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[smeatonm]

Though painstaking at conveying at least the semblance of comfort, Mark had very little solace in him. His head whirled with apprehensions of his own, though none of the people he held dear - except Anne, had her heart recovered, or Elena, had her wits dwindled - would be in shooting distance of the new king. Certainly not beset at his Roman elbow, awaiting the glass.

“Lady Seymour”, he began, and hitched one step closer to gather her by the shoulders, which shook like pinions under his feeble grip, “I shall try my best to steady them back in place, then. I could bet all my money - which is not too far-fetched, mind you, since we spend our every afternoon doing just so - that your family is safe. And they must fret over well-being as judiciously as you fret over theirs.” His smile was temperate, as if seeking reconciliation with the very turn of events. Faintly, he recalled some dalliance with the girl, some meddling to and fro on the delicate shell that was every debutante’s behavior, some touch upon the core. But these things were the day’s order, more in the old reign than in the new one (what with the king’s new circle overseeing them all like puritan crows, or perhaps spartan figures) and they hardly unsettled his thoughts. It was not cruelty that moved him to bewitch women so - and he couldn’t even vow it was bewitching that did it, and not a desire of their own, a chance to take initiative. It was simply love of life, one that could be delegated to any etiquette or risk-appraisal. In truth, he could not even remember if it was he who had wooed her, or Wyatt, or George.

— MARK SMEATON.

          Panic rose within her chest, the shell of her palms sweating as she clenched them together in desperation. Before arriving at court she did not know what dangers lurked behind dark corners and even worse, what threats lay there in the light of day. The more time that passes, the more Jane had come to understand that palaces were not places of Utopia, but instead a playground for the cunning and belligerent. 

Never in her life had she been confined to one area before, placed on lockdown without any knowledge of her family. That was the true worry, the one that led her to despair. A gentleman had died and she did not know the whereabouts of her family. Losing her father had been heartbreaking, but to lose another would be too much for her to bear. 

Jane glanced at the man who she shared the confined space with, a familiar face that could be recalled alongside the memory of too many cups of wine. ❛   I do hope that they will allow us to depart from these quarters soon. My nerves have been shaken by this tragic occasion and I hope for the comfort of my family.   ❜

@smeatonm

[smeatonm]

juandemendoza‌:

The comment that brought a smile to Smeaton’s face brought one to Juan’s as well - unable to help himself, it seemed. The idea of his companion as a writer helped relax him, for some reason he couldn’t place - simply something he could relate to. “Perhaps you ought to, and then I might judge for myself. That seems the way to make a fair comparison.” He still kept his eyes to himself, as if looking too long might spoil something about the conversation. “Your point is fair, sir. I think the same of myself. I have been told I better suit the cloth than a suit of armor.” It was a concept he considered proudly, clearing his throat as Mark slipped into a spot they might more easily look at one another. It was a small move, subtle, but at the same time bold, and Juan found himself wanting for a cup of wine to busy himself with. “…So you write, then? What is the content of your plays?”

“The derisory kind. My coevals like to think I do not know that fact, but I do.” He spared a fledgling smile, not timid but temperate, wiling to accommodate the other’s reticence. Yet a more rousing part in Mark, the one that had wafted him through life and the one which looked so close to roguery (but which was only curiosity, an unquenchable thirst to discover, seek out, open people from the seams) nudged him to keep close. It was this zest that had charmed Wolsely, when he was no more than a round-eyed mewling boy yearning to be carved out by the world; and it was this sprightliness which locked him in place with the Boleyns. Nothing ill-timed, no knavery, except when prompted by his innermost friends - he was a clockwork set for certain hair-triggers, certain situations or personages which drew his interest to such an extent that it became a physical need to indulge. There was an unscoured depth in the ambassador that did not fail to ring to him. His half-parted, fully-colored lips picked up on the sentence they deserted: “But it is not posterity I am writing for, nor laurels. I merely like the folk that surround the scene, artists and artisans alike, painted faces, men of genius and unfathomable talent or men who can simply sing pitched enough to pass as ladies. I would love to open an independent theater one day, where I may flurry all those close to me like some stray birds flock.”

[smeatonm]

♡ just gimme all my muses tbh (bitches love mark)

ANNE PERCY-BOLEYN

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

FRANCIS WESTON

FRIENDS.   childhood friends /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  / turning into something romantic  / stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension (?)  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

MARY NORFOLK

FRIENDS.   childhood friends /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  / turning into something romantic  / stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  / skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  / fading /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate /  rivals  / petty /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension (?)  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

JAMES OF SCOTLAND

FRIENDS.   childhood friends /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  / stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  / skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  / fading /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond / older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate /  rivals  / petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension (?)  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional (political) matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

[smeatonm]

PRE - ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME .

send a ♡ and i’ll fill this out for our muses !  i’ll bold what i want for their relationship, italic what i could see and strike out what i don’t .

FRIENDS.   childhood friends  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other .

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

[smeatonm]

All I have written seems like straw compared to what I have seen and what has been revealed to me.

St. Thomas Aquinas

[smeatonm]

THE DECADENT COURT / *

“ ‘A traitor’s death why should we thus bemoan?’ ”

presiding –– george boleyn, thomas wyatt, mark smeaton, francis weston, william brereton, harry norris & elena darrell, anne boleyn.

[smeatonm]

monsieurwyatt:

 Mark still refused to play the song, and he remained as smug and immobile as a statue of cupid, sly smile and all. Groaning in an manner unbecoming to a gentlemen, Thomas resisted the urge to roll his eyes towards the heavens. “How well is George giving’ it to you to incur such nauseating sentiments? God almighty.” He snorted loudly, simpering under his breath as he settled further into his gaudy armchair. Thomas enjoyed the ramblings of Mark’s defensive measures towards the Boleyn boy. Despite the mere smattering of years between him and George, he wielded his role of the elder gleefully when it suited him. In the face of angry husbands or a barrel he was forced to duck his head into (after a copious intake off wine) Thomas was a man of fifteen again. His gallivanting across the courts with Mark had earned them both an unyielding reputation of men disposed towards debauchery. They moonlighted as wild men, but by day earned their bread in the noble pursuit of the arts. Thomas however, was quick to make it clear he lived under the thumb of no patron (Mark, he would also note, claimed otherwise). “Yes yes, I have to thank ol’ Georgie for a myriad of kind gestures, I could be without my head if it were not for him. And surely, it would have been an a tragedy of insurmountable proportions for the court to lose my presence.” A great deal of ladies and gentlemen alike would celebrate the demise of the scoundrel Wyatt, while those he had bedded, or loved, would surely mourn him a hero’s death. To be such a dividing figure was Thomas’ greatest feat; Mark seemed remarkably talented at being such a character in his own right. “Aside from kissing Boleyn’s behind until it is scarlet red, what other crimes against humanity have you enjoyed in my absence?” Busy with work, and busy in love, busy with a seething hatred for the late King - Wyatt’s appearance at court marked a return from a self-imposed exile. 

His laughter prevailed over every sentence that might’ve nicked his tongue, or rope it into a knot. Not one shard of disquiet stood reflected in his countenance, which beamed with a mercurial and barely suppressed amusement. “You are not at risk to cure yourself anytime soon, are you, Tom?” His instinctive blitheness, inuring him to mockery time and time again, came to him as easy as a verse. Warmth and adulation, unfettered curiosity wrapped him in each encounter life might bestow. These qualities didn’t require to endorsed by spirits, gambling or conquests, but lingered at the same steady levels, scales which could only be elevated, never hindered. Like Wyatt was in love with love itself, Mark was kind in the name of kindness. A stand-alone deity he could never renounce.

“Do you fear my laurels might be imparted on another noble head? One stark black, impervious to responsibilities, who seems to court and bed chaos itself just as you are? The competition must be overcooked by now.” His hand clasped across the other’s back, yet the force within that gesture could easily be measured and reciprocated. He and Wyatt were both of tall, slender constitution, but while Mark had retained a softness that alluded to milk stains or meadow passes, Wyatt was all potency. An inner penchant to destroy, subsist or escape, a triumvirate of surviving capacities which always threatened to border on ruthlessness. When Mark touched anyone, it was for pleasure or intimacy. When he touched Wyatt, it was to etch a line, as clear as an engraver: you are my friend, but you will not devour me.

[smeatonm]

I love that Anne was helping fellow reformers like Simon Fish, Nicolas Bourbon, "Mistress Mary", John Sturm, Richard Herman etc... As well as helping poor students at Cambridge and Oxford. Can you just image all the lives Anne helped save? All the works that has been written and saved because of her actions? All the men that got an education because of her?

I know :’)

I like to think that in a world where Anne lived and remained Queen that Anne Askew would have lived as well…as well as perhaps even Tyndale. It seems too much of a coincidence to me that he wasn’t executed until after Anne was? He had opposed the divorce proceedings; but his work had in part inspired the separation from the Church. And his was the first translation of the Bible to English that was mass-produced, he was important in that regard (and would have been to Anne as well) even if he wasn’t as wholly loyal as Henry would have liked. 

[smeatonm]

You are fourth- or fifth-billed in the credits but have so far contributed almost nothing to the A- and B-storylines.

In episode 2, you had a throwaway line about a beautiful member of the opposite sex not being your “type,” a line that has now taken on a strange significance.

You are a younger brother who stands to inherit nothing.

The camera lingers on your hands for an unnecessary split-second after you help your best friend into your corset.

You are an unusually helpful lady-in-waiting.

You are an arch and careless school-chum who seems to live only for exciting late-night champagne raids and fountain-dunking.

You are being played by Rupert Graves.

You are a woman who becomes friends with Jane Eyre.

Your gaze lingers for no appreciable reason.

You’re in the first third of a miniseries about another person’s life and you’re only credited in the episodes that take place during their boarding-school years. Also, you have perfectly floppy hair. (Works for male or female.)

You applaud with the crowd, but something about your clapping seems insincere.

All the ingenues at court are simply wild about you. You could not be more indifferent. Also, your name is Hugh.

Your story takes place sometime before 1950 but was filmed any time after 1980.

100% of your scenes are shot with the least amount of light possible. Your face is never less than half in shadow.

While being playfully teased by one of the top-billed characters about your apparently non-existent love life, you say, “There is someone” while maintaining eye contact.

You’re sad all the time, for no reason (the reason is later revealed to be Secret Gayness).

You are a woman who has been described by another character as any of the following: spirited, willful, indifferent, aloof, vigorous, outdoorsy, or keen.

You mention that you have recently been to Greece.

You are wan. So very wan.

You are an unusually supportive roommate with a knack for springing surprise kisses at the worst possible moment.

You are the only kind person in a Deadly Decadent Court.

You nonchalantly but significantly decline “one last drink” or a trip to the strip club/old-timey brothel with the boys on a friendly night out, choosing instead to walk home alone in the growing darkness.

You speak slightly more kindly to someone below your station than is strictly necessary. What appears to be politeness and common decency is fueled by lust.

You are a poet, a musician, or an Italian ambassador with no reason for having as much screen time as you do; one of the main characters has at least three scenes where they compliment your work before kissing you unexpectedly in a dark hallway.

[smeatonm]

juandemendoza:

Juan could feel the man’s eyes all but studying him and he felt vaguely discomfited under his gaze, keeping his own dark eyes firmly turned away - back to the tilt, which was somehow less uncomfortable. “You speak the truth, in some ways. But still I find it… troubling that men deliberately put themselves into harm’s way as some matter of pride.” It was especially troubling considering the exact same sport had cause the King’s own death a few weeks before, he wouldn’t dare to speak of such matters. “I should rather see a play with an uncivilized effect than the sport, I must admit. But perhaps I simply have a different constitution than most.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, glancing the man’s way again. “Is there any reason an able man such as yourself is not among the men in the tilt?”

“You deem plays harmless, Your Excellency? Why, then I ought no sooner send you my own.” The musician quirked a smile, one so endearing in its artlessness that it could hardly be misjudged for a challenge. Whenever dwelling on the surface of a conversation, Mark never faltered, never overstepped boundaries - he roped understanding glances and laughter around the interlocutor with the buoyancy of a child. Insouciant, that was his sword in the stone, the key element which steered all others into action. And it seemed to land disjunctive next to his present interlocutor. “Able is a broad term, I’d say. Not all those endowed by nature are also favored by it. I would have no more success on the riding ground than I’d find in warfare.” He careened a bit closer to the other, so that they glances would meet with far more ease - something the diplomat seemed to avoid. Could interlacing with one of the court’s rakes, even at eye-level, unsettle him so? Mark kept on his amiable smile, though undecided whether he should be more mindful around the other’s sensibilities or not.

[smeatonm]

feigndglory:

ever  since  stepping  on  the boat  that  brought  him  to  england ,    he  felt  queasy  &  unsettled .     it  was  a  new  found  weakness  of  his  &  a   HIGHLY   disappointing  discovery .     he  found  that  the  breeze  was     not  helping     so  he  stayed  in  doors  for  most  of  the  two  days  he’s  been  here .     teodósio  would   STILL   be  in  bed  if  it  were  not  for  his  overwhelming  desire  to  roam  about  the  castle .     his  legs  ached  for  a  bit  of  walking  &  that’s  what  is  to  be  done .

                              hands  rested  near  his  waist  as     fingers  looped     around  his  belt ,  he  meandered  down  hallways ,  always  stealing  a  glance  out  the  windows  whenever  possible .     teo  stopped  at  a  window  &  gazed  out .     it  was  the  sky  that  was  his  main  focus  point  which  did     wonders  for  his  curiosity .     always  wanting  to  take  that  extra  step ,  always  willing  to  search  a  little  longer .     footsteps  seemed  to  be  approaching  &  he  turned  his  head ,  offering  a  small  smile  towards  the  on - comer .     his  gaze  shifted  back  towards  the  sky ,  a  sigh     slipping  past     his  lips .                    ❛      it’s  a  sad  day  when  you’re  dreams  of  traveling     may  be  shortened    due  to  having  sea  sickness .     i  have  always   WANTED   to  travel  to  brazil  or  india ,  now  it  appears  that  i  may  never  have  the  chance .      ❜

“ seasickness often passes, Lord. it comes and goes in people as if on a whim. ” the musician spoke in earnest, looking at the other with sympathy and without wavering, a glance that vouched for the verity of his words. he was not familiar with the other man, though a foreign stance captured his movements, biding unseen cultures. whatever impressions he might’ve formed about this noble’s provenience, they could only be piqued and kindled by his garments - vibrant fabrics, materials melded together without skimping on a single fold. they hung crookedly not because they were ill-fitting, but simply because they steered so far from the conventional cut. “ the indies, then? i heard scant bits about them, no more than what a man might mistake for poppycock. ”

[smeatonm]

juandemendoza:

“Perhaps you are correct.” It seemed right, in Juan’s view, taking in the words without yet fully looking at his companion. “But this can be accomplished easily enough with words as it can with lances, yes?” He turned his head, pausing for a moment as he took in the proffered smile, shifting slightly where he sat and wetting abruptly dry lips. “….Even so. It is entertainment for the watchers, I think. Or intended to be. Yet not civilized entertainment.”

His head drooped in obeisance to the other’s argument, but then lifted itself again to cast inquiring, intentive eyes on the ambassador. Mark never suppressed his thirst to know, to absorb all that could be absorbed from social experience, as though seeking to destabilize himself and his order. Though it was not erudite knowledge he sought ( nor arrived at ) it was a humane literacy nonetheless, an acumen in all that meant to be alive and yearning.  And he was more than adept, as he was enamored, about everything life could bring forth. He unraveled its silks without looking for causes, with the temerity of the child and the intransigence of a soldier. “ But is not every entertainment, when truly vibrant, outstretching its chains, uncivilized in itself? Is there more repression, or constraint, in a theater play rather than a brawl fight? ”

[smeatonm]

cfnorfolk:

    -    “ Of course, I beseech you to forgive me, Master Smeaton, for I fear the festivities have run away with my manners. ” Mary was quick to backtrack with a most apologetic smile decorating delicate features, thin fingers wrapped around her cup of wine as if someone might take it from her grasp if she were to leave it too far from her person. “ Dear George can be ruthless if he wishes, so I am told. Might you play something for us at least? I so miss your music, t reminds me a great deal of family. ”

“ Oh, a biblical flood could not run away with your manners, Lady Mary. ” It has been a long time since he had penned her ‘little norfolk’, though due to the complexities woven in her marriage he could not address her as Duchess, either. To be paired with a Fitzroy was not the easiest destiny, Mark had mused at times, piqued once or twice by the tattle of the other men in their circle, but if there was one person who could withstand it with grace... why, that could be no other than his little Norfolk. She had gathered, like a child in a field of flowers she herself is unaware of, all the endurance of her mother’s and none of her father’s recalcitrance. A miniature icon of great traits thad grown into a full-fledged portrait, which charmed and moved him in the same breadth, the same intensity. “ I hope you will not say you miss your family, surely? I do not think I’m man enough to survive such confession, not without scampering you up and eloping back north. ”

[smeatonm]

Anne Boleyn and Mark Smeaton, asked by anonymous 

- Lady Anne Boleyn, this is Mark Smeaton: dancing master, singer, musician, and general all-around genius. - Mr. Smeaton. -He likes to be called just plain Mark.

[smeatonm]

scymours:

— OPEN .

               Tender flesh grew hot, limbs trembling in excitement. The jovial nature of the evening had left her feeling flushed and worn-out. Jane had never danced with so many gentlemen before, or laughed so heartily. It was as though she had started to feel more comfortable in court, although she would continue to be shocked daily by the scandals and indecency of it. Cool air fluttered across her skin, climbing the length of her spine as she stood on the stone balcony and took in a deep breath. ❛   The wind is unforgiving. But I find the cool air to be necessary,  ❜  Jane spoke aloud, upon noticing that another stood on the balcony. 

          “ You might catch a draft, Lady Seymour. ” Mark spoke with a measured amount of diffidence, though his concern was nothing beyond gallant. He watched the young girl’s skin prickle and glaze in the night air like a siren’s tail, scales emerging where only softness should have reigned. In their group of young bachelors (not counting George, who slighted his consort to such extent that he was numbered as a rake with the rest of them) Jane had dropped like a proverbial pebble. It was rumored that Whitehall court had enticed her, and it was only the first hook that was expected to land. The initial plunge was all that mattered, after all. Whatever else followed only did it in its preordained trail. Weston had vouched ten coins for the man that plucked her - and though such talk jarred him, a part of Mark blotted out the vulgarity of it, the coarse manliness, and only kept the raw desire found within. There was beauty to be sough even in barrack talk, even in gallows talk, too, and he would not skimp on either. “ Are you properly entertained at these tournament celebrations? They must be your debut at court, no? ”

[smeatonm]

juandemendoza:

open

Juan had never been terribly fond of tournaments. He truly didn’t care much for the spectacle of it all - the violence even less so. But his duty brought him to events like this, and so he feigned interest while really observing the people around him to make note of what went on - events he hoped to record later. The sooner he could return to his rooms, the better, in his opinion. But for now, here he was, sitting up among the stands, looking out as another set prepared for their joust.

“I must admit I have never understood the purpose of it all.” He waves his hand around him to indicate their surroundings as he speaks to his companion. “It seems…. unnecessarily violent sport. Can we not find our entertainment in less dangerous pursuits?”

Mark pondered upon the ambassador’s question, though its philosophical tone forewarned that it might be beyond his competence. He had never taken part in a proper jousting championship, as much due to his origins as his lithe constitution, but he was inured to their charm, either. They held a certain old-gold glory, in the vein of Camelot or Pericles’s age, and he found these substantively easy to romanticize. His legs stretched broadly from under the bench they’d been seated onto, as he shifted his frame towards the other.  “ Perhaps it is not entertainment, Your Excellence. It might allude to a higher desire to prove, and disprove, and reassert once more. Is that not what men weave into all stories? ”

[smeatonm]

monsieurwyatt:

“Then I have been sorely misinformed; I had been under the false impression you held my pleasure far above all else.” He was unmoved by Mark’s refusal to perform, his physical person remaining stationary in the velvet armchair he lay engulfed in. The poet had every intention of his request being fulfilled - with the added charge of persuasion added to the other man’s bill. Thomas had in his possession a pair of eyes that could wielded to convey a sense of amusement or anger - he choose to deploy them in this instance for a more nefarious emotion. “I implore you to reconsider my simple request, however uncouth my tastes may be. I offer you no great treasures as a reward, but I pledge that the endeavor will be worth whatever suffering lays in the hands of the Boleyn boy.” Leaning forward slightly, Thomas balanced his elbows against the muscles of his thighs, engaging the musician fully in the service of his gaze. 

The young musician simpered, head cocked towards the other with the endeared indulgence of an older brother, even if Thomas reined above him with a handful of years. It was not maturity that diverted his features so, but an inborn benevolence, a kindness which monopolized every other fiber of his being. Though not pious, it bred its own righteousness, margining on solicitude or candor at times, agape as the Greeks would have it. All these were the polar opposite of what Wyatt stood for, and Mark knew it too well. He could also acquiescence that under this flood of familiar traits, a deeper undercurrent ran, one that slackened Mark’s tongue like aspic and stunted the usual lenient posture he conveyed. His straight back, supple if not athletic, his limber calves, the ribbon veins themselves, turned to horse-glue under Wyatt’s eyes. Their mineral tenacity, glinting like tin or enamel before the world, subdued the musician. Had it not been the ordinary feeling, attuned in years since they have met and laughed and wronged together, he might have lost bearing entirely. But habit creates the most stalwart harmony, so Mark only shook his head, playfully disapproval. “ A boy, is he now? Why, but he was not a boy when he besought Cromwell to bail us out from the Guard’s tower last Michaelmas, was he? Or that time we forfeited all consciousness and fell under the dining tables at Hever? And, as memory serves me, when he alleviated the displeasure of a certain husband, whose personal hell you had raised? ” Laughter mingled through the sentences like stones dropping into a river, light and devoid of gravity, leaving silver crinkles on the surface.