bakerstreet | you can quote me on that.

[ ooc; info here, permissions here. historical characters much loved, same goes for applicable fantasy and steampunk characters. can play her from any time period between 1800 and the 1920s. no smut. f/f for shipping, but ota gen. ]

one.

"I neither love nor hate men," San Giovanni answered amicably. "What I hold against them is the great wrong they have done to women. They are political adversaries whom I want to injure for the good of the cause. Off the battlefield of ideas, I know them little and am indifferent to them."
- A Woman Appeared to Me, Renee Vivien

two.

O maidens, demons, monsters - martyrs all,
Spirits disdainful of reality,
Satyrs and seekers of the infinite
With rain of tears and cries of ecstasy,

You whom my soul has followed to your hell,
Poor sisters, let me pity and approve -
For all your leaden griefs, for slakeless thirsts,
And for your hearts, great urns that ache with love!
- Condemned Women, Charles Baudelaire

wildcard.

Bring your own!

i.

"Just know, darling girl, that if I could, I would call you every day of your life just to say 'I love you,' with nothing else attached to those words. No criticism. No advice. No requests. Just to say I love you. - Diane Chamberlain, The Secret Life of CeeCee Wilkes (x)

ii.

"This was very pleasant: there is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort." - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (x)

iii.

"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between." - Sylvia Plath (x)

iv.

bring your own! here's a few more.

I. If your friend goes down the wrong path… Then, you must stop your friend, even if it ruins your friendship.

II. Tears are handy for washing away troubling and sad feelings. But when you grow up, you’ll learn that there are things so sad, they can never be washed away by tears.

[or bring your own]

(ooc | Information, permissions, and warnings can be found here. tldr; info and permissions here. )

i I'll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.

ii All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.

iii I'll never forget the beginning of our falling apart

iv Just because you didn't speak the facts out loud didn't erase their existence. Silence was just a quieter way to lie.

(ooc | Feel free to choose your own and even making them happier than these; it seems I even have angsty taste in quotes.)

[ character info here, permissions here. historical characters (or characters from fantasy and steampunk canons) preferred, can play him from late 18th century to early 20th century (pre-WWI). no shipping/smut. ]

one.

How they must long for this world that is hidden from them, how tempting they must think it is, how they must long to hear the first voice that comes through the bars to tell them secrets - and kiss the hand that lifts, for the first time, a corner of the mysterious veil.
- The Lady of the Camellias, Alexandre Dumas fils

two.

The morality of breeding and the morality of taming, in the means which they adopt in order to prevail, are quite worthy of each other: we may lay down as a leading principle that in order to create morality a man must have the absolute will to immorality.
- Twilight of the Idols, Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

three.

Yes, Happiness hath left me soon behind!
Alas! we all pursue its steps! and when
We've sunk to rest within its arms entwined,
Like the Phoenician virgin, wake, and find
Ourselves alone again.
- Regret, Victor Hugo

four.

Pause in your trek O Time! Pause in your flight,
Favourable hours, and stay!
Let us enjoy the transient delight
That fills our fairest day.
- The Lake, Alphonse de Lamartine

wildcard.

Bring your own!

( hit me. )

When I look at you, tears keep falling
I don't know why
Why are you looking at me with those sad eyes?
Don't cry
Even if I'm born again
Wherever you are hiding
I will find you

( he doesn't anticipate panic at the smithsonian exhibit. it's supposed to be better because it's familiar, because he knows everything, and none of it's when he was someone else. and steve's here this time, too. but it's only when he sees howard in a worn photograph that he remembers, when he'd visited before, how he hadn't recognized him even the slightest, how he hadn't known the grave sin he'd committed.

fleeing is always the easiest thing to do when it gets bad. people don't seem to care. he's just someone with a purpose, rushing somewhere he's meant to be that isn't wherever he was before, and bucky doesn't stop to think where he's even going except from away, the stern clip in his step good for at least keeping people out of his way. he ends up in a maintenance corridor. empty. staff only. but it's not really important where as long as it's away, and only then does he remember how to breathe, through rough, harsh gasps as he fights against the press of bile against the back of his throat. )

[When they headed out Steve felt cautiously optimistic about going to the exhibit. Even though he doesn't really want to go, he keeps telling himself that maybe he'll hate it less if he goes with Bucky.

Nope. Steve still hates everything about the exhibit, the way it's using them as propaganda but he keeps his cool. Until Bucky doesn't. He doesn't know what set the other man off - for Steve it was seeing the part distorting Bucky's role in history the first time - still he stays close behind until they find refuge in a maintenance corridor.

His hand finds Bucky's shoulder, slides across then down his back in a soothing motion.]

Easy, buddy, easy.

A few options:
I.

Power doesn't have to show off. Power is confident, self-assuring, self-starting, and self-stopping, self-warning, and self-justifying. When you have it, you know it.
--Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

II.

Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.
--George R.R. Martin, Game of Thrones

III.

But clearly life took people and shook them around until finally they were unrecognizable even to those who had once known them well. Still, there was power in once having known someone.
--Meg Wolitzer, The Interestings

]

“You're an interesting species. An interesting mix. You're capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.”
― Carl Sagan, Contact

((OOC: No shipping or smut but open to everything else))

1) "He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

2) "All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair." - Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

3) "All of it was good, in every sense of the word. And in this life, nothing good is truly lost. It stays part of a person, becomes part of their character. So part of you goes everywhere with me. And part of me is yours forever." - Rosamunde Pilcher, The Shell Seekers

4) "I'll never forget the beginning of our falling apart." - Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

5) "They say age brings wisdom, but it isn't true. All you ever get is a better sense of your own limitations." - Curtis Edmonds, Rain on Your Wedding Day

6) Wildcard! Bring your own quote(s) and we'll work something out!

1. "I listen to people and I hear what they say. I hear their tones, the words they use to express themselves, and most importantly, I hear what they don't say. Sighs and silences and avoided conversations are just as important as the things you do talk about." - Cecelia Ahern, If You Could See Me Now

2. "She strove for perfection. She loved setting herself tasks, sometimes impossible ones, to prove to her heart that underneath every seemingly ugly thing there was something beautiful." - Cecelia Ahern, If You Could See Me Now

3. "Things hurt, and don't hurt, and hurt again." - Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

4. "It was so nice just to live in the moment, to enjoy holding him so closely, to pretend for a little while that they were merely two young people in love and nothing else." - Melissa De la Cruz, Van Alen Legacy

5. "I guess there are a lot of people who don't know the right thing to say. You don't notice them so much because they pretend they do." - Cath Crowley, A Little Wanting Song

6. [Bring your own!]

one:

"I'll walk forever with stories inside of me that the people I love can never hear."
Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

two:

You are the one I'd let go the other lovers for,
surrender my one woman house.
Allow you red wine in the bed,
even with my vintage lace linens.

Maybe. Maybe.

For you.
Sandra Cisneros, “You Bring Out the Mexican in Me”

three:

In this world of numbness, the ability to feel, my boy, is a rare gift indeed.
Patrick Ness, The Ask and the Answer

(or hit me with your own!)

i.

Power doesn't have to show off. Power is confident, self-assuring, self-starting and self-stopping, self-warming and self-justifying. When you have it, you know it.
Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

ii.

Everything is funnier in retrospect, funnier and prettier and cooler. You can laugh at anything from far enough away.
Stranger Than Fiction - Chuck Palahniuk

iii.

Never forget what you are, for the world will surely not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.
A Game of Thrones - George R.R. Martin

iv.

That's life for you. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can't hurt you no more.
The Fog Horn - Ray Bradbury

v.

Or bring your own!

i. “If you've never eaten while crying, you don't know what life tastes like.”
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

ii. “The worst thing: to give yourself away in exchange for not enough love.”
— The Collector of Hearts, Joyce Carol Oates

iii. “I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine.”
— Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks

iv. “In his experience, things generally got worse and the rare occasion when things actually seemed to get better, it was only a dramatic prelude to a cataclysmic worsening.”
— And Another Thing…, Eoin Colfer

v. { byop! }

[ i just watched the film and enjoyed it! being lured in by iii or iv. would you be interested in encountering a fantastical land that’s historical inspired? he’s been a high king so having a knight pass by wouldn’t be too difficult. fillory could even be a land only some occasionally encounter. just whispers of the wind and hidden pockets of magic not known to everyone under the gist of a usual kingdom. can au it a bit here.

if you are interested, any preference on brackets or prose? ]

[ oh my gosh, I'm glad to hear! though I am canon-blind to yours, aside now from what I've read in your journal and the linked in-depth dive, I'm absolutely interested in something. brackets would be lovely. and either option or a combo even, if the idea strikes you, sounds great to me! lancelot could easily make a detour to or end up there accidentally one way or the other, I agree.

speaking of au I've even played him partly magic-sensitive, from some of the undertones in the movie, so if that seems like an interesting facet to tie in we could mess with that. if not, no worries! he can be a regular knight, no problem, I'll roll with however you're feeling! ]

[ being daring and going for both quotes. btw, I absolutely love any magic exploration so feel free to add the magic-sensitive aspects. it sounds like a lovely addition. pls change anything if it makes sense! wanted to set it up a bit, so don’t mind the length. ]

{ It's been two years since he's been in Fillory, chosen by the land to be its high king through the blood that flows through his veins. Be it the magic or that he truly has crafted himself to become part of the imagery he's built up for years. Whatever the circumstances, it is done and he's started to get a handle of everything and everywhere with the spectacularity he held when he had merely been brought up to craft his discipline at a school for magicians.

Anyone can find the doorway to the land, but it is not an easy feat. Usually quests would have the occasional “Children of Earth”. Eliot had been one with a misfit of friends he rarely sees nowadays. Time in Fillory is different, so he never knows what will come by.

What he hasn't gotten accustomed with is his neighboring kingdom from across the shoreline threatening to have a potential war on their hands. He wasn't one to want to go into battle, even after learning to use an enchanted sword for the sake of a possibility for a one off combat between kings, something of which he might have to face soon if he didn't get to writing the letter. He’s still working on his swordsmanship.

Castle Whitespire is an immense structure, its shards levitating on each tower from the four sectors across one another. There's no denying it stood proudly, but lately not many have come to visit. It is in his curiosity and surprise when Tick comes in to inform him there are people approaching, or perhaps one. He waves off his advisor, wondering if it’s their neighbors from the far east. }

How can you not tell how many? Let them in.

{ Eliot will sit on his throne as per usual custom to greet those not of Fillory. It certainly has been a while, but his golden robes only continue to shine. Most often, a couple festivals have attracted people from all sorts, even the magical creatures from the enchanted forests. Outside of those, it has only been getting accustomed to improving the lands. The Wellspring that fuels magic must be guarded, at least he knew that.

What they will see is what Eliot gives — an embellished, well-put imagery of Fillory’s high king, nimble, more flamboyant than average, and not as old as many would expect a king to be. It’s not by teenage standards and thank goodness since he wouldn’t have been able to handle it back then. }

[ everything is wonderful, and I also got a little wordy in the setup so no worries! ]

{ More often than not the visions that Lancelot receives are ominous, namely deaths in battles. If not it’s only feeling, obscure flashes of things, near puzzles, that only twist his gut when he comes face to face with them. Rarely are they directions and rarer yet do the powers-that-be allow him to sense the other-worldly along the way. So when they are and he does, when night after night Lancelot dreams of a man he’s never met and doesn’t feel particularly weary of, he fears himself delirious.

Perhaps he is. Riding for days and living off the land is not unfamiliar, but it is while alone and after being scattered by the enemy. What he doesn’t expect is his visions to have lead him to a kingdom, teeming with the same energy that whispered him there. It’s equally invigorating as it is suspicious, and stories from his childhood come to him unbidden as he’s lead to an audience with the king.

Oh, how he wishes he’d paid more attention to how they talked in court. A castle was no place for him, here nor at home, and Lancelot finds himself uneasy, unsure how to speak let alone what to say at all. His stride to the throne doesn’t betray this, confident and easy, even with his gaze lowered to the floor as he continues to think; ever the damnable process.

It catches up to him, however, when he finally does look up, and his legs hitch before planting him firmly in place. Lancelot hadn’t seen a crown on the other's head in his visions but he had no doubt; the man before him was one and the same. Bewilderment of the realization plays clearly over his face as his brow furrows and eyes dart over every inch of the king.

It's then he remembers to breathe, loosen his stunned posture and bow—practiced, albeit infrequently—a hand pressed flat against his waist. } Your Highness, { He starts evenly, though surprise still slips in beneath it. } Forgive the intrusion. { It certainly felt it as he stood, that he was a foreigner in a faraway land. Regardless, he smiles. }

I am Sir Lancelot. I was separated from my fellow knights in an ambush, roaming the wilds, when I was... drawn here. { The laugh is light with truth and through there was more behind it, it felt safe enough to admit for a reason he couldn't name. } I bare you no hostility, and ask if I may stay in your kingdom but a few days. That I can gather my strength to return to my king in Camulodunum.

{ The light of the windows let in the colors as he awaits. It’s quick, and in the spur of a moment he can’t help but think on how disconnected he’s been. Margo, his closest friend, left one day and it’s been a year since he’s seen her. It gets lonely when he’s faced with trying to pick up the pieces of a broken kingdom. The fairies left a number on them last he and Margo were separated.

A lot reminds him of her and certainly the stranger did. All it takes is one sweep and he goes from leaning his cheek on his hand to properly paying attention. He could already hear Margo’s comment in his ear, what would have been a not so subtle ’Oh, he’s a pretty one’. He would have laughed and it probably would have intimated their guest. Instead, Eliot behaves and listens.

He has to wonder what brought this person here. Fillory has a way of bringing what is meant to pass through, and he’s sure she’s not done spinning in the way she seeks fit. It makes him uncross his legs and lean in slightly with some mirth in his eyes, accompanied by a languid smile. }

Welcome, Sir Lancelot. What does that make you? Someone’s knight? You didn’t go through the trees did you? They can be rude sometimes. High King Eliot at your service. { His overindulgence is clear, blunt to the situation and far too there. Eliot is observant enough, taking in this stranger in sight and question. However, he’s just intrigued more than anything and he can’t help but be partial.

He ends up standing up, taller than most and taking himself down the stairs so he can greet better. There’s a reasonable distance as he flicks his wrist and pours champagne into a decorative cup. Without thought, he’s used his telekinetic ability to offer it up to the man before him. It’s air to him; he’s grown accustomed to using his discipline like second nature. It’s been more rampant in a land that only amps it. }

I’ve been trying to perfect champagne here, so it might not be at a hundred. Care to to humor me and see if it’s still subpar? You can stay and rest, but I only ask you join me for dinner and tell me how you’ve come to Fillory.

{ As tired as he might be this isn’t the first time he’s been stretched thin, even if it feels more so than usual. The airs of knighthood truly were the heaviest armor he’d ever had the torture of wearing, however now he supposes they aren’t completely useless. Feeling uneasy gave him an edge, let him attune to his surroundings in an attempt not to be caught off guard.

It’s only thanks to it that Lancelot catches the king’s growing interest as quickly as he does. He finds himself returning it, cocking his head when a surprising familiarity stirs in him. A grin finds him easily, especially when the other man begins to speak. Is this what the knights meant whenever they groaned that he could go on? A man after his own heart; how encouraging.

He chuckles, the sound light. } It does, of King Arthur. { Albeit newly appointed to the role. } I never thought I would be rid of those trees, though they seemed civil enough. { Lancelot means to ask if they should have given him a hard time getting here, if the way this place feels lent to that, if the rumors of this place were true.

But the words are stolen from him when Eliot stands because—gods—he’s tall, and even if size had never thrown him off or stopped him from opening his mouth before, the sight of magic surely does. It isn’t fear that settles on his features, despite the rise and fall of his chest. It looks more like stunned vindication as he watches and, after a moment, takes the drink from the air once it reaches him. }

I can’t say I’ve had it before, { Lancelot clears his throat when his voice seems softer than it did before. } Still, { He raises the drink to Eliot as he dips his head in thanks before taking it to his lips for a generous sip. A hum follows when he lowers the cup, the furrow of his brows easing into something curious. }

While my tongue is used to ale and mead, this is a decent change. { A comfortable smile returns, curling at a corner. } I would be glad to join you for dinner. Will I keep you in suspense until then or would you like the reason now?

{ Civil, if you’re charming enough, he can’t help but think. The first time he went through, they took his cape, but apparently it means they have taken a liking. He’s tempted to ask if they did take from Lancelot, but he refrains. Even Eliot can tell the man is tired, more bone down than most that come along. He ends up pouring himself a cup and nearly makes a face at the taste. So close, but not there yet. It will do.

It doesn’t loosen his smile a bit. }

King Arthur? Oh, oh. The wind likes to gossip, I think is a saying around here. And now you're here, alone. { He’s heard of the rumors of people with adeptness to navigate quests and a benevolent king. However, not much beyond it. It’s not difficult when the earth itself takes a liking and the whispers carry even across reaches he still can’t comprehend. He never knows how it all works, he’s just there. Eliot hasn’t met a knight, but do consider him impressed enough. His gaze turns considerate, more so wondering why this one knight isn’t with his brethren. }

Hm. I’ll let you bear the decision. Not many kings are so generous. You could keep me on the edge if you truly wanted. { Now he’s teasing while he taps against his glass cup, the sound only just heard in the faint echo throughout the throne room. He’s always been one to entertain so he considers Lancelot’s smile a good sign.

Looks like two rumors are now clashing and Eliot intends to walk right into the eye of a storm. He’s done it before, and he's better prepared. }

There are plenty of rooms here at Castle Whitespire if you would also rather freshen up and rest first. I’m not the one who looks like a carriage ran you over. Actually, you look too good for that, but I’m sure you’re feeling it. { Eliot isn’t short of his overindulgent overtones, even when he’s in a simple conversation. If there’s something he does have at forefront, it’s being blunt. He's never been shy a day in his life. }

By a stroke of fate, it may seem. { Or some other wielding he has little understanding of, especially in a place such as this. } Where I’m from the wind means to bring strength. { Though it does make him curious what these winds have said about them, if it were favorable. All the same, he’ll take what he can get; Eliot seems amused enough already with his presence.

Amused plenty, in fact. } Most kings certainly are not, no. { Lancelot agrees as an impish grin quickly pulls his mouth to the side. And where he fails in hiding it with another sip of champagne, his lungs betray him just as well with a wispy chortle into the cup. What power he’d been given and, oh, he could have fun with it. This man seems the sort to enjoy a decent ribbing.

Or at the very least some wordplay. He must truly be exhausted to be overthinking his options, then again he was no longer a mere knight under a commander at a fort who could let his mouth loose. He was an envoy to a kingdom and—gods, how boring. A bath would be better than needing to bite his tongue like this.

Sleep doesn’t sound terrible either, now that it’s mentioned, and the nodding exhale melts into a flattered chuckle. Overtones aren’t lost on him and Lancelot can’t help the puckish addition: } Perhaps only a small cart, then. { Still, there’s some relief he doesn’t look like he belongs in a ditch. } I think I will have a room, rest up. But it would be cruel to leave you on edge.

{ How to say it? He looks into his drink as if it has the answers. } I have visions, { Lancelot confesses, giving the distinct impression very few have heard such words—that where he comes from is not a place kind to such ideas. } I dreamt of these walls, the path here. { There’s a bit of reassuring mischievousness that makes it to his eyes from his tone when he looks up to Eliot. } Of you. Nothing ominous, you have my word. And if it pleases, that’s all I’ll say for now.

[voicetesting ☀️]

[ ooc; happy to au this one into your girl’s day and age. let me know if you’d prefer i wrote the starter. ]

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ‘em.
- Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare

The king likes light comedies, and apparently he's seen enough of Much Ado to tire of Nothing-- Killgrew's words. As an actress and a whore, Penitence thinks it unwise to joke about nothingness. The Marshall sisters disagree, but neither of them are playing Viola.

The play was absolutely banned in Cromwell's England, and forgotten soon after for its dated conceit. The joke was, of course, that a man was playing a woman pretending to be a man. It was Kynaston's grand idea to take the risk and see if the jokes still landed when a woman played the role.

They didn't. But few in the audience cared overmuch, given the excuse to watch a woman trounce about in hose. John balances it, playing Orsino as staunch and serious, and it placates the audience's catcalls long enough for a touching romance. Penitence lets herself forget the farce, and feels Viola's conflict. She is trapped in a man's world, unappreciated for any feminine talent, and has convinced all she is someone she is not.

Penitence Hurd, Christened Puritan, working in a theatre of sin while she goes by the name of Peg Hugues, feels she can sympathize.

The performance is made even more unique by the presence of a Frenchwoman. Aphra Behn is dying to meet her, and Penitence has promised to make an introduction. The woman is said to be a talented paintress, if such things exist (Penitence doubts they don't), and moreover she is moneyed enough to make the journey to England in a time of war. Many suspect she is, of course, a papist, but surely the Romish sort would be too busy cavorting with crooked priests to put paint to canvas.

Everyone agrees that the mysterious Satine at least paints.

After the show, the actresses flee the dressing room before it is besieged by the king's especial friends-- fops, all of them, and all too eager to watch the women undress and announce the color of their stockings. Penitence finds a back closet to pull on her petticoats when she turns to find company-- a woman, so her guard is allowed momentarily down. It seems the illustrious Frenchwoman herself has been exploring the theatre. Clearly she's slipped her chaperone's clutches, lucky woman.

Penitence, still wearing Viola's elaborate silken coat, emerges to offer her services. She is, after all, a servant of the king. More importantly, she is a friend of Aphra Behn, and that woman's salon always needs new talent.

And Penitence could always use... well. She looks the woman in the eyes, and she's not sure where that sentence ends. "Are you lost, ma'am?" She ventures to guess. "I'm Peg, from the play. Viola."

She may not be recognizable without all that damned face-paint.

"Or would you like a tour?"

Perhaps as the only audience member present, Satine has sat quietly through the entire performance, following the actress with her eyes, the one who looks surprisingly assertive in hose, playing Viola. O, but she is not terribly well-versed in Shakespeare, the war has not done right by his legacy in France and besides, they prefer their own, like Molière, do they not? She could quote their ears full of Le Beourgeois Gentilhomme, this loud crowd of Englishmen, and yet only now truly understand Twelfth Night. It is like exchanging onyx for a pearl, they are valuable, almost equally, but impossibly different.

Not exactly life lessons that men understand, or there would be fewer wars, truly.

Afterwards, she leaves poor Caroline behind with a strict stay here, my dear, do not move and be not moved by anyone to which Caroline replies, should I be equally worried on your behalf, madame, making Satine laugh as she disappears in the crowd, slipping through the hoards of gentlemen as unseen as her large skirts will allow. She is not interested in the theatre itself, it is a building, it is made of beams and boards like any other. No, what has caught her interest is this beautiful creature currently changing out of Viola's costume, she found her just in time to catch a glimpse of ankle underneath the hem of her petticoats, though Satine does not let her eyes linger. It is not out of any sense of propriety, but only because a woman should choose for herself who sees her private parts. Regardless of who her spectator might be. Raising her gaze, Satine looks up just in time to find the other woman turning around, realising that she is no longer alone. Are you lost, she asks, then, needlessly and Satine smiles, waits.

I'm Peg, she continues and there, like so. Introductions.

"As a matter of fact, I came very specifically for you," she replies, ignoring the intricate world of backstage theatre. Her English sounds loaded, her Frenchness suddenly undeniably evident. Even during these times, or perhaps especially now, she is proud of her country, she only goes away because the world is a big place and there are many women yet to meet, of course. She can almost hear Caroline sigh in her ear, the hard-at-work girl. "Peg, from the play. I do have a question."

Letting her eyes follow a crease in the luxurious fabric of Viola's elaborate silk coat, she cocks her head to the side a little. She has only ever donned trousers without anyone to witness, shame on her cowardice, truly.

"How does it feel wearing hose where everyone can see?"

There are questions that are true questions, and questions that are only meant to mock. The woman's strange accent-- French, probably-- makes it difficult for the usually perceptive Penitence to pick out. Luckily, the answer is the same regardless.

"When I am on stage, I see no one but my fellow actors," she answers, demure and confident all at once. "I don't think of the audience at all."

Considering how much they whistled and hollered, it's probably a good policy to have.

Although the question was not intended as mockery, there is an air about Satine, call it a French deformity, which makes every word she says drip with a potent nonchalance. At Peg's reply, and it is no reply at all, really, it answers nothing, she raises an eyebrow, but eventually decides to be quite frank. They are only the two of them, two women, fallen by default, they can afford a tiny glimmer of honesty, by nature unable to drag each other further down than they already are by way of their womanhood in this society of men.

"I saw you," she says, needlessly, because here she is, after all, no chaperone and no husband to vouch for her behaviour, backstage at some theatre where she wasn't invited but simply came, there are ways to be free, of course, "and I always enjoy a lady who has the courage only to bow to the world when she wants applause. It is a stubborn confidence, I do like the strength of that."

If Penitence learned anything in Newgate, it is that one can always be dragged lower. But the fire reduced Newgate to ash, and from it she emerged with the friendship and confidence of Aphra Behn.

Thou ought to see more light than dark, Penitence Hurd. The Almighty has painted the world in more than one color, and given her eyes to see it so.

So Penitence bows.

It is a small thing, private, barely more than a dip of the head. She suspects, if she were being buttered up, the fall would be more obvious. The fops of Charles' court have made her hard and sharp when it does not suit.

"Forgive me; as an actress, it is not in my nature to be so candid." Which is, of course, another lie. "It's a comic part. We thought it clever to play with... seriousness."

a. That day, I walked through your tears for a very long time.
b. My heart keeps bouncing between the sky and the ground. It was my first love.
c. I know it's impossible. But I dreamt of a happy ending.
d. If god only gives us hardships we can handle, I think he thought too highly of us.
e. [your quote]

[Nothing shippy, please]

To maintain he was a man and incapable of sin involves a contradiction; the attributes of impeccabilitas and of humanitas are not compatible. Kemnitz admits that the Redeemer could feel fatigue, cold, embarrassment, hunger and thirst; we may also admit that he could sin and go astray.

- Jorge Luis Borges, Three Versions of Judas

Edited 2021-11-25 18:22 (UTC)

you can quote me on that.

louis de pointe du lac | the vampire chronicles

satine lafaye | original

wei wuxian | the untamed

Frisk ♥ Undertale ♥ OTA

Midnight | Arknights | OTA

Grim Reaper 👿 The Lonely Shining God – Goblin

Ritsuka Aoyagi | Loveless

arsène benoit du montfolin | original character | ota

james buchanan barnes | mcu

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hits w/ a truck

Jason Todd | DC Animated Movies

Hermione Granger | Harry Potter

raya (raya and the last dragon) | ota | f/f for shipping purposes

Chloe | Detroit: Become Human

Lancelot | King Arthur (2004)

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Cobb Vanth | The Mandalorian

EOS | Greek myth | OTA

penitence hurd | the vizard mask | ota.

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hope this is ok!

this is beautiful.

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Steve Rogers ● MCU

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto | XMCU

Paul Atreides | Dune

yuuji itadori ( jjk )