#with — clarissa toussaint.

[saltkissed]

location: hyde park.

( @adaugeos )

this is how he opens the conversation when he stops just right by the bench he found her on—a greeting that is not entirely a greeting: "why, if it isn't the ever so elusive miss clarissa toussaint." there's a smile stretching across nadir's lips, eyes bright as he tucks his hands behind his back to give her the slightest of bows. just enough to indicate that he doesn't truly mean it. "what a pleasant surprise to see you here. it has been a while since that fateful day in brighton, hasn't it?"

[springsbloom]

location: palace gardens — the garden party.

with: @adaugeos — rissa.

truly, it is a shame that her dearest sister had not been named the diamond of the season, but priscilla cannot deny the relief taking shape in her breastbone, emptying into her lungs and making it easier to breathe in the layers upon layers she is wearing tonight. they are still cilla and rissa, then—cut from the same cloth and destined for the same role.

and yet, the tiny voice inside of her had wanted for rissa to eclipse her. prove them wrong, she wanted to say. it's too late now. with no words of consolation to offer her sister, the best priscilla could say is, "you did not forget your manners before the queen, did you?" it is nothing but an attempt to make sense of her sister's shortcomings.

[etheraely]

location: the queen's garden party — palace gardens. featuring: @adaugeos — clarissa toussaint.

❛      beautiful,    isn’t  she  ?      ❜      a  declaration  in  lieu  of  greeting,    touch  warm  to  the  small  of  rissa’s  back,    easy  to  follow  the  other’s  gaze  to  where  their  friend  is  perched,    basked  in  the  glow  of  the  evening’s  festivities.      ❛      and  you  as  well,    rissa.    you  look  stunning.    the  queen  is  lucky  that  you’ve  chosen  to  be  in  attendance.      ❜      for  a  moment  so  brief,    at  the  sight  of  her  friend,    she  still  feels  like  the  girl  bound  by  no  responsibilities,    who  lay  sprawled  on  a  rissa’s  bed,    kicking  socked  feet  at  the  mere  mention  of  the  rumors  and  whisperings  that  swirled  throughout  the  city.    it  was  simpler  then,    easier.    the  novelty  of  it  all  has  since  worn  off,    that  girlish  exuberance  making  way  for  jaded  skepticism.    the  world  is  no  longer  mysterious,    you  see.    she  knows  how  this  works.      ❛      are  you  enjoying  yourself  ?    or  .  .  .    should  i  ask  :    has  anyone  caught  your  eye,    even  with  it  being  so  early  in  the  night  ?      ❜

[lots-of-little-pink-clouds]

Summary: In Loving Memory of YULIA VIKTOROVNA KOZLOVA MOROZOVA 2002-2012 ~-o-o-o-~ Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Granddaughter.

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

**Snapshots from the short life of Yulia Morozova, oldest daughter of Viktor Morozov and Yvette Toussaint. **An AU of the Dead Man Walking AU.

@vendetta-if

[seadrops-basgiath]

✧   ⸻   [  jennie kim,  cis woman,  she/her  ]     ;     congratulations on surviving the parapet, cadet CLARISSA 'RISSA' TOUSSAINT, and welcome to the rider’s quadrant ! at TWENTY-FIVE years old, you should know exactly what it takes to make it to graduation, especially being so ARDENT and PERSPICACIOUS. though, i do suppose your tendencies to be HAUGHTY and FANCIFUL may make it hard to survive until threshing. other cadets say you remind them of floating in vast, dark waters, not knowing where you begin and where the sea ends ╱ hair gathered in a black ribbon, curls loose and wild, girlhood not entirely abandoned ╱ the turning pages of a book read well after midnight, filling the silence of your home library ╱ fingers sunk into marble skin, delicate to the eye, but unyielding to touch, but we’ll have to see how true that is. remember: if you want a dragon — earn one.

— penned by ciel; pinterest.

BASICS.

NAME: clarissa alaia toussaint. NICKNAME: rissa.   AGE: twenty-five.   PLACE OF BIRTH: basgiath, navarre. GENDER: cisgender woman. PRONOUNS: she/her. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual. RELIGION: the main religion of navarre by birth; agonistic.   PARENTS: hugo toussaint & francesca toussaint née fitzwilliam. SIBLINGS: aurora toussaint (elder), priscilla toussaint (elder), franklin toussaint (younger). PLACEMENT: first year cadet; first wing, flame section, first squad. DRAGON: not bonded. HOBBIES: notating her books, studying different philosophies across time, amateur cartography, & piano playing.

STORY.

I. her mother would tell the story of her near swan song birth for years to come — how she’d cried as loud as any storm before going near lifeless, tiny body blue from lack of oxygen. how her mother felt hope and life drain from her as she lie in bed, certain her newly born infant would be called so soon to the gods. you were my miracle baby. thirdborn and three times as lucky, she had said with eyes so fond and full of love that rissa had not thought to look deeper than surface level.   II. if only her mother had known the possibility of misconstruing one’s own nativity story. miracle. yes, that is exactly what she was. the story of her origin only validated what she had known in her bones from early childhood. she had no doubt her siblings would go on to accomplish a multitude of things, — they were cut from the same cloth after all, and such was their inheritance — but none would become something as great as she. III. proving herself however, was a herculean task. if she was three times as lucky then she was also three times more likely to be scolded. rissa could not fight dancing to the thrum of music only she could hear, doing as she pleased from an early age. education only seemed to embolden this streak, grooming her ambition and impulsiveness to character flaws rather than mere flirtations. freeing hunting dogs from cages, writing letters to the king’s council, and a failed attempt to sneak into the castle all before age nine had her mother at wits end. IV. pandora’s box had long been opened and it was too late to unsew the stitch that had been knotted. rissa could not be dissuaded from her look upon life, her idealistic world view painted with broad strokes of philosophy on the inherent goodness every human being is born with. the loveliness of life was something she desperately clung to, shutting out the coldness of her father’s gaze and curl of her mother’s lip with flowery poetry and epic stories of faraway lands. she clung to knowledge. V. none of the toussaint children were raised to sit on the back of a dragon. francesca, despite her multitude of flaws, did what she could to shield her progeny from the onerous duty of following in the footsteps of their father. and what a burden their ancestry was — toussaint was a name that struck fear in many hearts across the span of generations and their father was no different. as each of her sister’s conscription days passed without so much of a word from hugo, rissa thought she might slip from under his eye as well. until she didn’t. VI. something ugly wound its roots around her rib cage when her father pressed for her to carry the lineage of dragon rider. her sisters had been given the grace to do as they pleased and her brother would as well, it seemed. with none of the proper training, she was leagues behind her peers and her mother’s protests fell on deaf ears as her father attempted to pack a decades worth of training into a year. rissa struggled with the why of it all — it wasn’t until she was cocooned in the pink silks of her sheets one night that it struck her. who was more deserving than her? who more zealous, more driven? who more ambitious? her hunger to become something more ate away at her insides as her conscription day neared.

QUICK FACTS.

many could mistake her rebelliousness as intent to insult her upbringing and her family at large, but they’d be wrong. her unhappiness doesn’t stem from her family or station in life, but from the truth that it is not enough. her rose colored glasses have deluded her into believing that she can have her cake and eat it too. she can be rebellious and transform the world, but still remain within the status quo. whether this is true or not remains to be seen.

she has an opinion on anything and everything and if she’s asked about something she’s never heard of or tried or done then she will do it and get back to you posthaste!

she cannot admit she’s wrong. she cannot compromise with others. she cannot admit she has a weird laugh.

she wanted to sneak into the castle to meet with the king btw. she really thought she could meet with him and talk her way onto his council at age 8.

definitely spends an absurd amount of money on dresses and shoes without a doubt.

she has a poor relationship with her father as he is incredibly emotionally distant from all of his children barring his son, who he is still emotionally distant with, but can hold a conversation. that’s more than what his daughters can say, especially rissa. she’s not quite a black sheep, but she’s not too far from it at this point. not that she would allow herself to realize she’s one anyways.

hugo is descended from a long line of prestigious dragon riders. he was in an accident when his children were younger that resulted in a near fatal injury. he has since been honorably discharged from his duty due to his inability to ride and if you thought he was emotionally stunted and cold before.......well. the king still holds him in high regard, but its clear he no longer has the sway he once used to. this is also why he put off pushing the children to train to become dragon riders and why it has been placed upon rissa. he had a sort of awakening moment and refused to back down off her continuing the legacy even if shes probably the least suited for it (on the surface) out of all of her siblings. 

rissa was greatly upset and angry at first, but when she deluded herself into believing it was her destiny she immediately hopped on board with it! she’s definitely still not physically capable even after a long year of training, but what she lacks in physical prowess she makes up for in her intelligence. 

she definitely believes the world and country of navarre must change and that things can be made better for people everywhere, but she still also believes that there’s nothing wrong with a monarchy being in place too so like............yeah, delusional.

is also a self described pacifist. she believes almost all situations can be resolved without violence (and by extension war) which is also very funny considering she’s in like the worst place for that kinda mindset.

she’s actually not religious at all. she doesn’t outright disbelieve in the gods, especially not publicly, but she thinks her faith and time are “better worth spent in the corporeal world” like girl shut up.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

maybe someone from a family who ended up rising into the power vacuum left behind by her father? their parent or elder sibling became the king’s new favorite and because of this hugo was bitter towards them. maybe they were always waiting for their opportunity or it just happened. maybe their families were once close or maybe they’ve always disliked each other and had a power struggle. either way can be discussed!

child of a rebellion leader who either was responsible for downing hugo. or in the same vein, maybe hugo killed their parent or family member during an uprising? so your character knows rissa is the daughter of him and feels some typa way.

someone who thinks shes weak and underestimates her? maybe they’re also a cadet, but they could be above her in rank too 

anyone who challenges her world view or train of thought

could be along the lines of the above but an intellectual rival

people she can be delusional with. let’s get crazy

idk i just want something absolutely insane. i’m seriously up for anything

[whistledownhq]

DEAREST READERS...

the queen is delighted to have made her selection of the incomparable of this year's season. though there were some gems among the group of debutantes, with little signs of acknowledgment given to clarissa toussaint, etta eaton, and soraya davani, the incomparable diamond of the season has been declared by her majesty to be catherine smith. wishing the best of luck to those hoping to win her over, the competition for her hand has only begun.

[lokaleblickecom]

Weihnachtsgrüße des Amtes für Wirtschaftsförderung und Stadtmarketing

Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren, auch in diesem Jahr blicken wir auf ein sehr bewegtes und ereignisreiches Jahr mit vielen Herausforderungen zurück. Mit dem nun fast vergangenen Jahr 2023 liegt aber auch ein ganz besonderes Jahr hinter uns: Das Kloster Kamp feierte sein 900-jähriges Jubiläum. Zu diesem besonderen Anlass fanden in Kamp-Lintfort über das ganze Jahr verteilt vielfältige Veranstaltungshighlights statt, die endlich wieder gemeinsam und ohne Einschränkungen gefeiert werden konnten. Als besonderen Höhepunkt im Jubiläumsjahr ist sicherlich die eindrucksvolle Lichtillumination „Glanz und Gloria“ im Kamper Gartenreich zu nennen. Das prachtvolle Klostergelände wurde mit stilvollen Kunstobjekten in Szene gesetzt und mit stimmungsvoller Musik untermalt. Wir danken allen Besucherinnen und Besuchern, Mitwirkenden und natürlich den Sponsoren für ihre tatkräftige Unterstützung, die die Realisierung des Jubiläumsprogramms ermöglicht haben. Mit dem Jahresbeginn gehen auch einige Änderungen im Kamp-Lintforter Rathaus einher. Aufgrund der Rathaussanierung wird unter anderem unser Amt für Wirtschaftsförderung und Stadtmarketing vorübergehend in der Südstraße 9 erreichbar sein. Aufgrund der Platzsituation wird nicht jede/r Kollege/in an jedem Tag vor Ort sein, per E-Mail oder auch telefonisch sind wir aber selbstverständlich weiterhin erreichbar.   Wir freuen uns auch im nächsten Jahr auf eine erfolgreiche und vertrauensvolle Zusammenarbeit mit Ihnen. Ihre Ansprechpartner/innen vom Amt für Wirtschaftsförderung und Stadtmarketing wünschen Ihnen und Ihren Familien ein fröhliches und besinnliches Weihnachtsfest und einen guten Start in 2024. Andreas Iland (Amtsleiter) Sandra Ventzke (stellvertretende Amtsleitung, Liegenschaften) Susanne Toussaint (Wirtschaftsförderung und Stadtmarketing) Clarissa Niersmann (Wirtschaftsförderung und Stadtmarketing) Sarah Krams (Presse und Öffentlichkeitsarbeit) Jeanette Großmann (Liegenschaften) Sonja Kadesreuther (Tourismus) Der im letzten Jahr initiierte Newsletter der Wirtschaftsförderung wird auch 2024 fortgeführt. Der Newsletter wird im unregelmäßigen Turnus versendet und versorgt Sie kurz und kompakt mit interessanten unternehmensrelevanten Themen. Wenn Sie den Newsletter erhalten möchten, antworten Sie gerne einfach auf diese E-Mail. Eine Abmeldung ist natürlich jederzeit möglich. Foto: Stefan Büschken Read the full article

[springsbloom]

[ sohee han, she/her, cis woman ] — was that PRISCILLA AUDITORE née TOUSSAINT? the TWENTY-EIGHT year old is a LADY, how exciting to see them this season! rumors have it they are SHARP and SOPHISTICATED, but i’ve heard they are CRITICAL and SELF-RIGHTEOUS as well — maybe that’s why they’ve been called the PRAGMATIC. I have even heard that SHE HAS BEEN SEEN DISAPPEARING INTO BEDROOMS THAT ARE NOT HER OWN —only time will tell.

— penned by karin.

⤷ &. INTRO

character summary: second-born out of four siblings. her mother is regency era kris jenner, meaning that she has a role to play in keeping up with the toussaints. said role was to keep her head down during the season and marry well, which was not too difficult to do for priscilla, who fancies herself a proper and well-educated mature lady. enter biagio auditore. a game of cat and mouse, a two-year marriage, and two estates (one in england and the other in italy) later, priscilla and her husband are now in london for the season—she claims she must help her younger sister find a match, after all. she intends to make the most of her visit. she loves her husband dearly, which is why she has taken it upon herself to disappear behind closed bedroom doors—sometimes with her husband following suit.

inspiration: she's a virgo.

aesthetic: a swan taking flight, a clock ticking in the background, the first bloom of spring, gloves slowly removed.

⤷ &. BASICS

full name: priscilla odelia auditore née toussaint.

age: twenty-eight.  

place of birth: brighton, england.

gender: cis woman.

pronouns: she/her.

sexual orientation: bisexual. 

religion: anglican; non-practicing.

family: hugo & franscesca toussaint (parents). aurora, clarissa & theodorus (siblings). biagio auditore (husband).

languages: english (native), korean (fluent), italian (conversational), french (rudimentary).

profession: running the auditore estate, honestly.

label: the pragmatic.

⤷ &. STORY

hugo & francesca have high hopes for all their children. of course, priscilla is no exception. schooled in all manners appropriate for high society, she had always have all the makings of a lady.

she may not be as impressive as her siblings in many other aspects, but priscilla has this: her feet are rooted deeply to the ground. she fancies herself a realist and would like to think that she is ready for the world in many ways they are not.

her debut season had proved to be unsuccessful. a few suitors here and there, but no serious matches—and none good enough for her mother.

it's only many moons later—after an embarrassing amount has passed since her debut—that she meets her match. almost at majority age, she had dreaded having to settle for a safe choice that she knew would only disappoint her parents. then came along biagio auditore.

it was not love at first sight, but it was something. a want that would not go away. and so a match was made.

early marriage life was a whirlwind. swept off to the auditore estate in italy, priscilla found love in her husband—a menacing force to be reckoned with who was only ever tender with her. loved in return, all she had to do was ask before he agreed to allow them to spend half their year in their english estate, bringing priscilla closer to her family once more.

between the romance and the comfort of her new role as biagio's wife, it's long overdue that priscilla auditore née toussaint did something many would consider unladylike: she asked for her husband's permission to seek pleasure elsewhere.

back in london for the social season and her family, her mother has since started asking about grandchildren. between her widowed elder sister and unmarried younger siblings, who else could the responsibility fall on?

⤷ &. WANTED CONNECTIONS

bedroom companions... unbeknownst to most, priscilla and biagio are in an open relationship (sexually). priscilla is picky about who she lies with, but she would with either close friends she knows she could trust or strangers who would not be a threat to her social standing.

fellow married people? high society people who no longer have their time taken up by courtships and can in fact discuss and gossip about married life with her.

childhood friends. people she grew up with! family friends of the toussaints! anything actually!

will add more eventually.

[seadrops]

( jennie kim, cis woman, she/her ) — the ton welcomes CLARISSA ‘RISSA’ TOUSSAINT, the YOUNG MISS from BRIGHTON. excitement is aplenty for this social season, and i’m most certain the TWENTY-FIVE year old MISS RISSA TOUSSAINT will be no different. whispers have told me that they are ARDENT & ASTUTE, but do you not agree that they can be HAUGHTY & FANCIFUL at times? perhaps it’s because i think of floating in vast, dark waters, not knowing where you begin and where the sea ends ╱ hair gathered in a black ribbon, curls loose and wild, girlhood not entirely abandoned ╱ the turning pages of a book read well after midnight, filling the silence of your home library ╱ fingers sunk into marble skin, delicate to the eye, but unyielding to touch when i see them. surely lady whistledown knows them as THE QUIXOTIC, but i have yet to see their name in her papers. 

— penned by ciel; pinterest.

BASICS.

NAME: clarissa alaia toussaint. NICKNAME: rissa.   AGE: twenty-five.   PLACE OF BIRTH: brighton, england. NATIONALITY & ETHNICITY: british & korean. GENDER: cisgender woman. PRONOUNS: she/her. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual.  RELIGION: anglican by birth; agonistic.   PARENTS: hugo toussaint & francesca toussaint née fitzwilliam. SIBLINGS: aurora toussaint (elder), priscilla toussaint (elder), franklin toussaint (younger). LANGUAGES: english, korean (fluent), german (conversational), french (conversational) HOBBIES: notating her books, studying different philosophies across time, amateur cartography & piano playing.

STORY.

I. her mother would tell the story of her near swan song birth for years to come — how she’d cried as loud as any storm before going near lifeless, tiny body blue from lack of oxygen. how her mother felt hope and life drain from her as she lie in bed, certain her newly born infant would be called so soon to god. you were my miracle baby. thirdborn and three times as lucky, she had said with eyes so fond and full of love that rissa had not thought to look deeper than surface level.   II. if only her mother had known the possibility of misconstruing one’s own nativity story. miracle. yes, that is exactly what she was. the story of her origin only validated what she had known in her bones from early childhood. she had no doubt her siblings would go on to accomplish a multitude of things, — they were cut from the same cloth after all, and such was their inheritance — but none would become something as great as she. III. proving herself however, was a herculean task. if she was three times as lucky then she was also three times more likely to be scolded. rissa could not fight dancing to the thrum of music only she could hear, doing as she pleased from an early age. education only seemed to embolden this streak, grooming her ambition and impulsiveness to character flaws rather than mere curiosities. freeing hunting dogs from cages, writing letters to parliament, and a failed attempt to sneak into the city of london all before age nine had her mother at wits end.  IV. pandora’s box had long been opened and it was too late to unsew the stitch that had been knotted. rissa could not be dissuaded from her look upon life, her idealistic world view painted with broad strokes of philosophy on the inherent goodness every human being is born with. the loveliness of life was something she desperately clung to, shutting out the coldness of her father’s gaze and curl of her mother’s lip with flowery poetry and epic stories of faraway lands. she clung to education.  V. something ugly wound its roots around her rib cage when her younger brother was accepted to oxford. who was more deserving than her? who more zealous, more driven? who more perfect? her hunger to become something more ate away at her insides as her mother pushed to move to london for a season. she was quickly surpassing majority age, which was equally as mortifying.   VI. marriage had always been an assured aspect of rissa’s future — as sure as her shining future achievements, she would have it all. being faced with reality was never her strong suit however, and the odds of anyone of the appropriate status being interested in her and her ambitions seem slim. this goal is something she is not willing to compromise on (though she is rare to compromise in general), but her mother has opposing plans. 

QUICK FACTS.

many could mistake her rebelliousness as intent to insult her upbringing and her family at large, but they’d be wrong. her unhappiness doesn’t stem from her family or station in life, but from the truth that it is not enough. her rose colored glasses have deluded her into believing that she can have her cake and eat it too. she can be rebellious and transform the world, but still retain her status and wealth. she can have her ambitions with a spouse who supports her willingly every step of the way. whether this is true or not remains to be seen. 

she has an opinion on anything and everything and if she’s asked about something she’s never heard of or tried or done then she will do it and get back to you posthaste!

she cannot admit she’s wrong. she cannot compromise with others. she cannot admit she has a weird laugh.

she wanted to sneak to london to meet the king btw. she fr thought she could talk her way into seeing the king.

definitely spends an absurd amount of money on dresses and shoes without a doubt.

she has a poor relationship with her father as he is incredibly emotionally distant from all of his children barring his son, who he is still emotionally distant with, but can hold a conversation. that’s more than what his daughters can say, especially rissa. she’s not quite a black sheep, but she’s not too far from it at this point. not that she would allow herself to realize she’s one anyways. 

she definitely believes the world and the country must change and that things can be made better for people everywhere, but she still also believes that there’s nothing wrong with a monarchy being in place too so like…………yeah, delusional.

is also a self described pacifist. she believes almost all situations can be resolved without violence (and by extension war). 

she’s actually not religious at all. she doesn’t outright disbelieve in god, especially not publicly, but she thinks her faith and time are “better worth spent in the corporeal world” like girl shut up.

the toussaint family immigrated from france through her paternal grandparents. they had a great deal of wealth when they came to england, but a lack of title paired with french accents made them social pariahs. hugo being born and raised within the culture helped, but only so much at the time. it wasn’t until they managed to arrange a marriage between hugo and francesca that this changed — the fitzwilliams were of very high standing amongst the gentry and close with several noble families. they had the standing while the toussaints had the money; falling onto hard times with a few bad investments made the fitzwilliams desperate. marrying francesca was the ultimate move that paid off, and hugo was eventually awarded the title of baronet by the king a few short years later.

while the marriage panned out for hugo, it did not for francesca. she’s very embarrassed that she was forced to marry down and it’s always been something of a great shame of hers. hence her obsession with making sure all of her children marry as best as they can.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

her brother actually. they’d be dysfunctional as hell

maybe a potential betrothal? doesn’t have to be cemented by any means but it’d be fun bc her mother is a notorious meddler and she wants to make a really good match for rissa as she sees who her children marry as an accomplishment 

anyone who challenges her world view or train of thought

could be along the lines of the above but an intellectual rival

people she can be delusional with. let’s get crazy

idk i just want something absolutely insane

[whistledownhq]

DEAREST READERS — please give a warm welcome to OUR NEW ARRIVALS, joining us for this season in ton. if you please, pack your bags with our checklist, create your account and send it through post at your earliest convenience. 

antoni — EMMELINE DE POITIERS ciel — CLARISSA "RISSA" TOUSSAINT jules — CEDRIC SINCLAIR o. — ALEXANDER KNIGHT

[springsbloom]

there is simply no time, she would have said. but even with excuses of keeping aurora company, of seeing clarissa and theodorus through their seasons, of helping her mother host evening tea, of being a dutiful wife at biagio's side, priscilla is not so dense that she cannot admit what they are—mere excuses made in the face of reconciling with her maidenhood once more. does aurora not find relief in her own manor? can her younger sister and brother not find their own ways across london? has biagio ever demanded her to stay in a prison of her own making?

the answer comes to her—easily.

england was once her home. even after she forsook the name toussaint and wore auditore proudly like a cloak, is it not still her home for half the year she is here? her friend is right. stepping away from her girlhood for something bigger and better does not mean that alara needs to remain a remnant of a childhood forsaken.

her smile softens, the sharp edges curving her lips fading into something— tender, perhaps, is the word. "you could have written to me, too." this too, sounds like an accusation where there isn't one to be heard. it is merely a fact. she would not be a stranger if alara does the same in return, matching her step for step. "i would have written back to you." and then the words spill: "told you stories about the italian countryside, asked you about marriage preparations, perhaps even share about mine." if priscilla is still capable of much mischief, she's certain that would be what lights her eyes now. it's something close to it, at least. "trading secrets as children do," she finishes, and it's the closest thing to an extended hand. "how have you been, alara? has your betrothed been keeping you busy?"

girl  ·  hood  :      a  time  forgotten,    memory  nestled  fondly  to  her  chest.    it  was  all  simpler  then,    was  it  not  ?    hardly  a  responsibility  in  sight,    no  obligation  looming  in  the  corner      —      not  a  ghost  in  the  room,    the  third  in  a  crowd.    her  chin  lifts  in  time  to  see  priscilla  make  her  way  across  the  room,    the  sea  of  dazed  party  -  goers  parting  to  make  way,    receding  like  a  wave.    oh,    the  secrets  she  keeps  in  the  crevices  between  her  teeth.      ❛      cilla  .  .  .      ❜      honey  -  sweet,    softened  at  the  edges      —      priscilla  toussaint      (    auditore,    she  reminds  herself    )      has  always  commanded  a  fondness  she  can’t  quite  explain,    couldn’t  justify  in  the  light  of  day.    it’s  been  far  too  long  since  they  last  saw  each  other,    measured  in  months  and  miles  and  oceans.    she  supposes  that’s  what  marriage  does    ;    the  thought  burns.      ❛      goodness,    i  wasn’t  expecting  you  back  for  another  few  weeks  still.    do  tell  me  how  beautiful  italy  is  this  time  of  year.      ❜

if  clarissa  is  her  chosen  favorite,    priscilla  is  conquered  land      —      the  fondness  bestowed  upon  her  indicative  of  victory,    her  flag  planted  firmly  in  the  dirt.    crude  to  liken  winning  affection  to  that  of  winning  a  war,    she  knows    ;    the  feeling  remains  just  the  same,    the  summation  accurate.      ❛      you  know  that  i’ll  always  make  time  for  you.    how  could  i  not  ?      ❜      her  friends  are  silly,    foolish,    nonsensical  beings      —      she  could  never  let  a  marriage  separate  her  from  them,    obligation  and  duty  be  damned.      ❛      it’s  so  good  to  see  you  again.    you  mustn’t  be  a  stranger  anymore,    you  know.    i  know  that  you’re  capable  of  writing  occasionally.      ❜

[saltkissed]

here is a truth: romance has never been a factor in any of his conversations with clarissa toussaint. not in the gardens of her family manor in quaint brighton, and certainly not here, even if he speaks of true love. clarissa is right that it is not fate that led to their first meeting, merely a dinner invitation extended by her family to his. one that he had made the most of, needless to say, but it is a simple, undeniable truth that he does not possess any romantic feelings for the lady. had he did, then perhaps he would've think fate much crueler. nonetheless, nadir is not so egotistical that he thinks clarissa could be so easily fooled. and yet, it does not stop him from weaving together sweet, romantic notions of love.

here is another truth: he relishes in the way she sticks her nose in the air, ignoring his outstretched hand to set off on a brisk walk in an attempt to rid herself of him. it is not so much a challenge as it is an amusement—a refreshing honesty in these parts of london. what other choice does he have but to follow her through the long winding paths of hyde park?

and isn't it fortunate that god has blessed him with long legs, for it takes only a leisurely pace for him to keep up with her. "you offend me yet again, my lady," he says when he reaches her side. to an onlooker, they must look like quite the pair—taking a stroll on a beautiful day. he wonders what they'd make of the hand that clutches at his chest, dramatic as a sigh leaves his lips to follow suit. "it is only rejection upon rejection, insult upon insult with you. do you not care about breaking a poor gentleman's heart?"

no, he can almost hear the scathing reply already. truly, it is not a question that needed to be asked, but ask he will all the same. "besides," nadir adds before clarissa can deign him with a respond, head turned to look at her, "that is quite the awful fate that you have wished upon yourself."

the memory rises to the forefront of her mind, unbidden and unwelcome. she is transported back to a time when the scent of snowdrops and mignonettes were overpowering her senses and the cover of night sheltered them from view of the manor — the mysterious ship captain from overseas and the third born toussaint. it could have been a scene plucked from the pages of her romance novels, scandalous and daring from the absence of a chaperone. 

rissa’s reality is a different tale. tucked between the blooming flowers of her family gardens or in a secluded area of hyde park does not change the mounting dislike in her chest for the person before her. “are you a gentleman? i was under the impression that you were a scoundrel washed up from sea who had lost his way.” irritation prickles at her nerves as she shuts her book, tucking it beneath her arm. it’s not an outright dismissal, but her ignoring his hand as she stands without his assistance is. “and scoundrels do not participate in the london season, nor do they have a want to.” her speech is effortlessly blunt with him in a way she cannot be with any other gentleman who makes himself a nuisance; there is no need for niceties with someone who has such little influence in society. setting a brisk pace away from him, she continues, “even if i were to entertain your inane fantasies, i would say i feel sorry for any future wife you have. there’s a high probability you would tie her to the front of your ship as a new figurehead.” 

when she has found the path once more, she pauses to confirm there is no one in the vicinity before she steps out of the treeline. it only vexes clarissa further to hear his footsteps behind her as his strides keep up with her own. “is fate now considered a dinner invitation? my, how times have changed even something so divine as destiny.” she doesn’t roll her eyes, but it's a near thing. “i believe we both know you are not here for something such as fate or love. will you continue to spout such an obvious lie?”

[saltkissed]

a laugh escapes nadir's lips, jagged and free and not at all the polite response to such a question. but disdain coats clarissa's very being, so he supposes it's only fair that he is honest with her, too. "for the same reason as you, i'm sure," he says, and this, they both know, is much less honest. "whatever else would a gentleman such as i do in london than to participate in the glamor of your social season?" his voice dips into a whisper, as if sharing a scandalous secret with her. "hoping for a love match, made in this very ton before the season ends and i must depart to a faraway land."

he's fairly certain this isn't what she meant, rather asking why she finds herself face to face with him in a secluded corner of hyde park, but no matter. clarissa can clarify if she wants another answer out of him. nadir straightens, hand outstretched in an offer to help her off the bench. it's never too late to make amends. "you offend me, my lady. was it not fate that we found each other amongst the flowers of your gardens?"

for the rest of the ton, hyde park is a place one visits for a promenade — a chance to show the whole of london who is courting your daughter or the new dress that made the venture straight from the streets of paris to a lady’s frame. it is yet another place to engage with society, not much different from a drawing room in the finest townhouse in the city. she is the only person decorum does not touch when she steps within its parameters. it is easy for a person practiced at sneaking away to get lost between the trees, and if one goes far enough then they will find that their chaperone’s voice fades too with distance. soon the silence gives way to the wind shifting the leaves in the trees and the chattering of starlings. clarissa finds this the most ideal backdrop for reading. 

her fondness must stem from a homesickness within her heart; a longing for the large ash tree that sits outside the view of her bedroom window in the gardens. this nature is the closest she can get here, and though it is severely lacking the scent of a seabreeze, she accepts its shortcomings anyhow. or it should be said on most days she accepts its shortcomings — today is an exception. “what are you doing here?” it would be a hopeless endeavor to try and keep disdain from coloring her voice so she doesn’t. he isn’t of the social status to reap the benefits of being in london for the season, she thinks. and he couldn’t have stumbled upon me within a secluded area of the park. could he have? her eyes dart around the area, confirming they are entirely alone. “it is very generous of you to describe our first encounter as fate. i would recount it as sorry luck, much like this meeting."

[etheraely]

girl  ·  hood  :      a  time  forgotten,    memory  nestled  fondly  to  her  chest.    it  was  all  simpler  then,    was  it  not  ?    hardly  a  responsibility  in  sight,    no  obligation  looming  in  the  corner      —      not  a  ghost  in  the  room,    the  third  in  a  crowd.    her  chin  lifts  in  time  to  see  priscilla  make  her  way  across  the  room,    the  sea  of  dazed  party  -  goers  parting  to  make  way,    receding  like  a  wave.    oh,    the  secrets  she  keeps  in  the  crevices  between  her  teeth.      ❛      cilla  .  .  .      ❜      honey  -  sweet,    softened  at  the  edges      —      priscilla  toussaint      (    auditore,    she  reminds  herself    )      has  always  commanded  a  fondness  she  can’t  quite  explain,    couldn’t  justify  in  the  light  of  day.    it’s  been  far  too  long  since  they  last  saw  each  other,    measured  in  months  and  miles  and  oceans.    she  supposes  that’s  what  marriage  does    ;    the  thought  burns.      ❛      goodness,    i  wasn’t  expecting  you  back  for  another  few  weeks  still.    do  tell  me  how  beautiful  italy  is  this  time  of  year.      ❜

if  clarissa  is  her  chosen  favorite,    priscilla  is  conquered  land      —      the  fondness  bestowed  upon  her  indicative  of  victory,    her  flag  planted  firmly  in  the  dirt.    crude  to  liken  winning  affection  to  that  of  winning  a  war,    she  knows    ;    the  feeling  remains  just  the  same,    the  summation  accurate.      ❛      you  know  that  i’ll  always  make  time  for  you.    how  could  i  not  ?      ❜      her  friends  are  silly,    foolish,    nonsensical  beings      —      she  could  never  let  a  marriage  separate  her  from  them,    obligation  and  duty  be  damned.      ❛      it’s  so  good  to  see  you  again.    you  mustn’t  be  a  stranger  anymore,    you  know.    i  know  that  you’re  capable  of  writing  occasionally.      ❜

location: palace gardens — the garden party.

with: @etheraely — alara.

the flowers in the palace gardens are both a reminder of her england—the one from her childhood and maiden days before she was swept away by her mysterious, handsome businessman to italy—and an england completely a stranger to her. this england makes her feel like a visitor in her own home, sometimes. perhaps it's all that time spent making rounds under parasols and in carriages, sitting in parlors wearing a smile that isn't often truly a smile. there has not yet been enough time for childhood wonders anymore. certainly, no time for childhood friends who are now simply just friends, childhood long forgotten.

so it is a pleasant surprise to see a face that brings back memories from many, many years ago, no longer a childhood friend and maybe barely a friend and more aptly an acquaintance. perhaps pleasant would not be the right word for it. do friends curtsy to each other, priscilla wonders? she bends her knees.

"alara." her voice is warm when she says alara's name, like a greeting meant for someone she has long cherished. surely rissa would not mind if priscilla calls alara a friend, even if just for tonight. "i hardly see you anymore," she says. it doesn't sound like an accusation as much as it is a fact. a smile follows, and it's a genuine one in spite of the words. "with your marriage looming, we won't have much time for each other, will we?"