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[mccnbeam]

"Long trips and a room made up for you." Though there was little that appealed to Devika about being the lady of a house, the ability to entertain her friend, to spoil her, even, certainly made the cut. Despite having little want for material extravagances in her own life, she found Camille's attachment to pretty things endlessly charming. "It would be one thing if he could make you happy." Like George, she doesn't say, but it hangs heavy in the air just the same. "Lord Penhallow only makes people happy when he relieves them of the burden of his company."

"Unbelievable. It's all insecurity, you know. She's jealous because you are more beguiling than a rock." From the mirth in Devika's eyes to the slight edge of a laugh in her voice, it's obvious that the extreme understatement is nothing more than a tease, a minor scheme to elicit an indignant huff from Camille, because Devika so enjoyed the sound. Though she sobers slightly with the next question. "Did Avery take care of it? The balance at the modiste."

It's rare for Devika's wit to falter, but her response is a couple beats too late, eyes lingering on slope of Camille's neck, the way her hair slides over her shoulder when she leans forward. "I would have more to read to you, is all. And I could actually select things I think you'd like, instead of being limited to my father and my grandfathers' taste."

❛❛ three and a half hours ! oh , i dread to think . though , it would allow for prolonged visits as to justify the journey. i sufered a distance from you once , i won't be doing it again . ❜❜ truthfully , she did weigh her potential options against their proximity to devika . she would not sacrifice a friendship like this for simply anyone. penhallow and his four-thousand and the clumsy babies that would come were a harrowing thought , but she would need to consider it. she's desperate enough .

it's ridiclous , the way she perks up at gossip . she likes being the person keeping her friend informed , particularly whe she feels quite powerless to do more for the other woman. she'd bring her the moon if it were within her power , or at the very least restore her fortunes so that she wouldn't have to suffer this . ❛❛there was, hm , an issue with the ledgers at the modiste . ❜❜ camille huffs , ❛❛ just something avery needed to take care of - - little twit took the silk i was admiring right out of my arms ! 'surely you won't mind, mrs. findlay,' she said , ' as you won't be using it today '. i don't care who her papa is , that just isn't done . as if the gown she makes out of my silk will distract from the fact that she's got as much guile as a rock. she and penhallow are perfectly suited , it seems . perhaps we should endeavor to match them, and leave wycliffe to you if you want him. ❜❜ she knows that while the man ( no better than a boy ) isn't suited for devika, their options are limited. ❛❛ though i've about as much interest to losing you to a library as you have in losing me to devonshire . all those great thoughts in your head , you'd never have time for me again . ❜❜ camille leans forward, taps a finger to devika's temple as if to draw her point home.

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Jung exhales a soft laugh. For a moment, he imagines saying something like that in front of one of his sisters, and he can actually feel the phantom smack in the head he'd get. "If it helps, Teddy, I'm not actually sorry. Even if my niece did kick my ass at baccarat..."

He knocks his shoulder into his friend's. "Now, stop being a pansy and help me pick a necklace. I don't know anything about her taste. Apart from the fact it's expensive."

having grown up admiring the older man, tedros was always happy to be in his presence. he was even more happy to offer his own opinion but that had nothing to do with his admiration for jung, and was rather more involved with the love teddy had for his own voice.

tedros leans over the glass of the display, unafraid to occupy space in the world.

"not at all,” teddy says with a disapproving sigh. “it says: i am admitting wrong. jung — never admit you are wrong. as soon as you think you might be wrong, that means you need to leave! immediately.”

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"A measly four thousand," Devika relays with a knowing smile, "for which I am exceedingly grateful. The Penhallows live in Devonshire. I would find it difficult not to resent a man who took you three and a half hours away from me." Not to mention that Lord Penhallow was an utterly unremarkable person whose last original thought had likely died of loneliness. But many men were like that, so it went without saying.

Of course, Camille has an answer to the lift of Devika's brow before she can fully perform the expression. The corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. "I concede that she is occasionally twit-like. What happened at the modiste?" She never knew the gossip until Whistledown wrote about it or Camille told her. Devika didn't talk to anyone else about that sort of thing. She didn't like anyone else, in truth.

"I know. The Wycliffes have a beautiful library, though." One that will be wasted on Witless Whitby is implied, by the discerning tilt of Devika's mouth.

the mask slips around few people in camille's life. she's frivolous and enchanting and not much else, apart from a blank canvas upon which others might paint their own hopes and dreams. it's different around devika, safe even. she watches her friend discard utensils , and opts to do the same, crossing her legs in the most unladylike fashion and popping a morsel of cake in her mouth. devika's revelation elicits a huff of frustration , a roll of green eyes.

❛❛ remind me again what he's worth ? i won't tolerate spills of any sort for anything under six thousand a year . ❜❜ she says , hand over her mouth only barely concealing the fact she is still chewing. ❛❛ mm! set your sights away from the eldest wycliffe boy . calliope whitby's got her talons in him , little twit. ❜❜ she expects some sort of reaction from the other woman and flares her eyes dramatically. ❛❛ what , we were both thinking it ! after her stunt at the modiste i'd say it to her face. ❜❜ another huff as her back hits the chair dramatically. ❛❛ he would have been wrong for you anyway, duck. ❜❜

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― closed: ( @starspocketed ), location: the krishnamurti estate

 Though Devika's moments of relaxation are far and few between, Camille's company often brings them on. As does sitting in front of the big window on the second floor of her house, where she can see her horse lazing in a patch of sunlit wildflowers. "Oh, before I forget," she leans forward, cutting a small slice of the lemon almond cake between them. Given that they're home, she dispenses with the need for silverware, electing to pick it up with her fingers. "I went to the Sheffield's for dinner last week, and Lord Penhallow was asking after you. You know, the one who talks too much and has always spilled something on himself."

[mccnbeam]

Pride & Prejudice (2005) dir. Joe Wright

[mccnbeam]

― open, location: fortnum & mason

Jung wasn't rushing. According to his mother, it was undignified and suggested that he was not in control of the manner in which another prioritized their time. Also, it messed up his hair. So, not rushing, but proceeding rapidly through the department store, such that he did not miss the scheduled shift of the only jewelry counter attendant he had not yet... come to know biblically.

"What do we think?" He held the necklace they had put away for him up to the light. In truth, it looked the same as all the other necklaces in the display windows. "Does this say 'sorry, I missed your opening night at Drury Lane because I was teaching my niece to gamble?'"

[mccnbeam]

― closed: ( @inminuet ), location: the templeton summer estate

  Devika finds herself distracted from the sour clang of keys in the next room, because the Templeton family has - in their library - a folio from Kitab al-Bulhan. It's incredible. It could've been a gift from Shah Safi himself. Were it a less fascinating piece, she might have noticed the sudden presence of someone very important at her elbow. "Am I in your way, your grace?" She glances around the room, where a few more of the evening's invitees are milling about. "I think this is a... popular spot, for those of us looking for a reprieve from the younger Miss Templeton's pianoforte."

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I know things aren’t very Fergalicious right now dude but hang in there

[mccnbeam]

the contestants on worst cooks in america are some of the best reality tv contestants i’ve ever seen

[mccnbeam]

[ ok taec-yeon, he/him, cismale ] — was that JUNG-HOON AN? the THIRTY-ONE year old is a GENTLEMAN, how exciting to see them this season! rumors have it they are ENTERTAINING and CHARMING, but i’ve heard they are IMPULSIVE and ARROGANT as well — maybe that’s why they’ve been called the VAINGLORIOUS. I have even heard that he DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO DO ANYTHING ON HIS OWN —only time will tell.

family & history (cw: parental abuse mention in the last 2 bullets)

jung was primarily raised by his mom and his sisters. he is a mama's boy through and through. he takes up the skills she recommends, handles the estate duties she tells him to, and she is always the one he turns to when he needs advice

pretty much the only thing his mother hasn't decided for him is who he courts. she wants him to marry for love or something. he wants to just vibe :/

he has five sisters - three older, two younger. all three of his older sisters are married and out of the house. he misses them a lot, and he frequently visits them at their new homes. he REALLY likes being an uncle. he sort of wishes it was his job full time

his second youngest sister is 19. she and jung are very close, and she has recently admitted to him that she is.... not interested in men. at all. in fact, she finds them mostly very gross and smelly. she confirmed something that jung has always suspected, that she is primarily interested in women

she will debut in a few years, but she probably won't ever marry. as such, jung knows he will probably have to support her for her whole life. he's secretly grateful for this, because it means things can stay the way they are, and she won't leave him to build a new family like their older sisters

he should probably get married. he knows that, he knows that he is the only son in his family, that if he wants to continue their family line, he needs to produce an heir. there are two things holding him back: he's a little scared of falling in love and he's a LOT scared of being a father

his father is a drunk and physically abusive one. he hit jung until jung started hitting back, and he used to hit jung's mother until jung started intervening. he has affairs, he has certainly sired illegitimate children, and he had a serious gambling problem before his mother cracked down on it, determined not to let him squander away jung and his sisters' inheritance

apart from the gambling, all of this is completely unbeknownst to most of the ton. in fact - to outsiders, jung's father is a gregarious, even tempered man with a funny and warm countenance. to preserve the family name and ward off any potential scandal, his mother has instructed jung and his sisters to keep it that way

education, interests, & disposition

he attended oxford for a college degree, which was followed by a tour of east asia, accompanied by one of his father's upper-crust childhood friends. he thought it was gonna be a party time but in reality it was mostly getting made fun of for his subpar korean by this old guy and getting called a male trollop whenever he made eyes at the ladies

(he was making eyes at the men too but this went unnoticed)

he's a bit moody; when he's up, he's fun, charming, passionate, and an all around pleasure to keep company with. when he's down or disengaged, he's annoying and a little whiny and the type of person to ruin everyone's mood b/c he's having a bad day

obviously undiagnosed, but jung is dyslexic. he slogged through university and he does Not crack open books for fun. only when he's being forced. or when he can convince a pretty person to read aloud to him : )

this has of course contributed to him being a bit academically challenged, but he probably would've been even when he wasn't dyslexic, because he finds it all extremely tedious

but he's not entirely incompetent! he is a skilled boxer, fencer, and hunter. any physical skill he puts his mind to, he can master. his only problem is that he gets bored too quickly. he's always on the hunt for a challenge or a thrill, wherever he can find it

the sky is the horizon in terms of potential connects<3 i will post a plot call n hit ppl UP

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Devika rolls her eyes with a begrudging smile. Honor was not a trait she would freely associate with much of high society, but trust Cabell to paint the ton in broad, rose-colored strokes. "I am not nearly as honorable as I have led you to believe." She slants him a meaningful look, one that would perhaps have been a little presumptuous in a crowded ballroom or an intimate party, but passes some level of social scrutiny in their more innocuous environment. "For instance, you may have to seek me out several more times, before I am persuaded to give your handkerchief back."

If there is any trepidation in the careful placement of her palm on his arm, it is due entirely to the fact that she knows, at some near point in the future, she will have to pull away. The urge to preserve some of the softness Cabell's eyes keeps her from souring the moment. "How have you been? I imagine you are shouldering more responsibility these days, with the start of the season upon us."

"Once or twice. A lady with honor would of course wish to return what is not hers, and I have found that the ladies of the ton are quite honorable indeed. I might even be so bold as to say it is one your many favorable traits," Cabell responds, his voice low and almost teasing in tone, watching her eyes to see how she might react before letting them drift down to his handkerchief in her perfect hand, his mind wandering to what it might like to be touched in the same delicate grasp. He remembers himself, and his gaze flits back up to her. "Just remember to sign your name inside the cover," Cabell whispers with a grin.

He's surprised at her acceptance, thinking only a moment ago that surely she would bid him farewell and he'd spent the rest of the day thinking about that look on her face. His brow lifts, momentarily stunned, but he rights himself just as quickly, choosing not to squander it and instead be grateful. Cabell extends his arm, offering her an elbow and a soft look. "Shall we alleviate our minds of dull business and take a promenade?"

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"Nor can I," she admitted, brow furrowed. "I can hardly fathom being in even your position, as someone charged with supervisory authority." There was a question on the tip of her tongue, but it was too personal to ask someone she had just met. Still, it was hard to keep herself from wondering why he had chosen to keep his commission, if he harbored these beliefs. Maybe it was about the money. That much she could understand. Perhaps, if enlistment was an option for her, she would find herself in the same position.

Unfathomable as it might have been, she shook her head with a small smile. “You may think me arrogant, but I confess I do not.” Such a supposition had, in fact, never crossed her mind. “I am sure there are a great many things in this world that have evaded my comprehension, but I am certain I will not find any of them in a ballroom.”

Never one to doubt the authority she had over her own mind, Devika's answer began with a definitive nod. "Yes. But that is not to say I don't possess other aspirations that stand in direct opposition to peace." She tilted her head in quiet curiosity. "Have I given you reason to think peace is beyond the realm of my interests?"

He paused for a moment, looking around himself. It was easy to imagine themselves in an intimate setting, debating Rousseau and Hobbes and Locke. They were not, however, tucked away in some private saloon. The streets of London moved about them. They eyes of the Ton no doubt all around them.

It was not enough to stop him, but it was enough to raise a new thought.

"There was a moment, it must have been years ago now... my regiment had stopped in Geneva, there was some talk of meeting Napoleon near Winterthur." Already the night was taking form in his mind. "There was a ball a few nights before battle - people are surprised just how may balls there are during war, officers and distinguished members of society can't seem to do without them. It was one of the first times I was deemed important enough to attend these balls, and a man discussed Rousseau with me, in the land of Rousseau. I could not help but muse upon that moment. Discussing philosophy within a grand hall, while the troops sat waiting for war."

"Napoleon did not appear at that battle. Nor did our general. It was just men, fighting for an ideal they likely could not name. I cannot fathom being able to command so many, without even being present."

The image she conjured was so familiar, he could perfectly picture that moment, sitting in a room, surrounded by people saying nothing, and knowing nothing of what they said. "Do you ever wonder if it is just you? If perhaps those around you are actually speaking on some high level you simply do not understand. It seems unfathomable that they can really be saying so little!"

She described it as an early memory, a moment that had happened to a small child, but he could picture her as she was now, falling asleep against that bull. "The memory you describe is unbelievable, Lady Krishnamurthi, but I have to ask - is that really what you want? Peacefulness I mean..."

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"Thank you." Well-accustomed to receiving sympathies, sorrows, and prayers, Devika is grateful for the quiet wit that underscores Amelia's next remark. She nods, exhaling a soft sound of amusement. "It can all feel a bit tedious. Particularly when so many gentlemen are not earnestly interested in securing a match." For those with living fathers, it often seemed like a game. "Regardless, yes, I will be an active participant in the season's events. I trust the same is true for you?"

– THERE'S A FROWN THAT DEEPENS ON AMELIA'S FEATURES. as taxing as her parents' actions have been on her the past few years, it sounds so lonely to navigate things without them. " i'm sorry to hear that. i do think i have heard of your estate in passing, " but never been so lucky as to be acquainted with the lady until today, by chance. " my parents are living and i am not always of a disposition to socialize, " she adds, " so, i think you can be forgiven for the fact that i've not made your acquaintance sooner. is there any chance of you re-entering this season ? "

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in the club getting psychosexual

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"Has that ever actually worked out for you?" She examines the embroidery at the edges of the handkerchief, done in soft colors with an intricate hand, and silently bids him good luck on getting it back from her. "Maybe I'll try it. The next one of these insipid balls I go to, I'll leave a copy of the Bhagavad Gita on a windowsill and hope some eligible bachelor brings it back to me."

In truth, she had planned to make a final pitstop at the tailor to work out a payment plan for the repairs to Dhruv's coat. But this isn't a conversation she wishes to have in front of Cabell, and she doesn't particularly want to send him away, either. She resolves to take care of it tomorrow. "Today, I've been to the butcher, the jeweler, the modiste, and the watchmaker. I can't look at another bill. My eyes will pop out of my head, probably." She looks at him sidelong, only for the fraction of a second she's sure he's not looking back. "I would welcome your company."

"The world is a silly place, my dear Devika," he responds with ease, feeling a part of his chest warm the longer his eyes stay fixed on that specific look of hers, a sly grin beginning to lift up a corner of his mouth. "I'll take that as only the highest of compliments and wear it like a badge for the rest of my day," Cabell tells her, patting his suit jacket right above where the terrible thing of his heart is. "Nonsense, it is my pleasure, and perhaps a ploy just to see you again when you must inevitably return the handkerchief." He gives her a small, bashful wink.

Cabell follows her gaze back to White's and merely shakes his head. "Not at all, I was on my way out. I'm sure this comes as no surprise to you, but the atmosphere in the club can so often be a little rowdier for my taste," he tells her with a tiny scrunch of his nose. If he doesn't have to company of Laurie or Sydney, or perhaps some of his other more gentle male friends, it's not always the place to be for him. "Have you no other engagements to attend to, and would you like an escort?"

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Her lips turn in understated amusement, a silent recognition of his acumen. It was impressive that he had managed to pull from the same passage, particularly considering it was not one oft-quoted. Rare to meet man who actually read the texts his expensive education had paid for. "No. Of the three, I am likely closest aligned with the lunatic. Or at least I will be, if I have to feign interest in another wholly unimpressive gentleman's puffed up list of accolades." She taps her index finger against the body of the drinking glass. "You?"

"Sincerity does not offend me," Sydney declares, half truthful. He expected to build shallow camaraderie, but he isn't wholly ill-equipped for her intellect. "And I thought I was rather tactful for the poor quality of this verse. I prefer my poetry with greater habitation and naming." Another's company would have called for Sydney to reveal a deep loathing of poetry. But for her, he reaches for the line referenced from A Midsummer Night's Dream for the first time since Eton, feeling accomplished that it wasn't washed away by other pursuits. He takes a measured swallow, gauging her reaction from over the rim of his glass. "Do you consider yourself a poet?"