william-clayton-blog

[william-clayton-blog]

wearingxspots‌:

Cruella smirked, stirring her drink. She listened with genuine interest. Not many men in Swynlake could say they got this particular reaction to their tales. Then again, Clayton, Smith or otherwise, was a person whose beliefs were in line with Cruella’s, and that was satisfying.

“Oh, my darling. I’m positive they’re much more than rumors,” she said, “though I have no proof. It’s not exactly well seen for an esteemed Board Member to ask around for that nowadays. That’s why I prefer to outsource.”

She leaned over the table, getting closer to the man. “Of course, my dear Mister Smith,” she cheekily said, “that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in helping you if you need it. After all, you’ve already been a great help in the past yourself. If all goes well? I see a bright future for us, financial and otherwise.”

William raised an eyebrow. ‘Financial and otherwise.’ The idea enticed him. Her help, however, he could likely do without. He was always more efficient alone-- if anything, he could use her subtle assistance in covering any tracks he may leave. Cruella (for whatever reason) was based in Swynlake, the people knew of her-- some no doubt trusted her word. He could use that. 

The waiter came out with their starter soups, but William waved his hand before he could serve them. “I think we’ll jump to the main course, my good chap.” As the waiter retreated with an awkward bow, William studied Cruella. “I apologize, my dear, I simply don’t want to waste our entire evening in a stuffy steakhouse.” 

No, William certainly had other plans for them.  He wasn’t exactly romantic: acting in such a way was more of a means to an end. A woman like Cruella posed a specific type of challenge-- one that demanded excellence. 

He only had one destination in mind after leaving the restaurant and yet he mused casually, “Still so much of Swynlake to see,” with a knowing smile as he took another sip of his drink.

Not Business, but Pleasure || Cruella & William

[william-clayton-blog]

[william-clayton-blog]

the-duchess-lablanc‌:

She found it strange that even though he was from England his shop was based out of Switzerland. It was a good ways to go from here. But what did she know about construction companies and prime locations? What did she know about prime location for any business? Her own business had been made new here. She’d built it up from nothing. And it had been burned down just as easily.

“Swynlake is anything but peaceful,” she stated plainly, looking over towards William. No, any travel guide that said that was lying. Probably a trick of the town to bring people in and generate some sort of revenue. A clever trick, however. Effective, too, in that people still flocked to the town like it was something special. Only the people that lived there year round knew the truth. “If anything it is the cause of all of this. My shoppe being burnt down and many of the other buildings being destroyed and rebuilt time and time again.”

Hell, maybe the town would need this gentleman. A skilled construction worker who could make things more efficient for the buildings and the people that owned them. “I had paused construction because I was too busy to oversee.” She explained, though he hadn’t exactly asked about that. “That is why it still looks as it does.”

William blew out a puff of air as though he felt for her. As if he wanted to do nothing more than jump at the chance to help this damsel in distress. In reality, he was laughing at her. Of course, he thought, you moved to a place that thinks Magicks deserve all the same rights as humans. What did you expect? 

He rubbed the scruff of his 5 o’clock shadow and said, “You know if I were in town any longer...” He trailed off. “Well, no use thinking in the hypotheticals. Though, if you still need someone to take over the reconstruction after this summer, you should look into my company.” His hand went to his back pocket before he snapped as if he just remembered something. “I don’t have any on me now, but remind me to give you my card... just in case.” 

“And if you don’t mind me asking, what compelled you to open your shoppe in Swynlake? Did you grow up here? It just didn’t seem like the safest place to start up a business.” 

Elegance Worth Protecting || Duchess & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

attina-the-responsible‌:

Attina listened again, to the point where she forgot to finish ringing the bloke up. She got very bored, here in this shoppe, sometimes. It wasn’t stimulating. Of course, Attina liked the organizing. That soothed her. But even Attina Triton could get bored of organizing when it was all she did 7 hours a day. She missed, sometimes, school–and keeping her brain entertained in much more productive ways. Not that she would ever dwell on such thoughts.

Still, it was such a relief to have a new face in. 

She tilted her head at the mention of his work, pouting at just the right time as he mentioned how they would recall him before his vacation was over. That wasn’t very fair, was it? She was lucky she made her own schedule. (Though, she also, often, had to cover for Andrina.)

“Well, I hope you get your 20°C day by the lake!” Attina told him, and very much meant it. “Atlantis is just beautiful in the summertime. There are always something happening too.”

She glanced down. “Oh, uhm–that’ll be 130 quid,” she told him with a little smile.

“What is it you do, then?”“ she asked as they exchanged currency. 

Handing over his credit card William smiled. “I work in construction.” It was simple. Believable. And an alias he pulled out often, so the lies were well rehearsed. “Started the company about a decade ago-- and as you run your own shoppe here, I’m sure you know vacation time wasn’t an option those first couple years.”

His eyes lingered on the redhead. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a sharp voice told him to stop wasting time and to get to the point. It was a delicate act of asking questions and not seeming like he was snooping.

“I came to Swynlake unplug for a bit.” A smile grew across his lips and he quirked an eyebrow before continuing. “However, I somehow missed the fact that this town has a curfew.” He said it like it was funny like he didn’t yet know about the attacks. “I guess that’s not something they highlight in the traveler’s guide.” 

Little Red || Attina & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

wearingxspots‌:

Was it too much to ask for men in general to be more like Clayton? It often felt like chivalry was lost, but maybe it wasn’t that bad yet.

“Clayton Smith? Why, that’s a rather… common name, is it not?” she critiqued. “Though I do understand the value of a name that might go unnoticed. I’m afraid to say, my dear, you will not go unnoticed yourself, either way.”

Cruella smiled. “But of course I will help. You don’t have to worry,” she conceded. “Now, what business is this? I do hope it’s one I can benefit from myself. After all, I could use an excuse to have you over for tea every once in a while, Mister Smith,” she devilishly smirked, holding up her glass.

William’s lips curled into a wicked smile. It was obvious that courting someone he was known to do business with was an unwise risk to take. Perhaps Cruella would become sentimental. She would take it personally if he left town without a moment’s notice. The long-time partnership between Cruella De Vil and William Clayton would be over. 

But William Clayton wasn’t in Swynlake...

Clayton Smith was. And he was on holiday. 

“Splendid.” He took his time taking a sip of his drink. Letting the whiskey soak on his tongue and drinking a good fraction of glass before swallowing. 

“I suppose it’s not so much business as it is a personal endeavor-- one that would be good for business should I succeed.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at his date. For a moment he wanted to tell her of the mermaid scales he hoped to bring her, the werewolf’s coat, or even a vampire’s venom which she could use for dye. For a moment, he considered asking for leads: it was said Magicks ran rabid in this town, so where were they?

“What do you know of the rumors of mermaids in Atlantis Lake?” He asked, lightly swirling the ice in his whiskey glass.  

Not Business, but Pleasure || Cruella & William

[william-clayton-blog]

the-duchess-lablanc‌:

As he offered her his hand, Duchess looked at it warily. Did she trust him? Not at all. With Phoebus gone there was only a strange gut feeling that she could trust. One that he had helped cultivate in his own peculiar way. This man was a stranger and while he looked the part of a construction worker there was something that she did not explicitly trust about him. 

“Duchess LaBlanc,” she took his hand gingerly. “I can hardly say I was bored. Though not much of that made any sense to me. I do not speak construction.” a soft laugh slipped from her lips as her hand returned to her stomach. It was rather funny how protective she had become over the life growing inside her. So much so that her first instinct was to protect it from anyone that she deemed untrustworthy.

She took a step back as her hand slipped from his and turned towards her building, giving it an assessing gaze. “Have you just moved here? I don’t recall reading up on any 100% sustainable construction companies while I was looking for someone to rebuild the shoppe.”

“We’re based in Switzerland,” William said, plainly. “Though I am originally from Buckinghamshire, hence why I tend to take holidays in England. –Pop into the country with a quick ‘hello’ to Mum before finding somewhere quiet to unplug for a couple weeks.” With a light chuckle, William ran a hand through his hair and mirrored the blonde by taking a step back and examining the building.  

Duchess LaBlanc. He recognized her named from the petition. She was beautiful… but guarded, almost to the point of rigidity. And William wondered if it had anything to do with how her shoppe had burned down. Had she been targeted? Were Magicks involved?

“I thought Swynlake was going to be a peaceful, enchanting town… Though, I suppose my travel guide might be a bit outdated. I’m sorry for what happened to your shoppe, Miss LaBlanc. I hope it gives you a chance to rebuild in more ways than one.”

Elegance Worth Protecting || Duchess & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

attina-the-responsible‌:

Attina had always been too friendly for her own good. One might think that it had something to do with the fact that you were never allowed to be yourself and desperately wanted to be, and wanted people to like you–so that you could prove you weren’t an animal.

However true that might be (and it certainly made things worse for Tina later in life), Attina had always been this way. Why do you think it was she made friends so easily with Simba and Nala? As the older sibling, she wasn’t allowed to be shy. Though, none of her sisters were really shy, save Alana–who had more or less grown out of it. (How much of a performance that was, Attina wouldn’t really be able to say, but she had her theories.) That just made it worse, because Attina’s sense of boundaries had never really existed with sisters bursting into each other’s rooms and talking about their bikini waxes or the weird new freckle on their breast. 

Living in a town like Swynlake didn’t help either, though Attina had to always remember that tourists, especially British ones, weren’t used to the chirpy, friendly antique shoppe manager.

But, thankfully the man took it well and Attina listened intently to all he had to say, forgetting the bauble on the table between them with her intent. And she wondered about the holiday alone in the middle of the year (it was almost tourist season but not quite.) Maybe he was escaping a heartbreak or–maybe his father’s death had been recent and he needed to get away for a while.

She popped up on her toes so she could lean over the counter to examine the compass in the man’s hand. It stood out starkly against his tanned skin, all polished and shining.

“Oh my gosh, it’s lovely,” she told him. “It’s so unfortunate it is a little bit broken.” But Tina herself always had a soft spot for broken things.

She fell back onto her toes. “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Compass, but you’re a bit of a collector,” she teased as she went back to ringing up his purchase. The system was slow and took so long to do anything at all.

“Soo, how long are you here on your vacation?” she asked to fill the empty air. “Swynlake is really nice this time of year, still quiet before the hoards start rolling in, so you came at a good time.”

Upon being gifted a new nickname, William chuckled easily. 

‘Easily’ in the sense that nothing he did under a false identity was real, only that some things were easier to fake than others. Chatting with Little Red here was proving to be far more entertaining than William expected. 

With a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, he took a slight breath in and bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, silently accepting her diagnosis of his antiquing habits. 

The register beeped and chimed; it was his mistake to not have expected an archaic shoppe to have archaic technology.

After slipping the compass back into his wallet, William rested his forearm on the counter and leaned in. It was only to appear to look casual, but now he was closer to the redhead in both height and proximity. “It’s like you’ve read the inside of my mind,” he laughed lightly. “I love playing the tourist and exploring new places, but only when I’m not swimming in a sea of other tourists. Damn whoever invented the selfie stick.”

He thought about saying he would be in town until the end of summer-- a very reasonable deadline for him to complete his mission. "I’m sure I’ll be gone before it gets too crowded here. I can do work for my company remotely, but it’s likely they’ll need something that will cut my vacation short.” His smile faltered. “Seems to happen every year.” 

A beat.

Tone changed and eyes brightening once more, William shook his head. “I apologise, I don’t mean to bore you with trivial matters. I also prefer this time of year to the dead of summer. My skin runs warm, so a 20°C day by the lake is perfect for me.” 

Little Red || Attina & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

the-duchess-lablanc‌:

Of course it was her shop. What person would yell at someone staring at a building? If it wasn’t her shop why would she even care about that? She wasn’t that person to get into anyone’s business because she had nothing better to do with her time. If someone wanted to snoop around someone else’s property that was their problem. 

But this was her property and that building had known anything other than trouble thanks to this town. Some random, unknown man staring at it only served to raise multiple red flags. 

“This is my shoppe and I have a team of contractors working on it already,” she sniffed as she came closer to the man. In his defense, he did look like a construction worker. In a ruggedly handsome way. But were those his true intentions? Worry about some load bearing walls? Swynlake and it’s most recent events had left her with nothing but rising suspicion.

“I have never seen a construction worker just stop at a building to look at it’s walls. So I am sure you can understand my trepidation in your intentions, Mister…?”

“Clayton Smith,” William said, offering her his hand to shake. He wasn’t certain she would take it, but it was his job to appear friendly and harmless. 

“And you have a fair point, Miss. I, however, perhaps am not your average construction worker. I run a company that builds 100% sustainable housing. In addition to solar, our designs focus on hydropower, and well- long story short, a lot of the hydrologic machinery pipes through load-bearing walls... 

Now I’ve not only startled you but bored you as well. Not my best first impression, I suppose.” The sustainable constructor was an alias William pulled out often. Nothing said harmless like an environmentalist. 

Elegance Worth Protecting || Duchess & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

wearingxspots‌:

Cruella didn’t usually like people thinking they knew what she wanted to order. But alas, this time around, it was evident that the man had done his research well, so she decided to not mention it. After all, they were having a good time so far.

“Oh, darling, you’re very right about that,” she agreed with a nod. “Though I can definitely understand why you don’t visit Swynlake often. It’s not the best of places, I’m afraid. I’m trying to change that, of course, but let’s just say people are too ignorant to be cooperative.”

The woman smiled. “It’s good to meet business associates, of course, so I’m glad you’re here. I must admit, you’re different from how I pictured you from the phone calls. Not that it’s a disappointment, my dear. Not at all.”

This was going swimmingly. 

“You’re simply too kind,” he said with a grin, eyes darkening from the compliment. “And had I known you were so stunning I would have flown us somewhere that would be worthy of your radiance.” As the waiter came with their drinks, he barely acknowledged him, simply taking his drink off the tray and taking a sip as the waiter handed Cruella her martini. “Moscow in the springtime is nice, for example,” he said, putting his glass down. 

“There was something I wanted to discuss,” William confessed, “while we’re on the topic of my coming to Swynlake.” If he were a betting man, and he was, he’d bet good money already this night was going to end in his favor.  “I’m here on business, actually. My pseudonym is Clayton Smith.” His eyes held hers, always studying, waiting for a reaction. “So, if you wouldn’t mind upholding my little charade with me, these magick-friendly insects aren’t hard to fool.” 

Not Business, but Pleasure || Cruella & William

[william-clayton-blog]

[william-clayton-blog]

the-duchess-lablanc‌:

Duchess had stopped construction on her studio in Swynlake. While it was something she wanted to get done desperately, there was just too much going on in her life. The stress of making sure everything was done perfectly and to her preference as well as everything with the Board and her fashion line… Simply put, Duchess LaBlanc could not handle it. Not on her own and there weren’t very many people she could trust with this.

Still, she visited every so often as a way to remind herself that she still had a future in Swynlake and with her desires going forward. 

Her hand rested against her stomach as she moved towards it now, brows furrowing as she took in the figure standing there. In all the time that it’d been left alone there hadn’t ever been a soul there other than her. But now… She didn’t understand why there was someone there. It seemed as if they were waiting or trying to figure something out. 

An act that rubbed Duchess the wrong way. What business of theirs was it? It was her building.

“Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing? That sign says no trespassing.”

Anger twinged through William’s body as someone called out to him.  Couldn’t he get two seconds in this god forsaken town without being interrup--

Oh. 

Well, this was fine. 

“I’m so sorry, Miss. How alarming this must look-- I do apologize.” Stepping away from the building, William studied the young woman as she approached him. She was holding her stomach, though whether she were pregnant, or simply odd, he couldn’t tell. 

Giving the blonde a charming, apologetic smile, William shook his head and put his hands up in surrender. “I work in construction, so when I see a project in progress my brain kicks in to autopilot. I was just looking to see if those two load-bearing walls need to be replaced.” 

“Is this your shop?”

Elegance Worth Protecting || Duchess & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

vattina-the-responsible‌:

Attina blinked a little in surprise when the man mentioned his father dying. Not that it was particularly odd, some people were rather open about that sort of thing. Even among her sisters, some were more vocal than others (looking at you, Andrina.) Attina, herself, had always held that card close to her chest. It was rather obvious, she knew, and most everyone in Swynlake knew anyway, but she still just–didn’t bring it up to strangers.

Though, that didn’t mean her heart didn’t twist in sympathy. It most certainly did. Her eyes got all soft and gentle. Even thought he was, yeah, talking about guns and war, Attina still felt for him. For what he had lost. She knew that nothing could replace that kind of ache. 

She laughed lightly at his Churchill comment, giving him an empathetic smile in return. It wasn’t appropriate, really, for her to say me too, I understand, but–she kind of felt like she wanted to. 

Instead, she just glanced down at the compass that he gestured to after a moment of looking into his eyes.

“Oh? Well, I suppose they make sense. They’re rather fragile,” she agreed with a little nod of her head. “Do you collect compasses or antiques? You seem to know an awful lot. Sorry–I don’t mean to keep you, I can be awfully nosy,” she said as she gingerly pulled the compass towards her so she could start the process of ringing him up.

Flirting with women was like playing an instrument. William knew which chords to play to catch a lady’s interest-- to inspire the sway before the dance. The carefully chosen words, planned pauses, meaningful glances, and the occasional touch was enough to get most people to melt into the palm of his hand. It was a patience game. It was about being interesting and aloof enough to spark curiosity. 

With this redhead, William got the sense that everything about this situation said: fragility. For starters, they were in a stale antique shop that looked to have crossed the line from ‘cluttered’ to ‘trashy’ years ago. He felt as though he’d break something by simply breathing too hard. Then there was the redhead-- a fragile soul, no doubt. She was the standard woman stature of small and meek, to his manly prestige, large and bold. He felt as though if he said something too loudly, she would shatter. This meant whatever they talked about had to be delicate, so he could match her energy. 

As her hand went for the compass, William waited for their fingers to brush before releasing it to her. 

“No please, I don’t mind,” He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, trying to give off an air of humility as he stared at the counter. “I’m here alone on holiday, and I mean, coming from the city you really do forget how nice it is to meet someone new and actually talk with people.” He said it all without pausing-- it was background information he wanted her to have, not that he wanted her to comment on. 

“I, how do I put this, appreciate craftsmanship?” Chuckling again to himself, his eyes looked to hers once more. “I’m not a collector no, and I wouldn’t claim to know more than your average customer, but growing up around my father... Let’s just say I have a very select, limited amount of antique knowledge... and okay, yeah, I may have a slight thing for compasses.” 

“I don’t show this to many people,” he said to Attina as he reached into his wallet, “but this is one of my most prized possessions.” William pulled out a small, silver plated compass face. No bigger than a £1 coin, the glass on the compass was gone and the arrows wouldn’t turn. “It was a gift from my grandfather. You can probably see why I’ve been in the market for a new one. I guess today is my lucky day.”

Little Red || Attina & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

wearingxspots‌:

Good business relationships were key when you were in a business that most ignorant people preferred to mark off as savage, unnecessary and treacherous.

And sure, it was all that. But what was so bad about it? Many things were unnecessary, but people celebrated them. Let’s see them gather in a bar for a finale of a terrible Lord of the Rings rip-off television series, or paint their faces in clashing colors to watch twenty-two people kick a ball around for two hours.

No, they liked to get on Cruella’s nerves, and it was only because they were jealous of her. They were jealous of her success and her empire, and the way she revolutionized the fashion industry.

And even though she would love to take full credit for that, it wouldn’t be right. There were important associates, such as the man she was to see that day, that made it all possible.

William Clayton was a very respectable and pleasant person to deal with. He and Cruella had achieved a magnificent partnership and worked together for quite a while, but they’d never actually met in person. Now that the man was seemingly passing through town, they arranged something.

Her arrival was, as always, marked by ovations in the form of fearful looks. She knew they meant respect. However, she was pleasantly surprised by his acquaintance immediately being a gracious gentleman.

What’s more, he was a snack.

“It’s as pleasant as Swynlake gets, I’m afraid,” she commented. “If there’s something I miss about London is the variety. But it will do, darling. I trust your voyage here went well?”

After pushing in Cruella’s chair, William sat down across from her. “It did,” he said, with a light smile. “These days with private air travel and roaming internet, the work never has to stop, and I’m sure you would agree,” he paused for effect, drinking her in for a moment, “that is a wonderful thing.” 

Not that he ever wasted time on ‘travel days’ before-- there were always studies to read on the most cutting-edge weaponry, or different hunting styles and tactics from different cultures or throughout history... But the travel experience of the wealthy and elite was just another day of the best money could buy. 

As if on cue their waiter arrived. William interrupted him in the middle of his spiel about the specials. 

Eyes locked on Cruella, he said, “I believe I know our drink order,” before looking at their waiter. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, or smug even, he just simply didn’t care to waste their time by listening to wait staff babble on when the decision had already been made. “I’ll take a glass of your W.L. Weller Whiskey, straight. And for the lady...” Again, glancing over to Cruella her elegance touched him. He smiled at her and looked back to their waiter. “A gin martini, up, with a twist, and use the Eden Mill Oak Gin.” Martinis, a small detail he managed to pull from one of Cruella’s assistants. 

“We should have done this a long time ago,” he said, once they were alone again. 

Not Business, but Pleasure || Cruella & William

[william-clayton-blog]

every-last-inch-of-me‌:

Gaston blinked at the already empty beer. That was… quick. And as someone who had no self-control and was partial to getting paralytic at the best of times, he wondered quite what this stranger was made of. Or whether he’d be hauling a man who was almost half a head taller than him and just as well built, out of the bar at the end of the night.

He poured it anyway and slid the pint back as he listened to the story of his childhood hunting trips and the faint arse-kissing. He nearly recognised it, though not quite. And even if he had accepted it as arse-kissing, he’d probably still grasp it with two hands. He liked people treating him like he was impressive because, in short, he was. His arse deserved to be kissed and his ego to be stroked. Compared to the rest of the shits in this town, he was basically a God.

“Gaston Lacarriere,” he said, grasping the mans hand to shake. There was something about people his own size, men especially, that invited his handshakes to border on arm wrestles. He liked to grip so hard they thought he’d rip their hands off and this Clayton Smith was no different. If anything, he looked at him and saw more of a challenge. “Well, you made your first stop the right one. Lived here all my life. I an give you a few tips.” He squeezed the man’s hand a little harder. “Welcome to Swynlake.”

Well, he’s got a grip, William thought, dryly. A sturdy handshake was one thing... He had to restrain himself from narrowing his eyes, wondering if this were some sort of challenge. Instead, he smiled chummily and met Gaston’s grip. 

“I’d love any tips you’re willing to share, my friend,” he said, releasing the man’s hand and spreading his arms in an opening gesture. “Despite being such a small town, it seems like some of England’s wildest rumors stem from Swynlake.” William kept his eyes on Gaston for a moment, studying him to spot his initial, immediate reaction.  It was not unlike studying an animal you’ve cornered. Would they run, try to fight, or simply freeze? Any reaction would point him in the direction of his answers.  

Testing the waters. That’s all William was trying to do. This was a long-con. It would take time, and patience, and vague inquiries. 

Not wanting to seem too interested, William took the first sip of his second beer, giving himself an excuse to remain silent and let the statement hang in the air however long Gaston would let it. 

Stags || Wild Hunt

[william-clayton-blog]

attina-the-responsible‌:

Work was boring.

Work was always boring, but it always grew especially tedious in the spring and summer months, while everyone was out enjoying the sunshine. Whosits and Whatsits, no matter Attina’s best efforts, remained, always, a little dark, a little dingy. The perfect aesthetic of an antique shoppe. Problem was, it wasn’t Attina’s aesthetic. It never had been.

Recently, that had become even more clear than before. 

Attina didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the whole Rob and Andrina situation. Not even, really, that they had kissed (though that attributed to the real problem). It was that they acted thick as thieves these days. Always giggling and whispering to each other. Whenever Attina came on the scene, she felt as if she was stepping into something she wasn’t supposed to.

This was a feeling Attina was used to, as the big sister, she was always the one everyone was looking out for. Conversations stopped when she came into the room. She didn’t expect this treatment at work–from her friends. Because Rob was her friend, or had been. 

So, she more or less let Andrina do whatever she wanted. Not show up for her shifts. Show up for her shifts but goof off. Attina just buckled down and tried to push away this strange…missing she felt.

Today, she was doing a rather good job pushing it down, focusing on inputting new acquisitions into the overall database and inventory lists. 

When someone spoke, she looked up, blinked, and blushed immediately.

Oh, he was rather handsome, wasn’t he?

Wait, no. Tina stop that. You’ve a boyfriend. Well, nothing wrong with just thinking it. People were attractive sometimes. It was just a fact.

But, then, he started talking about guns and immediately started losing some of his appeal. (Not that it mattered but, just for the record.)

“Oh, uhm, yes! My uncle got it at–an estate sale, if I remember correctly.” Most of what Scuttle got was from an estate sale, so it was a pretty safe guess, even if she didn’t know for sure. 

“It is a lovely piece. Would you like to look at it closer? I know it is in a case.” 

It was always fun to make a redhead blush. The tint in their cheeks was only complimented by the fiery locks framing their face-- an ego boost he never needed, but nonetheless craved. 

“Oh, that’s alright,” he said dismissively, with a casual glance back to where he saw the strap. “My father was the ultimate WWII buff, you see..” He paused briefly, to make it seem like he was recalling fond memories. “He’s since passed,” William looked into the woman’s eyes and offered a kind, soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “but, I swear, that man had more artifacts than Churchill’s War Room. Though, you’re right, it is a lovely piece, it wouldn’t serve simply collecting dust in my ownership.”

His eyes held hers for a beat longer-- it was easy to pretend to get lost in them-- before he took a deep breath in and looked down at the compass he was holding. “This, however, is something I would like to purchase. You don’t see too many vintage compasses that still have a working clasp.”

Little Red || Attina & Clayton

[william-clayton-blog]

Elegance Worth Protecting || Duchess & Clayton

It was the one place in Swynlake that didn’t fit the pristine, storybook narrative. William stood on the sidewalk as his eyes scoured over the wreckage, searching for evidence of... anything. There had been a fire, that part was obvious, but the clearing away of the rubble and the reconstruction both looked still in-progress. No doubt this destruction had been caused by the magick-heathens of the town.

This ruined shop, he felt, was the true form of Swynlake. Everyone he met thus far was agonizingly chipper. It made him uneasy. Especially since the more he learned about Swynlake’s inhabitants the more he discovered that people were scared, broken, angry... He just had to find a way to fuel that. The kindling was nearly in place, now it was just about finding the right match to strike. His mission was to add a trophy to his collection-- to overshadow his great-grandfather, who was (to his knowledge) the first of his relatives to kill a magick-- but, if he could turn this town anti-magick in the process...

He took a step closer to the shop’s now-missing front window, trying to see if he could spot the name of the establishment anywhere. 

@duchesslablanc

[william-clayton-blog]

every-last-inch-of-me‌: 

Gaston felt a little pride swell in his chest as the man before him admired his work. If there was one thing Gaston loved, it was having his hard work recognised by someone who was - he imagined - a lot like him. After all, knowing your weapons was a good way to sort the boys from the men. And his crossbow was probably the closest thing to a son he loved and cherished, Gaston had planned on having. “Believe me it was. Can’t have too many toys, you know.”

Some men like fast cars and sleek bikes, and while he appreciated the joy in them, he’d always much preferred playing with things that could put a hole in something.

He reached and took a sip of his own drink from behind the bar. Really, he shouldn’t have had one. It was bad practice, so his accountant had told him, when you disregarded the fact that it was also a drain on their funds. But somehow he couldn’t stop himself from pouring one and taking a sip every time he saw the priest’s pet. “You hunt much?”

William nodded along as the man spoke, draining his beer and handing the glass back over with a nod that said ‘Another, please.’ 

Toys. So his hunch was confirmed: this guy was not in the professional realm of hunting. Not that he really needed anymore evidence of that, the man worked in a bar, after all. 

Despite himself, William smiled as Gaston sipped his beer. If half of the people in this town were anything like this bartender, perhaps the first part of his mission (the Getting to Know Swynlake part) wouldn’t be as arduous as he expected. 

“I dabble,” William said, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “My father would take my brothers and I out hunting as kids. So every once in awhile we get together and hunt some game.” This was his favorite part of being undercover, making shit up and watching as people believed lie after lie. It fueled him. “Never caught a stag, though” he went on, raising his eyebrows at the barkeep. “Name’s Clayton, by the way,” he said, moving his beefy arm across the bar to offer a handshake, “Clayton Smith. I’m in town on holiday. Just arrived tonight actually.” 

Stags || Wild Hunt