiting for too long? You’ve dried up already…”

“No, don’t worry.” She reassured him, shaking her head before holding both his hands. “It wasn’t long, I promise.”

“Is that the case…” His eyes squinted, a hint of playfulness evident in his features as he reached closer. His pretty eyes scanned her figure, noting how only her tail that was still submerged in the freshwater was obviously wet. Even her lovely hair had, at that point, half dried. If those weren’t the dead giveaways as they were, the way her tail had begun to slowly sway from one side to the other whilst creating the smallest of ripples on the water definitely was. “This keen eye tells me otherwise, mon coeur.”

Her face finally cracked, morphing into the prettiest of pouts that did wonders at pulling at his heartstrings. “I… I just- I just missed you a lot, so I might’ve come up ashore a little earlier than usual…”

Ah, Lyney’s very eyes seemed to reflect hearts as his very own melted. “Oh, my dear [F/N]... I’m sorry, had I known I would’ve rushed quicker!”

“N-No! No no no, absolutely not, there is no need!” The mermaid squeezed his hands tighter, all the while her magician remained there, leaning against the same rock where she sat, a loopy smile never leaving his lovestruck face as she spoke. “You have a lot to do, a lot of responsibilities, I don’t want to impose anything upon your schedule, Lyney!”

Well, there was the smallest part of him that… Perhaps hoped that she would. True, Lyney had a lot of responsibilities to his being, and he knew better than to avoid them; but it was those small escapades he’d do with his lovely [F/N] that refreshed his existence, recharged his batteries to take on everything else he needed to do. She was his solace, his comfort, and there was about nothing he’d deny her were she to ask.

Yet all the same, the fact she didn’t ask of anything more of him than his true self to be with her when he could, was one of the many reasons he loved her so dearly.

“Ah, I remembered,” Her back straightened up, the prettiest pink rising to her cheeks as she eyed him ahead with a cheery smile. “I-I had… Something I wanted to give you but, I didn’t know where to hide it until you came and…”

“You got something for me?” He seemed genuinely surprised, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he remained fully focused on her figure.

[F/N] in turn nodded her head. “It’s nothing special really, but still… I was hoping I could give it to you.”

“Oh now I am most curious,” Lyney breathed out with a wide smile, his hand quickly finding her face before stroking her cheek. “I’m certain I will absolutely adore it, love. Anything you give me is worth the world.”

The mermaid could feel her heart beating louder at his honeyed words. [F/N] knew that he meant it, too. And so, even as she herself wasn’t fully convinced, she kindly asked him to wait for her, before diving right down the fresh waters. Lyney watched as her tail swayed quickly, the figure slithering into the translucent waters before vanishing. He remained there as asked, the smile ever present on his face as he waited.

It was quiet… It felt nice. His head was mostly rested, emptied of all that troubled him. All he could focus was on the soft sounds of the water, ripples as the small waves reached his skin, up until they were stirred as his [F/N] reemerged to the surface. Her pretty hair now clung to her figure, a few strands hiding her glistening eyes as the color on her face rivaled the blooming roses he too adored. She swam his way, his endearing smile beckoning her as he sat himself comfortably to properly welcome her back. With his legs slightly parted she rested against him, her long shimmering tail hanging close to his legs as she doted on his very presence.

“I… It really isn’t anything special, honestly.” [F/N] spoke softly, all the while Lyney listened attentively with an encouraging smile. “It truly pales in comparison to the gifts you’ve given me but still. I hope you’ll like it, Lyney…”

She shifted, her arms bringing to the surface the subject of the conversation. The magician gently held his hands out, the wondrous gleam of a child present upon his face as he waited in anticipation for the kind gesture of his lovely girlfriend. Carefully his hands were blessed with a small object, a delicate conch with the most simplest yet beautiful shapes. It was a cleaned clam conch, its exterior seemingly mundane as it sported its most common shade - this much he knew, from the few times he’d witnessed Freminet freely talk about every little trinket he’d find during his divings. Still, the smile he gave [F/N] didn’t fade, in fact it seemed to only grow, his mind only swarming with how she’d picked that conch specifically for him. It had been something she’d gone out of her way of giving him, and no matter how simple it might’ve been, the gesture made his heart burst in happiness.

In turn, his mermaid remained silent, a shy smile on her damp face as she calmly turned the item around. It was finally time to study Lyney’s face, her heart hoping for any sight of wonder. And truly, Lyney’s expression didn’t fail to amuse, his pretty lips parting as he let out a soft ‘oh’ - the inside of the clam wowing him with its exquisite colors and shades. Its interior gleamed, the hues of violet and pink dancing in a beautiful array of color. It seemed to glitter when wet with the crystalline waters, in its small surface hiding away the sparkle that could truly outshine a starry sky.

“My, [F/N]... It’s beautiful.” Lyney had breathed out, the corners of his mouth lifting in the most genuine of smiles he’d bless her with. His eyes glanced to her own, the smallest pink dust now on his cheeks as he held it close to his heart, his sweetheart in turn smiling as well with his honest reaction.

“I’m glad!” She sighed softly, her arms resting on his lap as her shoulders tensed slightly. “In truth, I got you this conch because its interior… It reminds me of your beautiful eyes.”

The smile he previously had slowly faded, though it wasn’t due to anything more than the sheer surprise her statement brought him. The magician blinked twice as he took her words in, his hand reopening to examine the gift once more. That same wondrous shade of violet the conch had… Had it reminded her of his eyes? Did his [F/N], perhaps, see his eyes in such a light?

“They’re a similar shade, though I still think your eyes are far prettier…” [F/N] confessed, her voice nearly drowning amongst the waters as she whispered in such a soft tone. By that point she rested her head on his lap, the love in which she gazed upon him with being enough to rival an entire ocean. “Everytime I swim through the waters, I find myself fixating on the prettiest little things. They always seem to remind me of you… Whether it be due to the similar color of your eyes, or how they remind me of the stories you’ve told me- L-Lyney?”

He hadn’t even realized how the tears had begun to overflow, streaming down his round cheeks as he attempted to compose himself. He simply couldn’t however, an embarrassed and short chuckle escaping from his throat as he attempted to clear the droplets of water away. His smile was trembling, the blush on his face worsening as his eyes grew a little red. Why was he even crying? It certainly wasn’t what he wished for, worrying his sweetheart in such a way… One thing he was certain of though, it wasn’t due to sadness. He felt his heart bursting instead, overjoyed despite the delicate state in which his emotions were. It was as though everything had overwhelmed him, the way in which [F/N]’s words patched a hole in his heart and soothed him, sending him over the edge as he tried to fight back against the knot that was forming on his throat.

“Ah, I’m sorry, darling. I-I’m okay, I ap-pologize for crying in such a sudden way, I-I didn’t want you worry you-”

“It’s okay, look at me…” [F/N] hushed him softly, bringing herself a little more out of her water before coaxing him to pry his hands away from his face. Lyney could only oblige to her, feeling as her damp hands gently caressed his hot skin, cooling his cheeks as her thumbs cleaned the tears away. Her eyebrows were furrowed in honest concern for him, gazing deeply into the same violet eyes she had declared to adore so deeply. “...You’ve been feeling overwhelmed, haven’t you my love?”

It had been her turn to read him like an open book, the weak and semi-forced smile he’d mustered being enough of an answer for her. He was by that point attempting to hold back the sobs from escaping, though it was as though Lyney himself wasn’t even sure how he’d suddenly unraveled in such an indecent way. He was happy at that moment, he was sure of it, yet it had been as though [F/N]’s pour of pure love for him had opened the lock that kept everything else away, as well.

In truth, he hadn’t felt so… Loved, for a long while.

He knew he was loved and cared for, yet still. Those past few weeks had been rough. And the mere way his dear [F/N], an innocent person who had little to no idea of all of his uglier sides, could so deeply love him to the point where the most simplest and beautiful things reminded her of him - it had shattered him into the most beautiful million pieces, like glitter that fell down into oblivion.

“Here...” [F/N] softly hummed to him, her embrace enveloping him as he didn’t think twice to reciprocate. Lyney held her tightly, her tail close to his lower body as she held him carefully, letting him seek the comfort he needed on her shoulder as she lulled him above the water. “It’s okay… You must’ve been very busy with everything in your life, haven’t you? Are you doing okay?”

He could only nod, attempting to reassure her he was alright, hanging by, at least. [F/N] never pressured him to reveal more, which was always something he deeply cherished. He never wished to hide anything from her, yet all the same, he knew he was selfish for never wishing to warp her perception of him… After all, once upon [F/N] knowing of all of him, would he still be able to be only Lyney with her, too?

“And are Lynette and Freminet okay, too?” She questioned gently, her voice humming as they stood there, floating in the refreshing waters. Again he nodded, a sigh of relief escaping her as she stroked through his hair gently. “I’m glad.”

“Sorry, love, I didn’t want our little date to go this route,” He heaved softly, finally gathering the courage to lift from her neck, eyeing her with a small frown. Instead of finding any look of concern or disappointment however, his lovely girlfriend instead smiled gently at him. “I assure you, I am very happy with your gift and your presence, it’s just…”

“It’s okay Lyney, don’t apologize. I will love you regardless, you don’t have to always force happiness. Everyone needs to let it all out from time to time.” His grasp on her only tightened after that, his smile more genuine as he basked in her words. “You don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t feel ready to, I’ll still be here for you! Now, how about we go for a swim to try and lighten up?”

“That sounds… Like a wonderful idea.” He hummed, leaning into her touch as she cleared the last few tears that spilled out. It was his turn to rest his hand on her cheek, caressing her skin with all the love he had for her, leaning in before planting a small yet still meaningful kiss to the corner of her lips.

In turn, the mermaid giggled in satisfaction. “Good, are you ready?”

“Ah yes, let me just…” Quickly he secured the gift she’d given him to one of his pockets, ensuring it wouldn’t float away to his possible dismay. [F/N] watched with endearment over how he seemed to cherish the small gift so religiously, her hands guiding him deeper into the waters before they finally submerged.

The waters were tranquil, enveloping the two of them like a welcoming blanket. The current was soft and welcoming, the bright sun allowing them to view the ecosystems perfectly as they swam. [F/N]’s hand remained locked with Lyney’s, her pace slower than what he very much knew she was capable of as they went side by side. Together they went through the lesser known paths of the giant coral reefs where [F/N] resided, the small otters she shared her home with welcoming them with cute squeaks as they swam nearby them. Lyney smiled as one brought another conch to him, this one simple and pink in color, his girlfriend giggling along before having another look at it.

“They seem to adore you!”

“Is that so?” He laughed softly, his hand squeezing hers tighter as they swam a little quicker. “Mhm, do you think they’d find a magic trick a fair payback for their kind gesture?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d find it amusing,” He watched with happiness as she laughed at the mere idea of him entertaining a bunch of otters with his cards. “Even I am curious about how that would go, now!”

“Then next time we come swimming, I will be sure to bring my deck.” Lyney nodded his head, utterly serious about his next endeavor. After all, an audience of cute otters… Well, they weren’t cats, but cute and easier to please nonetheless.

[F/N] cautiously led him through the shoals of fishes that swam throughout the pristine waters, smiling as she pointed along, telling him more of each species. The magician could only smile and listen, the mere sound of her voice easing his heavy heart, casting all pressure aside as his worries were washed away with the current. Their swim wasn’t long, yet it seemed to be effective in easing his mind, providing him the comfort he needed to rebalance his state of mind. Before he knew it and wished for, the time for him to leave approached, and knowing so as well, [F/N] gently led him back to the surface, their journey ending on the same rock in which they would regularly meet at.

Lyney still remained there for a little longer, his body soaking in the sun that was still up in the sky. He patiently waited for most of his clothes to dry, conversing with his lovely [F/N] all the while as they shared laughter and reminisced over fond memories. And when he no longer could avoid his inevitable departure, he leaned down, meeting [F/N] halfway as she remained mostly submerged under the water.

“Thank you, mon coeur. I can’t properly express just how much you mean to me…” He’d breathed out, it fanning over her face in a gentle notion that caused her to blush in response.

“It’s nothing, Lyney. I love you, after all. Anything I can do to help you, I will.” She smiled sincerely, the magician swearing he could only hear his heart bursting with the loveliest of fireworks.

“Then…” He leaned closer, his fingers stroking her jawline softly. “Will you give me your afternoon tomorrow? I would love to whisk your attention away for myself, if you’ll indulge me…”

The way her eyes sparkled at his suggestion made him fall in love all over again. “Of course! I will wait for you here, as always.”

“That’s my good girl.” He smiled with both mischievousness and adoration, his lips capturing hers once more. Against his chest he held the conch she’d gifted him, having ensured he hadn’t lost it amidst their voyage. “I will be back tomorrow, okay darling?”

“And I shall be here, my love.” [F/N] whispered, another faint kiss being shared before Lyney forced himself to finally get up.

It always was as though a piece of him remained with her each time he left, a small and painful gap in his heart remaining unfilled until he would inevitably return. Yet still, he would have it no other way, for in his beloved mermaid’s hands lay his heart, bare and true, for her to safekeep.

Lyney was many things - a magician, an older brother, a member of the fatui. But with [F/N], on those waters that would wash his worries away, he could be simply himself, no labels attached. And were anyone to call him selfish he’d fully embrace it, for it was something he would always protect, and never give up. She was his solace, and he would forever treasure her for the unconditional love she provided.

#genshin lyney x reader #genshin impact lyney x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #yoko drabbles

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renee-ckstrong · 4 months

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My Favourite Wrestling Match of all Time

In 2006, a Canadian wrestler became Captivated by a Japanese man for whom standard limitations on human athleticism don't apply. Twelve years later, they had the greatest professional wrestling match of all time.

I'll keep the background explanation brief because there is already a better explanation than I could ever do. Read here if you do not know the story of the Golden Lovers: https://medium.com/we-need-to-talk-about-wrestling/that-one-tweet-thread-about-the-golden-lovers-annotated-e9fc604e3a7f

Now Kenny Omega and Kota Ibushi have wrestled each other three times in their lives. And their second match from 2012 is arguably better than their the 2018 match that I am supposed to be looking at. So why would I say that the best match is worse than another one from six years prior. Well the twenty twelve match back in DDT is generational, and the greatest spectacle of athleticism in wrestling ever. The 2018 is far more emotional. With six more years of context they put on a match that made me feel more than any other match.

An important thread in the plotline of their story is this, Kenny Omega has never beaten Kota Ibushi. And because of that there is an unconfirmed insinuation that Kenny Omega can't beat Kota Ibushi. And it was because of this that Kenny grew resentful of how much better Kota was than him, and he turned to the dark side.

Kenny Omega is a fighter who compromised his morals to become the best in the world.

Kota Ibushi is a fighter who ran away from a fight and lost his chance to become the best in the world.

Kenny would join the Bullet Club, which at the time was like a villainous biker gang. He not only joined Bullet Club but he also distracted Kota costing him the top men's singles championship in all of Japan. After this Kota left New Japan Pro Wrestling unable to face the person his boyfriend Kenny was becoming. Kota did have some success in his absence, including but not limited to getting to the final of WWE's Cruiserweight Classic (but it has come out since that the plan was for him to win but the plan was changes when he expressed that he didn't want to sign with WWE). But he wasn't achieving success to the level he perhaps could. Kenny on the other had become THE GUY. The first non-Japanese person to win the annual G1 Climax tournament, won the IWGP Heavyweight Championship and had a match against Kazuchika Okada that broke the scales of how good wrestling matches could be.

So that is the state of play going into this match. Kota Ibushi had returned to NJPW after Kenny had taken over the Bullet Club and become the top star in the company. It is during the 28th G1 Climax tournament and these two have been matched up to fight each other. Kenny Omega is the best wrestler in the world right now, so can he beat Kota Ibushi now.

Another important detail is that the two men (in storyline at least, I can't speak for them in real life) are in love. Like genuinely actual queer storytelling, and it's not shit if you can believe it. So they obviously want to win but they don't want to hurt each other. They are worried that they will go to far.

And that's I think the beauty of it. The question of whether Kenny has surpassed Kota or whether he's still unable to beat his boyfriend even after all he's done. And the question of how far they'll go without wanting to do permanent damage to the other. Like their 2012 match is technically more impressive simply because men in their 20s can do feats of athleticism that men in their 30s can't. But that helps build the plot of the G1 match. In their 2012 match they do a disgusting spot where Kenny takes a hurricanrana of the top rope to the floor. In the 2018 match they tease doing it again but both men know that it isn't the kind of thing that either of their bodies can take these days.

It's brilliant. It's really beautiful. And I want to talk about the result of the match but I shan't because I want anyone reading this who hasn't seen it to go watch it. You can probably find it in full somewhere if you search 'omega vs ibushi g1'

So yeah that's my favourite wrestling match. It's pretty cool.

#wrestling #aew #pro wrestling #wrasslin #aew dynamite #njpw #kenny omega #kota ibushi #golden lovers

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nyhti · 9 months

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I wanted to draw him more accurately to how Breyfogle drew him in Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1-4 You know what caught my eye as I was flipping through these issues again? Jerry calling Maximilian Zeus "Maxie". It's evident that Jeremiah's character changed a lot over the years that Grant wrote him. Most obvious change is him never being the villain again in Grant's stories after The Last Arkham, but there are other changes as well, like him becoming more mellow, more mousy, more boring over time, unfortunately. But one little change that I liked was in the way that he speaks. He speaks so normally in The Last Arkham that, after reading later Jerry stories by Grant, feels almost out of character. In later stories he started speaking in that: "We mustn't" and "I shan't" kind of way. That's why the line: "He'll never walk again, man!" from Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1 fucks me up every time, because I just simply cannot imagine Jeremiah ever saying ”man”. Another thing is him developing a weird allergy for using nicknames later on. He just refused to use nicknames for some reason, so when he said "Maxie", it really stuck out to me. Jerry in later issues would've 100% called him Maximilian. Even though I think Jeremiah's character really went down hill after Madmen Across the Water (Showcase 94' #3-4), it is incredibly interesting to look at all the ways he changed.

#jeremiah arkham #my art

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

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I would like to request something for cotl

A follower Leshy with a reader who is kind of a plant worm like him but they're always covered in flowers and herbs that can be used for medicine, like, it grows out of them and they give the flowers and herbs to lamb as their way of helping in the cult among other simple tasks.

"Hello [y/n], may I have some-"

"NO!! They're busy, stupid Lamb!" Leshy snarled, turning his head in the direction of his "leader's" voice, wishing he could scowl at them. "If you want camellia, go find them in the land you robbed from-!!"

"Leshy, it's okay. What do you need, Great Leader?"

"....what..?"

Your fellow bagworm was dumbfounded as Lamb calmly requested some mint leaves from you. Nodding, you carefully plucked some of the freshly-grown herbs from your arm and handed a bunch to them.

They graciously thanked you, saying it'll be an excellent ingredient in the tea they wanted to brew, before walking away.

Leshy, on the other hand, was displeased at your actions.

While you were both the same species, you had a unique magical ability that allowed you to grow flowers, herbs, and many other plant-based resources from your own body.

They were painless to pluck off when they've fully sprouted, and quite frankly...it's better that you did so during that time.

Otherwise, you'd constantly be weighed down and unable to see where you were going..

You were once Leshy's follower, the head of medicinal operations in Darkwood, so he was understandably furious when he arrived and saw you here in the cult as well.

He firmly believes that Lamb "stole" you to abuse you as a resource, rather than treat you like a person.

Yet when he pointed this out, you simply laughed.

But he was dead serious.

"Stop laughing! You can be honest with your former leader. Admit it...you're tired of them taking and taking from you!"

"Oh Leshy, that's complete and utter nonsense." You shook your head. "Lamb has never once taken any flower or herb from me by force. I'm giving them away out of my own volition. Darkwood grows more dangerous everyday, so why should they risk they safety to gather camellia when they can just ask me for some?"

He scoffed in response. "At least put a price on your flowers if you're just going to give them away all the time.."

You were about to respond to him, when you saw one follower approaching you. They seemed to be blushing, eyes shifting around to ensure the coast was clear before speaking to you.

"[Y/n]? Sorry to interrupt, but I..I-I think I'm in love with someone!" They stammered, hiding their face in their hands for a moment, looking back up at you. "But they don't know I exist....may I please have some flowers to woo them with?"

Leshy was silent as he glanced in your direction, wondering if you were going to take his advice.

"Sure! But it'll cost you.."

He quietly snickered, seeing the follower looking quite nervous as they started fishing for change in their robe pockets.

"....just kidding, my friend. Lucky for you I've grown a bunch here." With some small clippers, you trimmed the bottoms of the camelia stems, gathering about four of them before handing them all to the follower. "Be sure to tie them into a bouquet so they don't get lost to the wind." You winked. "Best of luck to you."

"Oh thank you! Thank you!! I shan't forget this!" They squealed in joy, a bright grin on their face as they hugged you for a few quick seconds.

Then, with the flowers clutched closely to their chest, they dashed off to bequeath this gift to their crush.

"Unbelievable."

"Leshy, that's enough." With a frown, you turned to the ex-bishop, growing a tad bit annoyed with his whiny attitude. Since you were both on an equal plane now, you could talk back to him without fearing any consequences. "You're acting like you're the one growing flowers out of your head. Why does this bother you so much?"

"....it just..does, alright? But if you're okay with being a walking garden for all these unworthy morsels-"

"I am very content with my role here, thank you very much." You smiled politely, wanting this conversation to be over with. "Now, don't you have a morgue to attend to?"

"That's my brother's job.." He grumbled, glancing over at the pit of corpses, shuddering. "Damn him for going on a "spiritual journey" at this hour. I may be the youngest, but at least I don't run away from my responsibilities!"

"Right. So...what's stopping you from going over there? Those bodies aren't doing any good lying in that pit.."

"Have you been over there recently? It reeks." Leshy shuddered in disgust. "I can't go anywhere near that pit of rot. The smell alone makes me wanna vomit.."

"Then...would it help if I planted some roses around it to absorb the stench?"

He did a double-take. "Huh?? Since when did you grow roses???"

"Just recently." You chuckled softly, holding up your arm so he could see the blood-red rose buried in your leafy exterior. "I've followed you for years, Leshy, and yet..somehow I keep surprising you."

"You sure do." Sighing, he smiled a bit and decided to accompany you to the morgue, hoping your roses would do a good job masking the awful smells.

Even though he knew exactly where it was, he ended up holding onto your arm as you both walked.

Until now, Leshy never noticed how lovely you smelled, surrounded by aromas that weren't too overwhelming for him at all. If anything..it felt rather comforting.

He couldn't even scent the dead bodies anymore--there was only you and your beautiful flowers.

It seems Lamb's cult allowed you to tap into your full plant magic potential.

#clanask #anonymous #cotl x reader #cult of the lamb x reader #follower leshy #cotl leshy #leshy x reader #platonic

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des-no9 · 11 months

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some HCs on Githyanki language, specifically the words of love and affection

Writing the githyanki, I've been thinking long and hard about their relationships, views on intimacy, languages and words of love - and what love means to them.

Then, with that, writing Orpheus/Voss, with them being so old and that they were (probably) around when they gained their freedom from the Illithid, but most definitely during the Pronouncement of the Two Skies, that to them, language would have been different to the gith that is spoken now.

For language is alive. It evolves, changes with the people who speak it, their culture and events. And from their people breaking free, then splitting in two, and over the thousands of years beneath Vlaakiths, to what they are now-

Finding that Orpheus and Voss say 'I love you' to eachother in one branch:

I noticed that a variant of 'sha va', 'sha'vah' is also used in another phrase both called out by Voss, Lae'zel and player Githyanki when they see Orpheus.

How the words are so closely related, but now when they're cheering for the return of Orpheus, it's more of a praise and formal respect/adoration.

I HC that since before Orpheus was imprisoned, until now, the githyanki have been so hardened that words and the acceptance love, affection, empathy, gentleness have been crushed out of them slowly, as we see in creches and well, how githyanki are now. And with it, the words lost, no longer existing in their language.

For example, even Lae'zel says they don't have a word for thank you.

So, when Orpheus and Voss say 'I love you' I HC that these were words lost or changed over the years and when they say it to eachother, they understand the meaning, they know the meaning. They remember, and feel.

But a githyanki of today overhearing them might not even understand the words, or the meaning may simply be muted now. Different. Lost.

I also think Orpheus would use these older words because he still stirs with some of that which the gith left behind, crushed, split in two.

Shamelessly plugging some of my Orpheus/Voss fic but this kind of sums up a little of how I see Orpheus and who he might be, and what maybe, some of the now githyanki were, too (now that's all bled into the githzerai).

Voss had seen some with heart and soul like Orpheus in their new creches, some leftovers from the last civil war, hearts dancing the edges of doubt. Most quickly had those doubts beaten, extinguished out of them. Focus shifted, purpose realigned. Voss had always believed Orpheus would have been one of those githyanki, realigned, if he were not the Prince. That influence spread to his honour guard. And quietly, those that admired him still.

I've also made up a couple of words while writing my githyanki fics, and one specifically I had in mind centreing around his HC is:

Rrav'kil - term of endearment for someone below you in rank/your underling

I took this from:

Ra'stil - Ally

I HC ra'stil is derived from rrav'kil and is now the term used for someone close to you, no matter the rank, mostly, that you respect, can trust, would stand back to back with.

But rrav'kil back in Orpheus and Voss' youth was a gentler term. Affection, for Orpheus, reserved for his favourite vin'iisks (Voss); for Voss with a lover, close friend beneath his status. But it held a different weight, then. More affection and informality.

I have a few other HCs regarding githyanki language and some I've used in fics, but I shan't go on too much. and I may add to this later on. But for now, feelies.

#bg3 #githyanki #baldur's gate 3 #gith #des' HCs #des writes #orpheus bg3 #kith'rak voss #des crying over the githyanki once more #any excuse to cry over orpheus/voss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#githyanki worldbuilding #githyanki lore

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thedeafprophet · 6 months

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20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

for Jamie and May because I think Jamie deserves to be taller than May for once sdfghkfds

20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

Upon The Stair

'...Is this an intrusion?” He moves forward, closer into their space, a gloved hand coming up to cup their cheek and tilt their gaze further up towards him. “And here I was, under the impression that my presence was invited. How kind of you, to remind me of my manners.” A moment between The Manager and The Author, for one must make up for any rude transgressions upon ones space.

Word count: 866

Rating: Teen Tags: Kissing, Height Differences, Mostly Just Fluffy Cute Stuff For Once

Also on ao3

Prompt list from here.

“You know,” Jamie says leaning against the archway in the hall with the quirk of a brow,“it is quite rude to intrude upon someone's home, no matter how many times you take it upon yourself to see yourself in.”

It was late too, Mary-Anne having already retired for the night, or no doubt she would have thrown a fit to see him in the home with no prior calling once more. For the best really, Jamie sheepishly knows they put the woman through enough stress already.

Jamie had been settled in the sitting room for a late night cup of tea, reading into the latest novel they'd gotten their hands on, when they heard the oh so familiar tap of a silver capped cane, vision fuzzy on the edge of their peripheral. The clearest sign of any for an unexpected visitor, though not, of course, an unwanted one.

Getting up to investigate, they found him standing in the entry hall, seemingly fascinated by the new painting Jamie had gotten hung upon the wall - an impressionist piece they'd purchased from an up and coming artist, always finding themself inclined to support the arts that were pushed back against.

The Manager turns to look at them as soon as they make their statement, his ever present smile seeming slightly more genuine when his gaze meets theirs.

“Is that so? Is this an intrusion?” He moves forward, closer into their space, a gloved hand coming up to cup their cheek and tilt their gaze further up towards him. “And here I was, under the impression that my presence was invited. How kind of you, to remind me of my manners.”

Jamie's not entirely sure why he's here tonight, as they glance up to meet his gaze. They're not in any particular state this evening, no more out of it then their baseline is these days. They shan't presume he's come just because he wanted to see them but- well, certainly he must get lonely too. A single performer can be grand, but it's only with a company that a show can truly be performed.

Jamie steps back slightly, moving out of his hold, before turning to dive under his arm in a quick movement. They move backwards toward the stairwell, turning to face him as they speak, the inkling of an idea forming in their mind.

“Yes, it is!” Jamie can't keep down the amused smile at their play. “In fact, I think I'm rather quite insulted. It's very presumptuous of you - and a disgrace upon my honour!” They take a couple steps up onto the stairwell, before leaning on the banister to stare down at him.

Even now, it doesn't make them that far above him. They smirk down at him regardless, basking in the brief moment of being taller (or at least, being higher up).

The Manager simply looks amused at their antics, seemingly in the mood to play along with their games. It was always fun for Jamie when he was - though, they never really did begrudge when he had other plans in mind.

“I see I have made a great error in my judgment. “ His words are laden with humour. Both of them know that Jamie cares very little about his habit of showing up unexpectedly. (Both of them know there's very little they could do about it anyways.). “Perhaps, then, there is something I must do? To account for my transgression?”

Jamie's eyes flick down to his lips, smirk spreading out on their own face. “Oh, I don't know. Perhaps there is something, if it is to be on offer.” They lean forward towards him, leaving it to him to close the rest of the gap.

A hand reaches up to lightly hold at the hair on the back of their head, before The Manager leans up, his lips at last meeting theirs. The scrape of his beard against their chin is familiar to them by now, but Jamie's pulse flutters all the same at the contact, eyes closing as they lean into the kiss.

Jamie moves their hands to hold the base of the back of his head, trying to pull him closer as possible, aiming to avoid knocking his hat off just yet. They are oftly unused to this angle - it is rare that they're on the taller end of kisses, and most certainly not with him. Most events require some form of bending on his part - or other, different ways to put them on a more equal level. At least he's able to pick them up, not everyone has such capabilities.

They're still smiling as they pull back from the kiss, breath quickened just a bit as they open their eyes to look down at him.

The Manager smirks up at them, evidently feeling as if he'd won the interaction, but even he was still leaning forward himself, closer into their space.

“And has that laid everything on account for? Or must I continue to abate my actions?”

“Hm, let me think on it.” Jamie says, a mischievous twinkle rising to their eyes.“What else might you have on offer?”

They'd like to know their options first, before they decide.

#sat down to try and make myself write and did this #mostly suceeded at keeping it short for once yay XD #them ;-;#my writing #jamie and the manager #maymie #(awkward havin two tags for them XD)#oc: jamie #the manager of the royal bethlehem #ask game

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fitzrove · 6 months

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Hi, Fitzrove, I wanted to ask you, since you've been to the Perman Production of JCS; could you please tell a bit more about your opinion of the staging (strengths/weaknesses)?

I like your analyses of Elisabeth and would like to hear your opinion on JCS too :)

(On a sidenote - it's been a while since I've seen it - why is Mark cradling Oedo after the torture scene? 👀 I kind of didn't remember Pilates having a moment with Jesus there)

Hii!! Thanks for asking!

Omg disclaimer - my analysis is NOT going to be very good, this is the first JCS production I have ever seen and I first listened to any cast recording (the 2005 one) two hours before going to see it 😂😭

I think strong parts were: costuming (it's a concert but if the budget is limited I'd argue that nice simple "modern" costumes can look better than cheap historical costumes. Loved Marjan in a long flowy red dress, Oedo in all white - with a bloody crucifix shirt at the end - and the priests in black. Only one I'm not sure about is T-shirt mark, that was just kind of weird and was not giving much Pilate...), the torture scene w Oedo standing on a table and being pulled w strings on each arm (the table was like. the only setpiece but worked well esp with his acting), and the way the ensemble used the entire stage space during choreographies etc., and how soloists walked up and down the stage if necessary etc. The only thing that stood out to me as weird was the entire cast sitting down around the table at the beginning/prologue in the last supper position, like just chilling in the background while it was happening, that was a bit weird and awkward to me, like them just Being There not doing anything akdkfkfk.

And with the torture scene - the cradling part is during these lines:

And I thought it was very well done, it could've been more homoerotic though DJKFKFKF but I think it still worked! Was grateful that Mark actually remembered to act during that part 😅😁

Sorry I think this is a very bad reply 😅😁 I simply don't have a lot to compare to since I've only seen this one staging, and I was also struggling to remember what happens next because I'm not a Christian (I mean I am culturally but I left the church as a kid due to lack of belief, and haven't been to church or bible story lessons since age 11...) 😂😭. But overall I think it was an effectively staged concert version, there's no weird random choices happening like in some other concert productions we shan't speak of...

#its always embarrassing when ppl ask me for opinions and i don't know 😭#my irl friend is pestering me about munich enjolras and i havent replied for like 3 days because??? idk he was ok i'm not really a big #enjolras girlie 😭😭😭 like i think he did very well but i do not have encyclopedic knowledge of enjolras characterisations #😂 still thanks for asking 😌 i'm glad to get the chance to criticise t shirt mark #😂😭#asks

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the-kcm-muggleborn · 3 months

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Kind For You

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

O/C: Sebastian Sallow x Edwart Thompson x Ominis Gaunt ✨️platonic✨️ (My OC)

Warnings: Light swearing.

Word count: 1k>

Chapter 4

Part 9

“Alright. Stay here. I won't take long.” Ed said as he looked around the Pub. He noticed Poppy standing in the corner of the room. He was hoping Sebastian would behave… for once.

“This is a change of pace from our last outing.” Edwart smiled.

But Poppy groaned slightly. Don't remind me. The thought of that tent still makes my blood boil… Sebastian came with you?” She smiled with interest.

This time Edwart groaned. “Don't remind me. He simply tagged on. He needs my help. Anyway…”

“Yes," Poppy nodded. "I've been thinking about those poor dragons in the fighting ring. The collars they were wearing. They appeared to be goblin silver. I think a collar is precisely what we found at that poacher camp. I've never known poachers to use anything like that before”

“Fascinating,” Edwart said thoughtfully. “The dragon that attacked my carriage was wearing a collar and Professor Fig was genuinely baffled by its behaviour.”

“That attack always did strike me as a little strange, seemingly coming out of nowhere” She frowned. “Surely you aren't suggesting that the collars somehow control the poor creatures.”

“That's exactly what it all looks like to me.” Edwart confirmed.

“Merlin. I don't think the dragon we set free was wearing a collar, but we should check. And if we can find her, we can return her egg-”

Edwart whined. “Must we? That seems a lot of trouble to go to for a creature we already rescued.”

Poppy chuckled a little. “I know you don't like creatures. But we should see this through let me find out where she is. There's no half-measures with all this.” Poppy took a pause. “There was something else that I wanted to discuss with you. I didn't want to press it before.”

“Shoot,” Ed said, but he already knew what it was regarding.

Poppy hesitated. She put a hand on Edwart's arm. “It seems I may have caused you more trouble with Victor Rookwood. Why is he after you? You can trust me.”

“Oh, Poppy.” Edwart cooed. He put his hands on Poppy's shoulders. A gesture he nearly never did. “You never caused me any trouble. They were after me before I even started helping you.” Edwart looked around as a safety precaution. But the only person looking at him he noticed was Sebastian. His eyes were as dark as if he wanted to murder Edwart and Poppy. Ed furrowed his brows, and Sebastian quickly turned around. “Strange…” Edwart thought but quickly shook his head and focused his attention back on Poppy. He took his hands off of her. “Rookwood is working with Ranrok. So are the Pochers I presume there’s a hefty award for catching me. And Ranrok is after me because of something I found at Gringotts. Fig had a Portkey that led us there after the dragon attack. It's a bit of a long story, and Fig had asked that I not speak of it yet.”

“Goodness! Well, that certainly helps to shed light on what we saw at the tent. That's quite a lot…” Poppy's eyes were the size of coins from bewilderment. “I shan't press for more details. In fact, I should probably be going. I'd like to track that dragon down as soon as I can.”

“I'll tell you more over a butterbeer or two… I promise.” Edwart smiled.

“Sure. Thank you for telling me.” Poppy smiled genuinely as Edwart walked away waving a short goodbye.

“Now… what to do with Sebastian. He's behaving very unusually.” Ed thought as we walked over to his friend. "Maybe it is best to just ignore it." He quietly cleared his throat. “Hey. I'm all done. We can head out.”

“Ah. Alright.” Sebastian cleared his throat and got to his feet. “Thanks, Sirona.”

“Come again, anytime.” She said back with a smile as both boys finally headed out to Feldcroft.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Sebastian, that relic you mentioned…” Edwart spoke as both boys were walking towards the catacomb. He had a bad feeling…

“From what I read in a report by that Slytherin student, they weren't permitted to take it with them. So, I must assume it's still here. As I mentioned earlier, this relic grants its holder the power to reverse Dark Magic curses.” Sebastian answered, focusing on the path they were walking on.

“Mhm.” Edwart mused.

“If it's in this catacomb. I have to find it. For Anne. I need to see her.” Sebastian's voice was pained. Edwart silenced his overthinking brain. Decided to trust Sebastian for once.

Edwart sighed. “I'd be interested to know what else the student discovered.”

Sebastian took a look behind his shoulder with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Have a look.” He handed Edwart a yellow torn paper. “Unfortunately, there's no name on it and it's all smudged, makes it harder to read. But, I suspect if it was important enough for Slytherin to stash in his spellbook.”

“It's worthy of further study,” Edwart muttered.

Finally, Sebastian stopped, announcing they've reached the catacomb. “We’re here.” He said.

“Let’s explore then. Perhaps we can visit Anne when we've finished.” Edwart said with a small smile.

“Perfect. By the way,” Sebastian furrowed his brows. “Ominis has been asking about you. You didn't tell him what we were doing, did you?”

“Asking about me? But... why?” Edwart thought. He cleared his throat and spoke. “I didn't. I promise.” He sighed. “...Wish I did, though.” Edwart finished that sentence in his mind.

“Good.” Sebastian exhaled relieved. “Ominis would be livid if he knew what we were about to do… I'll be interested to compare what lies inside to what I've read about this catacomb.”

Edwart kept quiet. He didn't know what to say. All this felt wrong to him. Like he was betraying someone. But what Edwart really needed was to shut his emotions. And he did.

“I'm sure that foul smell is the scent of success - try not to lose your nerve just yet.” Sebastian joked as they entered the catacomb.

They kept walking on the long dark corridor in silence when Edwart heard something. “At least now we know we're not alone in here.”

“Ah, blast,” Sebastian said as the spiders started crawling around both boys with an awfully characteristic sound. They both shot spell after spell when finally all the spiders were dead.

“Perhaps that was it, and the rest of the tomb will be insect-free.”

Edwart chuckled. “Yeah, spiders aren't insects.”

“Don't start.” Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows, but his smile betrayed his true, playful emotions.

Both boys kept walking through the dark and dusty catacomb. Edwart was stuck in thoughts. Thinking of how Sebastian could turn any situation into a laughing moment. He was grateful for such a… friend.

“Now this is the sort of great room I want to be buried in,” Sebastian said with a big smile.

Edwart raised an eyebrow with a smile and chuckled. “Surrounded by grandeur?”

“Grandeur and then some. Even an altar with a pile of bones - lovely.” Sebastian said as he took a step closer to the centre of the room.

Edwart smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “You're so strange, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looked at Edwart with a smile. “Alright, you. Where would you like to be buried?”

Edwart's smile shifted into a small, reminiscent one. “With my mother. If I… got to choose.”

Sebastian's smile dropped. “Shit… I-I'm sorry.”

“No, no. You… you asked. I just answered.” Edwart tried to defuse the situation. He crossed his arms. “I don't talk about her often. But I miss her, you know?”

“I know...” Sebastian turned around as both boys looked around the great room. “Did you hear that?”

“Look at those bones outside a sarcophagus. Seems… odd.” Edwart ignored Sebastian and looked under his feet. “There's something here by the altar.”

“What did you find?” Sebastian came behind Edwart's shoulder.

“Looks like part of a student's diary. It mentions plans to return for the relic and conjuring barricades using bones.

“Of course!” Sebastian said. “The student summary referenced a space beyond the Great Room. Which means this can't be a dead end. Let's divide and conquer. You work on sorting out the bone barricades, I'll look around and see what we missed…Hold on to that diary entry. There may be more to it.”

“Sure. It does mention something else - it says their next assignment was… learning the Imperius Curse.” Edwart stumbled. He did not want a repeat of the scriptorium.

“Really? Interesting.” Sebastian muttered thoughtfully.

“What do you mean inte-” Edwart spoke but was interrupted by Sebastian. “We need to focus on moving beyond this room - but let me think for a moment”

Edwart grimaced at that. “I'll start to search for those barricades then.”

It took Ed a moment to collect everything, but he managed to solve it. To Sebastian's approval. “You've done it! I knew we'd get through. I felt it in my bones.”

Edwart couldn't help but genuinely laugh at that perfectly timed pun. “Nice.” He chuckled.

"Hold on just a moment.” Sebastian stopped his friend with a serious face this time. “Before we trudge on further, I've just realised something.”

“What is it?” Edwrt furrowed his brows.

“The student's diary mentions the Imperius Curse. I wouldn't be surprised if we're going to need it here. It's an Unforgivable, but useful when you're outnumbered. Places the victim completely under the caster's control.”

Edwart scoffed, not wanting to hear a word more. “Absolutely not Sebastian. Let's just… keep going.”

“Really? But we've no idea what may lie ahead.” Sebastian spoke, but Edwart once more interrupted him. “Sebastian!” He said with a sharp warning tone.

“Alright Alright.” Sebastian put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “I shan't press you. I'll have your back no matter what we face in there.”

“Mhm.” Edwart was having that bad feeling again.

"Oh, look, another barricade? Considering how well you did on the last one, this should be a cinch.”

Edwart sent Sebastian a sinister look. “Oh, how gracious of you.” He said sarcastically.

But Sebastian wasn't fazed by that comment and winked at Ed. “I Try.”

Edwart sighed, not wanting to fall into Sebastian's seductive behaviour. “He's probably talking like that to everybody… everybody who's been dumb enough to help him.” He thought. "Like me..."

Ed swiftly solved another puzzle. They weren't as challenging as they seemed.

“You are head and shoulders above these bones. Nicely done.” Sebastian complimented again.

Edwart simply smiled before Sebastian had ruined it yet again. “I see why Slytherin's student was so entranced with this place.” Sebastian smiled excitedly.

Edwart groaned. “Sebastian just… shut it. Looks like there's another fight on our hands.”

Sebastian and Edwart entered a big hall where about a dozen spiders were waiting. The fight was intense. Sebastian got slammed against a wall once or twice, but Edwart was the one who got beat around more. Possibly because of his recent hospital stay, he was slower. When the fight finally came to an end, all spiders were dead. Sebastian looked around to make sure they hadn't missed anything while Edwart was sitting on the floor, holding himself by his bleeding shoulder.

“Blast! Are you alright?” Sebastian kneeled beside him.

“S’fine…” Edwart muttered. He took a swig of Wiggenweld as his shoulder wound slowly tied itself up. He chuckled. “For a moment there, I thought that'd never end.”

Sebastian frowned and helped Ed up. “Dead end. Lovely. All that for nothing.”

Edwart smiled comfortingly. “We’ve been here for 5 minutes. Don't give up yet.”

The Hufflepuff student cast a powerful Confringo, burning away spider webs. Under a wall was standing a table with a triangle-shaped object and two notes.

Edwart’s eyes widened as he called for his friend. “Sebastian! The relic. Look.”

“Could it be?” Sebastian came along.

Edwart read the notes thoroughly. “The note and rendition of the relic - it matches. This must be where the student left the relic.”

“I can't believe it. After all this, it lines up. We've really found it!” Sebastian's eyes were lit with excitement.

“What do you suppose is meant by 'the Dark sacrifice required to realise the relic's potential'?” Edwart frowned.

Sebastian shrugged indifferently. “I have no idea, but we're here for the relic.”

“The note advises to leave the relic alone.” Edwart scowled and looked hopefully at Sebastian, but it was no use.

“I assure you, we were meant to find this. For Anne's sake. I'm taking it. Let's get to Feldcroft."

Ed signed heavily but decided it was for the best... to help Anne. Both boys started walking towards the exit.

“I must keep this relic secret. Especially from my uncle. I-... Is that - Ominis?”

MASTERLIST

-------------- Author's notes:--------------

Thanks so much for reading Part 9! I'm pretty sure this chapter is gonna be the longest. Woah I added so many pics here! I deliberately made the journal pages look smudged and unreadable (bs they spend most likely ages in that scriptorium book) so it's more realistic. But since im not an ass. I'm leaving the readable version down here:) Eddie freaking out, but yk Sebastian is persuasive. Anyhow, another part is coming soon.

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lilflowerpot · 2 years

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Hello!! I’ve been reading Little Blade for around three years now—I think actually four?? Around the first couple of chapters at least and I just wanted to say: thank you so much for all the fun nights I’ve had reading your fic! I’ve re-read it to keep entertained on long flights and just for fun. Heck I even gush to my friends (who sadly aren’t in the fandom) about how much your writing style enamores me and the way you explore characters relationships! Especially the PLOT I am always here for the romance with plot ^^

Speaking of plot 👀 I also had a question about the Druid “Erik” from a couple of chapters ago! If it’s not going to be revealed later in the plot ofc. He was such a big part of the infiltration mission on Keith’s end (and honestly kinda cute, he’s just a lil guy who imprinted on Keith!) and the big mystery of how he functioned and all—but he disappeared and I don’t think he was ever mentioned again besides Lotor in a dialogue exchange in chapter 22 or 23?

Like, he’s so interesting?? I wanna know why he focused so much on Keith and called him Rhyal??? Was it because he was aware it was targeting Keith? Or is smth in Keith just Inherently “Rhyal” to other Galra? Is he self sufficient in anyway? Do people in his condition need to be cared for or can they survive without eating at all? He was described as “leaking” so can you somehow fix that and rebuild his quintence?? (I probably misspelled that) if so!!! Does he even remember himself or is it like being “born” again??? I just!! Have so many questions and wanna see him again!! He was given a name, so going by most rules of literature that means he’ll be returning no?

I’m sorry if I just missed a line that explained it or not i just thought to ask since I could. Thank you again so much for writing and sharing your fic with us!

😭😭😭😭 you're so very sweet and ilysm thank you!!

Erik was a beautiful accident for me—one I never explicitly planned for that came about as I was writing that chapter purely by chance—so I'm genuinely thrilled to know that you love them as I do! I had hoped that their reasoning behind repeating "rhyahl" would become clear after the resolution of that chapter, but I suppose I did leave it somewhat ambiguous: though Keith thought Erik was using Lotor's nickname for him, they were actually trying to warn him about the monster that lurked ahead! ...Though why they were warning Keith specifically is up to you to decide, as that's not something I'll be disclosing just yet ;)

Though initially Erik's purpose was solely confined to chapter 18, I grew unreasonably attached while writing, and given that they were largely so well-received I have since minorly tweaked to the plot to allow for them to make a reappearance in the (distant) future! I shan't say much more than that, but what I can tell you is that their quintessence was drained by the rhyahl to such a severe level (far beyond that which Keith himself suffered) that,,, the person they were before is essentially dead and gone, and that which Keith met was an entirely blank slate.

When Keith glances back a second time to gauge their reaction, Erik’s ears prick up slightly and they click their tongue with a fluttering trill that neither Matt nor Hunk seem to hear, and it’s so… it’s so sad, not just the sound but all of it, as if in bearing witness to this leaking vessel’s ethereal gait turned slurred and stumbling, Keith himself has been burdened by a hollow ache in his chest, because whoever this Druid was before—whatever terrible things they might have done in the name of Haggar or the Empire or even Sa itself—they simply aren’t anymore. They just don’t exist. Keith’s stomach takes a swooping, sickening swan-dive as the full force of what it means for a living being to suffer such a monumental loss of quintessence hits him; this Druid isn’t simply ‘leaking’ in the abstract, but rather comatose, and haunting their own corpse. - Little Blade, chapter 18

#''just a lil guy who imprinted on Keith'' indeed ♡#I'M SORRY ERIK I GAVE YOU SUCH A SAD BACKSTORY FOR NO REASON AT ALL #Ao3 Little Blade #sa screams back #keith kogane #i feel like i need an erik tag now dammit #druid of the opera

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speciosuspoematis · 1 year

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ANONYMOUS ASKED: What are your thoughts on Ares? Do you think you could be friends?

MENTION: @confluxium

He's quiet, eyes stating forward at the beauty of the sunset in order to soak in the wonder of it, previously logical thoughts about cross pollination giving way easily to the question posed - Ares?

He closes his sharp eyes, able to conjure forth the sight of the being in question right there on the very back of his lids in milliseconds and yet his brain had no answer formed soon after. 'T was hardly a surprise, not for he, not when he found himself dwelling over details for far too long and then, more often than not, does he find his answer comes too late.

"He's... Mysterious." His first answer was just as so, one might argue. "I know absolutely naught about him, and yet that general aura begs the wish to find out more."

Frankly, he knew not quite how to direct his thought process from there but he allowed his thoughts to briefly wander and simply see where it ended up.

"I'd... Like to know his hobbies - or what he likes to do when he's on his own, resting. You can find out much about a person when you know that - and what his favorite time of day is." Stupid questions some may say, but Achaeus saw things in those answers that many would look past. Little things, of course - but the little things meant the most to someone like the botanist himself.

He takes pause, then - allowing thoughts to momentarily cease as eyes fixate upon the horizon once more. His hands wring together in his lap, nervousness brewing within his chest as idle happiness once more gave way to melancholy and anxiety.

"There is something... Scary about him. It's likely because I know so little of him, and not knowing much is... Petrifying but---" He stops himself rather swiftly, clamping his jaw shut so not to say aught more. Did he want to not be afraid? Of course - - but he nigh always was, of anyone and everything." - - it's just how life is. "

"Friends -?" He pauses, lands clasping one another far more tightly, jaw clenching tighter than before: "-- why would he want to be? It's no secret among the folk my parents run within that I'm a failure in all aspects and I believe he would know of that. He may not know the full extent of the intracasies but..." It just was how it was, and Achaeus had learned that very bitter truth from a youth. He was known as the failure and that would never leave him.

"He's successful and respected. Being seen even speaking to someone as... Imbalanced and lacking as I would be entirely counterproductive for him." It was why Achaeus had no friends, why he kept to himself: he may as well let those who could do all they were able.

"But... Scary though he may appear, I'm sure he's lovely beneath. 'T is a shame that I shan't find out, but - - I do wish him the very best."

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jorenby-blog · 9 months

Text

Mr Pim Passes By - script

ACT ONE

The morning-room at Marden House (Buckinghamshire) decided more than a hundred years ago that it was all right, and has not bothered about itself since. Visitors to the house have called the result such different adjectives as "mellow," "old-fashioned," "charming"–even "baronial" and "antique;" but nobody ever said it was "exciting." Sometimes Olivia wants it to be more exciting, and last week she rather let herself go over some new curtains; she still has the rings to put on. It is obvious that the curtains alone will overdo the excitement; they will have to be harmonized with a new carpet and cushions. Olivia has her eye on just the things, but one has to go carefully with George. What was good enough for his great-great grandfather is good enough for him. However, we can trust Olivia to see him through it, although it may take time.

At curtain, Dinah enters dancing, and humming, she is very pretty, very happy, and full of boyish high spirits and conversation. She dances to to piano, sits and plays a few bars and sings. While she is playing, we hear a knock at the door. After not getting an answer, Pim peeks his head in, and then slowly approaches Dinah at the piano. He startles her as he slowly makes his arrival known.

DINAH. Hullo!

PIM. You must forgive me, but... Good morning, Mrs. Marden.

DINAH. Oh, I say, I'm not Mrs. Marden. I'm Dinah.

PIM (with a smile). Then I will say, Good morning. Miss Diana.

DINAH (reproachfully). Now, look here, if you and I are going to be friends, you mustn't do that. Dinah, not Diana. Do remember it, there's a good man, because I get so tired of correcting people. Have you come to stay with us? (Sits down.)

PIM. Well, no, Miss–er–Dinah.

DINAH (nodding). That's right. I can see I shan't have to speak to you again. Now tell me your name, and I bet you I get it right first time. And do sit down.

PIM. (sits down) Thank you. My name is–er–Pim, Carraway Pim–

DINAH. Pim, that's easy.

PIM. And I have a letter of introduction to your father–

DINAH. Oh, no; now you're going wrong again, Mr. Pim. George isn't my father; he's my uncle. Uncle George. (Sitting on table, facing Pim.) You see, he's been my guardian since I was about two, and then about five years ago he married a widow called Mrs. Telworthy.

PIM (repeating). Mrs. Telworthy.

DINAH. That's Olivia–so she became my Aunt Olivia, only she lets me drop the Aunt. (Speaking very sharply.) Get that?

PIM (a little alarmed). I–I think so, Miss Marden.

DINAH (admiringly). I say, you are quick, Mr. Pim. Well, if you take my advice, when you've finished your business with George, you will hang about a bit and see if you can't see Olivia. (Rising) She's simply–(feeling for the word)–devastating. I don't wonder George fell in love with her. (Moving to above piano right, looking at photos, etc.)

PIM (rising and looking at his watch). It's only the merest matter of business–just a few words with your uncle–Perhaps I'd better...

DINAH (looking at photo on top end of piano). Well, you must please yourself, Mr. Pim. I'm just giving you a friendly word of advice. Naturally, I was awfully glad to get such a magnificent aunt. (Moving down to left of piano and taking up and looking at photo of Olivia.) Because, after all, marriage is rather a toss up, isn't it?–

PIM (taken aback). Well, I don't, know, I haven't had any experience...

DINAH (continuing). And George might have gone off with anybody, all the ladies were quite fond of him. (Moving to Pim.)

PIM. But he married–er–Mrs. Telworthy.

DINAH. Yes, Mrs. Telworthy–my, you are getting good with names, Mr. Pim! (Moves to and sits on settee.) You see, Olivia married the Telworthy man and went to Australia with him, and he drank himself to death in the bush, or wherever you drink yourself to death out there, and Olivia came home to England, and met my uncle, and he fell in love with her and proposed to her–(rises and kneels on settee)– Telworthy, isn't it a funny name?

PIM. Oh, a most curious name–Telworthy. From Australia, you say?

DINAH. Yes, I always say that he's probably still alive, and will turn up here one morning and annoy George.

PIM (shocked). Oh!

DINAH. But I'm afraid there's not much chance.

PIM (shocked). Miss Marden! Really!

DINAH, Well, of course, I don't really want it to happen, but it would be rather exciting. (Crossing to Pim.) Wouldn't it, Mr Pim?

PIM. Exciting! (Pim crosses to below settee.)

DINAH. However, things like that never seem to occur down here, somehow, (Running up into window. Pim watches her.) Of course, something very, very wonderful did happen last night. (Backing away.) No, no! I'm not sure if I know you well enough–(She looks at him hesitatingly.)

PIM (uncomfortably). Really, Miss Marden, you mustn't. I am only a–a passer-by, here today and gone tomorrow. You really mustn't–

DINAH (looking round and down to Pim), And yet there's something about you, Mr. Pim, which inspires confidence.

PIM (moving stage left). Oh, no. Really, you mustn't tell me.

DINAH (taking his arm). The fact is–(in a stage whisper)–I got engaged last night!

PIM. Dear me, let me congratulate you. I wish somebody would come here.

DINAH (running up to foot of staircase and looking off), I expect that's why George is keeping you such a long time. (Turning to Pim.) Brian, my young man, the well-known painter–only nobody has ever heard of him– he's smoking a pipe with George in the library and asking for his niece's hand. (Coming back to Pim, and taking his hands, she dances round with him in a circle. Pim falls exhausted and coughing on to settee right and Dinah, laughing, sits on settee left) Isn't it exciting? You're really rather lucky, Mr. Pim–I mean being told so soon. Even Olivia doesn't know yet.

PIM. Yes, yes, I congratulate you, Miss Marden. I had better go now and return a little later. I have an errand to run in town. Perhaps by the time I come back your uncle will be able–(About to get up.)

(Brian Strange enters. He is what George calls a futuristic painter chap. To look at he is very pleasant, rather untidily dressed. He is about to tell Dinah the result of his interview with George when he catches sight of Pim.)

DINAH. Hullo, here's Brian! (Crossing to Brian, seizing him.) Brian, this is Mr. Pim! Mr. Carraway Pim. He's been telling me all about himself.

PIM. I haven't said a word. I never opened my mouth.

DINAH. It's so interesting. Mr. Pim–(coyly and moving down to head of settee)–this is Brian–you know...

BRIAN (nodding). How-do-you-do?

PIM. How-do-you-do, sir?

DINAH (pleadingly and crossing from Brian to Pim), You won't mind running your errand now, will you? Because, you see, Brian and I–(She looks lovingly at Brian.)

PIM (moved to sentiment). Miss Dinah and Mr.–er–Brian, I have only

come into your lives for a moment, and it is probable that I shall now pass out of them for ever. Good-bye–(shaking hands with Dinah)–good-bye, and thank you so much. (Pim exits.)

DINAH. (to Brian) Darling, you haven't kissed me yet.

BRIAN (moving up to her and pulling her down to settee). Oh, I say. I oughtn't to, but then one never ought to do the nice things.

DINAH. Why oughtn't you?

BRIAN. Well, we said we'd be good until we'd told your uncle and aunt all about it. You see, being a guest in their house–

DINAH. But, darling child, what have you been doing all this morning except telling George?

BRIAN. Oh, trying to tell George.

DINAH (nodding). Yes, of course, there's a difference.

BRIAN. I think he guessed there was something up, and he took me down to see the pigs–he said he had to see the pigs at once–I don't know why; an appointment perhaps. And we talked about pigs all the way, and I couldn't say, "Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece–"

DINAH (with mock indignation). Oh, of course you couldn't.

BRIAN. No. Well, you see how it was. And then when we'd finished talking about pigs, we started talking to the pigs–

DINAH (eagerly). Oh, how is Arnold?

BRIAN. Arnold...? Oh yes, that's the little black-and-white one? He's very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn't thinking about him much. I was wondering how to begin. And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and–and I gradually drifted away.

DINAH. Oh, poor darling! Well, we shall have to approach him through Olivia.

BRIAN. But I always wanted to tell her first; she's so much easier. Only you wouldn't let me.

DINAH. That's your fault, Brian. You would tell Olivia that she ought to have orange-and-black curtains in here.

BRIAN. But she wants orange and black curtains in here.

DINAH. Yes. (Rising.) But George says he's not going to have any Futuristic nonsense in an honest English country house, which has been good enough for his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather, and–and all the rest of them. (Kneels on settee.) So there's a sort of strained feeling between Olivia and George just now, and if Olivia were to–sort of recommend you, well, it wouldn't do you much good.

BRIAN (looking at her). I see. Of course I know what you want, Dinah.

DINAH. What do I want?

BRIAN. You want a secret engagement–

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. And notes left under door-mats–

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. And meetings by the withered thorn–

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. When all the household is asleep.

DINAH. Oh!

BRIAN. I know you.

DINAH. Oh, but it is such fun! I love meeting people by withered thorns.

BRIAN. Well, I'm not going to have it.

DINAH (childishly, sitting close to him). Oh, George! Look at us being husbandy!

BRIAN. You babe! I adore you. You know, you're rather throwing yourself away on me. Do you mind?

DINAH (putting her legs up on settee and reclining her head on his shoulder). Not a bit.

BRIAN. We shall never be rich, but we shall have lots of fun, and meet interesting people, and feel that we're doing something worth doing, and not getting paid nearly enough for it, and–oh, it's an exciting life.

DINAH (seeing it). I shall love it.

BRIAN (sincerely). I'll make you love it. You shan't be sorry, Dinah.

DINAH. You shan't be sorry either, Brian.

BRIAN (looking at her lovingly). Oh, I know I shan't.... What will Olivia think about it? Will she be surprised?

DINAH. Olivia? Oh, she's never surprised. She always seems to have thought of things about half an hour before they happen. George just begins to get hold of them about half an hour after they've happened. (Considering him, stroking his hair.) After all, there's no reason why George shouldn't like you, darling.

BRIAN. I'm not his sort, you know, really.

DINAH. You're more Olivia's sort. Well, we'll tell Olivia this morning. (Olivia enters.)

OLIVIA (coming in). And what are you going to tell Olivia this morning? (They jump up and go to her.)

DINAH. Olivia, darling–

OLIVIA. Oh, well, I think I can guess. (Dinah goes to her right, and Brian to her left., and they bring her down center stage.)

BRIAN (following). Say you understand, Mrs. Marden.

OLIVIA (smiling). And how many people have been told the good news?

BRIAN. Nobody yet.

DINAH. Except Mr. Pim.

BRIAN (crossing down to Dinah). Oh, does he–

OLIVIA. Who's Mr. Pim?

DINAH. Oh, he just happened–(Olivia takes curtains and work-basket from centre cupboard of cabinet.)–I say, are those the curtains? Then you're going to have them after all?

OLIVIA (with an air of surprise, coming and putting work-basket on table and sitting with curtains). After all what? But I decided on them long ago. (To Brian.) You haven't told George yet.

BRIAN. I began to, you know, but I never got any farther than "Er– there's just–er–"

DINAH (crossing quickly to Olivia and speaking into her face). George would talk about pigs all the time.

OLIVIA. Well, I suppose you want me to help you.

DINAH (sitting to left of Olivia). Oh, do, darling.

BRIAN (sits on stool). It would be awfully decent of you. Of course, I'm not quite his sort really–

DINAH. You're my sort.

BRIAN. But I don't think he objects to me, and–

George enters, a typical, narrow-minded, honest country gentleman. Brian rises hurriedly and crosses. Dinah rises. Olivia unfolds curtains and prepares to sew.

GEORGE (at the windows–he does not see Brian). Hullo! Hullo! Hullo!

DINAH. Hullo, Uncle George. There was a Mr. Pim here to see you.

GEORGE. A Mr. Pim? Never heard of him in my life!

DINAH. He said he had a letter of introduction, Uncle George.

GEORGE. Oh, you saw him, did you!

DINAH. He had to run an errand in town. He's coming back.

OLIVIA. Pass me those scissors, Brian.

BRIAN (crossing to table). These? (he passes them.)

OLIVIA (giving Brian a nod of encouragement and looking round at Dinah). Thank you.

GEORGE. Coming back, you say, Dinah? (Dinah nods.) Then I'll be going back too. Send him down to the farm, Olivia, when he comes. (Going up meets Brian.) Hallo, what happened to you?

OLIVIA. Don't go, George, there's something we want to talk about.

(Dinah gives a long whistle. All look sheepish and George notices their attitude.)

GEORGE. Hallo, what's this?

BRIAN (quickly and over back of table to Olivia). Shall I—! (Dinah pantomimes. "Yes, do.")

OLIVIA (with a roguish loot at Dinah). Yes. (Sticks needle in work.)

BRIAN (stepping out to center). I've been wanting to tell you this morning, sir, only I didn't seem to have an opportunity of getting it out.

GEORGE. Well, what is it?

(Brian, taken aback for a moment, looks to Olivia for encouragement. She nods approval and turning to Dinah, takes her hand encouragingly–)

BRIAN (boldly). I want to marry Dinah, sir.

GEORGE. You want to marry Dinah? God bless my soul!

DINAH (rushing to George and her hands on his shoulder). Oh, do say you like the idea, Uncle George.

GEORGE. Like the idea! (Taking her hands from his shoulder.) Have you heard of this nonsense, Olivia? (Movement of annoyance from Dinah.)

OLIVIA. They've just this moment told me, George. I think they would be happy together.

GEORGE (crossing). And what do you propose to be happy together on?

BRIAN. Well, of course, I know it doesn't amount to much at present, but we shan't starve.

DINAH. Brian got fifty pounds for a picture last March!

GEORGE (a little upset by this). Oh! (Recovering gamely.) And how many pictures have you sold since?

BRIAN (gives a nervous look at Olivia and Dinah). Well, none, but–

GEORGE. None! And I don't wonder. Who the devil is going to buy pictures with triangular clouds and square sheep? (Brian, annoyed, crosses.) And they call that Art nowadays! Good God, man (moving up to the windows), go outside and look at the clouds!

OLIVIA (busy stitching rings on curtains). If he draws round clouds in the future, George, will you let him marry Dinah? (George looks round, annoyed. Brian is hopeful and comes down towards Dinah.)

GEORGE (upset by this, coming down to head of table). What–what? Yes, of course, you would be on his side–all this Futuristic nonsense. (Olivia commences to sew.)

BRIAN (ingratiatingly). After all, sir, at my age one is naturally experimenting, and trying to find one's (with a laugh)–well, it sounds priggish, but one's medium of expression. I shall find out what I want to do directly, but I think I shall always be able to earn enough to live on.

GEORGE. I see, and now you want to experiment with a wife–

BRIAN. Yes–no–no–

DINAH. Yes, you do,

BRIAN. Yes.

GEORGE. And you propose to experimenting with my niece?

BRIAN (with a shrug). Well, of course, if you–

GEORGE (hedging). It isn't merely a question of money. I just mention that as one thing–one of the important things.

DINAH. Oh!

GEORGE. In short, I cannot at all approve of any engagement between you. (Dinah throws up her arms and buries her face in her hands on piano.) (Getting up.) Olivia, if this Mr.–er–Pim comes, I shall be down at the farm. You might send him along to me. (He crosses to exit.)

OLIVIA. George, wait a moment, dear. We can't quite leave it like this.

GEORGE. I have said all I want to say on the subject.

OLIVIA. Yes, darling, but I haven't begun to say all that I want to say on the subject. (George crosses back to table and sits.)

DINAH (mutinously, rising quickly and crossing to stool on which she kneels and looks up into George's face and bangs the table). I may as well tell you, Uncle George, that I have got a good deal to say, too. (Brian crosses to her, gingerly pulling her sleeve, trying to restrain her.)

OLIVIA. Yes, darling. I can guess what you are going to say, Dinah, and I think you had better keep it for the moment.

DINAH (meekly, backing away). Yes, Aunt Olivia.

OLIVIA. Brian, you might take her outside for a walk. I expect you have plenty to talk about. (Brian and Dinah move to exit.)

GEORGE (as they go). And if you do see any clouds, Strange, take a good look at them. (He chuckles to himself.) Well, Olivia?

OLIVIA (sewing curtains). Well, George?

GEORGE. What are you doing?

OLIVIA. Making curtains–(grunt of disapproval from George)–George. Won't they be rather sweet? Oh, but I forgot–you don't like them.

GEORGE. No. I don't like them, and what is more, I don't mean to have them in my house. As I told you yesterday, this is the house of a simple country gentleman, and I don't want any of these new-fangled ideas in it.

OLIVIA. Is marrying for love a new-fangled idea?

GEORGE. We'll come to that directly. What I am saying now is that the house of my fathers and forefathers is good enough for me.

OLIVIA. Do you know, George, I can hear one of your ancestors saying that to his wife in their smelly old cave–(George looks up annoyed at her levity)–when the new-fangled idea of building houses was first suggested. "The Cave of my Forefathers is good enough for—"

GEORGE (rising). That's ridiculous. Naturally we must have progress. But that's just the point. (Indicating the curtains.) I don't call this sort of thing progress. It's–ah–retrogression.

OLIVIA. Well, anyhow, it's pretty.

GEORGE. There I disagree with you. And I must say once more that I will not have them hanging in my house.

OLIVIA. Very well, George. (But she goes on working.)

GEORGE (seeing her continuing to sew, stops). That being so, I don't see the necessity of going on with them.

OLIVIA. Well, I must do something with them now I've got the material. (George goes up to the table, sits and writes.)

GEORGE (shouting). Put those beastly things away.

OLIVIA (rising and gathering up the curtains). Very well, George. (Crosses and places the curtains on top of the cabinet.)

GEORGE (waits impatiently until she has put them away on top of cabinet). Ah! That's better. (Olivia comes to table, closes her workbox and then crosses to settee. George rising and crossing down to Olivia and placing arms lovingly on her shoulder). Now look here, Olivia, you know you’re my girl and I love you.

OLIVIA. As much as Brian loves Dinah?

GEORGE (stiffly, taking her hands from his shoulders). I've said all I want to say about that. (He goes away from her.) These kind of marriages invariably lead to unhappiness.

OLIVIA. Of course, my first marriage wasn't a happy one.

GEORGE. As you know, Olivia, I dislike speaking about your first marriage at all–but since you mention it–well, there's a case in point.

OLIVIA. My father made me marry Mr. Jacob Telworthy. (George looks up at her, annoyed.) And when things were too hot for him in England– "too hot for him"–I think that was the expression we used in those days– then we went to Australia, and I left him there. And the only happy moment I had in all my married life was on the morning when I saw in the papers that he was dead. (Leans with her arms over back of settee.)

GEORGE (very uncomfortable yet lovingly taking her hands). Yes, yes, my dear, I know, I know. You must have had a terrible time. But I don't see what bearing it has upon Dinah's case.

OLIVIA. Oh, none, except that my father was fond Jacob's financial situation and his views on art. I expect that that was why he chose him for me.

GEORGE. You seem to think that I wish to choose a husband for Dinah. I don't at all. Let her choose whom she likes as long as he can support her and there's a chance of their being happy together.

OLIVIA (looking at him thoughtfully). You are a curious mixture, George. You were so very unconventional when you married me, and you're so very conventional when Brian wants to marry Dinah.... George Marden to marry the widow of a convict!

GEORGE (advancing). Convict! What do you mean?

OLIVIA. Jacob Telworthy, convict–I forget his number–surely I told you all this, dear, when we got engaged?

GEORGE. Never!

OLIVIA. Oh, but I told you how he carelessly put the wrong signature to a check for a thousand pounds in England; how he made a little mistake about two or three companies he'd promoted in Australia; and how–

GEORGE. Yes, yes, but you never told me he'd been–er–well–convicted!

OLIVIA. What difference does it make?

GEORGE. My dear Olivia, if you can't see that–a–a–oh, well!

OLIVIA. Oh! A convict! So, you see, we needn't be too particular about our niece, need we?

GEORGE. I think we had better leave your first husband out of the conversation altogether. I never wished to refer to him; I never wish to hear about him again. I certainly had not realized that he was actually–er–well– convicted for his–er–(moving to table and picking up his cap).

OLIVIA. Mistakes.

GEORGE. That is quite enough of this, Olivia. If this Mr.–er–what was his name, comes, I shall be down at the farm. (George exits.) (Left alone, Olivia rises, takes up her curtains again, sits on settee, and gets calmly to work upon them. Dinah and Brian enter.)

DINAH. Finished?

OLIVIA (startled). Oh, no, I've got all these rings to put on.

DINAH. I meant talking to George.

OLIVIA. I haven't said anything yet.

DINAH (very disappointed). Oh!

OLIVIA. But I dare say I shall think of something. (Rising and looking about her).

DINAH. Come on, Brian, let's go out. I feel open-airy. (They cross toward exit, opening door.)

OLIVIA. Don't be late for lunch. Lady Marden is coming.

DINAH. Aunt Juli-ah! Help! (She faints in Brian's arms.) That means a clean pinafore. Brian, you'll jolly well have to brush your hair. (As Dinah and Brian are faced the other way, Mr. Pim sheepishly enters through the open door.)

DINAH (turns back, sees Mr. Pim, delighted). Hullo. Mr. Pim! (Imitating a clown.) Here we are again! You can't get rid of us so easily, you see.

PIM. I–er–dear Miss Marden—

OLIVIA. How-do-you-do, Mr. Pim? I can't get up, but do come and sit down. (Pim shakes hands with Olivia.) My husband will be here in a minute.

OLIVIA. You'll stay to lunch, of course, Mr. Pim?

DINAH. Oh, do!

PIM. It's very kind of you, Mrs. Marden, but—

DINAH. Oh, you simply must, Mr. Pim. You haven't told us half enough about yourself yet. I want to hear all about your early life.

OLIVIA. Dinah!

(Dinah sits at piano and plays happy music.)

PIM. Oh, we are almost, I might say, old friends, Mrs. Marden.

DINAH. Of course we are. He knows Brian, too. There's more in Mr. Pim than you think. You will stay to lunch, won't you?

PIM. It's very kind of you to ask me, Mrs. Marden, but I am lunching with the Trevors.

OLIVIA. Oh, well, you must come to lunch another day.

PIM. Oh, thank you, thank you.

DINAH. The reason why we like Mr. Pim so much is that he was the first person to congratulate us. We feel that he is going to have a great influence on our lives.

PIM. (to Olivia). I, so to speak, stumbled on the engagement this morning, and–er–

OLIVIA. I see. (to Dinah and Brian) Run along now, you must go and tidy yourselves up.

(Dinah curtsies and takes Brian’s arm and they walk toward exit.)

DINAH. Au revoir, Mr. Pim. (Dramatically.) We–shall–meet–again!

(Pim, laughing heartily, rises and bows.)

OLIVIA. You must forgive them, Mr. Pim. Naturally they're rather excited just now.

PIM. Oh, naturally, naturally!

OLIVIA. Of course you won't say anything about their engagement. We only heard about it five minutes ago, and nothing has been settled yet.

PIM. Of course, of course!

(George enters.)

GEORGE. Ah, you must be Mr. Pim. Sorry to have kept you waiting before. (Shaking hands.) How are you? How are you?

PIM. The apology should come from me, Mr. Marden, for having–er–

GEORGE. Not at all. Very glad to meet you now.

OLIVIA. Shall I be in your way at all?

PIM. Oh, no, no, please don't. (to George, handing him the letter) It's only just a question of a letter.

GEORGE. Ah, yes, I see. (Reading letter.) Fanshawe will put you in the way of seeing all that you want to see. (Crosses to table, sits.) He's a very old friend of mine. I’ll send you with a response. (Taking a sheet of notepaper and turning in chair to Pim.) You'll stay to lunch, of course?

PIM. It's very kind of you, but I'm lunching with the Trevors. (Sits on settee and puts down his hat and gloves.)

GEORGE. Ah, well, they'll look after you all right. Good chap, Trevor.

PIM. Oh, very good ... very good. (To Olivia.) You see, Mrs. Marden, I have only recently arrived from Australia–(Olivia stops in her sewing and George looks up)–after travelling about the world for some years, and I'm rather out of touch with my–er–fellow workers in London.

OLIVIA. I see! You've been in Australia, Mr. Pim?

PIM. Oh, yes, I—

GEORGE (after a loud cough). Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Pim. I shan't be a moment.

PIM. Oh, that's all right, thank you. (To Olivia.) Oh, yes, I have been in Australia more than once in the last few years.

OLIVIA. Really? I used to live at Sydney many years ago. Do you know Sydney at all?

PIM. Oh, yes, I was——

GEORGE (coughing). H'r'm! Perhaps I'd better mention that you are a friend of the Trevors?

PIM. Thank you, thank you. (To Olivia.) Indeed yes, I spent several months in Sydney a few years ago.

OLIVIA. How curious! I wonder if we have any friends in common there.

GEORGE (coughing and gruffly). Extremely unlikely, I should think. Sydney is a very big place.

PIM. True, true, but the world is a very small place, Mr. Marden. I had a remarkable instance of that, coming over on the boat this last time.

GEORGE. Ah! (Feeling that the conversation is now safe, he resumes his letter.)

PIM. Yes. There was a man I used to employ in Sydney some years ago, a bad fellow, I'm afraid, Mrs. Marden, who had been in prison for some kind of fraudulent company-promoting and had taken to drink and–and so on.

OLIVIA. Yes, yes, I understand.

PIM. Drinking himself to death, I should have said. I gave him at the most another year to live. Yet to my amazement the first person I saw as I stepped on board the boat that brought me to England last week was this fellow. There was no mistaking him. I spoke to him, in fact; we recognized each other. (George rises.)

OLIVIA. Really?

PIM. He was travelling steerage; we didn't meet again on board, and as it happened at Marseilles, this poor fellow–er–now what was his name? A very unusual one. Began with a–a T, I think.

OLIVIA (with suppressed feeling). Yes, Mr. Pim, yes? (She puts out a hand to George.)

PIM (triumphantly). I've got it! Telworthy!

OLIVIA (draws back in settee, overcome). Telworthy!

GEORGE. Good God!

PIM (a little surprised at the success of his story). An unusual name, is it not? Not a name you could forget when once you had heard it.

OLIVIA (with feeling, gazing into space with hands clenched). No, it is not a name you could forget when once you had heard it.

GEORGE (hastily coming over to Pim). Quite so, Mr. Pim, a most remarkable name, a most odd story altogether. Well, well, here's your letter– (Pim rises and takes the letter)–and if you're sure you won't stay to lunch—

PIM. No, thank you. You see, I'm lunching with—

GEORGE. With the Trevors, yes. I remember you told me. (Taking his arm and hurrying him up.) I'll just see you on your way....

OLIVIA (holding out her hand, but not looking at him). Good-bye, Mr. Pim.

PIM (shaking hands with Olivia). Good-bye, good-bye!

GEORGE (taking him by the arm towards the exit). This way, this way.

PIM. Thank you, thank you. (exits)

GEORGE. Good God! Telworthy! Is it possible?

OLIVIA. I don’t know, but we can’t think about this now. We have to get lunch ready for Lady Marden!

Quick Curtain.

Act II

An hour later. Lunch is over. Lady Marden and company are in living room.

LADYMARDEN (to Olivia).The lunch was acceptable, Olivia.Thank you.

OLIVIA. You’re welcome.

DINAH (to Brian). I know Aunt Julia likes a little music.

(Dinah crosses to piano and begins to play. Brian crosses, laughing at her. George and Lady Marden are annoyed with Dinah's playing, and tell her to stop, and she does so. Olivia pours milk into Dinah's cup and Brian passes it to her; she drinks and then commences to play again and is stopped by looks from Lady Marden and George.)

LADY MARDEN (to Dinah). No! No! Don't do it!

OLIVIA. Your aunt does not like it, dear. (Dinah stops playing.)

LADY MARDEN. No, I do not.

OLIVIA. Your Aunt Julia had wanted to see the pigs, dear. I wish you'd take her down. I'm rather tired, and your uncle has some business to attend to. (George sits up straight in chair.)

LADY MARDEN. I've always said that you don't take enough exercise, Olivia.

BRIAN. May I come, too, Lady Marden?

LADY MARDEN (coming down centre to Brian). Well, a little exercise wouldn't do you any harm, Mr. Strange. You're an artist, ain't you?

BRIAN. Well, I try to paint.

DINAH (rises). He sold a picture last March for—

GEORGE. Yes, yes, never mind that now.

LADY MARDEN. Yes, unhealthy life. (Going toward exit, turns to Dinah and Brian.) Well, come along. (She strides out, followed by Dinah and Brian, who upset George's papers on the table as they go. Olivia takes the curtains and workbox from cabinet.)

GEORGE (looking up and seeing Olivia). Really, Olivia, we've got something more important, more vital to us than curtains, to discuss, now that we are alone at last.

OLIVIA. I wasn't going to discuss them, dear. (Sits.)

GEORGE. Of course, I'm always glad to see Aunt Julia in my house, but I wish she hadn't chosen this day of all days to come to lunch.

OLIVIA. It wasn't Aunt Julia's fault. It was really Mr. Pim who chose the wrong day.

GEORGE (fiercely and rising). Good heavens, is it true?

OLIVIA. About Jacob Telworthy?

GEORGE. You told me he was dead. You always said that he was dead.

OLIVIA. Well, I always thought that he was dead. He was as dead as anybody could be. All the papers said he was dead.

GEORGE (scornfully). The papers!

OLIVIA (as if this would settle it for George). The Times said he was dead. There was a paragraph about him. Apparently even his death was fraudulent.

GEORGE . Yes, yes, I'm not blaming you, Olivia, but what are we going to do, that's the question, what are we going to do? My God, it's horrible! You've never been married to me at all! You don't seem to understand.

OLIVIA. It is a little difficult to realize. You see, it doesn't seem to have made any difference to our happiness.

GEORGE. No, that's what's so terrible. (Olivia looks up surprised.) I mean–well, of course, we were quite innocent in the matter. But, at the same time, –we had no right to–to be happy.

OLIVIA. Would you rather we had been miserable?

GEORGE. You're Telworthy's wife, that's what you don't seem to understand. You're Telworthy's wife. You–er–forgive me, Olivia, but it's the horrible truth–you committed bigamy when you married me. (In horror) Bigamy!

OLIVIA. It is an ugly word, isn't it?

GEORGE (rising with gesture of despair). Well, what are we going to do?

OLIVIA. You sent Mr. Pim away so quickly. He might have told us things. Telworthy's plans. Where he is now. You hurried him away so quickly.

GEORGE. I've sent a note round to ask him to come back. My one idea at the moment was to get him out of the house–to hush things up.

OLIVIA. You can't hush up two husbands.

GEORGE (in despair). You can't. (Sits) Everybody will know. Everybody!

OLIVIA. Jacob Telworthy may be alive, but I am not his wife. I ceased to be his wife when I became yours.

GEORGE. You never were my wife. (Annoyed) Legally, we have been living in–living in–well, the point is, how does the Law stand? I imagine that Telworthy could get a–a divorce....

OLIVIA. A divorce?

GEORGE. I–I imagine so.

OLIVIA. But then we could really get married, and we shouldn't be living in–living in–whatever we were living in before.

GEORGE. I can't understand you, Olivia. You talk about it so calmly, as if there was nothing wrong in our having lived together for years without having been married.

OLIVIA (placing her hands on table). What seems wrong to me is that I lived for five years with a bad man whom I hated. What seems right to me is that I lived for five years with a good man whom I love.

GEORGE (taking and patting her hands affectionately). Yes, yes, my dear, I know. (Drops her hands) But right and wrong don't settle themselves as easily as that. We've been living together when you were Telworthy's wife. That's wrong.

OLIVIA. So what you feel is that Telworthy has the greater claim? You are prepared to–make way for him?

GEORGE. Both the Church and the Law would say that I had no claim at all, I'm afraid. I–I suppose I haven't.

OLIVIA. I see. (She looks at him curiously.) Thank you for making it so clear, George.

GEORGE. Of course, whether or not you go back to–er–Telworthy is another matter altogether. That would naturally be for you to decide.

OLIVIA (cheerfully). For me and Jacko to decide.

GEORGE. Er–Jacko?

OLIVIA. I used to call my first husband–I mean my only husband–Jacko. I didn't like the name ofJacob, and Jacko seemed to suit him somehow.(Enjoying the joke.) He had very long arms. (George is very annoyed.) Poor Jacko.

GEORGE (annoyed).You don'tseem to realize that thisis not a joke, Olivia.

OLIVIA (still amused). It may not be a joke, but it is funny, isn't it?

GEORGE. I must say I don't see anything funny in a tragedy that has wrecked two lives.

OLIVIA. Two? Oh, but Jacko's life isn't wrecked. It has just been miraculously restored to him. And a wife, too. There's nothing tragic for Jacko in it.

GEORGE (stiffly). I was referring to our two lives–yours and mine.

OLIVIA. Yours, George? Your life isn't wrecked. The Court will absolve you of all blame; your friends will sympathize with you, and tell you that I was a designing woman who deliberately took you in; your Aunt Julia–

GEORGE (overwrought). Stop it! (Crossing over to her.) Do you think I want my home broken up like this?

OLIVIA. But you want to send me away,

GEORGE. You don't seem to understand that I'm not sending you away. You simply aren't mine to keep.

OLIVIA. Whose am I?

GEORGE (dubiously). Your husband's. Telworthy's.

OLIVIA (gently). If I belong to anybody but myself, I think I belong to you.

GEORGE. Not in the eyes of the Law. Not in the eyes of the Church. (Olivia works in silence. Then she shakes out her curtains.)

OLIVIA (looking at them). I do hope Jacko will like these.

GEORGE (turning and seeing curtains). What! You—(Going up to her quickly and taking her by the hands raises her from the settee.) Olivia, Olivia, have you no heart?

OLIVIA. Ought you to talk like that to another man's wife?

GEORGE. Confound it, is this just a joke to you?

OLIVIA. One wants to do what is right.

GEORGE (miserably and turning in his chair to her). Yes, one must do what is right.

OLIVIA. Of course. It's only that we don't quite agree as to what is right and what is wrong.

GEORGE. It isn't a question of agreeing. Right is right, and wrong is wrong, all the world over.

OLIVIA (with a sad little smile). But more particularly in Buckinghamshire, I think.

GEORGE (turning round, seeing Dinah coming). H'sh! Dinah! (Loudly for Dinah's benefit.) Ah, Dinah, where's Aunt Julia?

DINAH (coming in). We've seen the pigs, and now she's discussing the Art of Landseer with Brian. I just came to ask–

OLIVIA. Dinah, dear, bring Aunt Julia here. And Brian too. We have things we want to talk about with you all.

DINAH. Right-o! (exits)

GEORGE (outraged). Olivia!

OLIVIA. Dinah will have to know. I'm very fond of her, George. You can't send me away without telling Dinah. And Brian is my friend. (Moving to cabinet, puts curtains and work-box on top of cabinet.)

GEORGE (forgetting). I should have thought that your husband–

OLIVIA (coming to settee). Yes, but we don't know where Jacko is.

GEORGE. I was not referring to–er–Telworthy. (Sits with his face in his hands at table. Olivia is about to speak to him as Lady Marden, Dinah and Brian enter.)

OLIVIA (after a pause). George and I have had some rather bad news, Aunt Julia. We wanted your advice. Where will you sit?

LADY MARDEN. Thank you, Olivia. I can sit down by myself. (Sits)

OLIVIA (to Dinah). You sit there, my darling. (Dinah sits in armchair. There is a good pause. All are looking very uncomfortable.)

LADY MARDEN. Well, what is it? (Another pause. All are still looking very uncomfortable.)

OLIVIA. We've just heard that my first husband is still alive.

DINAH. Telworthy!

BRIAN. Good Lord!

LADY MARDEN. George!

DINAH (excitedly). And only this morning I was saying that nothing ever happened in this house! (Rising from seat and sitting next to Olivia and remorsefully to her.) Darling, I don't mean that. Darling one!

LADY MARDEN. What does this mean, George? I leave you for ten minutes–barely ten minutes–to go and look at the pigs, and when I come back you tell me that Olivia is a bigamist.

BRIAN (indignantly advancing towards Lady Marden). I say—

OLIVIA (restraining him). H'sh!

LADY MARDEN. Well, George?

GEORGE (rising and coming down to Lady Marden). I'm afraid it's true, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. What was his name—Tel–something—

OLIVIA. Jacob Telworthy.

LADY MARDEN (in amazement). So he's alive still?

OLIVIA. Apparently. There seems to be no doubt about it.

LADY MARDEN. Didn't you see him die? I should always want to see my husband die before I married again. Not that I approve of second marriages, anyhow. I told you so at the time, George.

OLIVIA. And me, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. Did I? Well, I generally say what I think.

OLIVIA (to George). You wanted to ask Aunt Julia what was the right thing to do.

BRIAN (crossing and bursting out). Good Heavens, what is there to do except the one and only thing? (They all look at him and he becomes embarrassed and backs up stage a little.) I'm sorry. You don't want me to—

OLIVIA. I do, Brian.

LADY MARDEN. Well, go on, Mr. Strange. What would you do in George's position?

BRIAN. Do? Say to the woman I loved, "You're mine (bangs table with his fist), and let this other damned fellow come and take you from me if he can!" And he couldn't–how could he?–not if the woman chose me.(Lady Marden gazes at Brian in amazement, George in anger. Olivia presses his hand gratefully. He has said what she has been waiting–oh, so eagerly– for George to say. Dinah rises and up to Brian and takes his arm.)

DINAH (adoringly). Oh, Brian! (In a loud whisper.) It is me, isn't it, and not Olivia?

BRIAN. You baby, of course!

DINAH.

LADY MARDEN. I'm afraid, Mr. Strange (Dinah with an exclamation of annoyance), your morals are as peculiar as your views on Art.

BRIAN. This is not a question of morals or of art, it's a question of love.

DINAH. Hear, hear!

LADY MARDEN (to George). Isn't it that girl's bed-time yet?

OLIVIA (to Dinah and taking her hand). We'll let her sit up a little longer if she's good.

DINAH. I will be good, Olivia (aggressively to Lady Marden), only I thought anybody, however important a debate was, was allowed to say "Hear, hear!"

LADY MARDEN. The marriage must be annulled–is that the word, George?

GEORGE. I presume so.

BRIAN. And when the marriage has been annulled, what then?

LADY MARDEN. Presumably Olivia will return to her husband.

BRIAN (bitterly to Lady Marden). And that's morality!

LADY MARDEN (calmly). You suggest that George and Olivia should go on living together, although they have never been legally married. Bless the man, what do you think the County would say?

BRIAN (scornfully). Does it matter?

DINAH. Well, if you really want to know, the men would say, "Gad, she's a fine woman; I don't wonder he sticks to her!” and the women would say, "I can't think what he sees in her to stick to her like that," and they'd both say, "After all, he may be a damn fool, but you can't deny he's a sportsman."

LADY MARDEN (very indignant). I can't think what young people are coming to nowadays.

OLIVIA. (to Dinah) I think, dear, you and Brian had better go.

DINAH (getting up). We will go. (Crossing to exit, looking cheekily into George's face.) But I'm just going to say one thing, Uncle George. Brian and I are going to marry each other, and when we are married we'll stick to each other, however many of our dead husbands and wives turn up! Come on, Brian. (Exits, followed by Brian.)

GEORGE. Upon my word, this is a pleasant discussion.

OLIVIA. I think the discussion is over, George.It is only a question of where I shall go, while you are bringing your–what sort of suit did you call it?

LADY MARDEN (to George). Nullity suit. I suppose that is the best thing?

GEORGE (his apology). If there were any other way! Olivia, what can I do? It is the only way, isn't it? (Lady Marden turns and listens.) I want to do what's right, what's best. (Olivia holds out her hands lovingly towards him.) Oh, Olivia, Olivia, you do understand, don't you? (They have both forgotten Lady Marden. Olivia has never taken her eyes off him as he makes his last at tempt to convince himself.)

OLIVIA (almost tenderly). So very, very well, George. Oh, I understand just what you are feeling. And oh, I do so wish that you could–(with a little sigh)–but then it wouldn't be George, not the George I married–(with a rueful little laugh)–or didn't quite marry.

LADY MARDEN. I must say, I think you are both talking a little wildly.

OLIVIA (repeating it, oh, so tenderly). Or didn't–quite–marry. (She looks at him with all her heart in her eyes. She is giving him his last chance to say "Damn Telworthy; you're mine!" He struggles desperately with himself, turns to Olivia.)

GEORGE. Olivia! Olivia! My darling! (She rises. He crosses to her and takes her in his arms.)

(We hear a knock at the door. Everyone freezes. Mr. Pim knocks again and lets himself in.)

PIM. Oh, excuse me again. Am I interrupting?

GEORGE. (emerging from the embrace with an effort) Ah, Mr. Pim! Very good of you to have come.

LADY MARDEN. Who on earth is Mr. Pim?

OLIVIA. Please, come in, Mr. Pim. (to Lady Marden) Julia, it was Mr. Pim who told us about my husband. He came across with him in the boat, and recognized him as the Telworthy he knew in Australia.

GEORGE. The fact is–er–(It is too much for him; he looks despairingly at Olivia.)

OLIVIA. The fact is, Mr. Pim, you gave us rather a surprise this morning, and before we had time to realize what it all meant, you had gone.

PIM. A surprise, Mrs. Marden? Dear me, not an unpleasant one, I hope?

OLIVIA. Well, rather a–surprising one. (Lady Marden coughs.)

PIM (after a desperate effort to keep up with the conversation). Oh!... I–er–I'm afraid I am rather at sea.

OLIVIA. Mr. Pim, you told us this morning of a man whom you had met on the boat, a man who had come down in the world, whom you had known in Sydney. A man called Telworthy.

PIM__(relieved).Ah, yes, yes, of course.(ToOlivia.)__I did sayTelworthy, didn'tI?

GEORGE. Just a moment, Mr. Pim. You're quite sure that his name was Telworthy?

PIM (to George). Telworthy–Telworthy–didn't I say Telworthy? Yes, that was it–Telworthy. Poor fellow!

OLIVIA. I'm going to be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Pim. I feel quite sure that I can trust you. This man Telworthy whom you met is my husband.

PIM. Your husband! (He looks in mild surprise at George.) Your–er—

OLIVIA. My first husband. His death was announced six years ago. I had left him some years before that, but there seems no doubt from your story that he's still alive. His record–the country he comes from–above all, the very unusual name–Telworthy.

PIM. Telworthy–yes–certainly a most peculiar name. Your first husband? Dear me! Dear me!

OLIVIA (pulling his arm, trying to attract his attention). Well, since he is my husband, we naturally want to know something about him. Where is he now, for instance?

PIM (surprised and turning to Olivia). Where is he now? But surely I told you? I told you what happened at Marseilles?

GEORGE. At Marseilles?

PIM (to George). Yes, yes, poor fellow, it was most unfortunate.

GEORGE (thumping the desk). Where is he now, that's what we want to know? (Mr. Pim turns to him with a start.)

OLIVIA. Please, Mr. Pim!

PIM (to Olivia). Where is he now? But–but didn't I tell you of the curious fatality at Marseilles–poor fellow–the fish-bone?

ALL. Fish-bone?

PIM. Yes, yes, a herring, I understand.

OLIVIA (becoming hysterical). Do you mean he's dead?

PIM. Dead–of course he's dead. He's been dead—

OLIVIA (laughing hysterically). Oh, Mr. Pim, you–oh, what a husband to have–oh, I—(But that is all she can say for the moment.)

LADY MARDEN. Pull yourself together, Olivia. (To Pim.) So he really is dead this time?

PIM. Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly. A fish-bone lodged in his throat.

GEORGE. Dead! Dead!

PIM (rising and turning to Olivia, alarmed at her hysteria). Oh, but, Mrs. Marden!

OLIVIA. I think you must excuse me, Mr. Pim. But a herring! There's something about a herring— (George comes quickly to her, very concerned. Pim is also very concerned. Turning to George.) Oh, George! (Shaking her head in a weak state of laughter, and exits.)

PIM. Oh dear! Oh dear! I'm afraid I broke the news rather hastily. The double shock of losing one husband and being restored to another–

LADY MARDEN (coming to George). A dispensation of Providence, George. One can regard it in no other light.

GEORGE (coming to Pim). Yes! Yes! Well, I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Pim, for having come down to us this afternoon, and you understand that your news, though tardy, has been very welcome. (shaking hands– anxious to get rid of him). Well, good-bye, and again our thanks.

PIM. Not at all. I shouldn't have broken the news so hastily. (Catches sight of Lady Marden and with a profound bow.) Good-bye, Lady Marden.

LADY MARDEN (equally profound). Good-bye, Mr. Pim.

PIM. I'm afraid I broke the news too hastily. (Goes to table and takes up George's cap in mistake for his hat and is moving to exit when George, noting this, picks up Pim's hat and crosses with it to Pim.)

GEORGE. Mr. Pim, excuse me, but I think this is yours.

PIM (he takes it and looks at it closely, comparing it with the cap). This isn't my hat at all. (Puts George's cap down on table again.) No, that isn't my hat. (Takes his own hat from George.) This is my hat. Good-bye! (Shakes hands.) Thank you so much.

GEORGE (turning to Lady Marden and with a sigh of thankfulness). Well, this is wonderful news, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. Most providential. Well, I must be getting along now, George. Say good-bye to Olivia for me.

GEORGE. Good-bye, Aunt Julia.

LADY MARDEN. And get Olivia out more, George. I don't like these hysterics. (Banging table.) You want to be firmer with her.

GEORGE. Yes! Yes! Good-bye.

LADY MARDEN. Good-bye. (exits)

GEORGE. Dead! Dead! (Olivia enters from staircase, watching him and coming quietly. George approaching her enthusiastically). Olivia! Olivia! (Is about to embrace her, but she restrains him.)

OLIVIA (drawing herself up). Mrs. Telworthy!

GEORGE (taken aback). What? Olivia! I–I don't understand.

OLIVIA. Well, darling, if my husband only died at Marseilles a few days ago—

GEORGE (scratching his head). Yes, I see–I see. Well, we can soon put that right. A registry office in London. Better go up this afternoon. We can't do these things too quickly–we can stay at a hotel.

OLIVIA (pointedly). You and Mrs. Telworthy! (Moves slowly round back of settee.)

GEORGE. Yes–yes, I know, but why do you keep saying it? What's the matter with you? You're so strange today. You're not like the Olivia I know.

OLIVIA (sits). Perhaps you don't know me so very well, after all.

GEORGE (sitting–affectionately next to her). Oh, that's nonsense. You're just myOlivia.Nowwe cangetmarriedagainquietlyandnobodywillbe anytheworse.

OLIVIA. Well, if you want to marry me tomorrow, George, oughtn't you to propose to me first?

GEORGE (amazed). Propose?

OLIVIA. Yes. It is usual, isn't it, to propose to a person before you marry her? And–and we want to do the usual thing, don't we?

GEORGE (ratherfancying himself as an actor, he adopts what he considers to be an appropriate attitude). Er–ah, Mrs. Telworthy, I have long admired you in silence, and the time has now come to put my admiration into words (but apparently he finds a difficulty)–er–er–

OLIVIA. I don't want to interrupt, but oughtn't you to be on your knees? It is–usual, I believe.

GEORGE. Really, Olivia, you must allow me to manage my own proposal in my own way.

OLIVIA (meekly–and resuming her coyness). I'm sorry. Do go on.

GEORGE. Well–er–confound it, Olivia, I love you. Will you marry me?

OLIVIA. Thank you, George, I will think it over.

GEORGE (good-humouredly and coming down to back of settee to her). Well, give me a kiss while you're thinking.

OLIVIA. I'm afraid you mustn't kiss me until we are actually engaged.

GEORGE (laughing uneasily, and sitting and leaning over on table). Oh, we needn't take it as seriously as all that.

OLIVIA. But a woman must take a proposal seriously.

GEORGE (a little alarmed at last). What do you mean?

OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that the whole question–(with a sly look at George)–as I heard somebody say once, demands much more anxious thought than either of us has given it. These hasty marriages—

GEORGE. Hasty!

OLIVIA. Well, you've only just proposed to me, and you want me to marry you tomorrow.

GEORGE. Now you're talking perfect nonsense, Olivia. You know quite well that our case is utterly different from–well–from any other.

OLIVIA. All the same, one must ask oneself questions. I have to ask myself whether you can afford to support a wife.

GEORGE. You know perfectly well that I can afford to support a wife as my wife should be supported.

OLIVIA. Oh, I am glad. Then your income–you are not really worried about that at all?

GEORGE (stiffly). You know perfectly well what my income is. I see no reason for anxiety, in the future.

OLIVIA. Ah, very well, then we needn't think about it any more.

GEORGE. You know I can't make out what you're up to. Don't you want to get married–to–er–legalize this extraordinary situation in which we are placed?

OLIVIA. I must consider the whole question very carefully. I can't just jump at the very first offer I have had since my husband died. (Rising)

GEORGE. Oh, so I'm under consideration, eh?

OLIVIA. Every suitor is.

GEORGE. Oh, very well, go on! Go on!

OLIVIA. Well then, there's your niece. You have a niece living with you. Of course Dinah is a delightful girl, but one doesn't like marrying into a household where there's another grown-up woman. But perhaps she will be getting married herself soon.

GEORGE. I see no prospect of it.

OLIVIA. It would make it so much easier, George, if she did.

GEORGE (rising). Is this a threat, Olivia? (Crossing up to Olivia.) Are you telling me that if I do not allow young Strange to marry Dinah, you will not marry me?

OLIVIA. A threat? Oh, no, George. But I was just wondering if you love me as much as Brian loves Dinah. You do love me?

GEORGE (from his heart). Of course I do.

OLIVIA. I wonder. When two people of our age think of getting married, one wants to be quite sure that there is real community of ideas between them. Supposing that after we have been married some years we found ourselves getting estranged from each other upon such questions as Dinah's future, or the comparatively trivial matter like the right colour for a curtain, or the advice to be given to a friend who had innocently contracted a bigamous marriage. Think how bitterly we should regret our hasty plunge into a matrimony which was no true partnership, whether of tastes or ideas or even of consciences. (With a sigh.) Ah me!

GEORGE (turning to her quickly). Olivia, do you remember what you said this morning?

OLIVIA. I?... Well, and what did I say this morning?

GEORGE. You said that it was quite enough that Strange was a gentleman and in love with Dinah for me to let them marry each other.

OLIVIA. Oh! But is that enough, George?

GEORGE (triumphantly). Well, you said so.

OLIVIA (meekly). Well, George, if you think so too, I'm quite willing to risk it. (rising with a skip and going to him and putting her hands on his shoulders). My darling one! How jolly! Then we can have a double wedding.

GEORGE (astonished). A double one!

OLIVIA. Yes, you and me, Brian and Dinah.

GEORGE (firmly, and taking her hands from his shoulders). Now look here, Olivia, understand once and for all, I am not to be blackmailed into giving my consent to Dinah's engagement. Neither blackmailed nor tricked. Our marriage has nothing whatever to do with Dinah's.

OLIVIA. No, dear, I quite understand. They may take place about the same time, but they have nothing whatever to do with each other.

GEORGE. I see no prospect of Dinah's marriage taking place for many years.

OLIVIA. No, dear, that was what I said.

GEORGE (not understanding for the moment). You said—? I see. (Turning and facing her.) Now look here, Olivia, let us have this perfectly clear. You apparently insist on treating my–er–proposal as serious.

OLIVIA (mock surprise). But isn't it? Have you been trifling with me?

GEORGE (angrily). I've had enough of this. (Coming to table and speaking across.) Do you mean all this nonsense?

OLIVIA. Well, what I do mean is, that I am in no hurry to go up to London and get married. I love the country just now, and–(with a sigh)– after this morning, I'm–rather tired of husbands.

GEORGE (in a rage). I've never heard so much–damned (bangs table) ... nonsense in my life. I will leave you to come back to your senses. (Exits)

(Olivia rises, watching George off. She kisses her hands to him, then turning sees curtains and work-box and extending her arms in ecstasy goes to cabinet, takes them up. Olivia sits on settee with curtains in her lap and places the work-box next to her, and as she does so Mr. Pim enters and coming to table taps it with his umbrella to attract Olivia's attention. She turns and sees him. He looks nervously round, fearing the return of George.)

PIM (in a whisper). Er–may I come in, Mrs. Marden?

OLIVIA (in surprise). Mr. Pim!

PIM (anxiously and again looking round). Mr. Marden is–er–not here?

OLIVIA (getting up). No! Do you want to see him? I will—

PIM (another look round). No, no, no! Not for the world. There is no immediate danger of his returning, Mrs. Marden?

OLIVIA (surprised). No, I don't think so, Mr. Pim. (Puts down curtains). But... what is it? You—

PIM (still rather nervous and throwing up his arms in distress). Mr. Marden will be so angry with me, and very rightly. Oh, I blame myself. I blame myself entirely. I don't know how I can have been so stupid. (Sits on stool, very concerned).

OLIVIA.What isit,Mr. Pim?My first husband hasn't come to life again, has he?

PIM. No! No! No! (Looking round and speaking very mysteriously across table.) The fact is–his name was Pelwittle.

OLIVIA (at a loss). Whose? My husband's?

PIM. Yes, yes. Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA. But my husband's name was Telworthy.

PIM. No! Oh dear, no! Pelwittle. (Firmly.) It came back to me suddenly just as I reached the gate–Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA. But really, Mr. Pim, I ought to know.

PIM. No! No! Pelwittle.

OLIVIA. But who is Pelwittle?

PIM (in surprise at her stupidity). The man I told you about, who met with the sad fatality at Marseilles. Henry Pelwittle.... (With hand on chin, thinking deeply.) Or was it Ernest? No! Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

OLIVIA (indignantly). But, Mr. Pim, you said his name was Telworthy. How could you?

PIM. Oh, I blame myself, I blame myself entirely.

OLIVIA. But how could you think of a name like Telworthy if it wasn't Telworthy?

PIM__(eagerly)__.Ah, ah, that isthe really interesting thing about thewholematter.

OLIVIA (reproachfully). Yes, Mr. Pim, all your visits here today have been very interesting.

PIM. Oh, very interesting, very interesting, You see, Mrs. Marden, when I made my first appearance here this morning I was received by–Miss Diana, who—

OLIVIA. Dinah!

PIM. I beg your pardon?

OLIVIA. Dinah. Her name is Dinah!

PIM (pauses). You're quite right. Dinah–oh yes. Miss Dinah, yes. She was in–er–rather a communicative mood, and I suppose by way of passing the time she mentioned that before your marriage–to Mr. Marden you had been a Mrs.–er—

OLIVIA. Telworthy.

PIM. Telworthy, yes, of course. She also mentioned Australia. Now by some curious process of the brain, when I was trying to recollect the name of the poor fellow on the boat, whom you will remember I had also met in Australia, a name equally peculiar–this fact I say—

OLIVIA (seeing that the sentence is rapidly going to pieces). Yes, I quite understand.

PIM. And you will tell your husband–you'll break the news to him?

OLIVIA (amazed). Oh, yes! I'll break the news to him.

PIM (rising and holding out his hand). Well then, I think before he comes back I will say good-bye and–er—

OLIVIA (rising). Just a moment, Mr. Pim. Let us have it quite clear this time. You never knew my husband Jacob Telworthy?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. You never met him in Australia?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. You never saw him on the boat?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. And nothing whatever happened to him at Marseilles?

PIM. No!

OLIVIA. Is that right?

PIM (hesitating and thinking it out very deeply). I think so.

OLIVIA. Very well, then, since his death was announced in Australia six years ago, he is presumably still dead?

PIM. Undoubtedly.

OLIVIA (holding out her hand with a charming smile). Then good-bye, Mr. Pim, and thank you so much for–for all your trouble. (Going to exit Pim meets Dinah, Dinah is followed by Brian).

DINAH. Hullo, there's Mr. Pim. (to Brian)

PIM (nervously looking at the door in case Mr. Marden should come in). Yes, yes I—er—

DINAH. Oh, Mr. Pim, you mustn't run away without even saying how do-you-do! Are you staying to tea?

PIM (looking off at staircase nervously). I'm afraid I—

OLIVIA. Mr. Pim has to hurry away, Dinah. You mustn't keep him.

DINAH. Well, but you'll come back again?

PIM. I fear that I am only a passer-by, Miss—er—Dinah.

OLIVIA. Why don’t you show Mr. Pim out, Dinah?

PIM (gratefully to Olivia). Thank you. (With another nervous look round.) If you would be so kind, Miss Dinah—

DINAH. (taking his arm). Come along then, Mr. Pim.

BRIAN. I'll catch you up.

DINAH. I want to hear all about your first wife.

PIM. Oh, but I haven't got a first wife.

DINAH. You haven't really told me anything yet. (They exit. Olivia resumes her work, and Brian crosses to table.)

BRIAN. (awkwardly). I just wanted to say, if you don't think it cheek, that I'm—I'm on your side, if I may be and if I can help you at all, I shall be very proud of being allowed to.

OLIVIA. (looking up at him and taking his hand). Brian, you dear, that's sweet of you. But it's quite all right now, you know..

BRIAN What?

OLIVIA. Yes, that's what Mr. Pim came back to say. He'd made a mistake about the name—

BRIAN (rising). Good Lord!

OLIVIA (smiling). George is the only husband I have.

BRIAN (surprised). What? You mean that the whole thing that Pim—

OLIVIA (repeating). The whole thing.

BRIAN. Silly ass!

OLIVIA (kindly). Oh, no, no, I'm sure he didn't mean to be. (After a pause.) Brian, do you know anything about the law?

BRIAN. The law? I'm afraid not. I hate the law. Why?

OLIVIA. Well, I was just wondering. Suppose that George and I had accidentally married each other a second time thinking that the first marriage wasn't quite right, and then we found the first marriage was all right–well—

BRIAN. What on earth do you mean?

OLIVIA. Well, what I mean is that there's nothing wrong in marrying the same person twice?

BRIAN (rising, thinking it out). Oh, no. A hundred times if you like, I should think.

OLIVIA. Oh!

BRIAN. Well, once will be enough for Dinah and me, if you can work it. (Anxiously.) D'you think there's any chance, Olivia?

OLIVIA (smiling). Every chance, dear.

BRIAN. I say, do you really? Have you squared him? I mean has he— (George is heard humming the tune of "Pop goes the weasel" offstage.)

OLIVIA. You go and catch them up now. We'll talk about it later on.

BRIAN. Bless you. Right-o! (Exits)

(George turns to Olivia, who is absorbed in her curtain. He walks up and down the room, fidgeting with things, waiting for her to speak. As she says nothing, George continues to hope that he is appearing casual and unconcerned–he stands looking at Olivia's work for a moment.)

GEORGE. Nearly finished 'em?

OLIVIA. Very nearly. (Smiling to herself.)

GEORGE. Where are you thinking of hanging 'em?

OLIVIA (as if really wondering). I don't quite know.... I had thought of this room, but–I'm not quite sure.

GEORGE. Best way is to hang 'em up and see how you like 'em. Always take 'em down again.

OLIVIA. Yes.... I think we might try that–(looking round at settee and carpets, etc.)–the only thing is–(She hesitates.)

GEORGE. What?

OLIVIA. Well, the carpets and the chair-covers and the cushions and things–

GEORGE. Well, what about 'em?

OLIVIA. Well, if we had new curtains–

GEORGE. You'd want a new carpet, eh?

OLIVIA (doubtfully). Well, new chair-covers, anyhow.

GEORGE. H'm!... Well, why not?

OLIVIA (thoughtfully). I suppose it would mean that I should have to go up to London to choose them. You know, that's rather a nuisance.

GEORGE (extremely casual and moving towards Olivia). Oh, I don't know. We might go up together one day. (There is another silence. George is wondering whether to come to closer quarters with the great question.)

OLIVIA. Oh, by the way, George–

GEORGE. Yes?

OLIVIA (innocently). I told Brian, and of course he'll tell Dinah, that Mr. Pim had made a mistake about the name.

GEORGE (astonished, moving towards Olivia). Mistake about the name?

OLIVIA. Yes–I told Brian that the whole thing was a mistake, I thought that was the simplest way.

GEORGE. Olivia–(crossing)–then you mean that Brian and Dinah think that–that we have been married all the time?

OLIVIA. Yes.

GEORGE (coming closer to her). Olivia, does that mean that you are thinking of marrying me?

OLIVIA. Do you want me to very much?

GEORGE. My darling, you know I do.

OLIVIA. We should have to keep it very quiet, George.

GEORGE. Well, of course–(sitting next to her)–nobody need know. And now that you've put Brian and Dinah off the scent, by telling them that– (he breaks off and says admiringly)–that was very clever of you, Olivia. I should never have thought of that.

OLIVIA (innocently). George–you don't think it was wrong, do you?

GEORGE (his verdict, taking her hands and patting them). An innocent deception... perfectly harmless.

OLIVIA. Yes, dear, that was what I thought about–about–(laughing to herself) what I was doing.

GEORGE. Then you will come up to London tomorrow? (Olivia nods.) And if we should see a carpet or anything else we want—

OLIVIA. Oh, George! (They embrace. Dinah and Brian enter.)

DINAH (seeing the embrace, surprised). Oo–I say! (George looks and feels rather a fool.)

GEORGE. Hallo! (Olivia sits, resumes sewing.)

DINAH. Well, I'm so happy now that Pim has relented about your first husband–(George catches Olivia's eye and smiles; she smiles back; but they are different smiles.)

GEORGE (the actor). Yes, yes, stupid fellow, Mr. Pim.

BRIAN. Yes. Absolute idiot, I think!

DINAH. And now that George has relented about–(with a significant look at Brian)–my first husband—

GEORGE. Here, you get on much too quickly. (to Brian) So you want to marry my Dinah, eh?

BRIAN (with a smile). Well, I do rather, sir.

GEORGE (to Brian). Well, you'd better have a talk with me about it–er– (with a sly look at Olivia)–Brian.

BRIAN. Thank you very much, sir. (George gets up and Brian, imitating his walk, accompanies him.)

GEORGE. Well, come along then. (Brian looks at his watch.) I am going up to town after tea, so we'd better—

DINAH. I say, are you going to London?

GEORGE (with a sly look at Olivia). Yes, a little business.

DINAH (cheekily). Eh?

GEORGE. Never you mind, young woman. (To Brian.) Well, come along then. We'll stroll down and look at the pigs.

BRIAN. Right-o! (They are going off. when Olivia calls.)

OLIVIA. George, don't go too far away; I may want you.

GEORGE. All right! Give me a shout if you want me.

DINAH (watching them off). Brian and George always discuss me in front of the pigs. So tactless of them. I say, are you going to London, too, darling?

OLIVIA. Tomorrow—(Rising and shaking out curtains.)

DINAH. What are you going to do in London?

OLIVIA. Oh, shopping and–one or two little things.

DINAH. With George?

OLIVIA. Yes.

DINAH. I say, wasn't it lovely about Pim?

OLIVIA. Lovely?

DINAH. Yes, he told me all about it. Making such a hash of things, I mean.

OLIVIA (innocently). Did he make a hash of things?

DINAH. Well, I mean keeping on coming like that. And if you look at it all round–well, for all he had to say, he needn't have come at all.

OLIVIA. Well, I don't think I should put it quite like that, Dinah.

DINAH (referring to curtains). I say, aren't they jolly?

OLIVIA. I'm so glad everybody likes them. Tell George I'm ready, dear.

DINAH. I say, is he going to put them up for you?

OLIVIA. Well, I thought perhaps he could reach better.

DINAH. All right, I'll tell him. (calling off.) George!

GEORGE (from off). Coming!

DINAH (playfully bouncing to piano, imitating a fairy's footsteps). Slow music while the curtains go up. (Sits at piano and plays. George enters, followed by Brian.)

GEORGE (to Olivia). What is it, darling?

OLIVIA. I wish you'd help me to put up these curtains?

GEORGE. Of course, dear. I'd better get the library steps. (exits)

(Brian goes quickly to Olivia and gratefully kisses her hand, then comes down to Dinah and bows to her.)

BRIAN. Madam! I have the honour to inform you that hence-forward you are at liberty to regard me as your affianced husband.

DINAH (rising quickly and advancing). Darling!

BRIAN (waving her back). No! No! Stay there! (She retreats and sits at piano.) Go on playing. (Dinah goes on playing and he takes out a sketch book, sits on settee and sketches her.)

DINAH. What is it?

BRIAN. Portrait of Lady Strange.

(George enters with library steps, places them near window.)

OLIVIA (she hands him the curtains and rounds back, watching George). Are you ready, dear?

GEORGE (mounting the steps). Yes, quite ready.

OLIVIA. There! (The curtains become entangled and he nearly falls.) Oh, take care, dear!

GEORGE (again mounting steps). Oh, that's all right, dear. They're a little long. (The curtains become entangled round his head.)

(Mr. Pim enters mysteriously. Olivia is looking up at George. Pim touches her on the shoulder and with a start she turns to him. Dinah seeing him enter stops playing. Olivia, unwilling to attract George's attention, signals to Dinah to continue playing, and, she does so.)

PIM. Mrs. Marden! I had to come back–I've just remembered his name was Ernest Polwittle–not Henry! (Going off.) Not Henry!

(Dinah plays forte.)

Quick Curtain.

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