#philippa / 001.

[katharined]

@philippaed, @myladygrey / 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the suffolk's suite of hampton court apartments.

Though her cheeks had shed the frightful sallow of sea sickness, Lady Suffolk’s belly was still as unsettled as the tempestuous channel her ship had crossed in order to return to England. It churned with the memory of being pitched and rolled about in the underbelly of a mighty galleon, as cramped as it was dark, until at last the skies cheered – lifting from leaden gray to a pale yellow, the coastal cliffs of Dover searing through the mist like a molten blade through butter. Almost immediately upon returning to London, Katharine had set about making improvements to the Greys’ lavish suite of apartments at Hampton Court, in the style of her opulent chambers at Chambord. Fastidiously she replaced the drab damask curtains slung over the diamond-shaped panes in the windows with cloth-of-gold, embroidered with her mother’s royal coat-of-arms; swapped the old tallow candles with fresh bees wax, burning sweetly throughout each chamber, installed in costly candelabrum of silver; replenished her daughters’ closets with the newest French fabrics and patterns, a welter of pearl and diamond-edged hoods lining the oak table of the morning room, leaking with sunshine.

Though the ground still tilted disconcertingly, Katharine smiled admiringly at her work, two hands perched upon her narrow hips as she assessed the brightened space with pride. Yet as another wave of lingering nausea gathered within her like a great and sickening tidal, the Duchess was obliged to find perch on the velvet bench of the window, doffing the hood from her head and tossing it to the wall, milky droplets of pearls soaring into the air, rubbing the tender stretch of skin where her headdress was pinned and stabbed rather tightly into place. Katharine, never one to rest, would have liked to press onwards with all speed, perhaps even join her daughters for a hunt; but the airs of court had never been particularly salubrious, and travel had wearied her.

But still she roused herself when her eldest daughters, Philippa and Amelia, came bursting through the door in a flood of laughter; two youths with pink cheeks, their father’s complexion, as radiant as a summer’s day, their faces stamped with Katharine’s plucky dark eyes. ‘Back already?’ Katharine asked from the window, surrounded by a mountain of missives intermixed with bits of gemstone that had flown, like the glittering spray of spindrift, from her damnable hood. ‘You’ve come just in time, the new gowns I ordered have arrived from Paris!’ Sufficiently cheered, Katharine rose. ‘I had hoped by this time we would have needed a little fabric to let out your stays, dear Philippa, but with such handsome gowns it will be no time at all ere we have another blessed child to celebrate. Amelia, darling, tell your sister she mustn't disagree with her lady mother.'

[pathlit]

⤷ ✧ @sostarry liked for a starter from lottie.

❛ I will definitely absolutely stay out of your way. I'm very good at staying out of the way, really. ❜ or, at least, lottie's very committed to the effort, which has to amount more or less to the same thing, right? ❛ you won't hear a word out of me, I promise. ❜ and with that, lottie forces herself back to silence, such that she cannot continue to make promises it's questionable whether she can keep.

there's no good reason, no compelling argument lottie can make for why she should be allowed to accompany the captain and her far-more-qualified-for-this team. technically first contact belongs to the realm of diplomacy and foreign relations, not psychology. it's not even her field. still, she's accustomed to conducting research places where all the novelty has worn off. it's an opportunity too good not to beg for.

[philippvs]

&&. announcing her royal highness, ( philippa zahia henley ), the ( 29 ) year old ( princess ) of ( switzerland ). she is often confused with ( shanina shaik ). some say that she is ( critical + elitist ), but she is actually ( controlled + caring ). ( OOC: nora / @olimpiacroy )

001. about tag. 002. pinterest. 003. tasks.

BIOGRAPHY.

philippa henley was going to have it all: the title, the fortune, the most enviable perfect life one could achieve in her position. philippa was born in england, the first child and thus heir of the duke of cambridgeshire. it was by no means a measly title. cambridgeshire was and is ( philippa's opinion ) the crown jewel of east anglia, and the home of the country's most revered university.

philippa's father was the duke of cambridgeshire and her mother is a real estate mogul whose family's wealth transcends a few centuries. in other words, philippa is in no way nouveau-riche. this is something that has always truly set her apart from other people in her opinion. she's just a bit better than regular people. the blood in her veins is exceptional, rare.

her upbringing included fancy dinners, horseback riding, ballet, art history, languages... everything was offered to her but not much stuck. the only reason she went near horses ( stinky unpredictable animals ) was because it was where she could meet the girls who were her peers: athletic, mannered and, most importantly, wealthy. she danced ballet until she turned ten and acquired a mind of her own. ballet was boring and she had better things to do than curtsy next to a mirror. history... well, as an adult she has forced herself to learn the things she was expected to know in her teenage years. as for languages... she can only speak her two mother tongues well: english and arabic. she'll pretend to know french and german but with confidence she can only say phrases.

in order to understand philippa's political views, one has to understand what philippa's world looked like: nothing was off-limits, the divide between 'us' and 'them' was crystal clear, the whole world was her oyster. her mother, especially, was into the whole jet set lifestyle and philippa learned how to travel in style from her mother. her father was slightly more reserved when it came to spending compared to her mother, but her father had a looser tongue. much much looser tongue, and from him philippa would learn to scoff at anyone who even uttered the word 'labour'.

to be a philippa in england when arthur windsor sr's illegitimate children began popping up was to be tortured ! every time she was forced to accept yet another poorly mannered street child, she died just a bit inside. antonia was, by far, the worst and curtsying to her nearly made philippa vomit. antonia ives who couldn't even speak properly !

university taught her to be a bit less prejudiced and a bit more progressive. the five years she spent at cambridge molded her personality a notable amount but by no means did they change who she was at her core. she was perfectly happy keeping herself surrounded by carefully selected people who understood what she meant with her looks and knew exactly what 'lovely' was code for. her people made her feel at ease and safe, other people forced her to readjust her behaviour, forced her to hold her tongue, and most importantly made it seem as if there was something wrong with her position of privilege !

philippa clams up easily. she does not like entertaining boring or unimportant conversations. she does not like wasting her time on irrelevant people. she does not like having to avoid landmines with her words. only when she's around people she knows and likes, will she start talking. her dry sense of humour flourishes at a dinner table with a glass of red in her hand. she keeps herself in check so much that when she finally gets to relax and be herself, there's really no stopping her. she's conceited enough to like a bit of limelight every now and then.

childhood, university era... then came adulthood. with adulthood came responsibilities. utilizing private jets 24/7 was not an option anymore, she needed to stay rooted in england for most of the time. she was at every meeting her father was in. she sat through parliamentary hearings and scribbled down notes. she truly applied herself for the first time in her life. for the first time in her life, she felt like she was doing something that mattered. mattered to her. not in the grad scheme of things, she most certainly was not trying to change the world, england or even the way things functioned in her father's duchy. no, no, she was doing something that was very clearly and very directly benefitting her in the long run. she put in the work because she knew the pay off would be invaluable to her once she inherited the title from her father.

then boom ! the english civil war erupted and everything went to shit. picking a side was a no brainer: of course the henleys would support nicole de marquis' daughter. of course the henleys would support king arthur who was king, no matter what leftist idiots were saying. even without the friendships that tied them to king arthur and nicole, they would have picked the side that attempted to preserve the status quo. king arthur was hazardous, there was no denying it, but he understood how things worked in their world. a world of quid-pro-quos. a world of having one's back no matter what. a world where the power was in the hands of those who knew how to use it. a world of inequality.

long story short... the henleys ended up escaping england before seeing what would happen to the ones who had opposed queen antonia. it was not difficult an escape considering her mother family's influence. settling into one of their second homes was a bitter moment but by no means was it uncomfortable.

this was philippa except she had money.

so what is one to do at twenty-seven when her whole world has been turned upside down ? one gets married !

many of philippa's friends ( the ones that were still left, anyways ) called it insanity and a mistake. some thought she had found the catch of the century and applauded her. philippa herself wasn't sure. it was possible that she'd come to regret her decision to marry hans but simultaneously it felt like a good next step. it put her back on the map. it gave her social capital she had never possessed. it gave her a new title. and it gave her life new meaning. she had something to work for. she wanted and she needed hans to win.

philippa decided she'd make hans the most important man in switzerland. with hans on top, who would dare to look down at philippa ? there would come a time when she would have all the enviable connections, all the influence and all the respect of the high society.

[reinathane]

CLOSED / @mckenzie-pip​​ LOCATION: Calliope

A hectic night at the restaurant is somehow exactly what Reina needs these days. The high energy keeps her mind off of the shit show that’s become her life, and she loves the dinner rush, the staff at her beck and call as she makes sure they’re correctly doing their jobs — but most of all, she loves the networking. A busy night means there’s usually at least one or two important people having dinner so of course Reina’s making the rounds, stopping by each table to ask about the food and lingering longer at the important ones. It’s only when she comes across a woman that she’s thrown off her game although not in a bad way, but it takes a lot to make Reina falter and seeing this woman does just that. Her mind immediately goes back to the fire, flashes of people surrounding her and her daughter play like a loop and she realizes this is how she recognizes the woman — a paramedic, one who’d been helping Iris try to breathe again after the trauma she’d been through. “How is everything?” she asks after making her way to the woman’s table and greeting her, the largely fake smile she’s been sporting all night turning somewhat genuine. “I hate to interrupt your dinner, but I have to ask — you’re an EMT, right?”

[jcsies]

𝐏𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐀 𝐅-𝐇.

@queenpicca​

        ❝      if   you   like   it   that   much   pips   ,      you   should   just   get   it   .      you   look   good   in   anything   but   that   was   something   else   .   and   if   what   mum   and   dad   gave   you   doesn’t   cover   it   ?      my   treat      ❞

[trymtealeaf]

           ❝   Sooo~, could you 𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷 𝙼𝙴 something? I don’t believe I could 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 turn into an owl like you, but I do know a bit of 𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙲. Nothing grant, mind you - cause I am not as 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 as you are of course. But maybe you would be able to help me get better at it? Pretty please?   ❞

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓�� 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐍 her lower lip and a few blinks with her big brown eyes, Trym leans forward to close some distance between the two women. Eyebrows raised expectantly, she hopes Philippa would at least consider her request.

      —   𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩.   for @martyrsaiint​

[archivestoriescrafted]

it’s something she’s worn before  ---  for a long time  ---  yet the newly reacquired badge securely affixed to the front of her uniform feels heavy.  almost as if it doesn’t belong anymore,  though michael’s well aware of all that’s been done to earn the right to wear it once again.  despite all of that.....  guilt remains,  gnawing at her insides,  a constant companion.  funny that even though she’s human,  paired with each instance where amanda had ever insisted that she be proud of that,  the most prominent instinct she has is shame that she’s still feeling so guilty.  that’s got to be the vulcan upbringing,  right?  maybe not,  but it’s easiest to lay the blame there,  at least for now.

thousands upon thousands were lost,  and at its essence?  it can be tracked directly back to her.  it would be easy enough to forget it all,  to move on,  and tell herself that if the klingons had wanted a war so badly,  they’d have managed without her help.  but there had been a war,  and as far as the federation as a whole and most of its citizens are concerned?  it leads back to michael.  starfleet’s first mutineer.  it’s a title she’ll wear forever,  in some form  ---  the fact that she’s been reinstated and had done her part to help end the war is irrelevant.  at least,  in her own mind   (   she’s never been particularly skilled at deciphering what other people are thinking,  so it’d be foolish to even attempt to speak for anyone but herself   ).

there have been countless moments throughout the course of her life where michael’s found herself gripped by the cold hand of anxiety.  of dread.  fear.  but this one?  this one tops them all:  the death of her parents,  the bombing at the learning center,  finding out she hadn’t been accepted to the vulcan science expedition,  her court martial,  every moment spent aboard the discovery,  her time in the terran universe  ---  none of them had left her feeling quite like this.

“captain georgiou  ---  ”   there’s a pause,  as she swallows,  hands clasped behind her back,   “philippa.”   it doesn’t feel quite right,  referring to her either way.  michael knows it’s likely she’s being too hard on herself  ---  but it doesn’t seem as though she has the right to refer to her former captain at all.  not after....  everything.   “it’s good to see you,”   that’s the truth,  at least.  to some degree,  at least.   “i’m glad you’re  ---  ”   still alive?  no.  she straightens up,  perfecting her posture,   “i’m glad you’re okay,”

@georgiov   |   sc.

[holydepths-blog]

@cloudedwrath / “ Look. It’s Louis, right? ” It isn’t, and she knows it. “ You could go for the whole EMOTIONAL blackmail thing, get whatever you want out of me. Slide you a hundred, give you a handjob in your mom’s Subaru. I don’t care. I want my fucking CAT. ” Finger drum against the counter, more aggressively than impatiently or absently — a ticking time bomb of you better give me what I want. It’d barely been 48 hours since Pippa shoed Madonna ( her cat, she had clarified, to the mystified looking boy ) away from Hester’s cage, and since the tiny ragdoll had angrily bolted out of the pet flap Pippa’d asked her father a million and one times to contact SOMEONE to board up or remove. Madonna hadn’t come back meowing for her wet food at six P.M. the way she usually did, and in Pippa’s own worry ( with that stupid fucking hamster grinning at her gleefully, she just KNEW it ), had rung up the animal shelter in hopes her cat had been scooped off the streets. She HAD, and Pippa assumed that would be the end of that, even in her drive down to the shelter. But the demanding of ID and papers she didn’t have ( a lockbox in the attic somewhere she wasn’t granted key to ) had left her more than frustrated. “ Remember? Pippa Espina — the number I CALLED FROM is on file. ” A pen is flicked off the ledge and over to his position behind the counter, where Pippa considered him lucky to be, unless he wanted to get clocked. “ You were a freshman in math, I was retaking it because I flunked. Mrs. Grasso’s class. Ringing ANY bells of, ‘ hey, sorry for taking so long in the back. I was brushing my hair so I looked SLIGHTLY less like a thrift store hobbit. I know you’re not trying to kidnap a fucking cat? ’ ” 

[aenslem]

Are you into Star Trek Disco? If so, 001 for it. If not, 003 for River Song :)

Yes, I like Disco and I will do both :D Thanks anon for the ask.

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: would be really rude to choose a character that was in original series? :D I mean, Spock and Pike and Number One, but if i should choose from disco team, then i would go with Philippa, she was badass, both emperor and original Philippa. I love them, also Katrina Cornwell was really awesome. I love everyone else, especially Stamets, Michael and Saru, but I would go with Emperor/Captain Georgiou cos yeah, she is awesome!

Least Favorite character: oh idk, i need to rewatch it to be sure, I enjoyed performance, but as a character I did not really like Lorca. 

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): 5? :D that’s too much i guess. I am not sure I even have one in disco? if I really have to think and choose... nah, can’t really do that, I was not into shipping anyone there yet. Pike/Tyler was good tho, yes, i will choose that :D I also liked Stamets and Hugh, and maybe Detmer and Owosekun, but there was not enough of the last one, but i like the idea.

Character I find most attractive: oh, they are all so pretty! Michael? Philippa? Spock? Number One? Pike? idk, if i have to choose one i will go with Pike, he is really pretty. but everyone else is also!!!

Character I would marry: none... ok Philippa :D what? middle aged women are my weakness, i can’t help it.

Character I would be best friends with: i don’t even know, probably Jett Reno and we would judge everyone together :D

a random thought: we need that new season sooner...

An unpopular opinion: im fine with the plot and i don’t care that most of fans are all like ‘ohhh but it doesn’t feel like old trek’ tos is my fav trek and i still enjoy disco, this is a huge universe and having both shows as original series and discovery is amazing, if you don’t like discovery just because it doesn’t feel like old trek, then maybe don’t watch it? don’t like don’t watch and stop whining about it, we are going to have strange new worlds soon which gonna be more like original series, wait for that and enjoy it. Just because you don’t like it and it doesn;’t feel like tos for you doesn;t mean it should not exist and it is bad. We can have it all you know? 

My Canon OTP: Since I am not really shipping anyone i will choose the one i like from canon - stamets/hugh

My Non-canon OTP: idk pike/ash :’D i remember loving the chemistry and their scenes.

Most Badass Character: Philippa, Katrina, Number one.

Most Epic Villain: apart from Lorca we had Leland and computer... so I will go with Lorca? or idk, Emperor Georgiou counts as villain? 

Pairing I am not a fan of: Lorca/Michael

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Can’t really think of anyone atm

Favourite Friendship: Michael and Saru

Character I most identify with: Jett Reno ? tho im not as smart

Character I wish I could be: Philippa... if i can’t marry her at least i wanna be like her aklsjkjadh

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character: good? i like her. what else can i say, her appearances in the beginning really helped me to love 11 more. 

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Ten, Twelve. not really super shipping as I ship Doc/Master, but i like them, they are okay. 

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Amy/Rory and River, i love their family and they could have more time together tbh

My unpopular opinion about this character: do i have one? i guess my unpopular opinion would be that i don;t really like 11 and River as a couple :D i mean, they are fine and I know, it’s the most popular one out there, but honestly, can’t see the chemistry River had with Ten, or the same warm lovely feeling I had watching Twelve and River. but im not hating them or smth, just don’t see it... 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish 13 met River at some point? Because come on! COME ON! give me that. or River and Missy met. honestly, can i have some wlw action there :’D but if i can’t have that, can she meet Jack? just ajsdja that would super chaotic

Favorite friendship for this character: I don’t really remember her with anyone but Doctor and her family and nardole, so... idk, her family. 

My crossover ship: 13...13...13.. askjdhajkhd again, not really a crossover ship, but COME ON COOOME OOON! but also, imagine river song, helen magnus and helena wells walk into a bar asjkdhakjdhjahdj 

Send me a fandom/ship/character and I will tell you my

[jewishsuperfam]

001 for The Witcher, if you would?

Favorite character: tie between geralt and yennefer

Least Favorite character: emhyr, vilgefortz, and every adult male who either wanted to sleep with 15-year-old ciri or conspired to have her sleep with another adult male. OH ALSO DIJKSTRA

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): geralt/yennefer, ciri/cerys, dandelion/priscilla, philippa/women, lambert/keira

Character I find most attractive: yennefer

Character I would marry: yennefer or ciri

Character I would be best friends with: ciri

a random thought: every time geralt complains about the weather it’s bc it makes his knee hurt and im sad

An unpopular opinion: i hate ciri/mistle

My Canon OTP: geralt/yennefer

My Non-canon OTP: ciri/cerys

Most Badass Character: geralt

Most Epic Villain: i think this is supposed 2 make it sound like i actually like any of the villains lmao. so u know what? my answer is syanna.

Pairing I am not a fan of: ciri/mistle and ciri/cahir and ciri/any adult man

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): t r i s s

Favourite Friendship: geralt & roach

Character I most identify with: ciri

Character I wish I could be: ciri

[spinebookstore]

“Fuori Fase”. Le 3 bibliografie selezionate su cui ruoteranno gli incontri.

#ABITARE - #ATTENDERE - #USCIRE

 Tre bibliografie con storie che sviluppano queste parole in racconti dalle diverse declinazioni, offrendoci punti di vista anche diametralmente opposti tra loro.

Questi racconti saranno il nostro punto di partenza per ragionare, confrontarci e tracciare insieme nuovi collegamenti e relazioni tra autori e parole in questa ricerca a più voci attraverso i libri.

In ogni incontro verranno presi in considerazione cinque titoli tra fumetto, albo, libro per adulti, libro per ragazzi e film. Non saranno lezioni accademiche, ma un percorso di scambio e condivisione di conoscenze, pensieri e stimoli, per questo a chi parteciperà agli incontri  consigliamo aver letto almeno uno dei titoli segnalati.

●● ABITARE | Incontro con Emilio Varrà e Matteo Gaspari.

Giovedì 4 Giugno

>> Narrativa: "L’elefante scomparso: e altri racconti", Haruki Murakami, Einaudi, 2013

>> Narrativa ragazzi: "Il giardino di mezzanotte", Philippa Pearce, Mondadori, 2018

>> Film: "L’inquilino del terzo piano", Roman Polanski, 1976

>> Fumetto: "Qui", Richard McGuire, Rizzoli Lizard, 2015

>> Albo: "L’albero", Lela Mari, Babalibri, 2007

●● ATTESA | Incontro con Ilaria Tontardini e Elisabetta Mongardi

Giovedì 11 Giugno

>> Saggistica adulti*: "La tirannia del tempo", Judy Wajcman, Treccani, 2020

>> Narrativa:"Non lasciarmi", Kazuo Ishiguro, Einaudi, 2016

>> Narrativa ragazzi:"La figlia del guardiano", Jerry Spinelli, Mondadori, 2017

>> Film:"Non lasciarmi", Mark Romanek, 2010

>> Fumetto:"Pompei", Frank Santoro, 001 Edizioni, 2018

>> Albo:"Tutto cambia", Anthony Browne, orecchio acerbo, 2019

●● USCIRE | Incontro con Nicola Galli Laforest e Matteo Gaspari.

Giovedì 18 Giugno

>> Narrativa:“La vera storia del mostro Billy Dean”, David Almond, Salani, 2014

>> Narrativa ragazzi:“Io sono il cielo che nevica azzurro”, Giusi Quarenghi, Topipittori, 2013

>> Film:“The Boy and the Beast”, Mamoru Hosoda, Lucky Red (ma disponibile su Netflix), 2015

>> Fumetto:“L’età dell’oro”, Cyril Pedrosa e Roxanne Moreil, Bao Publishing, 2019

>> Albo:“Di qui non si passa”, Isabel Martins e Bernardo Carvalho, Topipittori, 2015

*Agli iscritti al corso saranno riservate promozioni speciali sull'acquisto (facoltativo) dei libri appositamente selezionati per gli incontri. Per ogni tipo di informazione: spinebookstore@gmail.com

[rikerssexblouse]

001 discovery now i want to hear your thoughts :)

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: PHILIPPA GEORGIOU

Least Favorite character: Hmm. Maybe Sarek? He’s important and the backstory they create about him and Michael is interesting, but idk he just doesn’t do it for me. 

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Philippa Georgiou/Afsaneh Paris (Commodore Paris) (if that counts since Paris is not from Discovery… ), Paul Stamets/Hugh Culber (omg so precious), Gabriel Lorca/Katrina Cornwell, Michael Burnham/Sylvia Tilly, and... idk. That’s all I’ve got so far. 

Character I find most attractive: PHILIPPA GEORGIOU 

Character I would marry: PHILIPPA GEORGIOU

Character I would be best friends with: Tilly!

a random thought: so many beautiful women with wrinkles

An unpopular opinion: I feel stuck in the middle between the people who LOVE Lorca and the people who HATE Lorca. 

My Canon OTP: Stamets and Culber

My Non-canon OTP: Georgiou and Paris

Most Badass Character: Michael Burnham

Most Epic Villain: Lorca

Pairing I am not a fan of: So far Ash and Michael’s relationship seems rushed. 

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Ellen Landry. Her death was meaningless and lazy and then immediately forgotten by the crew. 

Favourite Friendship: Michael and Tilly. 

Character I most identify with: probably Tilly. 

Character I wish I could be: Katrina Cornwell. She takes no shit. 

Send me a fandom, ship, or character. 

[lovepersists2]

the smile on her lips is IMMEDIATE,  though there’s a slight quirk in her brow at the question posed.  of course,  she’s never known philippa georgiou to be anything less than BOLD,  so it’s not surprising in the slightest  —  except in the timing. except in the fact that katrina is caught so completely off guard   —   not that she lets that show.  no,  she just smiles,  and after a moment it reaches to her eyes,  becoming WHOLLY GENUINE as she nods.   “i’d be happy to,” 

This dance has been a long time coming; from Academy balls to ‘Fleet-mandated gatherings, Katrina has never failed to catch Philippa’s eye through the crowd. For so long, they have been two wormholes circling each another, one’s orbit drawing the other ever closer.

This is collision. A ripple through space and time that leaves Philippa spiralling into the infinite gravity of the feelings she’s spent far too long trying to avoid.

As she offers Katrina her hand, she admits, “I’ve been meaning to ask you that for awhile. I always feared what your answer would be… now I know it was only because you’re so radiant, I wonder if I’m flying too close to the sun.”

she’s always known philippa to be articulate  — ELOQUENT, even,  but katrina continues to be caught off guard by….  just about everything about this situation.  of course,  kat’s sexuality has never been a secret  —  to anyone who’s paid attention,  that is,   she’s never been one to make a big show of her romantic or sexual partners.  that could very well explain why this instance feels so different than most others:  it isn’t quite what katrina would consider a FULL FLEDGED public declaration,  but it’s not exactly subtle either.

the offered hand is steady as the woman it’s attached to,  which isn’t surprising in the least.  while everyone has doubts,  as her professional training has taught her well,  some are simply able to rise above in nearly every instance.  those who’ve spent time on starfleet’s command track,  she’s noted,  tend to display this trait more than others.  of course,  this is a party,  and kat’s about to share a dance with a beautiful woman  —  so maybe she should RELAX a little on the psychoanalyzing,  despite how safe it makes her feel.  her ability to read others is a constant,  something REASSURING in times of turmoil or crisis.  or….  even when she finds herself unsure,  or,  more accurately,  caught off guard as she is now   (   though the rate with which she’s finding her footing is rapid   ).

“now,  how’s a girl supposed to respond to such outright FLATTERY?”  she wonders aloud,  a soft hum taking the place of what might otherwise be a light chuckle.  still,  she can’t help but run with the imagery provided.   “i’ve met plenty of people i consider akin to icarus,  philippa,  and i’d hardly consider you one of them.”   she’s burned others before,  she knows,  perhaps even melted their wings as they’ve flown too close  —  only to find themselves too quickly in a free fall as her astonishing lack of ability to find much comfort in monogamy kicks in once more.  or maybe it’s just that she’s never found the RIGHT PERSON.  either way  —  katrina supposes she can see where any anxiety regarding the subject might stem from.   “you’re FAR from the first woman to find herself held back by a fear of rejection,”   the implication that lies therein,  that kat herself has been plagued by such a fear on occasion,  is correct  —  though she doesn’t plan on saying so openly.  not anytime soon,  at least,  because overall?  she KNOWS who she is,  knows her charms,  and it’s truly rare that she finds herself making the first move   (   though she’s never found herself opposed to the notion,  or to the idea of a grand gesture now and then   ).   “i suppose i should just be glad fear didn’t hold you back forever,  shouldn’t i?”

Philippa has witnessed no shortage of marvels in her lifetime. A star going supernova, a baby’s first squalling breaths, an entire squadron exploding in a chain reaction, the slow expansion of light across water at sunrise.

All these things pale in comparison to the woman before her. A fact she doesn’t give voice to, but saves for a future in which tonight goes in the direction she hopes it will.

She doesn’t tell Katrina that her hand in Philippa’s is already a response. That the way she moves closer rather than away is all Philippa could have asked of her and more. Restraint has been a guiding principle for so much of her life, and it is with restraint that she rests her other hand on Katrina’s waist, rather than the small of her back.

In lieu of words, she offers a soft smile. Holds Katrina’s gaze with eyes wide open to depths of emotion she knows Katrina will pick up on.

“Mm, I’m not so sure,” she answers. “Because here I am, faced with such magnificence that all I can do is fall.”

It’s unlike her, this… she supposes courtship would be preemptive, and flirtation sounds too frivolous given the gravity of the moment. Philippa knows herself to be daring in love, often sweet, gentle, at times even suave—but the honesty in this, whatever this is, is new to her, at least at this stage in—in what is not yet a relationship, though she allows herself to hope for more than one dance. For all her openness with her crew, Philippa holds herself at a distance. Always reaching out, rarely allowing anyone to approach.

Katrina is not anyone. That much is evident, as she stands here in front of her with her heart in her hands. Not quite offering herself to Katrina, but letting her come close enough to take Philippa in all her fragile glory, should she choose to do so.

“I doubt anything could hold me back from you forever. Even if I did let fear make an old fool of me.” She ducks her head coyly, colour rising to cheeks already rosy from the atmosphere and drinks. “But enough of that. We’re here, now, with the entire universe at our feet. What are you going to do, Katrina?”

It’s an echo from a lifetime ago, the days leading up to their graduation spent in a haze of laughter, tears and late night conversations. For all the people the universe has since taken away, Philippa thanks the stars that this one has found her way back to her.

there’s something about philippa that’s entrancing  —  something she’s never been able to put a finger on.  it’s as if she has her own gravitational field,  one katrina’s sure many have found themselves drawn in by.  she’s no exception,  clearly.

so perhaps the comparison to icarus isn’t quite so inaccurate as kat had initially posited  —  just….  not quite in the way philippa had suggested.  perhaps it’s katrina herself who’s being drawn in,  though she can only put her faith in the hands of the woman who so steadily manages to pull kat closer and hope that she won’t find herself burned.

“that’s fascinating,”   there’s a hint of amusement behind the words,  paired with the slight tilt of her head that’s typical when she’s really putting thought into something,   “because i’d go as far as to suggest that i’m the one who’s falling,”   there’s a brief pause,  her lips still parted slightly,   “or maybe we’re both falling,  though i’m not certain that would be ideal,  if we’re being literal.  if it’s merely figurative falling well  —  i suppose it might turn out alright.  time seems to be the master in these situations,  however,  so we may very well have to wait and see what the hands of time have in store for us,  won’t we,  philippa?”   the amusement lingers in every word,  save the final three.  they’re delivered with a genuine curiosity as to what the response might be.  they’re words offered truly in search of an answer,  instead of the way she’d managed to slip off into some self indulgent monologue.  

or perhaps the monologue had been intentional  —  fitting perfectly with the persona she’s so carefully crafted,  a persona of professionalism that she so rarely lets down.  there are few allowed to see the true katrina cornwell,  and with her own observations regarding the hands of time,  she’d managed to allow her walls to slip,  just a little.  just enough.

she can recall their time at the academy.  friends,  roommates,  hell….  they’d been on a handful dates.  good ones.  philippa georgiou had been kat’s first kiss,  in fact.  but time had interceded,  and they’d each gone their own way.  pursuing their own careers.  occasionally they’d meet again,  each time with familiarity  —  part friends,  part strangers.  each time,  they’ve known each other a little less,  and things have felt more distant.

until today.  until today,  when philippa had approached her for something so touchingly intimate as a dance.  though katrina’s walls remain stalwartly standing,  it’s difficult to resist the unfamiliar urge to allow them to fall  —  just as she,  so startlingly finds herself falling.  it’s a difficult balance,  the way she so quickly finds herself tumbling toward the comfort of the familiarity that remains between them.  the memories are all good ones,  and those….  those are so rare.  kat doesn’t have many friends,  there are very few people she considers herself truly close to,  and if she’s being entirely honest with herself?  she can so easily picture herself allowing philippa to become one of them.  perhaps she’ll allow a mere meeting to become a true collision.

“fear makes a fool of all of us,  now and then,  it’s nothing to be ashamed of,”   she brushes off the comment with a light laugh,  hoping to reassure,  and to calm any fear that might still linger.   “we’ve danced around the subject long enough,  haven’t we?”   the pun is intentional,  another attempt at lightening the mood,  despite a seriousness that lies underneath,  in wait of its moment in the sun.  

it’s a moment that comes quickly enough as katrina considers the question,  a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.  no.  no,  it isn’t a question,  she decides  —  it’s more of an invitation.  the universe truly is at their feet,  and it’s up to kat to decide whether to take the leap,  to continue to fall.  in another uncharacteristic move,  she pauses,  the moment seeming to last an eternity as she elects to take the step forward.  in reality,  only a second passes before she speaks again.

“i think i’ll stay.  it’s dangerous to fall alone,  after all,  and i hear the danger  associated with falling decreases significantly when you’ve got someone to fall with you,”

[moonreflected-a]

“you look like you’re surprised to see me,”   she smiles,   “i suppose that is the point of surprises though,  isn’t it?”

@georgiov   |   peggy & philippa   |   sc!

[mynxiiwhite]

@maavven ・・・ 001 : The Eye | Eclipse by Philippa Price @original_xerox Makeup by me! Hair by @prestonwada

[katharined]

Her daughters’ tittering delighted her, however lewd their tongues wagged, earning only a cursory glance of disapproval cut over Katharine’s svelte shoulder. Her blood warmed at each press of affection embossed into her cheek, knees bent slightly to accommodate the lift to Amelia’s jewel-encrusted heels. But privily welling in the Dowager’s mind was the fear, coupled with the fleeting hope, that a career at court would sully her daughters’ blithesome natures, still so wondrously innocent, gritting the golden Tudor blood that ran amok in their veins with smoky cynicism. In her rise at court, under the radiant Henrician sun, Katharine had taken little care not to elicit hostility, riding roughshod over the highest and proudest in the land with a tongue that boasted, in the pompous French tongue, of her royal blood. Proud Kit, they’d called her, an appellation no less warranted than the Boleyns’ searing brand of illegitimacy; she’d seldom turned away from it, like a bluebell to the sun. It was not until Katharine egressed into the third – and, thusly, wisest – decade of her life, arms laden with a trio of riotous babes, that alarm at her own misjudgment dawned. Would her daughters pay for her sins? Would Amelia suffer her own?

Fingering the gilt chain slung around her waist – anchoring her unsettled belly with a solidness that could be felt through the layers of fur, velvet, and linen draped across the Duchess’ lithe frame – Katharine guffawed, and in fluid French beckoned a swarm of attendants into her chambers. Bidding them to fetch tools of measurement, freshly whetted scissors, and a galore of fasteners to sure up her daughters’ new gowns, the Dowager swiveled her amber-hued gaze to her second youngest, Amelia, with eyes sharpened at the tail. ‘I’d suggest letting your sister do the honours, and wait to assemble your army.’ In the merry atmosphere of the late-summer afternoon, a mother’s admonishments slid into nihility: but still the warning lingered in the air, buzzing with opportunity like a pestering horsefly. ‘You were lucky last time, my little miracle. It may be rather difficult to hide such a great belly at court with all of us called to attend upon the King and Princess.’ Yet, even as she spoke, Katharine reached out to smooth her palm over Amelia’s lustrous blonde mane – shining without the cloak of a hood, a symbol of her virginity, her ostensibly unclaimed hand – and smiled tightly. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find time to send you home soon enough. Though you might be as aghast as I to find little Jack calling his nurse ‘mama’ next you return to Westhorpe.’ Her narrowed gaze then turned to Philippa, ‘how I railed at your late father when I heard you refer to Nurse Agnes thus. We were never again parted for longer than a fortnight.’

No sooner had her ladies descended upon her apartments, tottering with many cumbersome baskets of instruments and fabrics in their arms, did Katharine fly from Amelia’s side to ready a bolt of fresh, creamy linen for measuring (though the heavy lifting had already been accomplished by the Duchess’ Parisian seamstress). Her fingers traced a Fleur-de-lis sewn in cloth of gold throughout, and then, smiling wickedly, her eyes caught it: her sole and unmistakable allowance, a greyhound – the symbol of her husband’s heraldry – impaling a Boleyn bull with a crescent sabre. ‘Girls, hither.’ She tapped a finger to her bottom lip, bound in thought. ‘The crimson velvet, I should think, for Philippa. How striking it would look with your complexion! And this… for Amelia,’ She gestured elegantly to a bolt of powdery, heaven-blue, embroidered with gilded blossoms, smiling triumphantly. ‘My lady, put away the pink and white for my youngest. God knows what trouble she is presently getting herself into.’

As she’d done to Amelia, Katharine’s hands instinctively found the silken tumble of hair beneath the damask cloth of Philippa’s hood. ‘What plans have you for the rest of the day? Presumably, you will wish to return to your husband’s side, but will His Grace spare your Lady Mother an hour or so of sartorial fussing?’

philippaed​:

though  she  would  have  liked  nothing  more  than  to  sit  dutiful  by  the  feet  of  her  mother  as  the  interiors  of  their  apartments  in  hampton  court  were  upended  to  make  place  for  the  clucking  of  french  hens  and  fashions  that  had  been  lugged  through  the  countryside  of  france  to  dover  and  then  to  hampton,  certain  arrangements  could  not  be  so  easily  disregarded  ─  even  when  she  had  offered  to  stay  behind  and  abandon  her  younger  sister  to  the  wolves  of  court,  philippa  had  been  waved  off  for  being  a  fussing  nag,  concern  furrowing  at  her  brows  whenever  her  mother  pressed  a  bejeweled  hand  to  the  span  of  her  belly.  the  morning  had  been  productive  once  she  had  allowed  herself  to  participate  in  the  game  of  bowls,  emerging  victorious  in  three  rounds  and  in  rubbing  elbows  with  the  scottish  guests  that  had  followed  mary  stuart  and  appearing  without  a  care,  a  feat  made  easier  by  the  presence  of  her  mother,  awaiting  for  them  back  in  their  apartments.  with  her  cheeks  flushed  by  the  rare  sighting  of  the  sun,  the  duchess  of  suffolk  kept  her  arm  interlocked  with  her  sister  as  they  spoke  of  the  game  in  hushed  tones,  whispers  punctured  only  by  bursts  of  laughter  after  a  rather  cruel  but  true  observation  was  shared.

the  doors  parted  to  permit  them  entrance  and  her  gaze  immediately  took  in  the  gold  hanging  from  the  windows,  amusement  thinning  her  mouth  as  she  pressed  her  lips  together  to  keep  from  giggling  at  the  overt  display  of  wealth  and  french - favored  decor  ─  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  woman  behind  such  a  change,  philippa  knew  that  she  should  have  known  better  than  to  doubt  katherine  brandon's  ability  to  get  the  job  done  regardless  of  an  unsettled  stomach.  her  mother  was  unconquerable  with  an  army  of  servants  at  her  disposal  and  a  sudden  burst  of  fondness  for  the  older  woman  had  her  parting  from  her  sister's  side  to  glide  (  or  run,  though  philippa  would  never  admit  to  hastening  her  steps  for  anyone  if  asked  )  towards  her  mother,  pressing  a  quick  kiss  to  katherine's  cheek  as  her  fingers  brushed  against  the  cloth - of - gold  like  a  raven  captivated  by  a  glistening  curtain.

❝  mother  …  ❞  her  voice  was  weighed  with  feigned  exhaustion  by  the  conversation  even  if  the  corners  of  her  mouth  curled  up  mischievously.  ❝  while  i  am  most  delighted  by  the  prospect  of  new  gowns  in  the  french  cutting,  i  am  afraid  nicholas  cares  little  for  my  style  of  dress  so  long  as  it  remains  on  the  floor  of  our  bedchambers.  ❞  turning  her  eyes  to  her  sister,  philippa  squinted  at  the  countess  of  hertford,  warning  her  not  to  take  any  sides  in  the  age - old  conflict  between  mothers  and  their  married  daughters  though,  unable  to  resist  biting  at  amelia,  she  continued.  ❝  what  does  john  think  of  the  french  necklines,  sister  ?  perhaps  it  is  you  who  will  sate  our  mother's  unquenchable  demand  for  grandchildren  once  again.  ❞  //  @myladygrey

No matter what age, title or circumstance Amelia has witnessed the Grey women face in their glimmering echelons of duty and drive whilst separated, it was their assemblance together- reuniting stars forming one united constellation, that could blind an onlooker ( she’d hoped to blind the many courtiers who observed the Grey ladies glide with baited breath in the evolving midst of seastorm wavering tensions ). Perhaps a meteor shower, forged from both their heavenly birthright and inherited firework wit, was the solution to all their strife - toils and dangers that hung in the air, grew stale from its unwelcome company. 

Court’s riotous action, Amelia’s whirlwind agenda of attendance, her efforts to appear as that of a rose-cheeked, virtuous maiden fluttering about with the same spark-eyed innocence she once honed so expertly clawed at her conscience. Nevertheless, she donned her disguise of ease, ripe for public display. Served her princess, participated in games, gossip, but felt the ache for home- for her family, son-  softened as she gravitated to the Duchess of Suffolk’s side. As a child, she’d have followed Pippa anywhere. As a woman, she delighted in their bout of sunlit revelry. Whispers in ears, unintended song of laughter bouncing through the archways. The same within he bounce in her lips, easier to form. A laugh, lighter to release. With each tandem step away from crowds, toward their matronly leader, Amelia flashed back through countless memories of the same warmth and life. 

 Katharine Grey resembled Mother Mary within their familial quarters, the focal point of gold-threaded mastery framing her form with the flourish only she deserved. Amelia’s neck nearly swan tilted with intrigue, gasping at the flamboyant improvement and the delight in seeing her. How deeply she’d adored her lady mother. Stepping into the invisible footprints made by her older sister - the little duckling habit of following Pippa in line-  to greet their mother. Stepping with a restrained eager bounce beneath her skirt, failing to conceal a coy smile as she kissed both of Katharine’s cheekbones, pearl headpiece rattling in the embrace before stepping back to shoot Philippa a haughty little smirk.Words lilting in toying merriment, releasing a singular laugh. “With my record thus far? Rest assured, I am sure to build you both an army! Devoted, spoiled grandchildren of our lady mother, but also - undoubtedly - nephews and nieces who favour their aunt? I swear, my feet shall fall off entirely from chasing Jack as he grows. He’ll be hellbent on following you both through life, prepare yourselves accordingly.” Her smile grows at the mere thought of her son aging with spirit, fire: rambunctious, strong, and so loved. Feigning frustration, she placed the back of her hand to her forehead as she swayed toward the pitcher of wine readied for them, pouring three goblets’ worth. “When will you afford me the same luxury of earning your child’s idolisation? I’m owed it!” She winked over her shoulder, retorting in their little game.