Title: Crane Gala in London
Description: April 1 1912
Cyrus Liam Crane - December 28, 2010 05:54 AM (GMT)
His dark eyes traced his reflection as he tied his bow tie neatly around his neck. He dipped his fingers in a little bit of oil and slicked his long hair back behind his ears. Cyrus stared at himself momentarily in the mirror before turning to his aunt. Prudence examined him from head to toe, eying him like some sort of specimen. "When are you going to cut your hair? You look like some gutter rat." she commented, letting out a disappointed sigh. A statement like that was considered advice, but Cyrus took it rather insulting. "I enjoy having unique qualities Aunt Prudence, whether they are physical characteristics or personality." he explained, pulling the corners of his lips into a fake grimace.
He was dressing himself for another Gala his family held, in other words another scheme they conspired together in order to push his marriage. No matter how many times he consulted them on his preferences in marriage, they ignored him and still continued their efforts. It was an easy effort too, the Cranes were wealthy and well-known, women came from all around like leeches. Personally, Cyrus enjoyed the company that chose to come for entertainment and not his hand in marriage. "If you find a wife tonight, you don't have to go to America." Prudence stated, attempting to make small talk with her resilient nephew.
Cyrus turned back to the mirror and adjusted his jacket around his chest, buttoning the undercoat slowly. "It is more than just a country Aunt Prudence. It's about going somewhere that is new frontier. About making a new life with a clean slate. You've heard the amazing stories they've told about the Titanic, she's unsinkable and the largest ship in the world. Why wouldn't I want to go to America any other way?" he was speaking the truth; he really was amazed by the ship built to last like a stronghold. Prudence wasn't the woman to talk engineering with, she'd only do what was expected, spread the gossip and rumor about the magnificent Titanic.
"Come April tenth and I'll be sailing across the Atlantic." he said in awe, adjusting his bow tie until it sat perfectly parallel with his chest. Aunt Prudence gave a single look, which meant she approved of his wardrobe and she left silently. Cyrus let out a long, irritated sigh as he looked up at the ceiling. "Just one more Gala.." he muttered to himself, relieved to know he was going to out of his parent's grasp. Alister wasn't finished yet, he was sending Prudence with Cyrus to ensure that their agreement be honored, apparently his son's word wasn't enough. Prudence wasn't that much of a pest, just sick her on someone else, she'll talk for hours about her acting career and gossip about the big shots in theatre.
After perfecting his image in the mirror he left his suite and approached the foyer. It opened up to a large common room, with two marble stair wells opposing each other. He stood on the second floor, a balcony peering over his guests for the large Gala the Cranes threw. They knew how to throw elegant parties that any high-class social couldn't resist. Crane was such a reputable name with positive gossip, but the single status of Cyrus Crane started to bring the family name down and that was something Alister Crane could not accept. His dark eyes observed the crowns of many heads waltzing around the floor.
He watched the sea of people move like waves onto the shore. As serene as it appeared, he had no desire to join them. Every single person there was invited with the intention that they would bring a single woman who could be presentable to Cyrus. It was never directly said that the purpose of this event was to set him in marriage, but a lot of people knew. He hated the way people looked at him and the way they spoke about him. His family had such high reputations and his was slowly diminishing. He slowly walked down the far stair, watching his guests sway with the music playing.
At the bottom of the case a server offered wine to Cyrus and he took a glass gratefully. His parents were engaged in conversation with the Lord Chamberlain and his wife. Prudence found herself an audience to listen to her rant on about her glory days. He brought the glass to his lips and took a small sip, lifting it away from his mouth to smile at passing guests. Cyrus didn't like people who pretended to be something; like a friend or a lover. At least the Gala had decent music to listen to. He closed his eyes as his thoughts followed the notes and he muted every other noise in the common room.
Emily Amelia Wheeler - December 28, 2010 10:44 PM (GMT)
The silky gown lay on Emily’s bed, cleaned and ready to be worn to the Gala she and her mother would be attending that night. Although Emily knew she should be getting ready so that they weren’t rushed to leave, Emily sat on a stool next to her window where the evening light was illuminating her bedroom. Emily leaned her head against the window edge and looked out at the house across the street. Emily had just watched her best friend Bethany enter that house and she now found herself half hoping to see a familiar face that she knew she would never see again. Emily closed her eyes and tried to imagine that face as well as not give into tears which threatened to overflow if she thought too much about the situation.
“Emily, are you getting ready?” Emily heard her mother’s voice and sighed as she remembered the event that was supposed to take place that evening. A Gala was not an ideal event that Emily wished to attend, she never had been one for large crowds of people which made living in London quite a pain sometimes. Emily longed for less claustrophobic spaces and less people constantly around her.
Sometime later, Emily and her mother were on their way to the Gala. She wore elbow length white gloves and a light green feather which matched her gown in her elegantly wrapped up honey colored hair. Emily and her mother sat in silence as they traveled although eventually Mrs. Wheeler broke the silence. “What do you know about the Crane family?”
“Not much,” Emily admitted. “Other than they are first class and will be traveling on the Titanic with us.”
Mrs. Wheeler nodded and was silent for a moment before continuing. “The Cranes are a good family, very respectable. They have a son, Cyrus, who is about your age. Unmarried in fact.”
Emily looked at her mother and frowned slightly. Why should it matter to her if the son of the Crane family was unmarried? Emily looked back out the window; she didn’t have anything to say in answer to her mother and decided to not break the silence. Mrs. Wheeler opted to continue talking, not taking much notice of Emily’s silence. “Well, to keep it simple Alister Crane is hoping that his son will get married soon which is why we are invited. You are an eligible woman that Cyrus might marry.”
It took a moment for those words to sink in with Emily and she blinked a couple times, surprised. Her surprise turned to anger and hurt a moment later. “You want me to marry someone I probably will not love? So soon after… after” Emily’s voice trailed off for though she thought of William often she tried very hard to not speak about him. Mrs. Wheeler frowned.
“William was a good lad, but he’s dead now. You need to move on and find a suitable husband. Why not take this chance that has been offered?”
The carriage suddenly stopped, Emily fought the tears that came from her mother’s careless words. There was no time to say anything as the carriage door was opened and once Emily and Mrs. Wheeler were outside, Mrs. Wheeler took Emily’s arm as they moved inside. The light inside caught Emily by surprise and her vision was blurred for a moment. Emily tried to pay attention to the conversations her mother was having but was failing. Why did her mother have to pull this on her last minute? Emily closed her eyes when they paused to talk to someone else and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself.
Sorrel Elaine Langley - December 29, 2010 01:25 AM (GMT)
Ugh, London. It was filthy. Sorrel disliked London for a number of reasons, not least of all that it was so miserably drab in palette; London lacked colour, save one or two places that had somehow managed to flower in spite of the smog and the sewage. Having grown up in the country she was more than spoiled on fresh air and beautiful wild flowers, and Sorrel found London to be an abscess, a place where the poor were paraded and the rich were obliged to disguise their disgust and keep their noses unwrinkled.
Sorrel rarely obliged. Watson, her ladies maid, had tried in vain to brighten her spirits with the idea that the party might be fun, but she wouldn't have a word of it. She had been tugged and prodded into the very finest of evening wear, of course, her blonde hair curled to perfection. If one were to look at a portrait or a photograph of Sorrel Langley one might be forgiven for thinking that she was lovely. It was the moment she opened her mouth that tended to ruin the effect. Her green eyes were disinterested as the motor car pulled slowly up at the gate of the Crane estate, and she took in the landscaping and the grandeur of the place as though it were something she had seen every day. She sighed. Thomas, her chauffeur, knew that sigh. It was a sigh that said you aren't opening this door quickly enough, Thomas. It was a sigh that criticised his driving, even when the lady could not operate a motor car herself. It was a sigh that elevated his temper just a notch each time he heard it.
He waited until he was out of the car to sigh back at her, and then opened the door graciously and offered her a hand. Sorrel placed her gloved hand daintily in his and allowed him to assist her from the car as though it were a gift. Thomas did consider it a gift -- a gift of at least two hours of peace to read his newspaper uninterrupted by her majesty's sighing.
It was not typical for a young woman, unmarried, to attend such functions unaccompanied. The truth of it was that Lady Saffron was supposed to chaperone her, but the younger miss had tried her sister's patience until she had taken ill with a migraine, and, thinking she had triumphed and evaded the event, Sorrel had been too smug at dinner. Her mother had called her bluff and insisted she must attend, even if it would be unaccompanied. Sorrel was doing a magnificent job of pretending to sulk over it, but Thomas knew her better than that. The lady was as pleased as punch to be out without anybody to supervise, and it would be on his head if she didn't get home safely at the end of the evening.
Sorrel swept into the main hall and allowed a footman to take her hat and coat, tightening her evening gloves as if priming for a boxing match. She was already preening and eyeing the competition. She knew why she was invited to the party; Cyrus Crane was no doubt looking for a wife. Sorrel was vain enough to be certain that he wanted her, and that the entire thing was simply an excuse to meet her. She couldn't blame him, really, but she had no intention of allowing it.
In a little over a week she would be bound for the Americas, where she would no doubt find herself the object of many a bachelor's affections. It was almost a hobby, collecting gifts from would-be husbands. All she had to do was succumb to the occasional hand on her arm or a kiss on the cheek and she found herself drowning in lovely trinkets.
Of course she found Americans to be most unbecoming. She didn't intend to marry one of those either. No. On that score, if she were honest, Sorrel didn't really know what she wanted. A tall, handsome, dark, and brooding husband that did exactly as he was told and nothing more would be nice, she supposed, but she no more wanted that than she did anything else. Perplexing.
Sorrel pressed all thoughts of her future husband from her mind. She knew he wasn't in this room, and that only left her holding all the cards. The game was infinitely more fun that way. She stepped lightly into the room, with one hand pressed to her hip and the other dangling nonchalantly at her side.
To her left was an upset looking girl and her companion, obviously a pedigree beneath Sorrel. Her gaze glided over them and her lips pursed almost imperceptibly.
"Good heavens, you're not crying already?" she said, rather unkindly. "I should stand away from the door, lest you'd like everybody arriving to think this is a funeral party."
Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley - December 29, 2010 05:55 AM (GMT)
ALL ALONE AGAIN SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING THERE'S NO ONE LEFT TO SAVE ME NOW I
WON'T BE AFRAID JUST THOUGHT YOU'LL CATCH ME YOU'RE NOT HERE TO SAVE ME NOW
I'VE HAD MY SHARE OF CRIMINALS AND YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT FROM THEM ALL ------------------- I NEED A SUPERHERO! *
Kayleigh wasn’t sure whether she was excited, or terrified. She’d been to so few upper class events, though she supposed she had to start somewhere. She had been to the viewing of the Titanic, back in Belfast. And though she and her brother had been meaning to simply board the Titanic from Queenstown, their plans had changed upon the meeting of a new acquaintance. A Mr. Cyrus Crane and his particularly well-off family. She’d learned rather quickly that the Cranes were a family she should know of. But coming from a middle class (at best) family in Belfast – and then dropping quite to the bottom of the social ladder when her parents died and left her and Brian destitute – she’d never heard of them. So, since arriving in London with Brian, she’d made an effort to learn everything that she could about Cyrus Crane and his family that she possibly could. Unfortunately, it was difficult to gain any proper information on anyone, especially anyone of high society, solely based on word of mouth. Thus, most of what she’d learned about the family she’d had to put aside or ignore because it seemed so very far-fetched.
So now here she was, ground zero, starting fresh. She was nervous and unsure of herself as she and Brian left the hotel, but her nerves only grew worse as they drew closer to the Crane’s place of residence in the hired carriage they were riding in. Kayleigh, who wasn’t particularly accustomed to the fashions and styles of the wealthy, had gone shopping to find herself a dress to wear. She was aware, of course, that many of the rich had their things custom made for them, and that walking into a boutique, no matter how high class, would never be seen as quite the same as having something custom by a noted designer. Nevertheless, the helpful seamstress who owned a lovely shop in one of London’s better shopping districts helped Kayleigh find something that, she hoped, suited nicely. She wanted simplicity, but elegance, and knew that many of the women would flaunt bright colours and daring styles. She didn’t want to be as showy. So she settled on something muted in colour – bronzes and beiges – but much heavier on detail. As she’d slipped the dress on, she’d felt, for a moment, that perhaps the rich life wouldn’t be so bad. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined touching something so fine. Never mind owning and wearing it!
Her hair had been something more difficult to manage, but eventually she’d persuaded it to take to a nice, loose, knot at the back of her head. Despite using a great many hair pins – most of which were hidden by her thick hair – it still felt a little loose. But, she supposed, the worst that could happen was that it would tumble down and she’d have to seek a powder room to try it again.
Still, she hoped it all stayed where it was meant to stay.
Now, arriving at the Crane residence, she lifted her chin to put on an air of confidence that she did not fell and as the carriage stopped, she took a deep, steadying breath. She sent Brian a small attempt at a confident smile, then shrugged a little and turned as the carriage driver opened the door and helped her down. She tried to keep her awe at the sight of the home from reaching her face. She had to stop responding to everything. Most of the people here were accustomed to such sights. Big homes, luxury ocean liners, extravagant shows of money in general... if she wanted to fit in, she had to act the part. Unfortunately, she wasn’t much of an actress. But she would try her best. No reason to cause any more talk than necessary.
As they entered, there were so many people and Kayleigh had to keep from turning around and leaving. She’d never had much trouble with large groups before now – she’d never loved them, no, but they’d never made her this nervous. But she felt so many eyes lingering on her... she wasn’t sure if it was because people were actually staring, or if she was just imagining it. Surely people would have better ways to occupy their time than to look at her! She took another steadying breath and glanced around the room for someone, anyone familiar. It was to be in vain, she realized, because other than her brother there were only a handful of people in London that she ‘knew’. And all of them were Cranes. Which meant the chances of spotting any one of them on their own was unlikely, as they were expected to be social and mingle with their guests. Correct?
If that was the expectation, the memo must not have reached the young Cyrus Crane. Kayleigh spotted him standing rather alone with a drink in his hand, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. She hesitated, glanced at Brian, the supposed as he was on his own, there was no harm in approaching. So she ran her hands down her skirt to smoothen it out and reached up lightly to check to make sure her hair was still all in place. It was. Perfect. So she approached and waited a moment for him to notice or acknowledge her. And then, feeling stupid for standing there silently, she decided she may as well say something. “Good evening, sir,” she said softly, but warmly. She did send him a smile, though she wasn’t sure if she should even be directly addressing him anyway. She had yet to fully learn the ways of the wealthy upper class. “It is a lovely gala; a good turn out, yes?” She didn’t know. Where there supposed to be more people? She hoped not too many more! “Thank you for the invitation. My brother and I were happy we could attend.”
TAGGED; Cyrus, Brian, and others at the gala?!
WORD COUNT; 986 words!
OUTFIT; EVENING GOWN!,
NOTES; I like this idea. =)
CREDITS; FREQUENCY! @ CAUTION 2.0 FOR THE TEMPLATE,
Cyrus Liam Crane - December 29, 2010 11:31 AM (GMT)
[ooc: Just reply when you guys want to, there's no particular order, but don't let your conversations sit and stagnate.]
"Good evening sir." a voice sounded out from the musical bubble he isolation himself within his mind, one of the many things Alister didn't approve of. There was something about music Cyrus found enchanting and he just couldn't resist being involved. It was custom to have an instrument as a hobby, but not a wealthy profession. The lids lifted from his dark eyes and he turned to the source of the female voice. His hues settled on the soft complexion of Kayleigh O'Riley and his thin lips spanned into a gentle smile. "Good evening. I am glad you were able to attend Miss. O'Riley." he took her hand and lightly pecked the back of her palm, just like any gentleman should do when greeting a beautiful woman.
He released her hand and took a brief look around to comply her inquiry. It was always a lovely gala, the women dressed beautifully and the men in sharp suits. The scene was so graceful and fragile it looked like a priceless vase. An exquisite environment, simply to look, but not fathom touching. He was slightly saddened though, that something so beautiful was only weaved to pressure him into finding a fiance. All these women came from miles around, just to get a snag at him, like he was meat. Their families thought he was just a sack of money, but Cyrus considered himself a person. They were all perfectly good candidates, coming from wealthy families and a suitable age, but Cyrus wanted more.
Alister claimed Cyrus was procrastinating and day dreaming. He constantly picked on his son like Cyrus was drowning in a sea of flaws. There was nothing wrong with wanting a woman to love; unlike his father's decisions. Fiona loved her son, but Cyrus could see the trapped light in her eyes. He loved to imagine his unique personality came from his mother and she was just locked away inside herself. It was wonderful living a life of luxury, he never had to know poverty and he never had to want, but what it did to people was cruel. It forced the to hide under a mask and paint a smile on, continuing their performance even if the paint started to crack.
His sight lowered back to Kayleigh and he gave her another warm grimace. "It is magnificent. Reaching our expectations." it definitely was. There were tens of beautiful, young and single women, of course it turned out great, for his parents. Cyrus couldn't just pick and choose a woman to marry, he didn't know any of them. He wanted a woman with complexity; the net of perfections and imperfections that he could never fathom discovering in anyone else. By far, he thought Kayleigh was the most extravagant lady there. "You look very extravagant tonight Miss. O'Riley."
He still had his glass in one hand and placed it on a server's tray to free it up. It was rude to look away when conversing with someone, but he felt like he was staring at her, not the way most people did when examining a person with ill reputation or lower class, not the astonished gaze when viewing such a dream like the Titanic. It was the look of sheer awe when surveying beauty. "Pardon Me." he said as he briefly looked away from her. His sight settled on a few women by the door, they were conversing, well one was on the edge of bawling her eyes out and that was something familiar. There was an occasion where an older woman came to the gala, who had a deceased husband or had some hurtful tale behind being widowed.
Though Alister Crane pushed for a youthful wife, but there were several times older women, aged past Cyrus' year presented themselves to him. Alister insisted Cyrus refuse on older women, because the family line was in jeopardy if there were no children produced from the marriage. Bonnie would marry out of the family, so Cyrus was the only hope for their line continuing. It pierced his heart a little to see women cry because of this pressure, the social status required marriage practically. Marriage lost its value if one did not love the other, that was Cyrus' opinion anyway. So many of the women were the same, beautiful flowers all in the same vase, pre-picked and de-thorned.
He wanted to pick one himself, even if his fingers bled. The pleasure of marrying someone he loved would be his and his alone in the Crane family. He looked back to the madam standing before him. "I apologize Miss. O'Riley. I am afraid my thoughts are quite heavy this evening and have provided a rather successful distraction." he let out a small chuckle as though speaking personally was something to brush off, like it was a humorous subject. It was very uncommon for a man to announce something was troubling, especially in the inappropriate setting.
Cyrus constantly had that sinking feeling, but when he plunged himself into the water, he drowned. Alister yelled and ranted about the customs of the first-class and how it was barbaric to go so long without a fiance, not even a leading lady. It seemed like he hated everything about his only son and his pressure suffocated the only heir he had. He was truly happy to see Kayleigh had come, which presented a truthful smile, but his eyes expressed a different tale. The light reflecting off of a man screaming for help, but a shield of brown color concealed his distress. He needed to press on; "Would you care to dance Miss. O'Riley?" he inquired, lifting up his arm to invite and usher her.
TAG: Anyone who wishes to reply next!
Brian Chase O'Riley - December 29, 2010 11:59 PM (GMT)
IT’S A CERTAIN KIND OF COMPLICATED THAT MAKES ME WANT YOU
I DON’T KNOW IF WE’LL SURVIVE
A LOADED SMILE, AN EMPTY GLASS, AND ONE LAST DANCE
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Brian remained silent as he and his sister sat in the carriage heading down to the Crane's Gala. It was because of this event that made him and his sister change plans, instead of boarding the Titianic at Queenstown, they would board in Southampton and spend their last remaining days in London until the time came. Brian didn't mind this turn of events, however it did mean that they had to leave their old home earlier then what they expected. Though maybe it was better this way, they could get over having to leave their home sooner rather then later and actually try to enjoy their trip to America, not having to really worry about anything. So here they were, dressed in their best heading to one of their first Gala's since becoming wealthy, Brian wasn't nervous, it really wasn't in his nature to get nervous or worry about anything, he learned how to get over any form of nervousness when he was a young boy, a trait he found helpful later on in life, he just didn't care much for it and he learned that the hard way.
Brian tugged on his collar and tie impatiently, he really did hate having to wear his shirt buttoned all the way up, his dark grey tie completing the uncomfortable feeling. He honestly missed just leaving a few buttons on his shirts undone but he knew that he could not go to a formal first class party such as this and pull that look off, it was comepletely out of the question. He wore black trousers with a matching tail coat, his waistcoat was a dark grey matching his ties and his crisp white shirt with a winged collar, and then a pair of shiny black shoes to complete his wardrobe. His hair was styled up as per-usual, not following the typical first class style of slicking it back, he wasn't really one to follow to crowd as he preferred to do his own thing.
Brian soon felt the carriage come slowly to a stop, he straightened up his tie and looked out the window, getting a good look of the crane residence, it was impressive to say the least. He sat back as the cariage door was opened for them and allowed his sister to climb out first before he climbed out of the carriage close behind her. He straightened out his jacket, pulling it down just slightly before he walked up and into the house alongside his sister. As they entered he saw the amount of people who were already there, soft music played throughout the room and the voices created a sort of odd sounding buzz throughout the room as the patrons talked to one another. Brian had to admit that he was rather impressed with the decorum, it was nice, simple yet rather elegant.
Brian was just about to make a comment to his sister about it but before he could she had walked away without so much of a word, he watched as she basically made a bee line right towards the young Mr. Crane. Needless to say their relationship was still rather strained and so far Kayleigh didn't show any signs of warming up to him, even in the slightest, he knew that he was the one who had caused this strained relationship, he wasn't exactly the greatest brother in the world but he was putting in quite an effort to make things right between them. He was trying to be more warm towards her, be more happier when she was around, give her compliments and help her out if she needed help, he was also trying to spend more time with her but she didn't really seem to respond all that well to his tactics, the only time she did was when he suggested buying a summer house for them in Ireland. There were reasons as to why Brian was the way he was, all dating back to when he was a kid, he didn't exactly have it easy and he knew that Kayleigh was too young at the time to really remember any of it, like this times he came home with a black eye, or busted lip, or the one time his dad actually found him unconcious in an alley way behind his school after a gang of kids ganged up on him and beat him to a pulp to the point where he was unconcious for almost two days. That was when he decided to toughen himself up and fight back, that was how he started to become the man he now was, and the death of his parents only amplified it. He never told Kayleigh this though, and he was pretty sure he'd never tell her or anyone for that matter.
Brian watched as Kayleigh and Mr. Crane conversed before he turned away and headed for the bar, needing a drink, thinking about his past did that to him. Pushing those thoughts from his head, he made his way through the throng of people and finally made it to the bar. He ordered a brandy and once it arrived he began to drink it slowly, trying to make it last. He promised himself that he wouldn't over do it on the drinking, deciding to just have a few and leave it at that. He leaned against a pillar and studied the room silently, making sure to check up on his sister every now and again to make sure she was doing ok.
- - - - - - - - - - - - DATE:
April 1st, 1912 TIME:
Crane Residence TAGS:
:) TEMPLATE BY: CANDYLAND !
of CAUTION 2.o
Emily Amelia Wheeler - December 30, 2010 02:48 AM (GMT)
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Emily found it lucky that her mother seemed to not need for her to join in the conversation. Emily listened to the music being played by the musicians. There was something about music that was just so beautiful and spoke for itself. It was pure emotion. Emily tried to focus on the emotion of the music being played but was distracted by all of the voices in the room around her of the many people talking. Why must there be so many people? Emily wondered how many were there for the same reason her mother dragged her along and the thought made her uncomfortable. Emily closed her eyes tighter trying to block the thought and inhaled once again.
A sudden voice that came from next to Emily made her jump suddenly and open her eyes as she had not been expecting anyone to speak so close to her and Emily almost didn’t hear what was said. When she did register what was said it took a moment too late for Emily to realize that whoever was speaking was speaking to her. Emily pressed her lips together as she thought about the unfairness of the cold voice. Did people have no hearts at all and not even care to find out why Emily was upset in the first place? Emily didn’t think she and her mother were too much in the way. They had only gotten here after all and the number of people made it harder to move in more. It didn’t help that her mother was deep in conversation with the woman already.
Emily’s mahogany eyes fell on the only person whom could have spoken, a woman who was looking right at Emily. Emily felt her face flush slightly as she registered the fine appearance of the woman in front of her. Although Emily felt she was fairly pretty as it was, she suddenly felt very insignificant although perhaps it had to do with the woman’s eyes. They were looking at her and Emily felt very cold despite the heat she felt inside of her from not being comfortable. Emily had luckily managed to calm herself down enough to keep back the tears just there but she wondered if it had really been that obvious she was upset. It wasn’t fair, just when Emily felt strong emotions she had to fight them back and pretend to be someone else for a moment. Emily wasn’t sure if she would be able to survive the night in this manner.
With a light tug, Emily freed her arm from her mother’s grasp whom apparently did not take much notice at all. “Excuse me,” Emily said and looked down as she turned away. She didn’t know where she would go as she was in an unfamiliar house, but anywhere was better than the tight grip of her mother’s arm trying to pay attention to whatever was being talked about and the unfriendly and uncaring of that strange woman. Emily wandered and eventually found herself near the drinks and snacks. Emily found a glass of water and sipped it as she listened to the music once again and tried to keep her mind and imagination from working too much.
Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley - December 30, 2010 03:35 AM (GMT)
ALL ALONE AGAIN SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING THERE'S NO ONE LEFT TO SAVE ME NOW I
WON'T BE AFRAID JUST THOUGHT YOU'LL CATCH ME YOU'RE NOT HERE TO SAVE ME NOW
I'VE HAD MY SHARE OF CRIMINALS AND YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT FROM THEM ALL ------------------- I NEED A SUPERHERO! *
She was still rather in awe about the whole of the Gala. Soft music, beautiful clothing, so many people. It made her feel rather out of place, certainly, and uncomfortable most definitely. Still, if she was a more naive young woman, she might think it had some sort of fairytale quality to it – only because it was so new to her. Cinderella, off to the ball. She certainly felt the part of the young woman, who’d spent most of her life in less than desirable circumstances, now transformed and rather radiant. But she was not nearly that naive, and she was fully aware of the hostility that lurked beneath the surface. High society could be good, in moderation. But it was dangerous too – a person’s reputation, and more importantly a woman’s reputation, was everything. So Kayleigh, who was doing her very best to look completely composed and content with her situation, was determined to keep an eye out for foul play.
At the very least, she felt as though she’d made an intelligent choice, going to say hello to the young Mr Cyrus Crane. He hadn’t seemed otherwise occupied, perhaps even a little bored by it all, and so she was determined to believe that her intrusion, her company, was no great bother. If it was otherwise, she hoped he’d tell her. His smile improved her confidence greatly; his brief kiss to the back of her palm brought a light flush of colour to her cheeks.
“It is magnificent. Reaching our expectations.”
That was good, she supposed, and she nodded dutifully. Reaching their expectations. Hm. He didn’t look altogether pleased when he said it, however, and so Kayleigh had to assume that little joy lay in this grand Gala for him. If it had been an idea of his, or even something he’d felt strongly about or was particularly interested in, he probably wouldn’t have been standing alone and nursing a drink.
“You look very extravagant tonight, Miss O’Riley.”
Her face warmed under his gentle but interested scrutiny, though it was more from pleasure than embarrassment. She was awfully done up – and she hadn’t had anyone give her much positive notice in quite some time. So while Kayleigh was aware that his attention might be fully for show, and that he was treating her not unlike he would treat any other woman here – probably true, for what was she to any of them, those women who’d been wealthy all their lives and had the social graces to prove it? – she was determined to allow herself one night to properly enjoy it. To properly enjoy any attention she might receive because it didn’t happen nearly so often. “Why thank you, Mr Crane.” She said, resisting the urge to drop her gaze. So she met his eye, smiling brightly though her cheeks burned. “Although already I’ve realized I have a lot to learn about proper attire. At least I wasn’t too ridiculously far off; I suppose I blend in well enough.” This she said with a hint of amusement in her voice, as she knew full well that it mattered not what she wore. She could have dressed to fit with them all perfectly, and yet word would promptly get around that she was Kayleigh O’Riley, little more than new money.
He turned to glance around then, asking her pardon which she promptly gave, wondering if perhaps she was boring him. And yet he hadn’t asked her to leave, not exactly, so she stayed where she was until his attention finally returned to her.
“I apologize Miss O’Riley. I am afraid my thoughts are quite heavy this evening and have provided a rather successful distraction.” He chuckled but Kayleigh studied him, wondering – and yet not daring to ask – what could weigh so heavily here and now. It was certainly not her place to request an explanation, though she felt, in part, that she could sympathize. Her own thoughts had been heavy as of late. Leaving the homeland of her childhood, the home where her parents had been born and raised, where she had been born and raised. It was all that she knew, and heading off to America of all places was daunting. Frightening. She was grateful for the money, but all the more afraid of what it meant for her. Kayleigh nodded, wondering if she ought to excuse herself, if he wished to think. And yet she didn’t much want to leave – particularly because he was her only acquaintance besides her brother and she didn’t really feel like walking with him at this particular moment. Besides, he’d no doubt found the alcohol, and she preferred to stay clear of him when he’d been drinking. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “it’s a sad thing indeed that your thoughts are heavy and you cannot enjoy the music and the company. But,” she said with a small sort of smile, “this isn’t anything new to you, is it? Perhaps these sorts of occasions grow tiresome, when they’re the rule and not the exception to one’s day to day life.”
“Would you care to dance Miss O’Riley?”
The question rather threw her off guard, and she stared at him curious for a moment before the colour returned to her cheeks – and it had been nearly gone! Still, she smiled brightly at his proffered arm and nodded, taking it as she stepped a little closer to him. “I should like that, Mr Crane.” She paused, wondering if she should say anything further, and then decided to do so. “Although I do feel obligated to inform you that I’m something of a fish out of water here, and though I’ve done my best to learn what I can, as promptly as I can, I am not much of a dancer. At least, not in reference to this sort of dancing.” She really did enjoy Irish dancing, however. Kayleigh tried to hide her grin with her free hand. “So if you wish to stand by your invitation, you must know that you may need to lead a little – or a lot – more than you are accustomed to.”
TAGGED; Cyrus, Brian, and others at the gala?!
WORD COUNT; 1,019 words!
OUTFIT; EVENING GOWN!,
CREDITS; FREQUENCY! @ CAUTION 2.0 FOR THE TEMPLATE,
Cathleen Elaine Jefferson - December 30, 2010 06:14 AM (GMT)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - she spins and she sways to whatever song playswithout a care in the world- - - - - - - - - - - - -
When Cathleen heard about the gala she knew she simply had to attend, but she would never get in the way she was. She looked down and her dress and sighed it was nothing more than a rag really compared to what the other guest would be wearing but she spent all her money on the ticket, and had no money for clothes she had assumed she had assumed she would need different clothes for the trip, but she had not even planned those heists for a few more days now she would have to get the clothes she needed and fast, she sat down and began to draw a plan on the floor of the house.
Within hours she had come up with a plan and stood looking at it, it was risky but her plans frequently were. she pulled on a dark cape and left the house careful to stay in the shadows, she slipped into one of the houses easily enough, picking a lock was amateur work, it was dark and she had no trouble finding the closets she was careful not to touch anything she slowly opened the door with her foot and began to grab the garments. After grabbing several of the garments she heard a sound and quietly closed the closet and checked the window she was too high to jump out the window, she stuffed the dresses in a bag and decided to make a leap for it. She opened the window and stepped out on the window sill, she then held her arms outstretched and jumped down, hoping to land on something soft. She did not land on anything soft but it was not as far down as she thought and she landed on her rear, with a slight cry of pain.
When Cathleen arrive back at her house she began to change. The clothes felt smooth on her body, and she touched the dress with a gentle soft hand. Cathleen had always dreamed of wearing a white rose covered dress like this, and now that she had it on it made her feel like royalty. She did not have time to really enjoy her dream dress as she had to go, to catch the train to the party.
When she finally arrived in London she looked around a bit, she found a dark quiet little hole for her to spend the next week in and stashed her stuff there, picking up a small dove white purse that matched her dress and looked around cautiously. In the purse she found money for a ride she quickly hired a horsemen to take her to the Crane Gala. Once she arrived at the door she slowly got out and looked around trying not to look too amazed at the scenery before her eyes. "calm down." she whispered to herself. She walked through the doors and looked around, she was completely thrilled and amazed at what she saw, though she hid it well and tried to act like she belonged there. She wondered around taking in the sights and the people. She had heard a few rumors about this particular party something about that Mr. Crane wanted his son married. She thought the whole idea was rubbish but she loved the opportunities it afforded her if she could get lucky with this crowd, she gently and carefully took a drink off one of the trays when it was offered to her, and began to sip her drink.
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credit;made by bella-jane of caution
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Colleen Aoife Mason - December 30, 2010 09:36 AM (GMT)
the world comes to life and everything's rightFROM BEGINNING TO END WHEN YOU HAVE A FRIEND BY YOUR SIDETHAT HELPS YOU TO FIND THE BEAUTY YOU ARE, WHEN YOU OPEN YOUR HEART• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Colleen stood in the doorway to the hall as she watched the dancing that was taking place in front of her. She leaned her head onto the warm wood of the door frame, her thoughts wandering slightly. Light silks and flowing satins of the women, obviously their families spared no expense with the cost of the...what was this called, a Gala, yes, that was it. Colleen didn't follow the lives of the upper class to much, not like her friends did at least. She quietly watched, her eyes slightly unfocused as she drifted into her own daydream. Yes, even she daydreamed about what life as an upper class citizen would be like. To wear the fancy silks and soft satins of the dresses and to dance with your love. That was a very nice daydream indeed. ”OY! Girl!” Colleen felt herself just a mile into the air as a voice shouted at her from the outer doors of the kitchens. Such a rude way to be brought out of a lovely daydream, to her life as a lower working class. And to be currently serving at the said Gala and not attending. At least, not in the sense of the word. Colleen gave one last look at the various couples dancing in and out of each other. The laughter and music starting to mingle and...as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she longed to dance. A slightly shocking skill that she possessed, dancing. Of course, in her current situation, dancing was not an option, she was not there to dance, she was there to serve. And being slightly well paid for it as well. Colleen reached up and tucked a loose bit of her hair back and made her way through the crowd and back to the kitchens where a tray was waiting for her. ”Serve the guests! Ain't paying you to lazy around!” The head cook spat at as she pointed a slightly dirty spatula at the tray. Colleen sighed as she picked up the tray. ”Ain't payin me anythin, it's the Cranes that are” she mumbled softly under her breath. She quickly slipped from the kitchen before the anyone could rat on her.
Colleen dodged in and out of the crowds, balancing a grouping of glasses on a silver tray. Just a tray for glasses, only the rich would think of something like that. ”drink, sir?” She asked with her friendly smile. That simple gesture earned her a laugh and a hard pinch to her cheek. ”A drink! Yes, yes. He grinned, swooping down and lifting a glass from the tray. Colleen smiled slightly and turned away, rubbing her cheek slightly. ”Wanker” she mumbled turning to a group of blushing and giggling girls. ”Drink?” Colleen smiled. One of the girls, a curly haired blonde stared at her with a shocked expression. ”Ooh, an Irish girl” She said with a playful voice. Colleen steeled herself for teasing and so forth. ”Aye” she said in response to the statement. Her friend, a pale faced dark haired girl gave a slightly knowing smile. ”Oh Claire, you know the Irish are always looking for work. How poor they are. She probably has no way to live and must pay for her family and her...six brothers and sisters” she nodded in what would have been mock sympathy. Colleen felt her hands clinch tightly onto the edges of her tray. She took a few deep breaths before speaking again. ”Drink...miss?” she asked again, her voice straining. The dark haired girl gave her a unkind and unwavering stare. ”It's true, isn't it? That the Irish have more children then their family can take care of? That's what my father says.” Colleen met her stare with one of her own. Her brown eyes turning slightly cold and sharp as she looked at her. ”Drink. Miss?” Colleen's voice turned ice cold as she stared at her. The dark haired girl smirked slightly, she reached forward and delicately picked up a glass, her smirk still in place. Colleen turned, her elbow bumping into her hand, spilling the drink down her dress. Colleen smiled slightly as she walked away from the now fussing girl and her friend. Perhaps not the wisest thing to do, something that could get her fired from the job, but, given her temper, it was not easy to stop herself.
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lyrics gift of a friend by demi lovato.
outfit The help
credit * MAKE A WISH , of CAUTION 2.0
Timothy Francis Aloysius Kirby - January 2, 2011 07:02 PM (GMT)
While Timo was certainly dismayed to be forced into exile from the very country he fought so fiercely to protect, he was very much looking forward to his journey aboard the famed RMS Titanic.
This joy and anticipation did not, of course, come without some hesitation and fear. First of all, Timo would never had chosen to travel aboard such a gaudy ship as the Titanic
if the monks at his future abbey had not purchased the tickets in his and Gregory's names. There was also some consideration amongst the clerical circles about the notion that this ship was tauted as unsinkable--so much so that God Himself could not drown the bugger. This caused some stick-in-the-mud clergy to question the morality of a priest traveling aboard such a ship. Finally, Timo had never been on a journey of this length aboard a ship of this side. In the end, the priest told himself that he had no choice. He (apparently) had to get to America and the monks had purchased a ticket on the Titanic.
The rest of the clergy could shove off if they had a problem with it.
Timo was glad to have clergy who were not snobbish about a priest boarding the Titanic.
One such clergyman was the rector of St. Dunstan in the West--a friend of Timo's who was allowing the priest, his orphan charge, and his secretary to room a few nights whilst taking care of business in London prior to the sailing of the Titanic.
Rectories are notorious for being too large for the usually single occupant and, as such, Father Andrew was more than willing to offer his two extra bedrooms and the davenport in his den for his traveling Irish friends. After praying the Angelus one evening, Father Andrew brought up a grand ball that the Crane family was hosting prior to sailing on the Titanic. "Timo! Why don't you go in my stead? Why, I wasn't planning on going anyway and you really ought to meet some of the gentlepersons whom you'll be traveling with in a few week's time."
Timo shook his head. There was absolutely no way that he would be caught dead at a high-end society banquet hosted by the first-class Crane family--notorious even in Ireland for their wealth and, generally speaking, their snobbishness. No, Timo would be in London for only a few days before boarding the train to South Hampton to wait for the blasted ship. He had so much work that needed to be done both before sailing and before leaving London. Besides, Timo was not a fan of first-class gatherings. The general air and atmosphere was of exclusion and pomp. One had to prove to everybody else that one was superior in dress, in conversation, and in mannerism. This did not appeal to Timothy, although he knew many priests who did relish in such evenings of first-class revelry. "No. No. No. I won't be a part of any such gatherin', thank you kindly."
Timothy looked into the mirror to make sure that his clerical collar was on straight. He had been forced into going to the Crane's ball. Timo felt as if Andrew were his mother and this ball was church or something of that sort--probably good for a fellow, but certainly not pleasant. Timo would wear his HABIT
(hood down) with his collar beneath it. He wouldn't don a tuxedo and certainly wouldn't wear patent leather shoes. He would wear his simple, black habit and his black sandals (sans socks this time.) He didn't care whether he was laughed out of the ballroom or scorned publicly for his terrible sense of taste, fashion, and appropriateness. "You look so sharp, Father Timothy!"
Sister Eleanor, Timo's secretary, clapped her hands as Timo descended the staircase in the rectory, dressed in his habit with his hair combed for the first time in a year. "You'll be a hit, I know it!"
Timo fought back a smile. The ideals of justice aside, it was sort of fun to dress up and go to parties like these. If nothing else, there would certainly be plenty of champaign to keep things exciting. Besides, the cleric reasoned, the party could do with a little bit of Irish fun. "As you say, Sister, but I won't be buying it. I look like the clerical rat that I am. Mark my words, as soon as they hear m'brogue, I'll be kicked out.""In that case, Father, be certain to have at least one glass of champaign before you open your mouth. God in Heaven knows that you'll be kicked out if one of those wealthy businessmen gets talking about his ventures in oppressing the little people."
Father Andrew spoke up from where he was sitting in his parlour. "God be good to that poor fool."
With a firm nod, Timo drew up his coat and left for the ball. He was sure to make certain that his entire title, name, and suffixes were added to the introduction card. He could put on a face--at least until somebody got him going on some topic or another. As per Andrew's suggestion, Timo nabbed a glass of champaign as soon as he entered the ballroom. The priest stuck to the sidelines for a bit, watching the crowd gather and accumulate around certain guests. After a fashion, Timo reasoned that one certain young man was the guest of honour--the one who was to be bethrothed by the end of the night. "Mr. Crane."
Timo took advantage of a second of silence and made his move to introduce himself. "The Reverend Doctor Timothy Francis Aloysius Kirby, OSB, DD. Now, judging by your accent--of which I listened to thoroughly before moving over to introduce myself--you're a Scot. Am I mistaken?"
Timo winked and continued. "That said, I suspect that you're of the Presbyterian faith, but never you fear, I am trained to perform a hasty marriage should you and your bride-to-be, whomever she is and God be good to her, not be able to wait. You just let me know. I'm certain that you'll be able to find me. I'll be the only lad here in a skirt."
With a broad smile, the priest gestured with his free hand down to his habit.
Immanuel Constantine Monroe Jr. - January 3, 2011 01:43 AM (GMT)
Immanuel Constantine Monroe Jr. If you were Dead or Alive, I still would not care, I am me and I am the best. I mmanuel Constantine Monroe Jr. He liked the sound of that even as he said it in his head. Yes Immanuel is a prideful and stubborn man and loved to hear it and he knew it, he just did not care how he came off because of his wealth, the Gala would be his opportunity to shine to let this group of people know who he was. Well the party was for him right? just like all parties were. Even if the hosts did not know it and if it was not for him he would steal it anyway, like he did all parties by the time he left that night all the people there would remember him and would know his name. He rented a special limo to take him to the party, and slipped his best tuxedo on, well his assistant or secretary did most the work, Immanuel barely had to lift a finger, but that is the way he wanted it, he was a king in his own mind and just assumed he was in everyone else's mind.
He shined up making sure his appearance was perfect there was nothing Immanuel liked less than being caught scruffy looking, of course for him scruffy looking was just not his best appearance which was far more spiffy than others. He wondered if he would be the best looking male on the Titanic. He had certainly paid enough for this trip and he had lots of preparations to make. He decided he would make them later and was trying to figure out why he was thinking about that right now. Though the answer was simple and he knew what it was. It had been drilled into him even though he was rich it was not all enjoyment, the wealthy had responsibilities others did not and that included taking care of business before pleasure but he did not always follow this guideline to the best of his ability, tonight was the perfect example he had a lot of business to take care of but he was going to the Gala and nothing was stopping him.
He looked at his attendants and informed them he would be late. He gave a hand signal to his bodyguard and walked out the door without another glance. His walk was very heavy and his shoes skidded along the floor. Immanuel always walked as though he had a mission and was determined to fulfill that mission and any cost. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his bodyguard staying just two paces behind him, he nodded slightly showing the bodyguard the only little bit of praise he could exspect for his job anything else was extraordinary. He soon stood in front of the limo and the bodyguard opened the door for him. Immanuel slipped inside the limo and poured himself a small glass of wine as the bodyguard got in beside him.
When the limo pulled up outside the Crane residence he waited for the bodyguard to open the door for him and slipped out of the car once the door was opened. His slide and movements easily equaled that of the English royalty, he looked around this was perfect a few people had turned to look at him, he had just arrived and was already turning heads well a few anyway.
He walked through the door with ease and looked around at the guests he had seen a few of them around, he even knew some personally and others he knew intimately, and one he wished he did not know. Nevertheless Immanuel was determined to enjoy himself and that meant making some sort of scene, how and where was the only question now.
Word count! |
ok he's here, which plan is first?
Made by QueenChristine http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND |
Dorian Ivan Crane - January 3, 2011 01:55 AM (GMT)
The evening sun peeked through the semi closed curtains of Dorian's bedroom, falling across the room and landing on the bed and it's somewhat awake occupant. Dorian groaned, one of his eyes slowly opening to reveal a chocolate brown pupil, his gaze drifted over to the curtains and he frowned, mumbling incoherently to himself as he rolled over, an arm resting over his eyes. A light sigh caught his attention and he slowly turned his head to the side. A thin tired smile wandering over his lips as he caught sight of the curvy figure of his bed-sharer. Ah yes, the previous nights events came back to him. A few drinks at the pub, a lovely companion. What was her name again..Janette? Janice. Ah what did he care, it was a good night, somewhat blurry, but good nonetheless. Dorian rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, rubbing a hand over his face as he continued to slowly wake up. He turned his head once more and studied the lady beside him, she was pretty, probably what did him in in the first place. Dorian sat bolt upright in bed, a thought striking him. He searched through the different articles that lay scattered over the bedside table until he found his pocket watch and held it in front of his face "Damn it!" Dorian swore under his breath as he threw back the covers and jumped up. His hands searching around for his clothes. His hand soon grabbed onto his pants and he pulled them on, his slightly long hair swinging into his face as he did so. His movements awoken his female company and she rolled over to look at him with a slight smile.
"Good morning" Her voice was laced with sleep and the after effects of the drinks of last night. Dorian looked at her, a crooked smile coming across his lips. "Afternoon, more like it. Or Evening, if you prefer" His voice was hurried as he pulled a clean shirt from the dresser and pulled it on. She smiled and slowly sat up, the blanket resting tight around her chest as she looked at him. "Are you leaving?" she asked, tucking her one of her curls behind her ear as she watched him. Dorian nodded buttoned his shirt and grabbing a comb at the same time. "Yes. Unfortunately. Family get together" He answered in a slightly distracted voice as he looked at his reflection in the mirror and proceeded to pull the comb through his hair and succeeding and getting it to lay back. "Perfect" Dorian mumbled to himself as he he looked around for a vest and found one hanging across the back of a chair. He grabbed it and proceeded to pull it on when the sounds of someone raising from the bed caught his attention and glanced over his shoulder to see the girl standing and getting dressed as well. "A Crane party? sounds lovely. Are we leaving now?"
Dorian froze in the process of buttoning his vest to glanced at her from the reflection in the mirror. Needless to say the word 'We' caught him slightly off guard. His brain went into overdrive as he slowly continued to dress. He finally turned to her, an easy smile on his face as he picked up his coat. "Mon Cher... Yes, he went for his backup that always seemed to work, speaking in a different language and a little French seemed to be needed at this moment in time. And just as he expected, she easily melted into the words. He stepped toward her, an easy smile on his lips. "Mon cher...as I would love to bring you, alas, I cannot. Please understand...Though I would if only I were allowed” He leaned forward and gently kissed her hand. This simple action causing a soft giggle to escape from her. Dorian smiled against her hand, and he had her right where he wanted and needed. He slowly stood and looked at her, his easy smile still in place as he draped his coat across his arm and held out his other arm to her. She linked her arm within his and with a smile Dorian lead her out of the house, he gave a wave to the butler, calling for a car to be brought to the front. He stepped into it and glanced out of the window at her. ”Au revoir, mon cher” He spoke in a smooth voice as he signaled to the driver to go. He sighed, resting against the backseat.
They soon arrived at the gala, Dorian walked through the door and smiled slightly as he scanned the room. What was the purpose for this gala again? Right, to find a bride for his cousin. Well, There was no harm in glancing around himself, Perhaps there would be a woman...or two. That would catch his eye.
Notes: I love him :D
Leonard Francis Monroe - January 3, 2011 02:56 AM (GMT)
"What is this nonsense you're making me attend Heather? I thought we've discussed this, no random galas, especially if they are pointless." Leonard stated tossing the printed invitation onto the back seat of the carriage. He didn't like auto-motives, he considered them a death trap on wheels. Most of the time there were imbeciles hired to direct them, horse at least had common sense to stop if steered towards the edge of a cliff, but something powered by gasoline would keep rolling until it crashed, probably the ground of a canyon.
Leonard was quite spectacle of everything, even as a theorist he criticized his own theories, let alone the proud work of others. He rolled his eyes as he put on his white gloves, bending his fingers to get the exact fit. Heather opened her mouth to protest, but he waved one index at her "Ah Ah Ah. I do not pay you to give your opinion Heather, I only pay you to make sure I don't do anything...idiotic." As stubborn as Leo was and as proud as he was, he did have the decency to admit that he was irresponsible, which took a real man to do.
His dark eyes peered out the window as the Crane estate grew on the horizon. "I am going to clearly state that I dislike going to this gala. Some silly dance thrown for a boy who can't stand on his own two feet and propose. Imbecile." he muttered bitterly to himself. Heather opened her mouth again, but the look on Leonard's face caused her to stop. His eyes glared at the ceiling, expressing his exasperation with the woman. "What did I just finished explaining to you Heather?" he lifted his fingers and clasped them to his lips. "Silence!"
The carriage rumbled down the stone road, eventually reaching the main entrance. It reached a stop and the chauffeur got out to open the door, but Leonard beat him to it, abruptly opened the entry way and standing on the step to over-look the crowd outside the manor. "Gaudy looking people, aren't they?" he commented over his shoulder to Heather. He did a large amount of conversing with Heather, but most of it consisted of him speaking to her without any reply. It seemed like he enjoyed speaking to himself with the assurance he wasn't literally speaking to himself.
Leonard himself dressed for a little attention, he was mannerly in the fact that he wore the typical suit, but he added his own personal taste to it. Lifting the color up so it paralleled his neck, wearing a purple silk shirt instead of a bland white one. Leonard called for attention, but that was exactly how he liked it, eccentric or well earned reputation, he admired it all. He stepped down onto the road and took a few steps away from the carriage, paying no attention to Heather who climbed out with the aid of the chauffeur.
He had heard a lot of stories about the Cranes, especially their little tyke that had issues finding a fiance. Chances were he was probably gay, but there wasn't anything wrong with the decision of orientation. In a lot of ways Leonard was gay, but in the mood sense. He walked for the front doors, letting the doormen open them for him, he nodded to both of them briefly, but didn't return a grateful grimace.
Inside there were a bunch of people polluting a beautiful room. They were clogging up the gold details in the ceiling mural with their fairy-dust. Leonard wanted to pop their bubble and send their world crumbling down, but he found it amusing to have them mingle their lives away in meaningless efforts to impress Master Crane. Did anyone attend these parties just for the sake of booze, dance and women? No, they didn't it was about a hand in marriage or impressing the rest of the wealthy. It was such a bland pipe dream and that was not a pleasurable way to live.
The doors were still open behind him, which disturbed him because he could feel the cold draft invade his space. He was going to turn and yell at the doormen, but he realized they kept the entry open for the next guest that arrived. The young gentleman arrived in a custom-made limo, once again a vehicle that was even more dangerous. He watched the driver scurry out with haste and run along the long side of the car. Leonard only watched the man struggle to keep up with the length of the car, he found the effort unnecessary.
Another wealthy man who flaunted off his wealth with useless materials. Leonard kept watching as the owner got out of the limo and stood tall, like he was some sort of celebrity. Ha! Leonard never saw the man in his entire life and as infamous as he was, he at least kept up with the common faces in fame. Though something about the man seemed vaguely family, but Leonard's attention was too short to contemplate what it was. He turned and walked in a strut for the audience, grabbing a drink from a tray a young Irish woman held out. At least they had alcohol, perhaps this gala wasn't going to be so bad after-all.
Immanuel Constantine Monroe Jr. - January 4, 2011 12:18 AM (GMT)
Immanuel Constantine Monroe Jr. If you were Dead or Alive, I still would not care, I am me and I am the best. Immanuel looked around a little more. His eye fell to the man who had walked in just before him. He did not look like anyone Immanuel had known and he was certain he never would have hung out with him before but something seemed odd and familiar. He sighed and carried on, he was probably of no consequence anyway. He was getting a little refreshment when he turned and looked at the man again and cursed under his breath "Damn! now he is going to ruin a fine party" he whispered while watching the man. He deliberately turned his head to others in the room trying to forget this man if that was indeed what he was. Immanuel did not mind starring at this strange man as he grabbed a glass of wine. It appeared to Immanuel that he was of lesser value than himself, there was no way he could ever met or spent any time with this stranger.
He walked around and had semi conversation with a few people but nothing too interesting. He was beginning to wonder if this Gala was something worthy of his presence. When the man came back into his view. He looked at his watch and noticed he had only been there a few minutes and already this man had caught his attention and kept it. Immanuel did not like this who was this person, and was he deserving of the attention that Immanuel seemed to be giving him.
Immanuel turns to his bodyguard and noticed he was still completely doing his job. They had had a couple arguments lately about his inviting danger as the over protective bodyguard called it. Immanuel had eventually agreed that it was a bit reckless of him but he promptly reminded the man that he was there to protect him from danger and carry out orders given to him, not lecture and try to change him. He was going to be himself, and if that meant picking on the inferiors that is what it meant and if it brought danger the man was there to protect him. Immanuel was well aware that he had many enemies manly because he did not care what others thought, and had elected to hire this man in the first place due to that constant threat, but in no way was he going to change not for anyone anywhere. But as he watched the bodyguard out of the corner of his eye he was satisfied that the man would do his job. So he quickly turned his attention from him and began to focus on the party once more. He had come to the party to forget about his duties and to have fun but alas his business interfered anyway he should have taken care of more things before he left, his sense of duty and responsibility weighing heavy in his mind. He heard loud chit chat in the corner and looked over there was someone that seemed to be having a really good time, laughing and telling stories supposedly.
Immanuel liked first class life and would never have it any other way, but with as much as he liked it, he had to admit he could be a little dull, but that did not last long until he picked on someone and found the glamour of his status once again. ext here
Word count! |
just waiting for Leo to identify himself in some way.
Made by QueenChristine http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND |
Constance Marguerite Russell - January 10, 2011 03:50 AM (GMT)
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by the light
OF THE SILVERY MOON I WANT TO SPOON TO MY HONEY I'LL CROON LOVE'S TUNE HONEY MOON KEEP A-SHININ' IN JUNE YOUR SILV'RY BEAMS WILL BRING LOVE'S DREAMS WE'LL BE CUDDLIN' SOON BY THE SILVERY MOON -----</div>
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"All that Constance had to be aware of was that there was a party going on, and that she was invited. France may have very well been some ways away from London, but her presence was wanted. Besides, it wasn't too much to expect for her to make a party in another country. She was a girl that was well known for her uncanny ability to party so heavily and to have such fun while doing it. She would at least try her best to be one of the most fashionable young women in a room. <br><br><br>
Being a denizen of France had its advantages. The latest fashions would certainly be most simple to come by, and Constance's tailor at least had an idea of what sort of fashions the girl liked. She wasn't the sort to be daring, but she wanted for eyes to be on her, even though she wasn't the so-called 'special' catch of the evening. It may have been vindictive, but Constance was known to be a lively young woman.
Getting to London was of no real consequence. She had arrived there a few days early, to take stock of this city and its glistening manors and beautifully titled nobles, but it felt so much more shabby than the wonderfully cosmopolitan and thoroughly modern Paris. It seemed dirtier and the poor seemed so much more numerous. Her mother had complained about their ever-present nature, opting for them to at least be shut up in convents, jails or sanitariums, but Constance didn't pay them too much mind. She would probably spare a little bit of spare change to a child begging for tuppence. <br><br><br>
The night of the ball was special indeed. Constance had spent quite some time preparing for such an affair. She made extremely sure that her skin would at least appear as pale as possible, with rosy red cheeks that she would pinch every-so-often. She managed to get her hands on lip rouge, and applied it just so - not enough to be vulgar, but just enough to enhance her already fragile, rosebud mouth. Her pink dress helped to enhance the pinks in her complexion, with bits of flowers and pearls in her dark locks. Her hair was effortlessly piled up, wisps of hair hinting at her innocent nature, though still making her appear a bit older than she was. <br><br><br>
After a reasonably nice carriage ride, Constance arrived at the Crane residence. Pawning off her coat to the help, she effortlessly worked the room, waving genteelly at the people standing around, keeping a careful smile upon her angelic face as she walked from person to person. She wasn't a hostess of the party, but she still enjoyed such events, and she always knew that such things were ways that she could retain her social standing as a popular young socialite.
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THIS POST IS MEANT FOR EVERYONNE
, WHOM I KNOW AS THE EPIC ANYONE
. AND THANKS TO THE AWESOMENESS OF WORDCOUNTTOOL, I'VE FOUND THAT THERE ARE 474
WORDS. MY EPIC CHARACTER IS GARBED IN SOMETHING OF THIS
NATURE. OH AND I WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT NOTESHERE
POST TEMPLATE CREATED BY DANCE IN THE DARK ! OF <a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=236">CAUTION</a>, <a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/A_THOUSAND_FIREFLIES/index.php?showuser=1466">ATF</a>, AND <a href="http://z7.invisionfree.com/SOSHALLOW/index.php?showuser=307">SDS</a>.<br>BACKGROUND BY <a href="http://www.liveinternet.ru/community/-paradize-">PARADIZE ART</a></div>
Cyrus Liam Crane - February 6, 2011 11:21 AM (GMT)
After mingling a little with his guests Cyrus Crane noticed that the hour stroke the latest and now it was time to excuse them. Finally, after years and routines of planned Galas he had news that would free him for quite some time, breaking him from a bondage that he never thought he'd escape. He spent his last few moments finding the fiery haired women he was now promised to wed. Cyrus linked his arm with Kayleigh O'Riley and climbed the stair to the upper balcony. As they walked, guests turned their heads, eventually the giant room fell silent, watching him ascend with the strange, young woman. He could feel the pressure rise and strike both of them, but despite his discomfort he kept moving forward. At the top of the case there was a small table with a few glasses and an open wine bottle. It had been set there every gala in hopes Cyrus would actually have the opportunity to use it.
Still hooked to Kayleigh, he grabbed the glasses, swaying her hand as his arm yanked to give her a small taste of wine in her own glass. She could tell he was nervous, his hands were shaking again, but only she would understand his nervousness and only she would ever know his struggle. His lips mouthed words silently, as though he were running a speech through his head, choosing the most elegant words in order to address these people. The dead silence made his nerves tingle with fright; The poor boy was trembling. His fingers pried a small spoon from a silver dish placed on the small table as he lifted the set he turned, guiding his fake
fiance to the banister. Those two dark hues, colors of the Earth gazed over many loyal subjects. Cyrus Crane was from a wealthy and powerful family, any woman would kill to be in. Standing upon the balcony, he literally felt like a king, holding his chin up in respectful silence, but Cyrus was a lesser man than that, after all, he was just
His trembling limbs tapped the spoon gently against the crystal basin of the wine glass. It was a unnecessary gesture, considering he already had the room's full and undivided attention. He smoothed his lips into a frown as he quickly thought to himself. Cyrus had the ability of thinking on a higher level, stranding ideas together by threads instead of heavily building a bridge between them. "Ladies and Gentlemen. It is within my greatest appreciation to gratify you for attending my gala this evening."
he started, his voice echoed over the heads of the large collection of people. His chin lowered as he looked at his glass, parting his lips to prepare for more words. The edge of his thumb gently slide across the bowl, spanning over the clear crystal as he thought some more. "Ever since I was a boy, I had an idea about love. I saw love as a life of affection, trust and commitment. To betroth someone was just another step of the ladder. Love was attainable without marriage, without any sort of title and it lasted through all consequences; whether they be appropriate or not. I wish I had some sort of influential quote my father used to say, but like a lot society, love is nothing but a materialistic property. (Something that you all fault to Whispered). I may have become an older man without a wife, my reputation may have suffered and my wealth held, but I was determined to find someone I could spend the rest of my days with. Grow old and turn to the next, still feeling as loved as I have the first day."
Cyrus was starting off his ending speech with the concept of love. He may have not felt any affection further than just a friend with Kayleigh, but he felt it necessary to express his beliefs. Maybe one day someone will pass on his wisdom. "It was a difficult choice to make, but in our lives there is a journey that can be taken easily and the journey that is successful with hard work. I have lost many battles and neglected many opportunities, only to prosper in the end."
he paused as he turned his face and looked at Kayleigh, a short smile across his cheeks expressed his gratitude for the performance she was willing to play. "Love cannot withstand death, but it can outlast time. I wish eternal happiness to you and to your loved ones. For my line has just begun. This young woman at my arm, Kayleigh O'Riley has been asked for her hand in marriage and she obliged."
he raised his wine glass slowly, as though resembling a knight pledging to the king. 'Thank you'
mouthed from his lips as he turned to look at her. "To...Truth, Freedom, Beauty and Love."
he toasted taking a quick sip of his wine after his toast.
The Crane Gala is officially CLOSED. If you have an unfinished thread in the Gala it will be moved to the London Forums to be finished, keep in mind that it needs to be finished as soon as possible, considering it is a part of a closed stie event