#ugh would you look at soph's improvement

[purple-hyacinth-diaries]

✨Purple Hyacinth Episode 10 Redraw✨

Original VS Redraw

[honeypwark]

[ Trust Exercise ]

  ↳ On Track era

       ↳ Xiang scares Chan. Chan gets jealous? Xiang tells the others.

TRIGGER WARNING: Xiang talks about her eating disorder in this post. She doesn’t go into detail but it is talked about.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The door to the studio bangs open suddenly, “CHRISTOPHER!”

“Oh my god!”

Chan jumps and all but throws his headphones off, spinning around in his chair to look toward the noise. He finds Xiang marching through the doorway with Hyunjin close behind her, laughing just a bit too much at his leader’s jump scare.

“Why?” Chan asks her helplessly, catching his breath as his adrenaline falls.

Xiang just shrugs in response, “Anyway, I’ve brought you here today to let you know that you both know about my eating disorder.”

Chan and Hyunjin look at each other in surprise.

Chan feels oddly disappointed at the knowledge that Hyunjin knows, too; that he’s not the only one Xiang relies on and trusts. He mentally smacks himself immediately because Xiang telling someone else is improvement and he’s just being stupid.

“You know?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yeah, she told me first,” Chan says before he can stop himself.

Shut up, he chastises himself. Stop being jealous over a good thing.

“Anyway,” Xiang drawls, “I’ve decided I want to tell everyone.”

“Sophie, I don’t think the company is going to let you-“

“Not everyone everyone, Chan, the other members.”

“Right, I knew that.”

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m sure,” Xiang says.

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it because you’ll be able to,” Xiang deadpans.

“Alright,” Hyunjin surrenders, hands held up.

“It’s been over a month since Chan found me,” she starts, “And I’m not magically okay now. It doesn’t just go away. But I want to tell the others because this is a big deal and I trust them to help me.”

“You do?” Hyunjin asks.

“Not really. But I know I should and I’m trying to convince myself. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?”

“When do you want to tell them?” Chan asks.

“... Tonight? Everyone’s going to be at the dorm and... I don’t know...”

Xiang’s demeanor has sharply declined from the loud boisterous girl she presents to still being awkward and guarded about talking about her problems. Chan notices and compensates for it.

“Tonight’s good,” he agrees. “I’ve still got work to finish here, but I’ll meet you at home, okay?”

“Okay,” Xiang nods.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Family meeting! Family meeting! Everyone to the living room for a family meeting!”

At Chan’s loud announcement upon his arrival home, the members slowly and somewhat confusedly begin trickling of their rooms and into the living room.

“Ugh, do I have to?” Jeongin whines from where he’s sat at the kitchen table surrounded by homework.

“Yes, it’s mandatory for all members of Stray Kids,” Chan says.

“... I’m resigning.”

Chan lifts Jeongin out of his chair and starts pushing him towards the living room, “Thank you for two weeks notice, but until then, you’re still a Stray Kids member.”

Jeongin groans the whole way until he’s shoved onto Changbin and Minho’s laps. He gets comfortable laying across his older members’ legs. Chan stands in front of the other members, doing a head count to make sure all eight are accounted for.

“Alright,” he says, “You’re up, Soph.”

Xiang stands from her place on the arm of the couch, swapping places with Chan.

“Okay,” she starts with a breath out. “Alright, well, um, you guys know how I trended on Naver for being super lightweight?”

There’s a murmur of affirmations.

“Well, basically, I used to be a lot heavier but then I started losing weight really quickly and I guess that caught the media’s attention. You’d think that be good, right? Like, more publicity for the group? And, yeah, it was kind of good publicity but the cause behind it wasn’t good. Like, we want publicity but not for bad things. I-I mean, we want as much public recognition as possible but for good reasons only and uh...”

Xiang trails off, stopping her nervous rambling. She scans the faces of her confused and bored looking members and feels her anxiety grip even tighter at her throat. She doesn’t think she can do this. She looks to Chan at the edge of the group.

He mimes taking a deep breath and mouths, “Breathe.”

She takes a deep breath as well, closing her eyes for a moment.

She opens them and says, “Basically, the reason I lost so much weight and am so light now is because I have an eating disorder.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

Jisung lets out a breath of disbelief, “What are you talking about? You don’t have an eating disorder.”

“Jisung,” Seungmin starts.

“No, we would have noticed,” Jisung says. “You don’t have an eating disorder.”

“She just said that she does,” Minho says.

“No, if she has an eating disorder we would have noticed. We’re not bad friends; we would have noticed. Right?”

Guilt has obviously begun weighing heavily on Jisung as he searches for anything to disprove what Xiang had told them. The others all look confused and surprised, guilt beginning to seep into their expressions as well. Xiang quickly shuts down their self-blame.

“Guys, I didn’t want you to know,” she says. “None of you even know when I’m on my period unless I tell you. I hid this from you so you weren’t expected to know.”

“Can-... can you tell us how long?” Changbin asks gently.

“I started in, uh, late... June of last year. But it kind of fluctuated in how bad it was. I’ve been working on getting better since the... beginning of March?”

She glances at Chan, who nods to agree with her timeline.

“Yeah, that’s when Chris found me,” she says. “I was kind of having a breakdown in the bathroom and he helped me. I told Hyunjin about a week ago.“

“So you’re okay now?” Felix asks hopefully.

Xiang has to let him down; she’s promised herself she’d tell them the truth.

“No,” she says. “It doesn’t just go away because people know now. But I’m trying and I have gotten better. But I still can’t trust myself. I want to move past this; I want to recover. But I can’t do it on my own. And I trust you guys to help me.”

“We will,” Minho speaks up.

“Yeah, definitely,” Felix agrees quickly.

There are a few other shorts agreements from the other boys.

Suddenly, Seungmin stands and walks over to hug Xiang.

“Ah, what are you doing?” she complains.

“This is a hugging moment, Changho, get over it.”

Changbin stands and runs over to join the hug.

“Ah, stop!” Xiang yells.

“Accept our love and support!”

“Bitch, get off!”

Next, Jeongin comes over with Minho to add to the hug.

“Nooooo!”

Xiang complains loudly as the rest of the members come over to join in the hug. Eventually, though, she falls quiet at the center of the meaningful, albeit awkward group hug. Xiang is content, even if she won’t show it, happy to have all of her members support. She rest her cheek on Seungmin’s shoulder and lets them all hug her for a little while longer.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 46

I’m on a roll!  Yet another chapter beta’d by @parisconstantine (in which I learned about French terms of affection), and I’m already 1600 words into chapter 47.  I’m not sure if the next chapter will be a long one or if I’ll end up splitting it into two parts. Time will tell on that front.

Oh! Oh!  Sam and Simon both get last names in this chapter!

This covers the first six hours of the Food Festival, so minor mentions of food.  I can’t think of any other warnings beyond that, but if you find something please shoot me a message so I can update it.  I’m learning every day about things that trigger people, so sometimes I miss things that aren’t glaringly obvious.  However, I’m always willing to learn.  At the end of the day, this is very slice-of-life, after all.

Edit:  I am reposting this, for 2 reasons.  Most importantly, I included some characters in this chapter who I need to attribute to their rightful creators.  So, Thank you @charlylimph-blog for Ivan Thorson and Coffee Williams.  You are an incredible writer, and I didn’t want these two to languish in obscurity after all the hard work you put into submitting them for the last contest.

The second reason is just because I posted it too early and wanted to put it out there for the people who look for my chapters on Tuesdays.  I love you all!

“Okay, everyone for Alpha Shift, sound off.”

“Tyche Reid, Admin Observation, is online.” I could hear the smirk in my sister’s voice.

“Antoine Costa, Support Personnel, online.”

“Sophia, do I really have to do this?” a familiar voice wheedled.

“Yes. I need to know who is my eyes and ears on the ground.”

“Ugh. Zach Khan, Support Personnel, online.”

“Derek Okafor, Civilian Observation, online.”

“Sam Richardson, Civilian Ob-observation, o-o-online.” I couldn’t help grinning that Sam agreed to help out.  Usually, he kept out of any operations on the ship, but he was the original tester for Antoine’s project, so he had just assumed he would be part of today’s actions.

“Maverick Okima, Support Personnel, online.”

“Alistair Worthington, Resource Adjunct, online,” my assistant dutifully called off in a bored tone. Only I could see the sardonic look he shot me.

“Sophia Reid, Resource Command, online,” I breathed in relief.  “Thank you, everyone. You have two objectives today: first, a general assessment of the low-stim session so that we know what we did right and what we can improve on in the future; second, getting feedback on how Mr. Costa’s dampening and proximity updates to the translation chips are working, again with a goal for future enhancements.  Tyche Reid has graciously volunteered to be our control on the chip project, so she will be providing only a baseline evaluation of the low-stim session and the quiet rooms.”  In reality, my sister wasn’t volunteering so much as refusing to get the upgrade until I agreed to do the same.

“Soph, if you are going to keep being so formal, we may as well shut this down now,” my sister huffed. “Mr. Costa my foot.”

“I’m trying to be professional,” I grumbled back. “This is an official Council operation, to be saved for posterity.”

“Do you truly believe that Xiomara will tolerate being referred to as ‘Miss’ or ‘Councillor Kalloe’ for six hours, Sophia?” Antoine asked smoothly.

Fighting back a chuckle, I refused to concede his point. “That’s Simon’s problem, not mine. She and I are on shift in the festival at the same time, so Simon will be running the show from here.”

“And you have deluded yourself to believe that Mr. Rodriguez will continue to address everyone formally?” Alistair scoffed. Et tu, Brute? I had argued with him for weeks to call me Sophia.

“If you start calling me Mr. Okafor, I’m going silent until this is over, Sophia,” Derek threatened.

I threw my hands up defensively, even if most people couldn’t see me. “Fine! I get it, I get it. I’ll chill out with the names, but I am going on record that it was under duress and threat of operative failure.” I shook my head and took a deep breath. “Okay, so, back to the point.  Tyche, your job is providing an assessment of the low-stim Festival session, as it appears to someone without the implant upgrades.  Derek and Sam, your jobs are to evaluate the session with the upgrades.  I need all three of you to report back two specific things: what worked better than your past experiences, and what still sucked.  Maverick, Zach, and Antoine: you are there both in your capacities as support personnel in case something goes horribly wrong, and to make sure I hear about anything they don’t realize shouldn’t be happening.  Everyone clear on your jobs?”

I got six affirmative answers before continuing. “Okay, other than that – have fun!  Try new foods, let me know what to try when it’s my turn, just enjoy yourselves as much as possible!”  With that, I left the group channel open and watched the map of the festival.  The three teams were entering from different points to ensure that, between the six of them, everything could be evaluated. In theory, everything should go off without a hitch.  The vendors were already briefed to be prepared for attendees during this session to provide a list of flavor and texture aversions, and Miys was already stationed in security alcoves to ensure that the vendors were complying and attendees weren’t abusing it.

It was only fifteen minutes before we got our first update.

“Team Try New Foods, reporting early success,” Zach Khan’s voice broke in. “Kosher food stall was an overall hit, the Jainist stall admitted they had nothing that Derek could like except papadums, and Derek tried both falafel and chicken tikka masala.  Jury’s out on the masala, but he likes falafel.”

“I really thought falafel would be too squishy,” I admitted.

“Apparently not,” Zach chuckled. “He said it’s like a meatball, but no meat.”

“I mean, yeah,” I agreed, still dazed. “That’s cool, though.  And the Jainist vendor didn’t give him a hard time about the list?”

“Nope,” he popped the last letter, something he tended to do when he was really excited. “Just smiled, read it, and apologized that everything he had was either spicy, sour, or squishy.”

“How did the Kosher and Halal vendors react to the list?”

“Thoughtfully,” Derek interjected. “The Kosher vendor clarified if I like onions, and the Halal vendor just wanted to know if I meant pepper-spicy or herb-spicy.”

Awesome. “Good job, guys. And congrats, Derek, on the new foods.  Keep it up and let me know.”

Thirty minutes later, not everything was sunshine and rainbows, though. Sam and Maverick had so far reported three vendors whose stalls were too pungent to approach, and Alistair was already in contact with and arguing about the need to keep the dishes covered during the low-stim session. “I understand that the smell is what draws people in, usually, ma’am, but you agreed to keep all smells to a minimum for the first six hours. That includes keeping the atmospheric scrubbers engaged and keeping the dishes sealed.” When the woman on the other end started to argue, he swiftly cut her off. “When you signed up to be open during this session, you were given a list of the restrictions, and you signed off on it. Low Stimulus, and that includes stimulating the nose. You can either seal the food, as you agreed, or we can have your stall closed down for the remainder of the Festival, per the agreement you signed.” With that, he disconnected sighed before turning to me. “So rude,” he informed me with a shake of his head.

“Which stall was that?” I asked, wrinkling my nose in dread.

“Fortunately, just the seafood stall,” he explained. “Along with the Cajun and Jamaican stalls.  So, pungent, but no one has reported nausea as of yet.  Miys is already in the area, trying to dissipate the odor.”

“As long as it isn’t the Japanese stall,” I gulped. They had insisted on serving natto, but explained that it would be sealed in individual portions throughout the festival, and only opened by the person eating it.  While I couldn’t exactly argue, I didn’t have to be happy about it.

I heard from Tyche right at one hour into the event.

“Soph,” my sister practically shouted at me. “Do you want to explain to me why one of the Quiet Rooms looks like you robbed my quarters?”

Oops.  Forgot about that. “Tyche, they’re designed to be relaxing, quiet, and provide low stimulation.  I can’t help it that your quarters are practically a smooshy cave.” Three, two, one…

“A hammock!?” she demanded. “Why don’t I have a hammock?”

“Make up your mind, Tych. Are you offended that the room looks like your quarters, or jealous that it’s better equipped?”

“Both. Definitely both,” she asserted. “Ooo, you included the sound scrubbers we had installed in your quarters, didn’t you?”

“I knew it!” I almost shrieked. “I knew it sounded muffled in my quarters since I got back!  That was completely uncalled for, you brat.  You know I’m hard of hearing!”

“You also have an implant in your brain that directly translates language into your auditory cortex, so it’s not like you couldn’t hear us,” she pointed out. “And all your alerts and alarms were already calibrated for you to see them as well as hear them. What I don’t understand is why you never had Miys fix your hearing.”

“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “Loud noises are bad enough as it is.  I can’t imagine how it would be if I could hear them better.”

“Aaannnnnnd that’s why we put the scrubbers in your quarters,” she finished. Well, walked right into that one, I admitted to myself. “This room is nice, by the way, once I got over the shock. Quiet, relaxing on the eyes and ears. How buff are the atmo scrubbers? It’s like my nose just quit working, but I can still breathe.”

“Really buff,” I clarified. “I’m not sure how many food and personal odors are going to be at the main event, so I erred on the side of overkill.”

“Do all the quiet rooms look like this?” Antoine asked, his tone full of curiosity.

“They do not,” I grinned. “Antoine, you’re going to love this, I think.  There are five different themed quiet rooms, and two of each for a total of ten. You two are in one of the Dark Rooms.  The Green themed rooms are furnished with plants and small fountains.  Medium theme looks more like my quarters, with lighter grays and some purples thrown in. Cool theme is mostly blues, with diffuse light to give an underwater or polar night kind of feeling.  Finally, the Light themed room is whites and pale yellows, with indirect light to create a feeling like a sunny day.”

A hum of approval. “I think that makes the most sense,” he agreed. “Not everyone finds the same things soothing, but I think you created enough variety to cover everyone.”

“So, how is the event going for you guys?”

Tyche sighed. “It’s going okay, but I’m not entirely certain that’s not because of who I am.  I haven’t seen any flashing lights, no loud music is playing, so that’s good.  The vendors have been very deferential, which I didn’t think to expect, honestly.”

“I don’t think that’s because of you,” I hummed. “Derek is having a similar experience, honestly.  Sam has reported some vendors with fragrant stalls, but that’s been addressed.  Alistair, anything else?”

Without glancing up from his data screen, he shook his head. “Other than the incident with the smells, nothing negative reporting yet. Derek and Zachary have dutifully sent in additional reports regarding the reactions of each vendor to the food preference lists, so far the balance is in the positive. Samuel and Maverick are reporting similar responses.”

“And the upgrades?” Antoine asked hesitantly.

“So far, nothing major…” Alistair trailed off.  “Support personnel are reporting receiving proximity alerts from non-clients, and I’ve received several queries regarding if that is normal?”

“It’s expected,” Antoine sighed. “We are working on an algorithm that would reduce the alert volume for support personnel who are on duty and in the presence of their respective clients, but it wasn’t ready in time for this event.  But, yes, it is normal and to be expected.”

“Understood. Request approval to release a mass communication to all registered support personnel?”

“Approved,” Antoine and I answered immediately.  I continued. “Alistair, do we have any reports regarding the effectiveness of the dampeners?”

“Yes and no,” he stated. “General reports indicate conditions that are difficult to separate from the intended atmosphere of the event.”

“Tyche, are you still on Level Fourteen?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If we send you the reports from any participants in that area, do you have time to corroborate?”

“I mean, I do, but I thought I was supposed to be participating?”

“Sorry,” I winced in contrition. “You’re right. I just… got ahead of myself. Yeah, it can wait until after your shift at the event.  Just make sure you’re recording your observations so you can do an accurate comparison later, okay?”

“We’re both recording full video, Soph,” she assured me, a rustling noise in the background. “I’m about to head back out into it, but I promise to keep my eyes peeled.  I’ll keep shooting reports to you as I make my way through the vendors, okay?”

“Sounds good,” I exhaled, leaning back in my seat as she disconnected.  Watching the map for a few more minutes, I saw all three teams circulating through the event.  Sometimes a team would stop at a Quiet Room for several minutes before continuing.  Small reports were trickling in, some from the three teams, some from vendors, and others from support people who were simply attending the event in a professional capacity.  However, no further urgent matters were reported aside from Derek and Sam finding a handful of new foods each.

Finally, we were approaching the end of the low-stim session.

“Alpha Shift teams, relief teams for Beta Shift are on their way,” I notified them once we were fifteen minutes out from the end. “Beta Shift teams, please report when you are online.”

“Amelie Marechal, Crowd Control, reporting online and heading to rendezvous with Derek and Zach,” a cheerful voice chirped not two minutes later. I managed to smother a chuckle as Alistair scowled at me, remembering our conversation the day before.

“Coffee Williams, Crowd Control, reporting online and arriving to relieve Costa and Reid” came the next, this time a smooth baritone.  I hadn’t spent much time around the man, but Antoine assured me that he was perfect for diffusing difficult situations.

“Ivan Thorson, Crowd Control, online,” followed quickly after.  “Heading to meet with Amelie and relieve Tyche and Antoine.”

The next two Beta Shift members left me speechless. “Conor MacMaoilir, Crowd Control, online and relieving Maverick and Sam.”

“Grey Hodenson, Crowd Control Command, online. I’m with Conor and we are relieving Okima and Richardson.”

Alistair managed to sneak in a couple surprises of his own, apparently.  When I glared at him, he merely smirked at me before tipping a non-existent hat towards me.  I barely caught Mr. William’s teammate checking in before I managed to recover. “Sophia Reid, Alpha Shift Resource Command, reporting for hand off to Crowd Control Command. Grey, confirm handoff?”

“Handoff complete, Sophia,” came the familiar, neutral voice. Finally, they cracked and I could hear a smile in their next words. “Please take care to get some rest between now and Delta shift.  We expect that shift to be crowded, and you will be Resource Observation. Also, I would like to request that you do not allow Xiomara to kill Simon?”

“Hey, that’s a tall order!” I objected, only half-joking. “I’ll try, no promises. And I promise to get some rest.  First, I need Alpha shift teams to come debrief in my office, then I’ll take a rest interval for Gamma.  Deal?”

“Mr. MacMaoilir and I agree that is sufficient.”

“Maverick, make sure she gets some sleep, or I’ll let Tyche give you what for,” Conor interjected. I didn’t even try to suppress the groan that followed.

Introducing the two of them had turned out to be a terrible idea on my part.

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[the-fox-knows]

Passing of Time

Prelude to Change (1)

Everyone has their thing. That specific detail of their life that defines more than just their personality and their likes and dislikes. It is something that resonates within them, giving a sort of meaning that only they alone can understand. It is something that has always been around, but with the rise of pop culture it has become bountiful as well as instantaneous. What I speak of are stories.

Stories have been something that have been in existence since the dawn of time; influencing and inspiring those that it touches. For some it is charging the Black Gates of Mordor with Members of the Fellowship; or travelling through space and time in a curious blue box; or perhaps sipping tea with stiff upper lips in the company of the Dowager Countess Grantham.

For me, it is sharing the walks of Elizabeth Bennet and experiencing all the changeable emotions that carry her through the book until the very end when she and Mr. Darcy come together in blissful union. All expectations of happiness and love fulfilled.

The only problem with that is it has altered my perception of reality, thus ruining my love life. When men like Mr. Darcy, Knightley, and Tilney are lingering in my mind it’s hard to not compare them to men of my general acquaintance. Especially those who are brave enough to ask me out. Not to say I'm a particular catch, in fact I’m quite the reverse as I am the proud owner of a reputation that precedes me. While I may not be as extreme as Jane Hayes from Austenland nor guilty of having hallucinations of the back of my shower being a doorway leading to the Bennet’s household, I am known to be a most . . . enthusiastic fan of the Austen era. To summate the meaning of my dedication to the long dead authoress and her equally inanimate heroes the blokes that do take me to the pub around the corner are not quick to repeat the offer in any way, shape, or form. 

I don't consider it much of a loss. I have my hopes for men more romantic then the sole aim to get me to the nearest ale house and then, well...

Though, I suppose I'm not being fair. There was one who was different from the others. But it was finished with my mistake.

Mum worries though; she's always been one for grandchildren and as I’m her only child all her hopes rest on my reproductive organs. Every now and then, when I visit, she'll bring out my old cot for a 'dusting' as she tells me of the new couples that are filling the flats around hers. I usually keep my thoughts to myself at these points in time. At least she's not like Mrs. Bennet. She doesn't arrange blind dates for me or push me to get close to my GP or some of the other things that would be the norm of a modern day Mrs. B. My mum let's me do things in my own time, though she does like to give me little reminders of the ticking clock.

I can't help remind myself of that same ticking clock, but I'm stubborn and have high expectations. What woman doesn't after a generous dollop of Jane Austen. In all fairness, it's that lady’s fault.

I reckon I should properly introduce myself seeing as I'm rambling to strangers about the goings on of my personal life. You should at least have a name. It's Sophie Devon, named after my great-aunt on my dad's side. I've never met her, but I'm told that I have similar features to her so I guess inheriting her name is fitting. I'm a 23, almost 24, year old Londoner with a life not unlike thousands of others; not even my obsession of Austen is unique, though when not with like minded people it can sometimes feel like I am the only one who appreciates the lady’s writings in this modern age. And since it is rare that I am with like minded people I feel myself clinging to my dreams and imaginings stronger and stronger.

When I am forced to detach myself from my telly, filled of Mr. Darcy glowering at all he sees, I can be found working my days in an office — HR to be exact — and what more can I say on that subject other than - Agh! I complain but it's not all bad. My mate, Jules, works just a few desks down within talking distance and is my polar opposite. She has no qualms with men in general, pubs round the corner, or the ... 

But you know what they say about opposites and attraction.

The day was Friday and when I had woken that morning nothing suggested itself to me of a mystical nature. Everything was as it had been everyday before and, to my mind, it would continue in that fashion.

It was December and the annul office Christmas party was that night. It was a thing of mild excitement. I avoided it, but some around the office have assured me that it has improved since the last time I attended.

"Sophe, you going to the office party tonight?" Jules asked across a few drooping heads.

My computer screen showed me that I shouldn't, that I should prepare myself for a long night and wake up tomorrow with the workload considerably lighter and my weekend freer.

"Are you going?" I looked up. She shrugged and spun lazily in her chair. Our co-workers were in varying states of attention. Slack hands holding up nodding heads and drooping eyes only staying open by the sprightly voice of Jules. Friday's were never fast around here.

"I was thinking of it. Dan will be there." She mentioned the name with something of playfulness in her voice.

"Dan is always at those things. It's not surprising," I said, bringing my eyes back to the lit screen. Jules, however, had caught the scent and was intent on pursuing it.

"He said he'd look out for you. Maybe save you a dance."

I gave her a look which she only laughed at. "Fine. Don't dance with Dan. Break his heart some more."

"Keep your voice down, would you," I whispered, darting my eyes around to make sure that no one was paying too much attention to our conversation. I really wished Jules understood the concept of 'there's a time and a place.' Unfortunately for me, she was yet to make that discovery.

"Please, they're all half dead anyway," she motioned widely with an arm.

"Yes, but it's the other half that you have to watch out for," came the quiet voice of Jonny. He sat in the corner of the wide office space and was one of the few who was still diligently working. He paused his typing fingers to look over at us with a smirk. Jules was highly amused by this and let out a crowing laugh as she spun in a full circle, sitting slouched in her chair. I too, found myself smiling.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So, is it a yes or a no?"The glass doors of the building opened for us and we were hit with a cold blast of air. Winter was well on its way and people all around were bundled snugly. I had my own scarf wrapped tightly around my neck while my hat was pulled low over my ears. I groaned in answer to her question.

"Oh, come on, Sophe. If it's because I teased you about Dan, I'm sorry. But don't let it stop you coming and having a good time."

I stopped and had to give her an arch look. "An office party? A good time?"

"Hey, for you that would be living it up." She hooked her arm through mine and forced me to keep walking.

"Why the sudden urge to go to this Party? You've never been this keen before."

Jules was capable of many things; running every morning before work, applying make-up flawlessly in under five minutes, fooling co-workers into covering for her while she slipped off to treat herself for a longer lunch break. The one thing she was not able to do was lie to me and she knew it.

"Look, I'm worried for you."

I sighed but she went on more strongly. "Ever since you and Dan split you've become more of a recluse."

"I have not," I interrupted. Now it was her turn to give me a look, though it smoothed quickly into one of sympathy.

"I understand. You were never easy to please with all your 'Austen Standards,' and then Dan happens and you began acting like a regular human being.”

I snorted.

"But it’s been six months. That's half a year," She implored.

"I am aware of the amount of time that six months elapses," I mumbled.

"So don't you think it's time to start testing the waters again?"

I didn't answer her straight away and after a huffy sigh, she didn't push for a response. We got onto the tube and remained silent, each contemplating our own matters. She had probably dropped the argument thinking it hopeless. I, on the other hand, was repeating her words through my mind. Everything she said was true. Dan had been great and I had relinquished (somewhat) my grip-hold on Pride and Prejudice and the implacable gentleman that was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

But then I had screwed it up and let my own obsession cloud my judgement. Trying to change someone, especially when that person doesn't need changing, is always a mistake. A horrible mistake.

Jules and I got off the tube and walked the few yards it was to the flat we shared. The jingle of my keys alerted Jax to our presence and, as per usual, we walked in to see him siting right in front of the door, swishing his fluffy white tail.

"Hi Jax," I greeted. The dainty cat ran over and arched his back, happy to accept the petting. Jules walked past and dumped her purse on the chair nearest the front door; her clacking pumps leading her to the small kitchen. 

She and Jax had never seen eye to eye. I had found him sheltering under the flap of a damp cardboard box in the pouring rain looking very forlorn. He had clearly been underfed and had no tags so I had no apprehensions in tucking him under the safety of my raincoat and bringing him back home.

Two years later he's my shadow and sleeps gratefully on the edge of my pillow.

"And how have you been today?" I cooed in a voice I knew annoyed my flatmate. He nuzzled his head against my hand and let out a loud purr.

"Yes. Let's get you some dinner." 

I unwrapped my scarf and doffed my hat, adding it to the pile on the chair; my handbag acting as the cherry on top before I followed Jules to the kitchen. Jax trailed behind, rumbling like a little motor.

"Ugh. Does he have to walk all over the worktop?" she asked, distastefully eyeing the white fluff that had jumped up and was pacing beside the sink.

"Come on, Jax. Down." I clapped my hands and motioned for him to jump to the floor. He did as he was told and began twining in an out of my legs.

"You should really teach him not to do that," Jules said, scooting out of the kitchen. "You'll trip over him." 

A second later the telly was on and I heard the tune to EastEnders fill the flat.

"I won't trip over you, will I?" I smiled. He only pawed at my leg, entreating me to hurry with his food. I grabbed a can from the cupboard, popped the lid, and served the cat food in Jax's personal bowl.

"I'm going to take a shower," I called out to Jules. She mindlessly waved her hand in acknowledgement.

After a weeks work of the same routine - point A to point B and back to point A - it was nice to just sit a moment with my eyes closed, lying on my bed.

The weekends to me always presented possibilities. My time spent during the week always seemed so formal, so laid out with a lack of possibilities of alterations. My job was a senseless one. It was automatic with a ready made solution to any problem that may arise. There was no testing my abilities nor a need for my brain to think past the boundaries of the four walls of the office. I wanted something different - only I didn't know what it was yet. But it was out there, just like my Mr. Darcy. Patience is all that is required.

With one thought leading to another in a hazy circle of remembering all that had happened that week and what I needed to do to prepare for the next, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Jax came up a moment later, joining me as he fit himself in the nook of my shoulder and neck. Idly, I stroked his fur.

‘Perhaps I should go to the party,’ the thought snuck its way into my considerations. It wouldn't hurt and if Jules was entering the realms of being 'worried' then it would be a step closer to putting her anxieties to rest. And if Dan does come and ask for a dance (though, I'd wager it was only Jules saying that) then I'll deal with it in the mature way that I know I'm capable of. After all, I work in bloody HR. I have ready material in dealing with other humans.

With my mind made up, I discarded my clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water soothed my chilled skin and once I had lathered my body with soap I stood under the spout letting the streams of water run down my shoulders and back. It was numbingly pleasant to just stand there and feel the hot steam build in the room creating a faux sauna that I hoped would seep to the rest of the flat.

When I had finally finished I could hear Jules rummaging around both our cupboards, no doubt searching for something to wear. "You can wear my blue top if you want," I called as I squirmed into my robe and switched on the hairdryer, blasting the warm air into my face. The sooner I warmed up, the better.

"The one with the sweetheart neck?"

"Yeah."

I ruffled my medium length hair, aiming the warm air at the nape of my neck, sending a jolt of gooseflesh down my arms.

"What do you think?" Jules appeared at the door holding up a pair of slim black trousers and the blue sweetheart neck-lined blouse.

"Nice."

"Oh," She slumped her arms, frowning.

"More than nice," I amended, shouting over the droll of the machine in my hand. "The blue will really bring out your eyes."

Said eyes lit up as she examined her outfit. I examined her with furrowed brows.

"You're really putting an effort into tonight," I commented nonchalantly. My hair was becoming relatively dry so I turned the hairdryer off and put it away.

"Well, you know, it's good to make an appearance to show..." she looked up for a second but immediately brought her gaze back down to the clothes as I watched, amused, as she struggled for the word that could possibly explain why she was so eager for an office party.

"...togetherness," she came up with at last.

I turned away, trying my best to hide the grin that was widening fast. "Togetherness," I repeated. From the corner of my eye I saw Jules shift uncomfortably. She was on the verge. Just a second longer.

"Oh, shut up. It's Henry, alright," she blurted.

Sweet victory.

"Henry Ellis from I.T.?"

"Yeah," she came in and sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

"He's been helping me with my computer, as you know, and I don't know. I hadn't really looked at him before - he's not re-"

"Really your type," I finished for her.

"But he's been very sweet," she continued, "and I was hoping that tonight - "

"Tonight you might have the chance to see what he shaves with tomorrow?" I interrupted again.

"No," she said immediately. Then she cringed a little. "Well, maybe a bit. But I don't want it to be just one night. I -" she hesitated.

"Yes?" I stopped my flossing and stared at Jules's reflection in the mirror. She looked up, shrugging her shoulders.

"I want to know him."

I didn't answer at first. I wasn't at a loss of words, but I knew Jules and I knew her temperament. If I gave her a sweet sappy line she'd huff to cover up her moment of vulnerability. Strange ways does the mind work. So I waited for her to follow up.

"That's one of the reasons I wanted you to come tonight."

I tossed the floss into the rubbish bin, slid my tongue smoothly over my clean teeth, and turned to face my uncomfortable friend on the toilet.

"Not to worry, dear one," I playfully patted her head, "I'm coming with you." I then pranced out, leaving her on the throne and went to search for something decent to wear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

My memory of the last office party was a pathetic one. Half the people were drunk and the other half were on their way there. The dancing had been non-existent unless you counted bodies loosely pressed together moving in a lazy circle, looking more like two forms just trying to keep each other propped up. The food had been passable but the music was the playlist of a fifteen year old hormonal teenager.

That was three years ago. Presently, I had to admit that improvements had been made. There was a tolerable amount of alcohol but not enough to get the entire gathering inebriated; actual couples were dancing in rhythm to the music, which was, thankfully, pleasant to the ears. The only thing that remained the same was the food. But still everyone had something in their mouths; eating mainly because it was there rather than anything else.

Jules, never a timid one, and bolstered by my accompanying her, had succeeded in getting Henry to ask her to dance. Though he seemed very willing. She winked at me with a flirtatious smile spreading winningly across her face as they passed by me. I rolled my eyes and turned away. Best not to encourage any bad behaviour on her part.

Night stood guard at the windows; dark, yet brilliantly illuminated by the added lights of the season, providing its glow even to us who were on the seventh floor. Pedestrians, cars, double-deckers, and all the rest of the multitudes that made up London’s lifeblood looked incredibly small from this height.  

As of yet, I'd seen no hint of Dan. I nearly convinced myself that I wasn't looking for him, but by the time the doors leading to the hall opened for the tenth time and my head spun around to see who it was coming in, I knew that, despite my best efforts, I was anticipating him.

My plastic cup was in need of refilling so I slowly took my time to the punch table. There was only one other person there handling the ladle but they were quick with filling up their cup and walking away. I stepped forward and reached for the handle when my hand collided with someone else's.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see - " I looked up to be met with a grinning Dan. He was the same as ever; great hair, charming smile, big blue eyes and all it did was remind me of how stupid I had been.

"Hi Dan," I attempted calm, therefore it was unwise of me to reach for the ladle again. You would think that I'd be used to seeing him as we work in the same building, but our offices are on different floors so our paths rarely crossed. With neither of us seeking each other out as we used to, we could go a good month before we caught sight of each other.

"Hey Sophe," he gently pulled the ladle from my clumsy grip and poured out the punch into my waiting cup. He then did the same for himself.

"How are you?" he asked, not looking at me.

"I'm good. You?"

"Oh, you know. I'm always fine." He deposited the ladle and took a sip of the warm liquid.

"I see Jules is still making her conquests." He motioned with his cup towards the pair now with their arms completely wrapped around each other. I couldn't help but laugh, feeling much lighter as I did so.

"Yes, well, she claims her intentions are entirely honourable. I guess we'll just have to take her word for it."

"Ooh, always a dangerous thing to do," he said. Setting down his cup, he extended his open hand to me. I looked at it blankly.

"Care to?" he asked. I raised my eyes to his - thinking. He watched the wheels turning just beyond the barrier of flesh and bone, waiting with a slow smile touching just the side of his lips. Steeling myself, I hastily placed my cup beside his and accepted his hand.

He led us to the side of the dancing, no doubt remembering my shyness in the area of 'movin' and groovin'. The song currently playing came to an end and was succeeded by a much slower one. I gulped inconspicuously as I felt his hand come round my waist while his other held my right hand in a firm hold. We swayed slightly, moving in an easy circle. I kept my attention on the dancers, too nervous to look up into Dan's face. I knew he had his eyes on me, I could feel it and it just brought back old emotions and feelings that stung with a prevalence that brought a guilty flavour to my mouth.

The hand on my waist tugged me just a tad closer and I put my hands softly on his chest; finally looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm just...not ready yet." All my HR training left me to deal with my personal life. Suppose fair's fair when I never liked the job anyway.

He dropped his hold on me and nodded once, an accepting expression appeared on his face that wasn't quite a grin, but he tried nevertheless. Step by step I retreated, continuing to apologize.

"I'll see you around," I finished weakly. He let out a good-humoured bark and shook his head.

"You won't. But it was nice to see you tonight, Soph."

I smiled. "You too."

I slipped behind some dancers and went in search of Jules. I found her and Henry sitting closely together at a table in the corner. They were oblivious to the rest of the room and were completely unaware of my presence standing not a foot away.

"Ahem," I dramatically cleared my throat.

"Sophe," Jules tore her attention away from Henry, an apparently difficult task to accomplish.

"I think I'm going to go home," I told her. That gained a larger portion of her attention."

"What? Why?"

"Headache," I lied. "I'll see you later." I saw that she was of two minds; she clearly wanted to get the truth from me, but neither did she want to let Henry slip away.

"Alright, see you later then," she decided, though her eyes told me that she'd be asking later. I nodded, bid the pair goodnight, and then began the trek home.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jax was cuddled up snugly in my arms, purring contentedly. I couldn't say I shared his ease of mind. Though I did have a remedy for it. 

Pride & Prejudice was loading within the antique chambers of our dated television; a mug of hot cocoa was held comfortably in both my hands, and my favorite red blanket was draped over my knees. The expansive sofa was as comfy as ever.

"Ahh," I sighed, already relaxing as the first notes of the 1995 theme of the mini-series played out of the telly. Time past and I was on the third episode, wishing that I could enter that world and escape from all things modern; jobs; relationships; food (well, some food), when my bladder made itself known. Jax was none to pleased at having to depart from his warm spot, but he didn't have much say in the matter.

I slid down the cramped hall in my socks and consequently nearly lost my balance. With my duty done, I washed up and was just walking back into the sitting room when I unexpectedly tripped over something and came tumbling to the floor. My head painfully grazed the side of the wall and I saw stars momentarily. When my vision cleared I looked to see what it was that had tripped me.

"Jax!" I exclaimed. An ironic laugh escaped my lips as I thought back to Jules's earlier comment just this day.

"Our flatmate may have some hidden powers Jax. Unless it's only that you can understand us and thought it would be a good idea to prove her right."

I scooped him up, bringing ourselves back to the sofa. My head spun suddenly, though, and I had to shut my eyes as I dropped down on the cushions. Jax squirmed out of my arms and went somewhere behind me. I lowered my head into my hands and grumbled out Jax's name in a very accusatory tone. My only response was a loud purr.

"Well this won't do." 

I opened my eyes and cautiously made my way to the kitchen in search of some paracetamol. Finding my target, I turned the cold tap on and filled a glass to the brim. Popping the tablet into my mouth, I had the water chase it down.

Meanwhile, I noticed the suspect lounging luxuriously on my red blanket, grooming himself with gusto, utterly unaware of my glaring eyes. I turned the telly off, yanked the blanket from under him and stumbled to my room, catching the shocked growl. I smirked.

My bed welcomed me while my pillow enveloped my spinning head in soft comfort. The edge of my mattress dipped slightly, announcing the disgruntled presence of Jax. Though a bit miffed, he still curled himself up by my head.

"Night, night Jax," I murmured.

Sleep claimed me swiftly, yet my dreams were turbulent with shifting images of Jules, Dan, Henry, Pride & Prejudice, and a shadowy version of Mr. Darcy made up entirely of animate sentences — everything that had been swirling in my subconscious for the past twenty-four hours. The strangest part came when I appeared to be in a dark, circular tunnel moving fast. I could see nothing distinguishable to prove this, although there was a whip-like wind rushing into and past my face. The speed almost became overwhelming and I felt myself starting to waken.

But suddenly there was a light coming from the other end of the tunnel. I watched as it seemed that this light and myself would collide, though I was surprisingly calm about it. The light grew closer and from its glow I saw a figure flying towards me. It was a young woman, probably near to my own age, with rich brown hair and shining eyes. I didn't notice much else as she and I were about to crash. We both saw the other and looks of astonishment passed our features before all went black and my sleep continued undisturbed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The sun streamed into my room, sprawling across my bed and shining strongly onto my closed eyelids. I lifted my arm to cover my face and rolled on my side reaching for Jax.

"Jax?" 

I moved my hand around with my eyes still shut. When I couldn't feel him, I opened my eyes and looked around.

I was struck immediately by the foreign room I was currently lying in. The furniture were all antiques, though to my untrained eyes, the pieces were in wonderful condition. There was a wash stand in the corner and an ewer sitting beside it. A small writing desk was positioned near a display of windows and the bed that I lay stunned in was a four poster with sheets and covers that were definitely not mine.

I blinked. Then blinked again. I rubbed my eyes and another wave of shock hit me. Instead of the loose jumper and baggy trousers I wore to bed, I was presently dressed in a nightgown with flared cuffs.

"What?!" I breathed.

There was no sign of my red blanket nor Jax. But one thing at a time. Gingerly, I uncovered my legs and swung them out of the bed. Crumpled slippers lay waiting to be worn so I complied and stood shakily on my feet. My head felt better in regards to the fall last night, but with my new surroundings an all new sort of dizziness was coming over me.

'Maybe I'm still dreaming,' I thought. I pinched myself. 

"Ow!" 

Not dreaming then.

I rubbed the sore skin on my arm as I warily walked over to the writing desk. There were a couple of quills, a spare nib and an ink stand, but no papers. Pulling open the drawers I found a trove of letters. Before I scanned any of them my attention was caught by the view provided outside the window.

The city was gone. Buildings, lights, noise - vanished and replaced with the quiet calm of the country.

"What the -?" My voice scratched but I ignored it. Before allowing myself to freak out fully I picked up a letter, unsent by the look of its creaseless body,on the very top. It was addressed to a ‘Dear aunt’ but it was the signature at the bottom that numbed my fingers and had me seriously questioning my sanity.

Your loving niece

~Elizabeth Bennet

"Elizabeth Bennet?" I whispered. The letter fell from my hand with a quiet shuffle as I spun around to observe the room anew. Quaint, simple, elegant, things generally acquainted with the heroine. Atop the wash stand there was a mirror and I tripped over to it.

I thought I might scream. Not only was the city gone - I was gone. This face that stared at me in the reflection was not my own. The brown hair, the big brown eyes belonged to somebody else. The curving lips and pert nose were the expressions of another person entirely.

"What?!"

Hands that were not mine obeyed my thoughts and brought the limbs up to clasp the face of the stranger's, pulling it in every direction.

"What the hell is happening?" I said a tad louder. The hands grasped the throat and the big brown eyes widened. It wasn't even my voice!

I stumbled back until the back of my knees met the curve of the bed and I sat down, or, should I say the body sat down.

I was scared. I was scared of where I was. I was scared to leave the room. I didn't know what may be out there, so I deliberated. I thought of last night and a torrent of memories flooded back of all the strange dreams I had had. 

That tunnel with that girl. 

It was her! 

That was Elizabeth Bennet?!

"That means," I said aloud, marveling at the strange tone that emitted from me, "I'm in Elizabeth Bennet's body!"

Once spoken my mind reeled and I had no choice but to fall back and pass out.