#mr. stanhope

[nefariouscryptid]

care to elaborate or are you dropping that info and BOOKING it

Listen man you have a sexually repressed 60+ year old who thinks the young billionaire he sees every month is sexy (and annoying) and said billionaire is depressed and needs something to take the edge off and you get hookups

[winnix85]

Maurice Roche (4th Baron Fermoy), who once rumored to be a boyfriend of Miss Doris Ryer, was the maternal grandfather of Princess Diana.

[pitt-able]

A Day in the life of William Pitt the Younger

Pitt’s niece Lady Hester Stanhope described what appeared to be a typical day in the life of William Pitt while in office, using two examples. I have shortened the passage a bit since she is rather emotional here and occasionally gets off subject.

“When I think of the ingratitude of the English nation to Mr. Pitt, for all his personal sacrifices and disinterestedness, for his life wasted in the service of his country!” Here Lady Hester’s emotions got the better of her, and she burst into tears: she sobbed as she spoke. “People little knew what he had to do. Up at eight in the morning, with people enough to see for a week, obliged to talk all the time he was at breakfast, and receiving first one, then another until four o’clock; then eating a mutton-chop, hurrying off to the House, and there badgered and compelled to speak and waste his lungs until two or three in the morning! -- who could stand it? After this, heated as he was, and having eaten nothing, in a manner of speaking all day, he would sup with Dundas, Huskisson, Rose, Mr. Long, and such persons, and then go to bed to get three or four hours’ sleep, and to renew the same thing the next day, and the next, and the next. (…) Ah, doctor! in town, during the sitting of parliament, what a life was his. Roused from his sleep (for he was a good sleeper) with a despatch from Lord Melville; -- then down to Windsor; then, if he had half an hour to spare, trying to swallow something: -- Mr. Adams with a paper, Mr. Long with another; then Mr. Rose: then, with a little bottle of cordial confection in his pocket, off to the House until three or four in the morning; then home to a hot supper for two or three hours more, to talk over what was to be done next day: -- and wine, and wine! Scarcely up next morning, when tat-tat-tat-twenty or thirty people one after another, and the horses walking before the door from two till sunset, waiting for him. It was enough to kill a man -- it was murder!

Charles Lewis Meryon, Memoirs of the Lady Hester Stanhope, As related by Herself in Conversations with her Physician, Volume 1, Second Edition, London, 1845, p.63-66.

That certainly sounds like a most miserable work-life-balance. On a sidenote, the last passage here was used almost word for word in one scene in The Young Mr. Pitt (1942)

[kvetchlandia]

Camille Ruf James Joyce, Zurich c.1918

“…they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.“

–James Joyce, "Molly Bloom's Soliloquy" from “Ulysses” 1922

Happy Bloomsday, everyone.

[eirene]

Portrait Of Elizabeth Falconer, Mrs. Stanhope, As Contemplation

Sir Joshua Reynolds

[shelyue99]

Irl Dick gets along with older women like Mrs Barnes and Stanhope’s secretary Ms Blaine, I don’t know if that’s Mennonite part of him or he has old soul(affectionate) it just feels very endearing

[pookielious]

I just found out about Blanche nixon and her death i just thought I'd share the news articles !!

Below cut is the Transcript

(Picture 2 )

Miss Blanche Nixon, member of a socially prominent and wealthy San Francisco family. ended her life by firing a bullet into her head only a few hours before she was to preside at a cocktail party in her home yesterday.

Miss Nixon, 31, the daughter of Stanhope Wood Nixon and the late Mrs. Doris Ryer Nixon, was found in her bed in a sec- ond floor bedroom of the family home at 944 Chestnut Street.The bullet had penetrated her temple. A pistol was clutched in her right hand, police said.

Police and the coroner's office said the motive was not immediately determined. Miss Nixon's brother, Lewis, said his sister had been under medical treat ment for a depressed mental condition for some time.

Arrangements for the cock- tail party were completed Thursday evening, he said, after which he, his wife, Irene, and his sister retired. Miss Nixon apparently was in good spirits at the time, he said.

About 4:30 a, m., Nixon told police, he and his wife were [CUTOFF]

(Pictures 3 and 4— continuing from cutoff)

awakened by Miss Nixon, who said she could not sleep.

After an early morning snack, all retired again. The only noise heard that might indicate the time of death, police reported, was some time later when Mrs. Nixon said she heard what seemed like a door shutting. She did not note the time.

About 10:30 a. m., Mrs. Nixon went to her sister-in-law's bed- room to take a pet dachshund for a walk.She thought her sistern-law was sleeping, Mrs. Nixon said, and made no effort to disturb her when she opened the door to let the dog out,

A short time later, after re turning from the walk, Mrs. Nixon became concerned when she heard a telephone ringing unanswered in the bedroom.Going to the room, she turned back the covers, Mrs. Nixon said, and found her sister-in- law.

A physician was summoned and pronounced the woman dead. Police listed the death as a suicide after an investigation by Police Inspector Ralph Mc Donald.

Miss Nixon, who made her social debut at the Cotillion Bal! in 1941, had been living in the family residence on Chestnut Street since her mother died June 24. 1948. For the last sev- eral weeks, her brother and sister-in-law have been visiting her from their home in Prince- ton, N.J. Her father resides in New York.

Since her debut, Miss Nixon had traveled abroad consider- ably and spent much of her time at her family's home in Santa Barbara, friends said.

Miss Nixon and her brother had inherited the bulk of her mother's estate, estimated at $1,456,064. The major item in the estate was a half interest in 6.600 acres of Sacramento River delta farm lands, includ- ing most of Ryer Island, near Rio Vista, Solano County.

[dishearteningmediocrity]

June 25th, 1937

Eighty-seven years ago, on June 25th, 1937, Colin Clive died in Los Angeles, California. This was a column that appeared in the Monday, June 28th edition of the Hollywood Citizen News, written by Edwin Martin--columnist, press agent, and acquaintance of Colin's. If I remember correctly, Gregory Mank quoted excerpts from this in his biography, but the article is worth reading in full. There's a poignant tribute underneath all the name-dropping.

Yeah, I know, not enough misery in the world these days, so it's time to dredge up more from the depths of the past. Still, it's an interesting glimpse into his life and death--and some of the people left behind.

Source: Hollywood Citizen News, Monday, June 28, 1937. Accessed via www.newspapers.com.

Transcript below.

CINEMANIA by Edwin Martin

JOURNEY'S END

"Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there--with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here."

Night after night we had heard him deliver those lines, and they never failed to touch us.

On this day they came back to us again--more poignantly than ever.

A few of us had gathered for a round-table at our favorite spot in Travaglini's--it was also his favorite corner that we occupied.

Just a few weeks before we had sat at this same table with him and planned a radio interview.

Soon after, when he went to the hospital, came a note in this manner: "Must have this old pump repaired a bit. Sorry we'll have to postpone our interview until I come out. Keep the corner warm at Travaglini's."

We had known him for many years--known him and admired him since they first brought him from England to star in the picture version of the same play he had made famous on the stage.

Later, when the play was revived by E.E. Clive, we enjoyed a most pleasant association while handling the publicity on the show during its run here at the Hollywood Playhouse.

During this time we got a little closer to this quiet, rather lonely man, who made famous the role of the hard-drinking Captain Stanhope in the stage and screen productions of "Journey's End."

Few knew it, but all during the past few months, even when he made such a hit in his outstanding part in "History is Made at Night," he had been carrying on under the constant shadow of a long illness--an illness which was gradually eating his heart out...but he never complained.

Sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes as he talked--just that--nothing more--he was Captain Stanhope to the end.

A few of us were keeping the corner warm for him at Travaglini's that day when we heard Colin Clive had reached his journey's end.

WALTER BYRON, another fine young British actor, was studying his lines at the bar for the splendid part he plays with Sarah Padden in "Chilikoot Lou," with which Miss Padden soon returns to the vaudeville stage.

Eric Blore, inimitable English comedian, still in make-up, was also there...and Larry Kent, Hollywood's wandering actor, just back from directing and acting in England, was telling about a picture he wanted to make in the South Seas...Eddie Lee, known as England's "Donald Novis," was resting from his triumphant opening at the Century Club...and we were listening to the gentle elder Mr. Travaglini tell about stirring days when as a young man he was an officer in the Italian army...while Tony Travaglini, Jr., looked over a radio script planned as a welcome home to Harry Langdon.

Into this crowd of men came a saddened figure--a lovely woman who had been a friend of Colin. She was the last member of that gay trio who often occupied this same table together...from which another splendid young British actor, John Buckler, had left one night only to meet his journey’s end in Malibou Lake in a tragic auto accident.

She was the last one left—and she dragged her weary self up to the bar and ordered a double brandy.

Everyone wanted to ask about his condition, but Larry Kent was the only one who had the courage… “How is he?” he asked.

“He is going,” the woman said. “When I left he was already in the oxygen tent. They wouldn’t let me see him,” she said, trying desperately not to break down.

Because she knew that even a friend of Captain Stanhope must face unknown adventures with head held high.

A phone rang—it was for her—she answered it. Somehow the ominous tone of that ringing let us know the message. “He’s gone.”

Silently the glasses were filled…then Eric Blore lifted his glass. “I give you Colin Clive,” he said simply, and a toast was taken in his memory…and eventually each man filed out and went his separate way.

Somehow we believed that Colin Clive would have liked to know that his journey’s end had been accepted with such a gesture…as he went to that last rendezvous with his old friend, John Buckler...and as we walked out into the sunshine we remembered that we had other things to do--other things to write--but the only words we could think of were his gallant words from "Journey's End."

"Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there--with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here"....we are keeping the corner warm for you--Adios, Colin Clive.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Stanhope Nixon's draft card and other military records.

Who doesn't put down their family information and just repeats "Nixon Nitration Works" for ever line on the form? This guy. This guy right here. This poor person in the draft office was probably like "Yeah, man, I get it. You have a town and a company named after you. Mr. Nixon from Nixon, New Jersey who works at Nixon Nitration Works in Nixon, New Jersey."

[ukrfeminism]

Sadiq Khan says the brutal London murders of four women in three weeks is “absolutely heartbreaking” and vowed to tackle violent crime if given a historic third term.

Police found Kamonnan Thiamphanit, 27, stabbed to death at a £4 million Grade II-listed property on Stanhope Place, Bayswater near Hyde Park around 8.30am on Monday.

Neighbours heard sounds of a loud party on Saturday night at the home being rented out as an Airbnb holiday let, followed by two high-pitched screams the following day. 

The Metropolitan Police search for Thiamphanit’s killer continues. 

Last Saturday, Kennedi Westcarr-Sabaroche, 25, was discovered dead in a Vauxhall car in Hackney.

The dismembered torso of Sarah Mayhew, 38, was dumped in a Croydon park on April 2.

Goldsmiths College student Zhe Wang, 31, was fatally stabbed in Hither Green, Lewisham on March 20. 

A spokesman for the London mayor said: “These murders are absolutely heartbreaking and Sadiq’s thoughts remain with their loved ones at this unimaginably awful time. 

“Tackling violence against women and girls is an absolute top priority and that’s why he’s investing in policing and prevention, tackling the causes of these horrific crimes.”

A source close to him added: “The Tory government has imposed £1billion cuts on the Met with a devastating impact on the services that keep women safe. 

“By contrast, Sadiq has invested a record £163m on tacking violence against women and girls in London.”

Susan Hall, Mr Khan’s Conservative opponent at the mayoral elections on May 2, said: “My thoughts are with the friends and family of the four women who have been murdered in recent weeks. 

“It is truly shocking and heartbreaking. 

“Everyone in our city deserves to feel safe, and to be safe, and I am determined to do all I can to reduce crime and make London safer for women.”

Lib-Dem Rob Blackie, another frontrunner, claimed there had been a “failure to tackle violence against women and girls under Sadiq Khan”.

He said: “Clear-up rates for rape and sexual assault have halved since he became mayor. And that is really because there hasn’t been any political attention to the problem.

“Police need the right IT and equipment. We have lost many cases due to freezers used to keep forensic evidence not being up to standard. Very often the same man will commit crimes again and again if you don’t catch them the first time. 

“My top priority would be to get more money into the Met by abolishing Khan’s phoney Tube fares freeze. That would put more officers on the front line. We have 6,000 police stuck in back offices, double the number of any force in Britain.” 

Commander Owain Richards said in Ms Thiamphanit’s killing there had been no signs of forced entry to the three-storey, five-bedroom terraced house. 

Mr Richards added: “We believe the suspect was known to the victim in this case and our homicide detectives are working around the clock to pursue all lines of inquiry to trace the suspect, arrest them and bring them to justice.

“This terrible incident follows a number of other horrific fatal attacks on women recently – including those in Croydon, Hackney and Lewisham.

“We recently shared information about the work we’re doing to tackle violence against women and girls using data-led tactics to target dangerous offenders and bring them to justice.

“Kamonnan’s murder makes us all the more determined in our efforts to do everything we possibly can to keep women and girls safe.”

The Metropolitan Police has referred itself to the Independent Office for Police Conduct watchdog over the incident.

Police were contacted twice on Sunday by a friend concerned about her welfare, but officers attended over 13 hours later.

Pacharapol Padermprach, press secretary of the Royal Thai Embassy in London, told the Standard his community is “shocked and saddened”, adding: “We have been in close contact with the Metropolitan Police on this case and in informing Ms Thiamphanit’s family. 

“We are confident that the Met will do its best to bring those responsible to justice. 

“Due to the ongoing investigation, we are unable to provide any further information.”

[clove-pinks]

Detail from 'The Interior of a Midshipman's birth', 1821 print by George Humphry after Captain Frederick Marryat (British Museum).

The midshipmen ate in their own berth. Depending on the makeup of the group (age-range, family background, etc), conditions varied from civilised to the squalid. Where there was a responsible older midshipman he would be the most obvious mess caterer. The very young 'young gentlemen' (also known as 'squeakers') were put under the charge of the gunner, although the captain usually took responsibility for their money and expenses, doling out pocket-money as appropriate and writing to their fathers for more when necessary. Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood wrote to his friend Walter Spencer-Stanhope of his son, William, 'Your son's debts are not enormous yet—you cannot think how cheap salt water is, and there is nothing else to buy'. No-one seems to have reported what happened with older midshipmen, at the age between squeaking and financial responsibility; perhaps the captain delegated the task of mess caterer for these boys to one of the other officers.

— Janet Macdonald, Feeding Nelson’s Navy: The True Story of Food at Sea in the Georgian Era

Numerous sources speak of young midshipmen being in the care of the ship's gunner, for example Brian Lavery's book Nelson's Navy: The Ships, Men and Organisation, 1793 - 1815:

Traditionally these 'youngsters' were placed in the care of the gunner, and lived in the gunroom on a ship-of-the-line. 'In the Irresistible I again messed with the gunner, Mr Gallant, who took great care of me.' [Captain Boteler's Recollections] In 1805 the gunner was moved out of the gunroom, but it seems that the 'young gentleman' stayed there. On frigates, they probably berthed among the older midshipmen.

It seems paradoxical that the man responsible for the use and maintenance of deadly artillery was also expected to help care for young children, but he was. In his semi-autobiographical novels, Frederick Marryat's midshipmen can always be found in the gunroom, although they are mentored by various officers and older midshipmen.

'Mr B Mast-headed': an 1820 graphite and watercolour drawing of a mastheaded midshipman by Frederick Marryat (British Museum).

[nefariouscryptid]

Jason getting pragmatic and daaark, haha! Now THIS is a scene I would definately read over and over a million times, if it was fully written. How did the whole convo and (hypocritical) argument go? Did Peter manage to convince Jason that his position isn't in danger (probably)? Or did it leave a permanent rift between the two? Me loves some total drama action! By the by, did Stanhope get exposed or was he able to sweep it under the rug? What happened to him after the Frikoskii takeover?

Jason noticed it even before they got together, that Peter could make literally anyone fall for him. Regardless if it was only for sex, apparently he could make anyone love him. Not like he does, though. Jason’s love runs deep and spiritual. It’s why he believes in a god. But for everyone else it’s still just as threatening to his position. Him marrying Peter seemed completely impossible for 20+ years but now that it’s happened he’s gotten more territorial.

Jason one day made a comment towards Peter about how Stanhope looks at him with some “fuck me” eyes for a married republican. It threw Peter off because it’s been a few years since they last hooked up and he hadn’t payed attention to how Stanhope saw him since. So he offhandedly mentioned that they may of been a thing at one point. A “thing” is too much of a stretch, it was just hookups with some transactions here and there, but clearly one man caught feelings while the other was indifferent.

God Jason was PISSED. For multiple reasons. Which initially Peter thought Jason was saying he cheated, which he did not. Never did never will. But Jason’s mad cause how the fuck did a 66 year old man have sex with his husband before he did, why didn’t Peter ever tell him about this, and now he’s self conscious cause clearly the guy has no problems with how someone looks and people are already running after him. It’s just a bunch of insecurities, anger, jealousy, the whole lot. None of it makes sense to Peter cause he thought that he was making it clear that there wasn’t any strings attached to the man and that it was the past so who gives a shit. Plus how could Jason POSSIBLY think that he’d leave him for anyone, especially Stanhope of all people.

I wouldnt say it left a rift but after Anahii, Meredith, and Stanhope Jason is left really dejected and feeling like a last resort. I don’t even think he fully believes that Peter is gay. It takes communication and reassurance but the actual rift takes place with Jason acting like his flings don’t do the same thing to his husband. It’s hypocrisy even if it’s not malicious. It’s a source of their arguments. Even if you guys are perfect soulmates and known each other for years getting into a romantic relationship that entails some extra benefits isn’t easy and doesn’t come naturally.

As for Stanhope, early retirement when shit went down with Frikoski taking over and he fled with his wife and kids. He’s off grid after that. I will say he probably didn’t truly love Peter, just looooooved fucking him. But…

[winnix85]

Lew’s mother at American Women’s Voluntary Services (AWVS) work (she was the first one from right in both photos)

[corvidous]

Finally done with my holiday break. And what did I DO on said break you ask? Loads of stuff, but these are my first painted miniatures of 2024! A unit for Silver Bayonet, the Napoleonic gothic horror skirmish game.

I present to you the crew of the Nancy, ably led by Captain Mackintosh, semi-reluctantly roped into supernatural horror-hunting by the reactivation of his naval officer's commission, and his crew of definitely stalwart and upright seamen (as well as a couple Royal Marines on loan from the Admiralty. Just to make sure none of the Navy's orders are mysteriously lost in transit and that all the financials stay present and correct.) These lads are mostly Perry Miniatures with a single representative from North Star along with various conversion bits sourced from all over, as well as my first foray into simple sculpting with green stuff epoxy resin. Also the most intensive basing that I've tried yet, to look like ship's planking. I'm quite happy with how they turned out.

The individual shots of figures and descriptions are under the cut:

He's Alexander Mackintosh, nephew to the laird, and he does disdain men who are vain, the men with powdered hair!

Mr Stanhope, the Marine Officer is the captain's right hand man. As mandated by the orders of the Admiralty. But he's a demon with a sword in his hand and that's quite welcome, given that there might be some actual literal demons to fight at some point or another. (He's dispensed with his normal hat plume in deference to the Captain's insistence that despite being dragooned into the King's service this IS ultimately a civilian ship.)

Mr Gatkins the Royal Marine. A taciturn fellow, he shoots first and asks questions only when specifically ordered to do so by his officers.

Mister Lannis is the ship's master gunner (Artillerist, in game terms) and his jaunty straw hat is very nice, thank you! (I included a chest of powder and shot from Mantic Games because I had to come up with something to denote who he is during gameplay)

Dr Phillips the ship's Doctor/surgeon, and a quick and dirty sculpt of my own for his bonesaw (again, had to differentiate this guy on the tabletop. I think it's a decent job. Bonesaw with a cutlass hilt, he's a real combat medic this chap.)

The venerable and curmudgeonly Mr Elms, the ship's carpenter (a Sapper, in game terms). This was the most intensive work of this whole lot: I started with a metal Perry Miniatures sailor figure, lopped his arms and head off, grabbed a pair of arms from the Oathmark Dwarf Light Infantry box and a head from the regular Dwarf Infantry box, then I sculpted an apron (luckily for me aprons are just flat sheets so it's not THAT hard) and then I grabbed a free musket from the Wargames Atlantic Afghan Tribesmen box. Whew. I think it ended up looking quite nice. Very characterful.

Able Seaman MacWhorter is along for the ride and excited to show off his swordsmanship against all manner of supernatural toffs.

And last but not least we've got Mr Harris, the local guide and scout. He's a crack shot and he's worth his weight in gold when the shore party is trying to keep themselves oriented on land. (This model is from North Star Military Figures and I have to say I love that most of their native american models are like this: this is just a guy, not a fantasy cowboys and indians pastiche.)

Issues with this team are that the vast majority are using pistols, we've only got three muskets in the unit, that's not a lot of long range shooting, might make things difficult vs a more musket heavy warband. But ah well, it just calls for a bit of aggression, doesn't it? Get in on 'em, as I always say!

[pitt-able]

(...) his life departed like a candel burning out

On this day in history, January 23, 1806, William Pitt the Younger, Prime Minister of Great Britain died aged 46 at Bowling Green House on Putney Heath.

At three o’clock on Wednesday Colonel Taylor arrived express from His Majesty at Windsor, and returned with the melancholy [news] of all hopes having ceased. I remained the whole of Wednesday night with Mr. Pitt. His mind seemed fixed on the affairs of the country, and he expressed his thoughts aloud, though sometimes incoherently. He spoke a good deal concerning a private letter from Lord Harrowby, and frequently inquired the direction of the wind; then said, answering himself, “East; ah! that will do; that will bring him quick:” at other times seemed to be in conversation with a messenger, and sometimes cried out “Hear, hear” as if in the House of Commons. During the time he did not speak he moaned considerably, crying, “O dear! O Lord!” Towards twelve the rattles came in his throat, and proclaimed approaching dissolution.

(…) at about half past two Mr. Pitt ceased moaning, and did not speak or make the slightest sound for some time, as his extremities were then growing chilly. I feared he was dying; but shortly afterwards, with a much clearer voice than he spoke in before, and in a tone I never shall forget, he exclaimed, “Oh, my country! how I love my country!” From that time he never spoke or moved, and at half-past four expired without a groan or struggle. His strength being quite exhausted his life departed like a candle burning out.

Earl Stanhope, The Life of the Right Honourable William Pitt, Vol. 4, John Murray, London, 1862, pp. 381-382.

[remedyxtragedy]

IDIOSYNCRATIC EXCERPT (1) --

[The first proper interaction between Calixte & Quelq'un. You will notice throughout the book that who is narrating varies from character to character, but generally speaking the narrator is either in third person with Quelq'un who will be describing events and interactions between characters without directly involving himself, or in first person with Calixte who'll narrate everything from how he sees it only. It's something I will play with quite a lot, but here it's just from Quelq'un's perspective, and this is one of the very few occasions where the readers are given a glimpse into Quelq'un's actual thoughts and feelings]

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, empty and chilled with mystery, sharp and frigid enough it could almost pierce my heart with unease, and for a moment I actually felt myself shift uncomfortably at his stare--an unprofessional response I internally scolded myself for. This continued on for disturbingly long, until finally, out of habit I forced a smile passed my cynicism in attempt to crease the invisible suspense culminating between us, and only then did his gaze falter, his focus calmly shifting elsewhere and no longer did he mutter another word or freakily bore his eyes into my very soul. In that lonesome little corner on my right, he kept to himself and continued to face the landscape that welcomed him beyond the railing, and quickly making note of his very apparent disinterest in conversation, I wordlessly shifted away from him and also returned my attention to the sunset, still slightly shaken by the man's demeanor. Or more accurately actually, how easily he unsettled me--in a way no actor has accomplished before, and believe me, right off the top of my head I can name a good couple of unpleasant characters I've grown to dislike for their just skin crawling convictions and fancies, and yet the haunting plethora of disgraceful things they've confided in me simply do not pale in comparison to Calixte's cavernous gaze. I was torn between finding that deeply alarming, and deeply, deeply fascinating.

An awkward silence roused the moment as we both suddenly went quiet in thought. Well, that much I could say for myself, Mr. Stanhope on the other hand wore such little emotion or...semblance of anything on his face that it was awfully hard to tell whether he too was lost in his own wonderings or if he truly was just mindlessly basking in the scenery. I had to say, this was becoming exceedingly unusual--it was getting to a point of oddity I could no longer dismiss as just existential whiplash. Perhaps over the years I've simply matured to unfairly anticipate a certain, might I say even rational reaction, one conglomerate of fear, denial, and the occasional repulsion, from every new actor I've ever met to aid and foster. They cry, they swear, they crash to their knees and shake their fists vengefully at the sky--it's a whole thing, not always in that particular order, sometimes I've even been met with attempts of violence, but generally there's a course to their crisis that they fall into naturally--stages to their grief that always happen in a very precise order. Humans are always predictable like that, aren't they? Well, clearly not, given Calixte's reaction to everything thus far. Was it all really just a mask of indifference? A front so brilliantly fortified to hide the true terrors restlessly raging inside him that not even I can dissect it? But damn it, I've always had a knack for reading humans! Is a human even physically, mentally, and emotionally capable of appearing so numb and dead? Surely that would cause more damage than just letting your anguish faucet out of you organically. This man knows nothing of me, nor does he know anything of this world at the moment--as far as he's concerned, he gets nothing from channeling his all into this ridiculous tough guy guise. It's a more farcical sounding scenario, sure, but next to the disturbing reality of this actually being his genuine, raw response to his situation that's objectively absurd and frightening, I am more inclined to believe that's what's happening here.

Now that I think about it, he said something odd earlier, didn't he? 'This is all so familiar to me'. The statement in itself was one I've already heard all too many times before so it easily flew over my head, but in a moment of reflection, I find myself suddenly perturbed by just what he implying through those words. I already know long before I approach any newcomer that they will always share that sentiment with all the newcomers that have preceded them--they will always feel a resonation with this world, from the great ball of light that adorns the sky to the trees that stand triumphantly on the ground, they bear vivid memories of those things, at the very least. They are supposed to. Calixte has demonstrated the same, and thensome. Hardly are actors capable of confidently stating that what this world fuels of off, weaves, and declares as indubitably right is actually fundamentally wrong--they've nothing to compare this to, after all. Well, usually. Depending on the actor, how impenetrable their minds are to psychological wiping or how receptive they are to the memory altering properties of this haven, some can be a little more sturdy with their stances, but even then there is a glimmer of uncertainty lingering in their tones I always discern no matter how hard their try to bury it beneath their persistence. Calixte has surprised me tremendously in this regard, not only has he subverted my expectations entirely with his flagrantly unbothered attitude towards just about everything, but he's also carried a firmness in his stances through and through to the extent where I cannot definitively say that he's even slightly unsure in his reiterations that this world is 'built upon the perverse articles and dogma of an even more perverse madman'. Such a strange and specific way to phrase it too. Of course, I'm not allowed to give my thoughts on the...verity, so to speak, of that belief, but as far as stances go, that's the most downright and unequivocal.

But that can't be right. When there's a Newcomer, things are supposed to follow a strict and fixed sequence, nothing should be able to intervene in or change that design. And yet, his terror and apprehension is absent, he hasn't shed a single tear or wept a single pleadful cry, hasn't flailed to his knees in dramatic display and cursed the name he may associate with the sky for his predicament, and his face since he awoke here has been as blank and lifeless as a corpse. His acumen too, is beyond exceptional for a person who should be as reliant on me as an infant is to their father. There's no possible way he can carry his perceptions with that much assurance, unless...there's a chance, he does have something to compare this world to.

"Quelq'un."

The man only called my name, barely above normal volume, and even so, I instantly jolted at the sound of his voice--another unprofessional response I cursed silently at myself for. I had grown so accustomed to the silence that I wasn't prepared for the moment when someone finally broke it and I certainly wasn't expecting Calixte to be that person. I promptly recollected myself and straightened my posture, returning to my expression the same ear-to-ear smile that's become so synonymous with me as I leaned to face the young man who was now, again, gazing intensely at me. "Excuse me for my reaction, I assumed you didn't have anything left to say, and so I let my guard down, but it seems a few questions have occurred to you since then, yes?" I ask with honest curiosity. He did after all only inquire about the more basic and rudimentary things, so I do hope that he's right enough in the head to utilize my insight to his advantage while I'm still here. I'm unquestionably his greatest asset, and so far he's been meandering around that fact like it was irrelevant to him. Being bombarded with questions from the weak and wary was a luxury I never thought I'd be robbed of by this enigma of a human being.

Calixte simply nodded, his face still placid. "Yes. I thought about it, and there are a few things I need some further clarification on. After that, however, I promise I won't need your assistance anymore."

My eye twitched at that last statement defensively, not that he could really see under my diadem, but my frustration was still evident. My voice retains its jaunty air as I reply, albeit with a little spite, "Well, now, there's no need for such promises. I'm not some...manual you use once and toss in the garbage, alright? I am a valuable hand you may reach out to and shake at whim! This place, as endlessly brilliant as it is, it can be a tricky thing to navigate all alone. Never again will that burden encumber you as long as I am here."

I narrowed my eyes and studied his features intently for some sign of reassurance, gratitude, or any hint of cognition that would confirm that he actually has a heart thumping inside him, but alas his face was not only completely devoid of all emotion but he also couldn't have looked any less interested in my heartfelt tangent.

There was a peculiar mix of sarcasm and legitimacy to his tone. "Right. It's not like I haven't heard that rigmarole before."

No matter how genuine he was being, that was all the confirmation I needed to ground my fears in reality. In my disbelief, the extent of Calixte's syndrome was beginning to dawn on me fully. And suddenly I was so much more alarmed by him than I was fascinated, his presence now more than ever before radiating a quality of error and irregularity I long since thought was a figment of fable.

Outwardly, my grin remained charming and wide, still as warm as warm gets and perfectly suited for the conversation. Inwardly, all at the same time, I was a panicked mess, my mind groveling skittishly at the notion of what this man may be and was proving to be as the seconds ticked by. Could it really be...?

There was a brief pause before he continued. "It's come to my attention that there are more of me, Quelq'un."

My eyes widened under my diadem. I held my breath anxiously. "Wha...Whatever do you mean?"

His look became impatient, as if he was expecting me to already know what he meant. "The hell do you mean, 'whatever do you mean?' Other actors, obviously."

I froze in confused contemplation. A wave of relief was about to wash over me but I quickly held it off in precaution. Either I was the silly one here for allowing wild speculations to clog my thinking or he was intentionally messing with me. Who am I kidding though? I'm probably overthinking his intuitiveness entirely and mistaking it for...something that's long since been debunked. I began to feel impatient with myself for how frantic I just got over an implausible string of worries. A response that was, yet again, incredibly unprofessional of me--and rightfully, I dug my nails through my glove and into my wrist for it. "Oh, yes, yes! Forgive me, I...often have my head in the clouds. More importantly, what is it that you would like to know about your fellow actors? There are many details about your colleagues or competition, however you wish to view them, that I can go on about, just ask."

He clearly already had his questions thoroughly planned out in his head because without sparing a single second, he replied, "How does one discern the friends from the enemies?"

I chuckle and tilt my head curiously, intrigued by his choice of question. "Well, that's, ah, very straight to the point."

His tone was blunt and abrasive. "I'm a simple man, Qeulq'un. There's something I'm meant to do here, something else besides reuniting with the very woman this world tore me away from, and therefore I believe strongly it's in my best interest that I make haste recognizing the crowds that'll bolster me farther, the ones that'll only hinder me, which people I ought to treat as targets, and which I'll properly name my enemies and keep closer than my friends. And, oh, am I certain--that I will have a lot of enemies. I can already name a couple few, starting with you."

AAAAAAAnd that's where Imma leave it off. Man, I need to do this way more. And I will. I want--no, I need to hear people's feedback. So please, share your thoughts, doesn't even need to be particularly detailed or profound. Feedback is feedback, but ta-ta for now anyways