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Foe.Glass

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Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

January 03, 2023, 07:21:03 am

She didn't have doubts about him going anywhere but appreciated the reassurance nonetheless. This was, despite her mother's insane protestation, a rather idylic situation for them both. One that perhaps they were more nervous than was let on. Him marrying was a requirement, even if he would down play the need for him to produce heirs to ease her own stress over the matter. According to him and basically everyone they'd known as mutual friends, his unrequited love for her from adolescents onward was common knowledge to everyone but herself. So as far as she could tell, this was in many ways, a perfect albeit shocking outcome for him. Re-marrying and having children was utterly non-negotiable though she had grown to rue the day that was going to happen. She'd assumed her second marriage would be much the same as her first though she'd sworn to herself to pick someone 40% less stupid the second time around. Love had taken a plunge down her priorities list and was now a 'nice to have' kind of quality in a relationship. So by her own list of standards she was coming out far ahead of her own expectations with this as well. They'd each had nearly all their boxes ticked off by the other - of course neither of them were going anywhere.

His comment about the path of virtue made her raise her eyebrow. Why he was so insistent upon this she wasn't sure. Initially when they'd first become romantic she'd hesitated, decades of training of how to be a lady clouding her attitude. Now though she saw no point in denying themselves anything. She'd understood that he had been with other women but had she misunderstood? Was he holding back out of anxiety? Even still, why bother now that they'd both made up their minds? It was going to happen eventually, surely it was favorable to start experimenting now so that by the time the wedding came to pass there was some semblance of comfort and familiarity with the other? So when he went to remove her wedding gown it was not all nerves and awkward starts? To her at least that made sense, having done it all before the proper way and having been left wanting for almost anything more enjoyable than what she got. For him to bring it up now, it seemed as though it was in the forefront of this mind. Her comment had not particularly been about intimacy at all.

"Declan," she started softly. For a moment she considered how to make her view on this painfully clear. She thought there had been more than one occasion where she'd done that but it would seem there was still considerable hesitation from him.

"Rules and virtue are all well and good to start out with when things are uncertain. There is certainly a time and place for it. " For a moment she paused to think. Perhaps now was not the time but he'd broached the subject and had given her an opening - intentional or not. Though considering him this was likely a loaded subject. For all his nonsense about being unconventional he was anything but. Sure, having a hobby perfume business when you're a multi-millionaire was quirky but hardly avante garde. Perhaps despite some dalliances in his youth he did indeed take it all very seriously as he did other things.

Her train of thought was interrupted by him pulling her closer, going on about fairies, as if she hadn't grown up in miles of unspoiled magical wilderness. "I'm not so concerned about fairies, we have all manner of creature at Dalemain you know....miles and miles of unspoilt magical wilderness. I guess having never seen the place properly you have fallen for my very lady like facade and are oblivious to the fact that I was, in fact, a rather feral child. Fairies and pixies and hinkypunks have been familiar foe for my whole life."

She let him pull her closer protectively though, she would not deny him that closeness on account of his concern being a bit silly. Any excuse to be closer was welcomed. "They are pretty though," she added letting her head fall against his shoulder momentarily, a little sign of affection as they traipsed forward on the path he'd chosen. She eased her stride as he pulled his wand unintentionally, watching the little blip of light he produced steam ahead of them into the wood. Curious. She was intrigued. Without hesitation she continued beside him as he directed.

Unsure where they were going but assuming it was whatever had reflected this light back towards them she saw her window of opportunity diminshing to address this virtue concern he'd skirted. "Dec...." she continued beside him though she glanced over at him as she spoke, "About your comment. I can see how my actions and signals could be confusing for a gentleman. Indeed, when our feelings first surfaced there was certainly a need to stay on the path of virtue for the sake of propriety and ensuring we didn't make any rash judgements. But....I find myself quite exhausted with all of that if I am to be frank. What's the point now? I am not going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. There is no consequence to our following our hearts desires. Everyone knows I am a widow. No maid will come to check our marital bed for proof that I had maintained myself for the wedding. So why not let me indulge you? I suppose I cannot force you to do anything so I shall state it so plainly you cannot misconstrue it in your head."

She looked over at him, her gait faltering slightly as she did forcing them both to slow their stride, "Step off the path. Step off the path of virtue with me. For me. Let me indulge you, let us indulge each other. I choose you and I do not see myself changing my mind. I see no point in denying ourselves the pleasure and intimate expression of some aspects of a relationship because of tradition. So let it be clear, that is my deep desire, to step off the path and be as un-virtuous as possible with you. Positively sinful if you will allow it. I am confident my only regret will be not straying further from the path sooner."

She smiled a coy flirty grin at him and picked her pace back up to her prior speed. For a few strides she let what she'd said sink in. Perhaps it would be shocking to him given his background. But she didn't care, to her each night that passed without him beside her was a missed opportunity. If he ever got around to the proposal he'd promised her father she wondered if she'd be able to stand crawling into bed alone afterwards. Whatever his hang up was, whatever his anxieties, she was happy to talk him out of them as she knew she could.

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

December 31, 2022, 06:45:22 pm

Thankfully Declan picked up her hint and ran with the stupid garden tour idea. Not that she had any doubt he would but it seemed a break away would be easy enough.

Smiling at Fintan she gave a little shrug, "Something tells me those bottles will be put to good use one way or another." For a moment she paused, debating if she dared be as snarky as the comment that popped into her head just then. He seemed to be a jovial type, surely he'd understand a little joke? With a seductively sweet smile she tilted her head and added, "Besides, as my family name might suggest I'm much more partial to the complexities of Scotch over Irish." Her tone was friendly even if it was teasing.

Taking Declan's hand she gave Fintan one last sweet little grin before rising and smiling at her handsome partner with a look of smug amusement at how easily she'd handled the man he deemed so problematic. As he led her away from the table she gave his hand a tight squeeze, excited and appreciative to be leaving the larger party to be along with him.

Of course she couldn't have cared less about the roses he was showing her. Sure, they were lovely, perhaps one day she'd care about Irish gardens but now was certainly not the time. As they made their way away from the family party she glanced back at them. It wasn't unpleasant in the least but she felt selfish, greedy even, for Declan's sole attention. They all seemed nice enough but it would take quite some time to actually get to know any of them and build any kind of relationship. From her understanding of things it was usually not until children arrived that one really began to bond with in-laws so perhaps there would be a couple of years of polite, distant relationships yet to come.

"Sure," she commented when he suggested a walk. Per his suggestion she had worn at least moderately comfortable boots under her dress and had already enchanted them and her hem to resist any kind of dirt or water. Ahead of them the landscape certainly looked inviting. Perhaps she had adapted very comfortably to life in Belgravia but she had been raised in one of the most remote areas of England. Even amongst the muggles Cumbria was decades behind somewhere like London. All rolling hills, sheep, rocks, and lakes - there was little in the way of modern amusements and diversions in her homeland. The family homes in Scotland were just as remote if not more. So this environment felt more homey to her than much else she'd find in Ireland.

It seemed the O'Dwyers were so much easier in demeanor than her own family. Perhaps they would welcome her true self, the country lady who spent more time in a riding habit than a dinner gown and wore her riding boots into the house. She was almost amused at the idea of tying her horse at the gate of his Grandparent's home and waltzing into the place in her Abercrombie tartan habit skirt and coordinating jacket. Their sore thumb of a granddaughter in law, clinging to her family's original Scottish heritage despite now being a mistress of one of the most Irish families to ever have existed amongst their magical kind. Smiling at the thought of it she looked over at Declan before giggling a little and intentionally bumping into him from the side, playful and flirty.

"Everyone seems fine. Your father doesn't seem nearly as sour as you make him out to be but I suppose everyone is on their best behavior in front of guests."

"I don't mind going back but I certainly wouldn't mind staying out here with you until the sunsets or were utterly famished and have no choice but to starve or return. Family gatherings are all well and good but I prefer having your undivided attention and not having to bother with engaging with anyone else when all I want to do is be alone with you."

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

December 24, 2022, 06:53:02 am

Farren was surprised at the thoughtful and thorough response she got. She hadn't expected it and somehow it seemed to show a duality Declan had never hinted at. So he did notice other people, occasionally. Even praised them, kind of. Yet she ultimately took from it what she'd always assumed. We're her mother not stopped from doing it for the sake of marriage she'd have been utterly lethal. Though her mother would gladly remind them of this anytime she could anyways.

Her expression politely neutral she nodded acknowledging his assessment. "Interesting observations," she concluded politely. She suspected, in her current arrangement, her mother rarely faced situations where there was much fight left in the people she came and to wand with. She certainly had no intention to duel her herself. Though given the events of days prior perhaps if her mother insulted Declan as she fought her it would be easier to muster the rage required to focus on almost maiming or killing her.

When he asked her whether she enjoyed dueling and casually mentioned Declan not being interested she was surprised. Was he clever enough to deliver a truly well rounded insult or was it just happen stance? Not using Declan's name - the man she would not be here meeting him without. Whom it would seem everyone here had some kind of inkling she would soon be wed to. 'My eldest' seemed to condescending to be an accident. Offering up Lorcan, a teenager, her intended's baby brother as a possible sparring partner, was simultaneously an insult to her and Declan - if Fontana were at all clever.

She glanced quickly at Declan, non verbally clocking the comment with him.

"To be honest I don't much care. My mother forced me to learn and practice with her until I left home. I am proficient enough to feel confident in putting up a respectable offense and a strong defense if needed. Personally, I find more value in other pursuits."

Was it a jab? It was delivered so politely and diplomatically in tone it was impossible to tell if it was a frank opinion or a subtle slap.

Glancing at Declan, clearly trying to interject in some kind of smoothing over, she felt that same defensive sense for him bubbling up as it had with her mum.

"Indeed. Artists can duel. But when your art is reliant on all 10 fingers you'd be wise to think twice about what else you do with them. No one wants to hear someone with seven fingers try and play violin."

Fintan proposed a game but she couldn't think of anything but Declan. It was necessary, meeting and socializing with everyone, but she had no desire to do so. Though perhaps all of this had been longer coming than she'd realized their love was still new enough that all she wanted was time alone with him.

"A game certainly sounds amusing but I was promised a tour of the gardens while we still have full sun to appreciate them," she lied sweetly. "I am happy to join as your banner man afterward though." She smiled one of her irresistible smiles at her future father in law. The kind of smile that made men and women melt and yield to whatever she had just been so politely demanding. Being impossibly pretty and effortlessly seductive had many perks.

Glancing at Declan she locked eyes with him. It was his job to save them now. Gardens, house, leaving altogether she wasn't really fussed so long as they were alone. Hand in hand, wrapped up in each other, absorbing the bliss of the radiant warmth of their love that seemed to fill the air around them anytime they were happily alone.

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

December 07, 2022, 06:52:22 pm

The family were nothing if not lively. He'd mentioned this of course but actually experiencing it was something different. Not that her family never laughed together or didn't have it's own traditions, just that for many years now she felt like all of that had been overshadowed by varying incidents of misery. It was hard to have a happy Christmas or Hallows Eve when the women of the family had been recently radicalized in a cult and the youngest just widowed.

Having already found the Grandparents friendly and agreeable and having met the mother before she had really only worry about the father. The father was the one she'd been warned most about. Fintan O'Dwyer was somehow both a lazy do nothing for the family and a tyrant per her assessment by Declan's telling. A renowned dueler, sure, but so useless at the business and logic skills these people seemed to prize so deeply his son half his age usurped him as heir. Not that she wasn't unfamiliar with fathers who had little acumen for the family business. The primary difference seemed to be her father was thrilled to transfer any power and duties to her he could, without resistance.

Fintan would of course know her mother. The world renowned duelist who never was. It wouldn't surprise her if in her mother's youth, before her career had been stopped, if she and Fintan had sparred regularly. From what she gathered from Declan they certainly knew eachother now though through one Tom Riddle. Which of course meant he should also know her Grandmother, Farrah well enough and perhaps, though she wasn't sure, perhaps even her Grandfather.

The reception he offered and the scene they arrived upon seemed to far exceed Declan's expectations judging by his expressions.

"Mr. O'Dwyer, " she offered a polite head nod, "A pleasure to meet you at long last," she offered hoping the suggestion that he was, even to her, infamous would grease the wheels a bit.

With a polite smile she nodded again, "Thank you, indeed many people declare the resemblance is strong." So long as no one compared her behavior to her mother she was fine with such comments.

Declan motioned to introduce her to his brother, whom he had always described as dutiful and cute. Just a kid and still in school it was a bit odd for her to see such a chasm between the brothers in age and life happenings. How odd it must be to be a teenager and your parents announce another child is on the way. Surely Declan was as much a father to this boy as he was brother, given the harsh hand his father seemed to deal out. Or perhaps it was Lorcan's realtively good looks and agreeable attitude that spared him such harshness?

Whatever was going on she hardly minded. Everyone seemed friendly enough and if anything their high spirits and expanding party number reminded them vaguely of her Grandmother's family. French, affectionate, and extremely social. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," she said politely, though she was unsure what Miss Selwyn was doing here or whom she was. Though of course the Selwyn family were known to her, if this girl was of social standing, it was easy to assume she'd not had her debut.

"I've heard very much about you Lorcan," she added addressing him specifically since he would soon be her brother in law and having no actual siblings of her own she hoped that at the very least they could foster a relationship with the boy. "Declan tells me you're quite popular and far more likely than he to consent to any of our little society gatherings and parties. Perhaps you know Miss Selwyn from such an event?" If no one was going to ask she certainly would.

She graciously took the cake from Mrs. O'Dwyer. The men decorated the cake? Bizarre. But that seemed to be their norm, everyone doing odd things that servants should be doing. Certainly once she was the mistress of her home that would not be the case but it was a trivial thing to be upset about here.

"I have been to Ireland a handful of times before," she responded to Fintan, "However this is the first time visiting an estate such as this or attending any kind of occasion, with friends, primarily prior visits were limited to a few odd work or sporting events." It seemed best to leave out her visit to Declan's manor. Who knew if Fintan had some kind of grudge against him taking control of that house.

Declans apology was all but shrugged off. Why he kept apologizing for their behavior when her mother had acted like a total harpie in front of him she didn't know. If anything he should have apologized for the elf bath situation, not these odd but perfectly pleasant niceties.

"May I?" she asked but didn't wait for a response, she sat down in the chair nearest to Fintan, feeling quite at ease with them at this point. If Declan and his father were going to spend their lives engaged in some kind of civil war there was no reason she couldn't get Fintan to fall in love with her. Father's and sons were so complicated, masculinity and pride. Fathers and daughters though - there was no doubt whom always held the upper hand there in the long run.

"So, Mr. O'Dwyer, I am curious. I've never sat round a table with such a renowned duelist. My mother was Hogwarts dueling Champion three years running. Then Junior Ladies champion the first year after graduation before hanging up her dueling gloves for family. I daresay, out of anyone I've met, you may be the only person of form-ability whom has ever matched wands on the dueling field or seen her work from a professional perspective." She paused, letting her flattery marinate as she took a small bite of cake. "Is Mrs. Victoria Bennett Abercrombie as fearsome as she has convinced me she is my whole life? Or....was I just far too gullible as a child?" Her smile and tone were sweet and her question calculated but Fintan, from what little she knew, seemed like the type to lap it up.

Glancing over her shoulder at Declan she offered him the tiniest of smirks. War with his father he may but by the time their vows were exchanged she was certain to have the whole of the family eating out of the palm of her pretty little hand.

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

November 03, 2022, 05:16:16 am

"You're very humble about all of this is what I mean. I don't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't as much as all this. Of course you told me the family had gem mines but I suppose I was expecting something....smaller? Not a Gringotts worthy cavern full of tunnel tracks and multiple vaults and blood magic. Maybe I just didn't bother to pay much attention to it because....it doesn't matter that much to me? I'm in love with you for you and I trust you. It didn't occur to me to ever look into the extent of this business or any details of your fortune. So I'm just a little shocked at the expanse and fantastical elements of it all."

She shrugged, it was true, for the first time in her life she'd not bothered to go digging around for information about the fortune and scandals attached to the family. Every man who had called on her since Clive's death had been expertly researched no matter how uninterested she was in them. But this time these details were the furthest thing from her mind in reality. That was an unexpected realization, to just trust and not care. Of course she knew he had plenty of money, more than they could ever use, but now it was occurring to her just how much her heart was winning out over the social engineering she'd done most of her life.

But she didn't spend much time musing over this as he was speaking again and despite being all smiles his tone seemed rather genuine and reflective. She wasn't sure how she felt about the things he was speaking about. Sure, there would be troubles, they were in many ways very different people, their expectations in relationships and family were surely very different. But the more time they spent together, each additional emotional and physically intimate moment they shared these concerns seemed less and less problematic in the grand scheme of things.

Farren grinned as he took a handful of stones and animated them above her. She couldn't quite make out what it looked like but she had a good idea. Indeed, his family was very strange to her but she was quickly starting to think things about his family and hers that might shock him far more than they shocked her. Perhaps all the liberalism and togetherness was foreign and uncomfortable now but she had adapted to far worse in her last marriage. No one had worried about her the last time around. So already she was growing more confident in this than she'd been in any relationship.

For a moment her breath caught in her chest, the jewels hovering over her head didn't matter compared to the few words he'd uttered. A deep sense of security and peace seemed to envelope her damaged little heart and the sense of love and admiration for him that washed over her was intense.

"Dec," she whispered softly as he ran his fingers down her cheek. Carefully, mindful not to knock the jewels down she turned her face just enough to press her lips against his fingers. Turning as he guided her she looked up at the tub he pointed towards. It was far from a good mirror but it was enough and the shimmer of the stones was bright enough for her to see what he'd done. Smiling she stared at her murky reflection admiring the coronation jewels he'd arranged on her.

She smiled as the stones rained down on her gently shaking them from her dress and reaching up to swipe them from her hair. Laughing she turned back to him shaking her head a little at him for having let the stones dissolve into a diamond shower and end up on the floor.

"Declan," she said her smile growing into a warm beam, everything he'd said had hit her like a warm wave. Engulfing her fragile little heart, overwhelming her senses, and carrying her out to sea on a wave of sheer passion for him. Reaching for him she closed the space between them, pushing diamonds out of her way with the toe of her shoe as she pulled him into her arms. Her arms around his waist holding him close to her she looked him over with a knowing smile on her face. Having him close pushed the high she was riding higher.

"You are right about all of that. Things will be hard. Things will be an adjustment. Life is going to change drastically. But...I don't have a single doubt in my mind that it will all be worth it and all of the adjustments and growing pains associated with it are a small price to pay for this feeling." Shifting her hands she reached up to cup his face, her other palm pressed firmly into the small of his back holding him close to her with a firm pressure. "I am not as eloquent as you most of the time, so for now I will just say that you are so very, very, deeply loved."

Tenderly she leaned in and kissed him. Her heart hammering in her chest as she did, the deep sense of love and passion he evoked swelling inside her, pushing harder and harder against her chest. Adjusting her angle she kissed him more deeply, the wave of emotion enveloping her further as the gnawing of carnal passion began to swell along side the raw emotion.

"I don't expect it to be easy. I don't expect us to get everything perfect. I suspect we will have epic fights. I'm sure there will be more than one occasion where we question everything and our own sanity in signing up for this. But, I would bet every single diamond in this vault that those times pale in comparison to the times we're stupidly happy. If bathing a house elf is the price I have to pay to kiss you everyday for the rest of my life - so be it. If hosting half a dozen silly Irish holidays a year is the tax I owe for calling you my husband - fine. If eating your homemade stew once a week is what it takes to fall asleep in your arms - then I love stew."

Slowly she pulled back, removing her hand from the small of his back to reach up and gently stroke his hair, her thumb running over his cheek. "I don't care. Nothing is perfect. Nothing worth having is easy. I appreciate you wanting me to be comfortable and feel accepted but all of that is just a bonus. I am quite sure until now I thought these kinds of feelings were impossible but every moment we have alone, every kiss, every touch, I fall more and more in love with you and I am certain nothing in this world will make me happier than you can. Nothing is more important to me than this, being your Queen, loving you." Smiling a little she placed a soft kiss on his lips before tenderly nudging his nose with hers in a playful manner.

"So yes, hurry up and make these diamonds permanent. Nothing is going to change my mind. I'm yours. I'm just waiting for you to officially claim me." She smirked, if he asked her this very second and proposed to her with a handful of diamonds scooped out of a jar she'd say yes. If he asked her to get up in the morning and marry him in his Grandparent's garden she would. "It will be hard at times but if this is how it feels now, I cannot imagine how intense our love will grow with time."

Sighing a contented little sigh she glanced down at the diamonds that littered the floor around them. With a swish of her wrist she summoned the largest one towards her, as it flew through the air into her palm she transfigured it to a beautiful emerald shade. "I am partial to emerald though. It is the primary accent in the Abercrombie tartan associated with our original clanlands in Fife. Besides that, I think you secretly like the idea of taming a foxy little Slytherin princess." Laughing a little she placed the stone in his hand, "Just a thought. An emerald here or there in the design. Seems most fitting." The diamond's emerald tone faded and it returned to it's original white-clear sheen.

"So....do you think they actually like me or....like me enough because you have told them they must?"

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

September 06, 2022, 05:17:02 pm

Farren nodded politely as they explained the large green stone's name. When Mr. O'Dwyer mentioned naming the stones was one of the few ways he could get Declan to study the Irish language she smiled, "Shocking. I thought studying was his one true joy in life," she was ribbing him lightly. Beyond that she offered no further comment or thought about the green stone. Something awkward hung over the talk of jewels and jewelry, a massive green stone Declan had named after the idea of soulmates, mention of a tiara for her, Mr. O'Dwyer having promised to the the green stone into something for Declan. It was presumptuous but she had the inkling that after all these years Declan had found a use for his favorite stone and was tip toeing around it now. It wasn't at all polite to pry and ask such things now in front of his Grandfather so she happily let the matter drop.

"Indeed, I like clear stones. I do have a respectable collection of sapphires and emeralds as well. The Abercrombie clan tartan is blue and green so they are very common amongst the family's jewel collection even though I think most would consider us hardly worthy of wearing the family tartan at this point, since we sided with the British crown back in the 1640s." She paused offering a little smile, she was unsure of herself and had nearly trailed off nervously in conversation about the dramatic and impossible to follow family history of a clan of magical Scots in Cumbria whom had sided with the English in the civil war.

Thankfully everyone seemed to realize there was a lingering awkwardness in the air. Mr. O'Dwyer excused himself hastily and bid them adeu quickly. Alone again she watched Declan, waiting for him to act and let on what was going on truly. He embraced her firmly and she gladly gave him a tight squeeze.

"I'm fine....a bit unsure about all of this vault and holiday business," she smiled a little, "None of my governesses prepared me for what to do when one is expecting an engagement and is ferried off to a vault of priceless gems with their suitor's Grandfather proceeding over the event. I don't want to appear over eager about the jewels - what if he thinks I'm after your fortunes? Nor do I want to appear indifferent and unappreciative. I feel rather on my back foot about some of this but I think overall it's going as expected?"

She raised her eyebrows hoping he would concur that things were going as well as he'd expected and that she'd done nothing for them to look poorly upon.

"They're rather lovely people I think," she commented, "A bit shocking to me, that they seem so invested in you and open minded as to your happiness. I suppose I am learning rather a lot about you in this short time. To me it seems you have a great deal in common with Mr. O'Dwyer, his positive influence on you is clear."

Pausing she reached up and tenderly played with a strand of his hair. "It's a far better reception than I deserve given the behavior of my mother towards you. I wish I were more embarassed about it but I was so expecting such a thing I can't even feel shame for it, just annoyance. These people care about you very much, I just hope they will be patient with me. This type of family dynamic is so foreign. It will be odd for awhile to be a person instead of a chess piece."

"But really....will you tell me or is this some secret what this business is all about?" she gestured to the rows of gems. "My mother might have shut her mouth if she'd known about all of this. I'm sure father and grandfather will be surprised as well. Though I can hardly blame them for the surprise. Here I've known you near on 20 years and shared a bed with you and eagerly await being titled your wife and had not a bloody clue about this. Not that I had any doubt about your fortunes and ability to provide our children a comfortable life and inheritance but....this is a rather shocking revelation. The dramatics of the space alone are shocking, never mind the implied content and riches of it. I don't know what I imagined but it surely was not this."

Smiling she kissed his lips lightly. "Should this be my pet name for you then? Anam Cara? It certainly sounds more dignified and mysterious than pet names couples use. Dearest or baby or sweetie seem too shallow and childish compared to Anam Cara but perhaps it is the wrong context to apply it to you? I haven't the faintest idea about how things go in Irish - as we've all seen well demonstrated today."

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

September 03, 2022, 05:48:46 pm

"Alright, if it pleases you," she said consenting to whatever little side quest he'd be taking her on. Declan certainly had not talked about this Anam Cara, whatever that might be, just like he had not talked about this holiday. Her gaze shot to Declan from the corner of her eyes, a side eye that said, 'you've left me woefully unprepared for this - thank you very much'. However despite walking into the total unknown she followed diligently towards the little building.

She was more than surprised when they entered what appeared very clearly to be a mine shaft. Of course she knew the O'Dwyers owned a mine, or was it mines - plural? It had never occured to her that it sat 15 meters from their house though. Now that she thought about it she wasn't sure Declan had ever said anything at all about them other than they existed. This was all turning out so oddly she hoped her well practiced expression of neutral pleasantness would hold since his Grandfather was with them. Taking his hand she climbed into the cart as elegantly as was possible and gave a little wave as his Grandfather lurched out of the loading area ahead of them.

"Yet another detail you left out about the day," she said as he climbed into the cart behind her. She wasn't sore but she was tedious and having more than one surprise in a day like today left her feeling like she'd shown up to an exam she'd not prepared for at all. "Alright then," she said with a nod as he explained this was their vault. For a moment she found it quite odd before thinking it was not so different in function than the library at Dalemain. Perhaps books were not as valuable as jewels in many cases but many in their subterranean library were. One could not enter apparate estate without Abercrombie blood or a enchanted medallion carrying the blood of the Abercrombie they had married. The magical wards on Dalemain had only allowed Declan to enter the house because he came via herself and he'd only been allowed to enter the library as her father's magical forces against the door overrode the blood wards against the space. So, perhaps this was not so crazy, even if the mechanism, a mine shaft, was rather over the top.

While she felt rather on edge about the day in general she let herself try and relax under his guard and sink back into him as they lurched forward. He explained the system and she nodded. "I don't know what it never occurred to me that the homes would be connected to the mines, I suppose we've never really discussed them," she commented. "I can assure you I have very little desire to come down here even when we are married," she noted his warning and the narrow tunnel was assurance enough to not come here alone if she could help it. Perhaps it was surprising considering her beloved Slytherin house was subterranean but she'd always found the dark underground very uncomfortable. The last time she'd been to Gringotts was hours after Clive's death. It had been a miserable experience even if it hadn't involved shoving into a wobbly cart with Pyxis and spiraling to the depths of the earth with a goblin. She'd gone preemptively, well aware that her claim to Clive's assets and the Rosier assets would be tested by his parents. She'd extracted the Will he'd authored with her as the beneficiary as well as the few jewels he'd gifted her that weren't kept in their house. Hopefully, this time around, any mine cart trips would be far more pleasant.

What they pulled up to was impressive even from the outside glance. As Declan helped her out of the cart she shot him an anticipatory glance, what was this about? They entered a room full of gems, the likes of which she'd never seen. She tried her best not to gawk, to remain unflustered by the sparkles around her, and observe the scene with polite interest. "This is quite a collection," she said pleasantly with a sweet smile.

As directed she followed Grandfather O'Dwyer around the desk. When he opened the box to this Anam Cara, which she'd thought had been the name of this whole place originally, she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise at the stone inside. "My goodness, what a stone," she said softly. Smiling a little she hesitantly took it into her hand as instructed, running her fingers over it's cool smooth surfaces. "I suppose I've never seen such a stone," she noted as she considered it and the way the light bounced off it's facets. Smiling at Declan she shifted the stone to her other hand, "I can see why you are partial to it, seems like a special piece. How did it come by it's name?" she carefully returned it to it's box, she didn't want to hold onto it too long and give some kind of impression that she was wanting it or bewitched by it like a middle class tourist gawking at the jewels of a rich family on display at their estate turned museum.

Declan had pulled a box of gems off the shelf and was now presenting it to her. He suggested she pick something for a tiara and for a moment she was actually taken aback. Her gaze met his as her emotions got the best of her and her pulse quickened. Of course she had no doubt he was going to propose, that they would be married in the near enough future, and that all the benefits of being Mrs. O'Dwyer would be quickly bestowed upon her. However there was something stirring about this. He was boldly making her a promise in front of his Grandfather. He was well aware that at least in her culture only married women wore tiaras. They were often gifted to the bride from the groom's family, a piece she would wear during her wedding festivities to mark her as married into that family. Declan had watched her walk down the aisle wearing the Rosier Auvergne tiara that had been gifted to her a week before her wedding from Clive's grandmother. She assumed that he was now planning to have his family make her a new tiara, a new O'Dwyer tiara, specifically to their tastes as a pair. It was moving, how could it not be? She pursed her lips for a moment, her eyes locked on his, as the warmth in her chest welled up for him. It was an intimate gaze, one she dare not let linger in front of his grandfather, but even for her it was impossible to hide her deep affection for him.

"Well," she managed softly her gaze still affectionately affixed to his, "I certainly wasn't expecting such a thing, how very generous," she stepped closer to him and the box. Did he know how much she wanted to kiss him? Smiling she looked down at the box a bit apprehensive, "To be frank," she glanced at Grandfather O'Dwyer with a hesitant grin, "I've never picked out my own pieces. Literally everything I own is either an heirloom or a gift someone picked for me." She assumed this was normal for women of her stature. Why buy new when the family vaults held 700 years worth of fine jewels? She considered the stones in front of her. She disliked anything too angular so that ruled out quite a few cuts. "I prefer round stones," she said softly, "Like these," she pointed delicately to two round stones near the back of the box. "Perhaps one of these if you approve?"

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

August 10, 2022, 04:37:43 am

Farren smiled at the mention of Declan's aunt, whom she'd not heard of, and was glad to hear their opinion of greatly accomplished was not at all liberally applied. "How delightful," she said genuinely impressed, "I've not had the pleasure to see the opera in Milan but I am sure it affords her a most fulfilling and exciting experience." She wondered how these people, whom were from a generation even older than her own parents, seemed so happy to let their youngest run off to Europe and pursue music. It was such an odd thing to encourage a woman of good breeding to pursue long term she'd been taught.

She was pleased with the champagne and took it from the elf gently offering a gracious nod to the beast. Seeing as this woman, her grandmother in-law to be, had been carting one around in her arms she assumed she'd best be nice to them. Not that she was cruel to them at home, just that she rarely paid them any mind apart from her own dedicated elf, Priss, whom she regarded rather fondly. Though she was rather accustomed to being toasted and the center of attention she found it somewhat uncomfortable now. Their easy manner was so casual she found it odd and she'd prepared for some kind of exhaustive examination of her manners, nature, talents, and suitability as a Lady. Though she did not actually believe it to be the case she wondered if this tone was a false pretense and there was some kind of grilling yet to come. Nevertheless she raised her glass as they toasted her and echoed her thanks politely.

It almost made her laugh when Mr. O'Dwyer said her parents must be proud. Surely he'd be shocked to know the truth. That her mother had been given a virtuoso and took any opportunity possible to bemoan the fact that she was better at muggle instruments than dueling. "I suppose they are proud enough," she offered in a tone that suggested there was much detail being politely parsed out, "My mother would prefer me to be a great duelist and no doubt my father would prefer me to dedicate myself to ancient runes and runic magic. Seeing as I prefer neither they have both agreed to support me with my music so long as it does not interfere with my responsibility to the family." There were a great many things she could have said that would have been more true and more funny. That they couldn't agree whether she should be a Death Eater or carve up dead people for sport like her father so they'd agreed she could be a house wife. That they were terribly disappointed in her magical talent so they'd decided it best to make her a brood mare instead. Obviously these would be highly inappropriate but no doubt, a great deal more true.

"It's nice to be around those who understand and truly appreciate the music," she noted with a grin, "I shall have to play for you all sometime. I'd be happy to play anything you like. If you'd like to see if you can best me I'm happy to take the most difficult sheet of music you can find," she gave Mrs. O'Dwyer a cunning little glance as if to dare her, "I'm quite confident you'll never have heard it done better than by me." There - she could be loose and fun. She'd practically made three jokes now. If only Declan were here to notice her efforts despite finding it all so horribly odd.

She made no comment on playing professionally in the future. Giving it up at all had been a sore subject. Clive's quidditch schedule was so complicated it made their marriage impossible if she'd not been at home in London. So naturally, she'd been told to give up her career, which everyone had likened to a hobby, in order to be home for her husband and please him with her wifely duties as he desired. Perhaps now, being older and wiser, she'd put up a fight if she were in the same place again. At so young an age though she'd had no mind to fight the Abercrombies, the Rosiers, and a husband whose affection she was desperate to win. Giving up her violin seat had seemed like a small price to pay for the two families and their assurance that with doing so her husband would love her so dearly her world would be made perfect and her baby should follow near immediately. How foolish she'd been.

Thankfully the subject was changed before she had to speak more of it and perhaps accidentally reveal how tender a subject it truly was. Though it was no fault of their own she almost felt wounded that she, once a great budding talent of Europe, was now offering to play for people in their drawing room for sport. Mr. O'Dwyer made sure not to let her linger in her own thoughts for long though. As it would turn out, she in fact knew nothing of Irish holidays. She'd assumed, ignorantly, that the largest holiday to celebrate was St. Patrick's day. Thankfully the old man seemed far more keen to explain the holidays than wonder what she knew or didn't know. She wondered if she should clarify that their Scottish surname was name only and their loyalty to England had been cemented many centuries ago and the name kept and anglicized as their English land, bequeathed to them by the crown, lay so very close to the border.

Yet the old couple remained nothing but cheery and bright. No hint of disdain for her lack of knowledge nor English background. No hint of sarcasm about her ill-preparedness. As she made her way through her glass of champagne, listening intently enough, she found herself wondering what it was like to have relations so friendly and interested in people and things outside of themselves. In all her life she'd not seen her Grandfather so animated around a stranger as Mr. O'Dwyer now was with her.

She knew somewhat of Lammas day though, she'd rather thought it to be a celebration of summer harvests of pagans of olde, as opposed to a summer celebration and time for engagements. At the mention of this she immediately began to wonder, somewhat apprehensively, what if anything Declan had planned. She was not scared of an engagement, rather scared of it happening in front of others - his grandparents. Mr. O'Dwyer commented so quickly that 'his grandson was not so patient as to wait a year' that she almost missed his meaning but it clicked quite quickly that there was no pretense here. Either Declan had confessed to them his intentions or they'd gotten if from him some other way.

As if he'd known she was thinking of him he appeared. He was easy and lively with his grandparents in a way that she found astonishing after her own family. There was no change in his mannerisms around them from when he was with her. He complimented her and she couldn't help but smile, her eyes darting away from him in a lapse of well rehearsed composure. Of course she knew she looked amazing. Of course she knew he found everything about her appearance and form pleasing and desirable. It was another thing entirely to make such a comment before his grandparents though. Shocking, yet again.

"Well, what did you want me to wear? The same dress and pinafore I've worn to roam the grounds of Dalemain since I was 17? And show up here looking like some kind of 18th century farm maiden?" Her tone was light, teasing him. "This is casual...." she paused her blue eyes sparkling just for him as she held his gaze, "enough."

"Mr. and Mrs. O'Dwyer have been very pleasant to me, I'm happy to report there is nothing you can fault them for."

Mr. O'Dwyer then came out and said plainly what she'd inferred he meant all along. They knew. There was no reason they should not but the fact that this was increasingly an open secret somehow made her nervous. There was no reason to suppose it wouldn't work out, but if it didn't, and more and more people knew...she could only assume then Mr. Malfoy would be her only option.

"No, we've only been chatting about my education and the holidays," she confirmed to Declan. "I am happy to see whatever you'd please. I've nearly finished this fine glass so if we are to move locations best do so before I settle into a second glass."

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

August 08, 2022, 06:25:06 pm

Farren was alarmed when an older man, whom could only be Declan's grandfather, came to greet her. How odd it was to have the patriarch of the family answer his own door like this. However, Farren would not let this shake her manners. He greeted her, informally with her first name which was also odd and introduced himself with his first name as well. Farren gave a shallow curtsey, "A pleasure to meet you Sir," she said politely. As he noticed the bouquets she nodded, "They are for Mrs. O'Dwyer and Mrs. O'Dwyer, I was uncertain which ladies would be present today so I hope I've accounted for the correct number of Mrs. O'Dwyers." Still setting up? While she was unsure what exactly was being set up she found it most odd that a household of this means did not have these things solely handled by their staff and preparations ready and waiting well ahead of their planned agenda.

They were soon joined by whom she could only assume was his grandmother. In her arms was a small house elf wrapped in a towel. Farren could not help but stare, forcing herself to remain expressionless in her shock. Merlin's beard, Declan had implied they were all rather casual but she'd assumed he meant in the sense that they'd done away with dinner jackets and took their meals buffet style instead of being served each course. It never occurred to her that a wizard should bathe an elf or in any way be associated with their care and keeping apart from providing adequate resources and home for them. There seemed to be something unnatural about it which made her uncomfortable but she could harldy let this opinion known as this seemed entirely acceptable here. Part of her was now glad that her father seemed certain her grandfather wouldn't bother with hauling himself to Ireland to aquaint himself with the O'Dwyers, he would have such secondhand embarrassment from the scene she now saw there was no doubt in her mind that he would return to Dalemain confirming that his assumptions about the Irish were in fact so accurate as to be an understatement of reality.

As custom dictated she offered another shallow curtsy for Muireann, "Pleased to meet you Ma'am," she offered. The elf was ignored entirely, Farren could not fathom how one was to address an underage elf of no relation to themselves. No one in her years of etiquette training had prepared her for such a scenario and she supposed that in these types of scenarios silence and polite ignorance was the best course of action.

Mrs. O'Dwyer tidied herself with a wave of her hand, Farren's gaze flickered to the floor in front of her as she did, finding it rather remarkable that she would do this in front of a guest instead of absenting herself to a private place. Smiling politely Farren looked back to her hostess when she mentioned champagne, "I'd be pleased to take either, whichever you deem preferable for the day, my Grandmother is French so I'm well acquainted with the profile of both makers." Clearly the Veuve Cliquot was a preferable bottle but Farren was not so opinionated on these things and did not want to seem too eager to have her hostess open something so rare.

"I'm very glad you find them pleasing," smiling she was in fact very glad they liked the flowers as she'd been unsure what they'd think was proper, "These flowers were delivered to me in London early this morning from my family estate in Cumbria so that I could arrange for her Ladyship a small piece of my own home, a place that shall forever have my heart, and whose gardens and fields were quite important to me in my formative years."

Following the hostesses lead she proceeded onto the house tour, which again, she found most alarming. Guests arriving at Dalemain were likely to see the foyer, the halls, and a sitting room and dining room at most. It was far too large to bother showing everyone around and more over seemed odd to do as if their family home were some kind of tourist attraction like many of the great muggle estates had become. However odd she found all this she would not show her discomfort. She had endured far worse after all and kept her politeness, though she was mindful that being so polite would likely appear uptight and arrogant to people so utterly casual as this. So she nodded and smiled through the brief tour, making the occasional small comment to compliment something in the space. Farren was quite sure she would never 'help herself' to anything nor make herself at home here, at least not so soon, but she thanked her hostess nonetheless as manners dictated.

It surprised her further when Mrs. O'Dwyer mentioned Lúnasa, whatever that was, and asked if she'd been educated about it. For a moment she wished Declan was here, not to save her from his relations, but so she could shoot him a scolding look as he'd failed to mention anything at all about this nor that today was an event of any kind. "I'm afraid I was not made aware Ma'am," she said sweetly as to indicate though she had never heard of such a thing she was willing to learn.

Declan's laugh interrupted them though as he declared from somewhere in the kitchen that there seemed to be no real significance or consequence to the day at all. Which she was glad for but rather annoyed he'd failed to mention this at all seeing as he was very aware she knew nothing and cared nothing much for Irish culture. Here she was thrust into it with some made up holiday and a wealthy witches carrying house elves around in towels. If this was how it were in Ireland he'd certainly failed to be as clear as he ought have been. Of course she was not annoyed in a way that was serious, more in that, she viewed these meetings of the family as events where they were playing on the same side. How was their side to win with a total blow out if one of a pair weren't fully abreast of the style of game being played? He'd left her feeling off sides and while she was sure she could manage it, some warning would have been helpful.

With his promise that he would soon join them she found herself being ferried out to some kind of garden where it appeared they might make their celebration she'd just been informed of. Naturally she was curious what exactly Declan had said about her. Seeing as she'd made no mention of Declan to her parents prior to her showing up at the house and declare she would marry him Declan was left with no doubt as to what opinion her family had of him. Unfavorable. At least though he had an idea of where he starting his game, the under dog, accepted as a player by force of his partner.

"Yes, yes, in Vienna," Farren confirmed in regards to her music career, "I was to The European Magical Conservatory straight from Hogwarts. I stayed there some 3 years for education before being placed as a chair in the oldest and grandest magical orchestra in Europe - the one associated with the conservatory. I toured with them across Europe and played in Vienna for a season after I was appointed a chair at the conclusion of my formal education within the conservatory. After which I returned to England and have not had the pleasure to play with them again since but perhaps some day I can hope to return in some capacity. I did on occasion fill in a chair of the strings section in London since then but have been unable to commit to a full season with anyone unfortunately."

She was all very polite and sweet, as she'd been trained to be, even though she found everything about today quite odd and entirely out of sorts with her expectations. If she'd gone about bringing Declan home properly there'd be none of this casual pleasantry. He'd have been received for either tea or a meal. Conversation would have been conducted quite formally, with the exception of her mother, who only pulled out her manners for people she deemed worthy. If he was lucky he'd be invited to the family room for a night cap and some kind of casual leisure such as chess or cards. Then he'd be escorted out by a servant and sent on his merry way. Yet here she was, having been shown to the toilet by the mistress of the house herself, Farren had hardly heard of such a thing except amongst those so closely tied to you they were as good as siblings. If this was how the older generation conducted themselves she was increasingly worried about Declan's parents and how he would expect their home life to be. For a moment her thoughts de-railed from the day to what it might be like to be with child amongst such casual people. Would they dare to try and discuss the intimate and biological nature of such an experience? Would they fawn over her bloated abdomen and rub it incessantly as she'd seen witches do in Diagon Alley amongst friends. It all felt very peculiar and foreign to her when she'd hardly considered Ireland that foreign, perhaps slightly but not this much.

She was seated as directed, amongst their garden set up with his Grandmother and Grandfather. Answering questions about her music was perfectly fine with her. It was easy to discuss even if jokes about people's musical talents grew tiresome. It wasn't uncommon to hear such things but after years of it anyone would tire of hearing about so and so's cousin or brother who could peck out Mozart on a piano being considered musical talent. Might as well compare Declan's potion skills to a student who'd passed their 5th year O.W.L in potions. Though she found it irritating he'd mentioned nothing about this silly holiday nor the fact that his family were so very casual she hope Declan would join them soon. At this rate she'd appreciate him as a translator if nothing else, knowing her nature and theirs she assumed he could polish out the sharp edges that might clash and make her seem uppity and snobbish to them with her formality and provide context for her as to why two of the grandest people in Ireland had the mannerisms of country bumpkins.

"I'm afraid you'll have to instruct me about all of todays happenings regarding Lúnasa," she said trying to at least keep banter flowing, "Declan utterly failed to mention such an event and I'm afraid, hailing from Cumbria, I'm not at all aware of the events on the Irish calendar apart from perhaps the larger celebrations."

Magical Ireland / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Lúnasa at Lugnaquilla] Prettiest Star

August 02, 2022, 05:02:36 am

Farren had carefully selected her outfit for her trip to Wicklow. Declan had made rather clear that his family were all together different from her own. It seemed none of the pomp and circumstance of the Abercrombies would apply. Though, to be fair she'd blow up all of that by announcing him near bed time in a fury. Under normal circumstances though, there would have been pomp. Her maid Amelia had debated her at length about the occasion, refusing to believe a family of such standing would stand for a 'casual' introduction for their daughter in law, however Farren had been adamant they tone things down.

After a great deal of consternation they had come up with a look that satisfied Farren and placated her extremely traditional maid. Initially Declan had warned her that things in Wicklow were quite informal and that there might be a fair bit of walking. Seeing as it was summer she'd selected a lilac silk gown with a long airy skirt and sheer sleeves that provided the necessary modesty and style for the occasion while still being comfortable and lightweight enough to manage a long walk in. The hem had been weather and mud proofed magically already, so no walk could damage the gown. Under it she paired a pair of grey leather boots with a pointed toe, they were elevated enough that way to be stylish but their thicker, low heel made them closer to a paddock boot than anything and quite practical for a walk. They kept her hair simple in idea, pulling it into a voluminous bun that looked perfectly imperfect. Her make up was much the same, barely there, just enough pink on her cheeks to enhance her natural complexion. A plum tint to her lips, a dab of neutral brow shadow along her eye lid and a touch of mascara. It yielded the kind of perfectly natural look witches spent hundreds of sickles and hours of time to perfect. She'd selected a singlediamond hair combto slide into the base of her bun, off center, resting at the 10 o'clock of her bun to make it less formal. She'd taken off her Rosier wedding and engagement rings and left her fingers bare. For jewelry she selected a pair of diamond halo studs, simple but elegant and just large enough to really catch the light near her face.

She knew she looked perfect. She knew Declan would think she looked perfect. That was all that should matter. He'd managed to win her father over with much less preparation but women were always judged so harshly on the smallest of things. The nerves were not so easy to dismiss. Although she'd been directed by Declan that this was an informal affair she felt it was improper to show up empty handed. So the night before she'd sent a very specific owl to Dalemain to the attention of the grounds keeper. There were to be specific flowers picked from the garden and the fields that morning and delivered to her in London. While she was no gardener she was quite artistic at flower arranging, a skill people like her Grandmother expected young ladies to have. Before dressing she'd sat at the kitchen of her Belgravia townhome and painstakingly arranged each wildflower, each sprig of greenery, each violet and each rose into two gorgeous bouquets and secured both with long, beautiful jade silk ribbons. One for his mother and one for his grandmother whom he'd suggested would very possibly make an appearance. It couldn't hurt to be prepared.

Standing by the fireplace in the main parlor of her townhouse her maid fussed over her skirt and a wisp of stray hair. At her feet the dogs sat at attention, moving every time she did, easily picking up on her nerves. The clock on the mantle was clicking the seconds away to her planned arrival time at Wicklow. Sighing heavily she hoisted the two large bouquets into the crook of her arm. Everything else she'd need for the day was neatly contained in the small silk wrist-let dangling from her wrist, an undetectable extension charm had allowed her to stow away two changes of clothes, one for the evening and one for tomorrow, should she find herself going home with Declan instead of back to Belgravia. Perhaps it was presumptive but if he asked, she wasn't going to say no. Not now. Unless, perhaps the day went very poorly. Her wand, as always, concealed in an invisible pocket along the seam of her gown, the silver filagree handle reassuringly weighing against her hip.

The minute hand of the ancient clock on the mantle lurched forward, it's hour chime beginning. "Very well then. Wish me luck," Farren said to her maid with a heavy sigh. Stepping forward to the hearth she waited as her maid fished her hand into an urn on the mantle and threw the floo powder into the hearth. The green flames leapt up and Farren carefully stepped into them, insuring not a single hair would be out of place she was so careful. "Dromore Lodge," she said clearly and in an instant the green flames licked away the familiar scene of her parlor and deposited her in a new place.

She waited for the flames to disappear, it was a common mistake to leap to quickly with floo, resulting in being positively disheveled. Carefully she stepped out of the hearth she'd arrived in. Holding her English flowers carefully in her arms she swallowed the lump in her throat. Not daring to go but just over the hearth stone into the room she waited. Praying it would be Declan who came into the room to greet her.

London / Re: No Good Titles Available

July 20, 2022, 04:37:43 am

Rawdon gave a crooked little smirk when Declan suggested Spencer come visit him in Dublin to get a proper feel of his businesses and connections. Farren knew why he was smirking, the idea of her Grandfather leaving Cumbria for anywhere other than Diagon Alley and The Ministry were truly comical. He was a man of habits and a bigger homebody than even his somewhat reclusive son. "I'm quite sure my father has no intention to take things so far as to leave England over this. If he has any further concerns it would be myself who is dispatched for follow up. In which case I would be glad to make time to come to Dublin if you wished."

"Of course this isn't how you wanted to meet your future family in-law. I am quite sure Farren has been driven to madness by her mother though and is more on edge than ever. She's impulsive, if you didn't know that before you damn well know it now." Rawdon smirked and glanced towards Farren chuckling. "She thinks she's so different than her mother....but...."

She scoffed rolling her eyes and shaking her head at her father. He did like to tease her in this manner, knowing how it got under her skin. "No manner of meeting her would have gone over well. We both know that. Let's not lead Mr. O'Dwyer on to think that me introducing him would have been peaceful under any circumstance. She was always going to try and disfigure me rather than let me marry whom I chose. She'd rather have me malformed and unhappily married to her Mr. Malfoy than be told no." She gave Declan's hand a squeeze, "Do not worry in the slightest. If she had suggested I marry a hippogriff and I said I wanted to marry you instead she'd still be livid. You will learn to mostly ignore her, as we all do."

"As Farren does, sometimes," Rawdon corrected her softly with a slight grin.

"Do not worry about the ladies. My mother will be won over as soon as a Great Grandson is delivered. My wife....well....perhaps by son number four she will accept that you are not some kind of wolf in sheep's clothing. Then again, she may begin to hate you as a hobby, time shall tell I suppose," Rawdon said casually as if his wife's temperament was so absurd it amused him.

Farren smiled at Declan's mention of her father visiting his home and going round to see the druid. It was somehow adorably idilyic even if it was somewhat optimistic.

Rawdon smiled a little and nodded, "Indeed, that would be quite interesting I'm sure. I'd be happy to accept such an invitation once things have settled down somewhat and my beloved is less vexed about the idea of it all."

Her father reached forward and moved to refill his glass only to discover he'd emptied the bottle with the four heavy glasses he'd poured between the three of them. He seemed disappointed and recorked the bottle, "Last of the 1878 that was, suppose I'll have to get out the 1890 from the cellars," he commented to no one really. Farren seized upon the moment to see an exit. Afterall, despite the drama and emotion from upstairs, in her eyes this evening was something to rejoice in.

"Father, I think we should be off then. Declan has his marching orders, as do you. I don't see any need to announce our departure upstairs or say good byes to anyone else."

Rawdon nodded, "Indeed, it is getting late too I suppose. Mr. O'Dwyer it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing you again soon."
He extended his hand to Declan to shake. "Get home safely, Sir," he said rather sternly his gaze darting to Farren. "Farren, I will see
you very soon indeed," he said almost warningly.

Farren nodded, she couldn't help but assume her father would be calling on her tomorrow afternoon at the latest. "Good evening father," she said rising. She held out her hand for Declan. "Shall we back to London then?" she asked softly. Wrapping her hand tightly around his she aparated them from her father's study, moving them seamlessly to her parlor in her Belgravia townhouse.

As they materialized in the middle of the room Farren felt her breath catch in her chest. What had she just done? What had they just done. She turned to Declan and stared at him for a moment, "Was that mad? Have I lost my mind?" she asked as everything came into focus. "Please don't be mad at me - it's going to be fine. I promise."

Magical Britain / 🌼 Summer 70Re: [Cumbria] Poison, Dinner, Gossip

July 20, 2022, 02:49:48 am

Farren inhaled deeply and sighed a long heavy sigh. She turned to look at Pyxis. He appeared to be about as done with the whole situation as she was.

Turning back to her mother she stared at her with an intensity she rarely dared. This wasn't a joke though and it wasn't something she would just shrug off and comply with. Pyxis might be fine and well with being set up with some Death Eater Princess on account of his general disinterest in romantic attachment, but she was not. She was going to marry Declan, as much as her mother would hate that.

"Mother, Grandfather, I simply refuse to comply. Pyxis shall make a fine heir if you can somehow arrange that legally and if my punishment for failing to marry an old man is that Pyxis gets this house and all my money - so be it. But I shant marry Mr. Malfoy for all the gold in our vaults and his."

Laying her utensils down she rose from her chair. "I'll be at home in Belgravia if you'd like," she said to Pyxis. Turning away from the table she walked to the door of the dinning room without so much as saying good bye to the rest of them.

London / Re: No Good Titles Available

July 13, 2022, 06:31:02 pm

Farren was a little surprised when without a beat Declan took the rather devastating information he'd been given and immediately began to spin things in his favor. Perhaps because she'd never seen him be business like or perhaps she'd not seen him be handed a direct challenge like this in adulthood, she couldn't help but be proud of him. The Declan she'd known ten years ago wouldn't have been nearly as confident. Though her father was not intimidating per say he was in some sense an authority figure, one they badly needed on their side, yet Declan all but lept from his seat to address the matters laid bare before him by her father.

It was a great deal to take in. She was rather enraptured by him as he spoke. He was impossible to not watch even though her eyes kept darting back to her father who sat mostly motionless in his armchair. Declan handled it so perfectly, addressing all possible concerns quickly, fully, and logically. Of course he would come up with a simple formula to solve something she saw as a giant mess of a knot. Beating Mr. Malfoy's offer wouldn't be that hard from a negotiation standpoint. Malfoy wasn't offering anything Declan couldn't apart from physically living in England and having a posh accent. Clearly this would have been a better solution perhaps than her own. Barging into the parlor announcing her plan - take it or leave it, was rather less appealing than just making a better offer in retrospect.

She hoped it was not as obvious as it felt, the emotion that began to swell in her as he spoke. It was shocking, utterly jaw dropping to her and those like her to hear a man promise his first born to his family's lineage over his own. As logical as he made it all sound it still would be seen as a massive sacrifice by her father and grandfather as well. Farren sat and listened, her heart filling a little more with each word he spoke. No one had ever made such an effort for her. No one had ever made such personal and profound sacrifices and efforts. The urge to reach across the sofa and wrap herself around him and hold onto him was overwhelming, her sense of adoration for him burning and itching for action.

Looking expectantly at her father as Declan finished speaking she tried to gauge his expression. He was generally an anti-social type who appreciated witty remarks sparingly made. He loved his science and biology and related magic and the quietness of his life here in the rural hills. She suspected, after all this was said, he might truly wish to know Declan, but how a man like him went about conveying and actioning that she wasn't sure.

Rawdon has sat, stoic and silent throughout it all. He sipped quietly from his glass, shifted forward to set it back on the table again and leaned back in his chair. "Well," he finally said, "That is quite an offer."

His brow furrowed slightly. Farren could tell he was recounting details to himself debating what he would pick apart or have questions about.

"I must say, if I'm being candid, I'm rather.....impressed with your Mr. O'Dwyer," he said to Ren.

There was an audible sigh of relief from Farren and she turned to Declan beaming. Too excited to maintain any kind of sense of formality she took his hand in hers and lifted it towards her, placing a sweet kiss on the back of his hand.

"You see, I told you, you would like him very much," she said to her father, eliciting the first almost smile of the evening from him.

"Indeed, you are right Rennie, I do quite like him," he said tilting his head slightly as he smirked at her.

"So. Here is what I will do Mr. O'Dwyer. You are right. We cannot stop Farren from accepting you and we cannot disown her without hexing ourselves in the foot. You have also made an offer I couldn't possibly refuse though. Security for the family, security for Farren, and judging by the fact she was willing to show up here and tell us all to take Mr. Malfoy and fuck ourselves, I predict more happiness than she has known so far." Rawdon was, when casual, anything but the upperclass gentleman he was forced to play in public. Having heard so candidly from Declan he seemed assured to be himself without worry at this point though which Farren took as a good sign.

"My father is a much shrewder businessman than I, he will likely feel more strongly about the offer than myself in some regards. However, admittedly, our knowledge and dealings with the pureblood clans of Ireland is....shall we say, quite limited."

Farren scoffed, "An Englishman of noble breeding admitting he couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone in Ireland and doesn't bother himself to even care, shocking," she teased. It elicited a half smile from her father.

"My father will want to see the proof. Gather your family tree, the deeds to your land, incorporation documents for your businesses, etcetera so you have a case to prove not just a pretty word to turn. I don't doubt all you claim is full and genuine but he will want proof even if he's unwilling to outright ask for it. Best to just be prepared. Tomorrow morning I will convey to him verbally all you have proposed. I will suggest to him, for the sake of the family and not losing Farren, he at least take a meeting with you in London to hear you out. He will reach out to you and ask you to come to the office in Diagon Alley before the end of the week I would assume. You show up with your little portfolio of proof that you're grand and important enough, give him the sales pitch, and he will see....you are a better option than Malfoy. Don't be surprised if he pretends he must deliberate. His pride will be somewhat bruised I suspect, that he allowed the ladies to convince him so sincerely of Mr. Malfoy without consulting Farren directly. I assure you, this proposed marriage with Mr. Malfoy came from within the Death Eaters. He is going to feel foolish, so just....let him ruminate. I am confident that once he is left alone to soothe his pride and run the numbers he will come around quickly enough. Then it will be to us to deal with our wives. It will be a challenge. You will likely face open hostility from my wife. My mother is all around more civil about such things being the generation that she is but none the less she will find ways to snub you as ladies do. However, they are not idiots, they will be able to see fiscally, hereditarily, this is a better option. They will not give up their political stance though and instead of pestering and bullying you into their cause they will snub you - I am sure of it. Snub you -- but not stop you."

"As for Mr. Malfoy. There's no need to buy Farren off of him. I'm quite sure nothing meaningful was exchanged so far. If anything it was part of her dowry, which per tradition is your own loss anyways. I can't imagine it would harbor affection amongst a new marriage to have paid another man for your bride."

He shifted again, rising to his feet he walked across the office to the work bench and picked up one of the cauldrons Declan had referenced. Indeed there was blood magic as the Irishman had suspected. Cradling the cauldron in the crook of his arm he returned to them and sat it on the table in front of Declan, picking up the vial of blood he had provided. "You are not incorrect. I have spent many years laboring under the suspicion that we have fallen victim to a blood malediction since the forced splintering of the family. They might have been muggle loving Scots but stupid they were not. From what I understand they are, despite their now mixed heritage, deeply steeped in dark arts for purposes entirely unrelated to Lord Voldemort of blood purity. So far I have been able to find little I would consider concrete evidence of this but I've found a few things that have strengthened my suspicion over time."

Picking up the vial of blood Declan had offered he considered it for a moment, "I suspect, when I analyze this, I will not find the markers I have found in my own. But I am curious what we might be able to see from combining your two samples after side by side analysis." Now unbothered by Mr. O'Dwyer's presence amongst his secrets at this point he approached his shelves. Pushing against one of the shelving columns it to spring inwards, a door. "I keep a cooler for the blood, organs, and cadavers - when I can get them," he announced nonchalantly as he stepped in the door just out of sight. Once the blood was stored he rejoined the couple and nodded to the cauldron. "You reckon one of your druids could confirm or deny my suspicions? We are supposed to be a Scottish clan. The Scottish have powerful druids as well, but in all our centuries of conforming to the English standard for power, marrying into English nobility and pureblood families most of us lost touch with those roots entirely, myself included."

Farren was a little surprised her father was being so candid. She wondered if Declan realized what this meant. "Father....." she ventured cautiously, "Does this mean you approve?"

Rawdon smiled, "I guess I should stick to the topic then eh?" Leaning forward in his chair he extended his hand towards Declan, "For what it's worth Mr. O'Dwyer you have my blessing."

London / Re: No Good Titles Available

July 11, 2022, 03:28:51 pm

Spencer exchanged a knowing glance with his wife and she sprung from her seat to move towards Victoria. The two women sat on the sofa, the elder holding her daughter in laws hands in hers as if she was soothing an upset child. Victoria scowled at them nonetheless.

"Perhaps I shall join you Rawdon?" Spencer suggested rising to his feet as if he would come to join them. Rawdon shook his head though, "I will speak to my daughter and Mr. O'Dwyer. If we come to a point of there being additional discussion required we'll either send up for you or schedule something on a day when everyone is rested and prepared."

Spencer nodded, he clearly felt like he was abnormally on his back foot, "Very well, we've all had rather more excitement than is good for us. Indeed a casual conversation with Mr. O'Dwyer and Farren may be best at this point."

Rawdon nodded and motioned for the couple to follow him, "This way then, you two."

Farren stared back at her mother for a moment. Her grandmother was rubbing the top of her hand as if she'd just been through some kind of jarring tragedy. It took a great deal of self control to not roll her eyes. She reached out, taking Declan's hand in hers again. "Good evening then," she said to the three remaining behind and followed her father from the room.

"I'm sorry about that Mr. O'Dwyer," Rawdon said as the door shut behind them and they found themselves in the hall. Rawdon was tall, almost imposingly so, his hair dark like Farren's but peppered with grey. He kept a short, stylish beard that didn't really suit a man of his social standing but gave him a rather rugged appearance. He spoke with a deep but quiet voice in a manner that suggested he considered his words and thoughts slowly before speaking.

"My study is downstairs, it should provide a more intimate setting for these sensitive matters," he said as he led them down the hallway.

Of course Farren knew why they were going there. It was the one place in the world she was certain her father felt truly comfortable and at the moment he was playing a role he was very much uncomfortable with. Rawdon was never the peace keeper - he was always Switzerland. All her life he'd sat back and watched her mother lash out at her. He'd made weak efforts to stop her at best. For some reason though he had taken it upon himself tonight to try at least to be the only truly civil one amongst them. Perhaps he too had met his limit?

Flames in sconces flickered on around them lighting the way and flickering back out as they moved down the hall, leaving the path they'd trodden in darkness again. Rawdon stopped near the end of the hall and gently placed his hand against a floral tapestry, the tapestry instantly dissolving a doorway in its place. Through it they went into a narrow, dark, stone stairway that could best be likened to the type you found spiraling up and down towers of medieval castles. Flames flickered to life in sconces over their heads as the moved down into the center of the house.

They traveled down two flights of steps. Before they reached the bottom Farren leaned forward from behind Declan and tugging gently on a strand of his hair as a sign of playful affection she called to him, "Prepare yourself for something quite shocking."

In front of them Rawdon scoffed, "You haven't warned him? I suppose not. I suppose you'd expect to give him a proper tour someday wouldn't you?" As he spoke he pushed at the wall at the bottom of the stairs, another hidden doorway, that led them into the family's primary library.

Before them was a library the length of the house, with massive vaulted ceilings reaching two floors high with paintings across the ceilings and beautiful dark wood and gilding throughout. The books were stacked two floors high, floor to ceiling, ladders and narrow staircases leading to the books on the higher shelves. It was like something from a palace or the grandest, oldest university - endless seeming and awe inspiring.

"The largest private magical library in Europe," Rawdon said, "We've been publishing for over 700 years and collecting for longer. Suppose we have one of nearly everything ever written by a wizard in western Europe," Rawdon spoke so casually about it as if he wasn't really bothered at all by walking through a treasure trove of history and magic the likes of which most would never see. "There's a historian. Literature historian that works for the company. They're here during the day. You'll have to come when she's here so she can do everything justice - if you'd like," Rawdon said as they moved down the center of the room. "There," he paused, pointing at a gold pedestal holding a dingy brown book surrounded by glass, "Farren's great great great grandfather nearly died getting that book. Merlin's notebook. Full of spells and ideas. Quite fascinating even if half of it is utter gibberish."

"I think he might like the Rowena Ravenclaw selection. A collection of her academic writings but also a large chunk of her personal correspondence." Farren said, taking his hand in hers again and glancing at him with a knowing smile. She was quite sure he would like nothing more than to spend hours here. Though she supposed, like some, he might come to think one family in the possession of such a treasure was unfavorable but that was a fight for another time.

Rawdon took a sharp right turn and led them to a small doorway and into his office. It was considerably less grand than the library it was connected to. Though the ceiling was high it retained the original stone of the basement they were in. One wall held what appeared to be a lengthy laboratory table, tidy but hosting a collection of empty sterile tubes, bottles and cauldrons waiting for use. The opposite wall housed expansive shelves holding a number of odd things. Hundreds of potion and ingredient vials, books, notebooks, and jars full of small creatures and internal bits suspended in liquid.

It occured to Farren that Declan might think he'd landed in the maddest place in England but if he was going to marry her he'd learn sooner rather than later. Perhaps she should have planned this much more and mentioned the massive library and her father's penchant for biology and blood magic but it was too late now. Her father gestured towards the brocade sofa in front of the fireplace and she led Declan to it. Her father turned to one of the shelves which housed a liquor collection alongside potions and returned to them with a bottle of fine whisky and three glasses which he sat on the table before them as he took a seat in the adjacent leather arm chair.

Sighing heavily he waved his hand lazily at the bottle and glasses, the bottle uncorking itself and dolling out three servings as Rawdon spoke, "Mr. O'Dwyer, I apologize for....everyone's upset. We are quite unused to surprises like this and I'm sure Farren has appraised you to some degree about the present situation." His blue grey eyes darted to Farren, "Quite a sensitive situation."

"Father, you must make them see reason," Farren started reaching forward to take her glass, "Declan and I have been friends for years, we reconnected over the last several months. This makes the most sense and it's genuine. We both are sure about this. I know they don't care and think marriage is a political arrangement only but the O'Dwyers are as strong an alliance as the Malfoys from that perspective. We could be great. With our combined resources and talents we could be great and we care for eachother, very much. Isn't that the best possible case?"

Rawdon nodded, taking his glass and leaning back in his armchair.

"I was so worried about my mother and grandmother's reaction I suggested we elope and just tell you all after it was done and legal. They'd have less opportunity to ruin it if it was already legal. A bigger scandal for it to turn into a fight than if they just accepted it and we held a big public wedding as if it was all according to everyone's plan - but that's not fair. Declan is wonderful. Truly, I think you will truly adore him as I do once you get to know him."

Rawdon nodded slowly in agreement. Seemingly deep in thought he drummed his fingers on his glass for a moment. "I understand your view Farren," he said softly, "However I also understand everyone else's. Before I take any kind of stance for either side, Mr. O'Dwyer needs to fully understand the situation. It's improper and forward but I assume it will help him in the long run. If you do pull this off, he's going to need to know the whole truth, where everyone is coming from, if he's going to be accepted."

He looked to Declan as he sat his glass down on the table between them leaned forward slightly to address him. "Farren is my only child, you of course know this. I am my father's only child. My father is his father's only child. It is no secret that the family has had a steep progeny decline over the last three generations. Four, five generations ago, we had a great many Abercrombies. My grandfather had three siblings and many cousins. Politics created a terrible rift in the family. Much of the family was dis-inherited, removed from the accepted line of succession. My grandfather was left holding the keys. Since then the recognized line of succession has been withering from the vine. It is not from a lack of trying. When my father was the only child of his family it was assumed to be a fluke. Marital discord even. In those days, it was unfathomable to acknowledge any children outside a marriage. I don't know if there were any, but whatever the case, my father was it. I was born very soon after my parents wed. It was assumed more would come in quick succession and they did, but each of my three siblings departed the world before we could know them. When I married Farren's mother it was quite intentional. Of course she was talented and powerful and beautiful but she was also half French- a bloodline the Abercrombie family tree was not yet related to in any regard. We assumed this could help remedy our unspeakable issues. Everyone knows that all the families in England, we're all related to varying degrees at this point. So I assumed, as did we all, that Victoria and I would have no issues. Victoria entered the union well aware of the circumstances. Her family is quite large, so her mother was sure she'd be up to the task. Victoria's politics around blood have always been quite serious, so she was happy to be the supposed savior of a great family line. The problem persisted though. Farren is here, thank Salazar, but by mere chance I believe. She was the last attempt. Five siblings of Farren's should have preceded her but they did not live to draw their own breath. So here she is, carrying everyone's hopes and burdens. A great family line on the back of one girl. The sense of loss and failure has plagued Victoria and I suspect my mother throughout. They too have had to bear an unfair burden in all of this. Both of them, my wife, my mother, have very serious views about purebloodism, expanding the families, maintaining balance of power among wizards, all of that. Victoria has hardly been diplomatic in managing Farren's personal affairs then. She views it less as a family matter and one of historic significance. Clive Rosier was selected very purposefully. The Rosiers, like Victoria, are part French. Very few of our lines had crossed thus far. Clive was strapping, a fine specimen of a lad, there was reasonable certainty in his ability to produce offspring."

Rawdon paused looking to Farren. It was crass to suggest that the family had courted a man who had sired a child out of wedlock for their daughter. It would be even more crass to bring up the failure to carry within the marriage they had set his daughter up in. Rawdon knew everything but he was unaware what she may have told Declan, perhaps nothing at all. This was certainly scary information for any young man who would want his own heirs. He could hardly remember the last time he'd talked about this so much and despite his stoic personality and rather unfeeling demeanor he found so much talk of dead babies unsettling even to him.

"Clearly, that never came to pass with his passing so early," Rawdon continued diplomatically, "Perhaps, even if you do not share their sense of importance on blood and family lines - perhaps you can start to see the grave concern over whom Farren is with and that she marry again sooner than later. At this point it's a matter of survival in everyone's eyes. If she does not produce a child this house, our business, all our holdings and things will pass to a Scotsman we have never met, tracing the family tree back to that point which it was severed at. Perhaps a legal case could be made to put it in Pyxis' hands or his father's but for reasons too boring and complicated to bother with - that is not particularly feasible."
Rawdon paused, downing the rest of his whisky,
"Then you add in the politics of it all. My parents and my wife are very wrapped up in the blood purity movement. Perhaps to some, given our circumstances, it seems counterintuitive, but look at what has been sacrificed for it already and you can see their logic and passionate reasoning. My mother and wife are extremely dedicated to the pureblood cause being headed by Lord Voldemort. My mother and father carried a wand for Grindlewald as well. The social circle has become quite tight as families pick sides or not. Victoria and my mother will not accept a man who doesn't share their blood values. So here we've been, watching Farren live her life in London, time slipping through her fingers. Of course as her father I want her to be happy but for many reasons you now understand her definition of happiness over these last years has been the antithesis of peace in the rest of the family. Perhaps, had we known about your reconnection as you've called it, my mother never would have reached out to Ambrose Malfoy. Who knows, but what came to pass did. We have not married a direct Malfoy in many generations. Not since the 1600s, so they were the first choice of family from within our circle. Ambrose is a widower. He has two children already so his ability to father children is certain. He doesn't care if he has more children or not. He has an heir and a spare. Farren is young, beautiful and well connected, rich. Why wouldn't he want her? It is of little consequence to him what happens to the children from his second marriage. He was happy to allow Farren's children from their union to sit at the head of this family as the line of succession. So from my parent's standpoint - this was an obvious and certain victory and solution to our problem. I understand, to Farren, it is a violation that they would approach this prior to consulting her. However, look at the circumstances, past and future. Perhaps you would disagree still but I cannot blame my wife and mother for it."

He sighed heavily and pressed his fingers to his temples. The situation was intense for everyone and even though he tried to stay out of the fray he watched it eat away at the happiness of the women of his life on a daily basis. "I'm sure she's told you some of this. I'm sure she's told you, she needs multiple children if possible, a son hopefully, to carry on the family name. It is a lot to ask of someone like yourself. You will want your own heirs first. So automatically Farren will need to have no less than three, four children. The bounty we would pay a man to give her a son to bear our name is immeasurable. However, so is the value of children to a father. I want Farren to be happy, of course I do, we all do, but there are so many factors at play for her mother and grandmother and even my father, it's impossible to stay out of it. It's a messy business all of it. If you do marry it's well and good you'll move to Ireland to remove yourself from it all to some extent. I can tell you not to elope. I can tell you to stay here and do things the proper way. I can tell you it doesn't matter to me if you two marry. But it's going to be a challenge, at least with the Mrs. Abercrombies. My father is a businessman. He will come around but the women. They will pressure you to join their cause. They will pressure Farren to have as many children as quickly as possible. They will probably be angry about their scheme being foiled until babies are produced. Perhaps until the graduate Hogwarts."

Farren finished off her own whisky and sat the glass down on the table. "I can assure you, my father has hardly spoken such things to another soul. I'm not sure I've heard him say this many words to someone else outside the family," she offered a weak smile trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly. It was a rather harrowing tale to have laid out so definitely but in some way she was glad he had. Declan could hear her side of things and make all the assumptions he wanted about how horrible her mother was but perhaps knowing the whole story would be helpful.

"If you still want to be a part of this. To marry her, I can assure you she is a devoted little thing. She has managed all these years to still tolerate us lot. You're aware she's wildly talented, the finest musical and magical education the world can provide. Well versed in all the things young ladies are supposed to be well versed in. Mr. Rosier never had any complaints about her ability to run a household and manage their social affairs either. Obviously she comes with a sizable dowry if you want it. She'll also have the other estate house here in Cumbria, Hutton that comes with her. If you're concerned about such things." Rawdon waved his had dismissively as if promising someone a 400 year old estate and a vault full of gold was a typical Tuesday evening.

"So what do you think Mr. O'Dwyer?" Rawdon leaned forward and poured himself another glass of whisky.

London / Re: No Good Titles Available

July 09, 2022, 05:10:03 pm

Declan's words hurt. It was painful to hear it all even if it was true. She was embarrassed for her family. Ashamed of how they treated her and that she'd let them do it. There were many reasons why, pureblood society was what is was, but hearing the man she loved so pained by all of it snapped what little tolerance she'd held onto.

Treating her like a pawn or a broodmare was one thing. Making Declan feel inferior because she was too scared to involve them in their wedding was unacceptable. "It's not you that's not enough for them. It's me. I will never be enough for them. So anyone who loves me for me, who wants me regardless of my social connections and fertility must be utterly mad in their eyes. It is not you alone that they won't accept. It's my choosing you that makes you displeasing. I'm the problem."

There was too much in what he said to process it all. So many things had been so badly broken in her family and she'd tolerated it. Duty and honor and being a good little princess had been nearly beaten into her head for her whole life. It hadn't really occurred to her until now, that their behavior towards her would hurt the person who loved her. Nor had she spent much time thinking about flipping the table on them but now, now it was so obvious.

She had her Rosier townhouse, her Rosier trust money, and her dead husband's ownership of his quidditch supply and broom company. She didn't need their money. Dalemain was always going to be where her heart was but it was just a home, she could learn to love other homes. So what exactly were going to be the consequences of knocking their whole chess board over and taking over the game? Soon she would have not only her Rosier assets but access to Declan's as well. Her financial and social power would soon outstrip theirs ten to one. What would they actually do? Disown her? They couldn't. They literally could do nothing.

"I can fix this. You are right. It's madness. It's madness and I'm not going to let their stupid, backwards ideas of what I should be tarnish our marriage before it's even started. I'm sorry to have made you feel this way. I've been a fool when it comes to them. But I will fix this. Come."

She tugged his hand forward pulling him to his feet. "Please, don't be upset with me. This might be an insane idea," she grimaced wondering if this was going to end up backfiring on her but it was too late. Their feet lifted off the floor of his office as she pulled them into apparition.

They re-materialized in the foyer of Dalemain. It's grand staircase before them leading up into darkened halls. The massive chandelier above them was dim, the candles barely staying lit as their flames flickered at the end of their wicks. "Welcome to Dalemain," she said softly. "This is either the best idea I've ever had or the worst, let's find out."

"Mistress Farren," a sharp voice came from the top of the stairs. An old house elf was just visible in the dim light. "You are not expected. You have a guest. Are you alright Miss?"

"Beeley, where is everyone?" Farren questioned the elf.

"They've just moved to the secondary library Miss."

Farren gave Declan's hand a little squeeze and nodded towards the stairs. The elf disappeared with a pop and she led him up the stairs towards her family. Dalemain was a typical country estate home. it had been in her family for so long it was a veritable museum of fine art, decor, and furniture from the three prior centuries yet there was something rustic to the bits that weren't draped in priceless art. The wood floors were smooth and glimmered from years of wear in the candle light that lit their way. In a few places the 1749 plaster work on the walls was cracking exposing the original stone underneath in a way that looked more intentional than not. Despite it all there was a lived in quality to the opulence. It was a family home even if the family who inhabited it hardly behaved as one.

Pausing in front of a pair of wood doors she turned to Declan. "I love you. Very much. I promise you, I won't let them hurt you," she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Turning to the doors she took his hand in hers, waving it as she did to open the doors. Inhaling deeply, steadying herself, she led Declan into the library.

Floor to ceiling dark wood shelves full of leather bound books lined the walls of the room that had once been a parlor and some 100 years ago converted to house some of the books overflowing from their primary library. The center of the room maintained it's parlor function with two sofas and a pair of wing back chairs. Her mother and grandfather were in some kind of discussion, the Prophet folded in his lap. Her father and Grandmother were sitting with a game of wizarding chess between them. All four looked up, looking surprised to see Farren and Declan standing in the room.

"Farren, we had no idea you were coming," Spencer stated, adding as his gaze glanced to Declan, "and with a guest no less."

"Well, it was rather a spur of the moment decision," Farren said, her tone surprisingly cool given how much her palms were starting to sweat.

"Everyone, this is Mr. Declan O'Dwyer," she said diplomatically. "Mr. O'Dwyer may I present my family. My father Mr. Rawdon Abercrombie, my mother Mrs. Victoria Bennett Abercrombie, Grandfather Mr. Spencer Abercrombie, and my Grandmother Mrs. Farrah Black Abercrombie."

Everyone nodded politely but were clearly quite alarmed that their daughter was suddenly here holding hands with a man they'd never met.

It was her father who ventured to break the silence. "Welcome to Dalemain Mr. O'Dwyer. I assume this is the same Mr. O'Dwyer who more or less carried you through 7th year potions?" It was his attempt at being diplomatic even if it was rather awkward. Nevertheless Farren was almost grateful for his effort given the looks of pure skepticism the ladies of the house were serving.

"Indeed the same one," she confirmed with a little grin.

"By all means, do join us," Rawdon said gesturing towards the empty sofa, "We are waiting for the elves to bring up some drinks for the evening, we'll have them fetch some extra glasses once they arrive."

"Farren...." her mother started her tone clipped, "Would you like to tell us why you've suddenly appeared here with....." she glanced at Declan her disappointment evident, "Mr. O'Dwyer? I don't think you've ever set foot in this house with a man apart from your husband so naturally we are quite alarmed and curious."

"Indeed, well..." Ren took a deep breath, her grip on Declans hand contracting and then easing, "You will all recall the conversation that was had at our last dinner. The one where you informed me you'd promised my hand in marriage to a man I do not know without so much as asking me. Well, I have come to offer you an alternative option. Declan and I intend to wed. We have known eachother since school. He comes from perhaps the most distinguished family in Ireland. We have been growing close these last few months and have decided we want to spend our lives together. Declan has a lovely estate in Ireland we will call home. We both hope to start a family at some point and we feel quite aligned on where our lives will go. I will marry Declan. We hope you will be glad for us and join our celebrations."

A stunned silence hung over the room for a moment. The elder Abercrombie's all exchanged glanced before turning back to the young couple.

"Farren," her grandfather's tone was soft but scolding almost, "You are a clever girl and while it's very kind that Mr. O'Dwyer to come here with you and put on this little show, I for one do not appreciate a theatrical scheme to avoid responsibility."

It had not occurred to Farren that they would think this was a joke. She thought they would go straight to outrage. "This isn't a scheme. If it were not for your constant disdain for things I chose of my own free will and the sudden news I'd been sold to the Malfoys he would have come here on his own and asked for my hand properly. Instead I've half convinced him to elope on the promise that if we're already married you can't push him out of my life.

Spencer and Farrah exchanced worried glances. VIctoria, clearly seething, took their lapse in dominance of the room to pounce.

"Farren, you can't elope. What will everyone think?" her grandmother sounded quite shocked.

"They will think he's got me up the duff, but isn't that all you care about? A bun in my oven?" she rarely took such a harsh tone with her grandmother but the time for civility was past.

"The O'Dwyers are a financially powerful and respected family," Rawdon offered diplomatically.

"She can't live in Ireland," Farrah gasped, "What is she going to do in Ireland? It's so far from here, London was bad enough was it not? Wiltshire is much more manageable is it not?"

"Be married and start a family apparently," Rawdon responded with a bit of a shrug, "It's not that far mum, kids would still go to Hogwarts."

Spencer was pensive, listening to his family while he studied the young pair, seemingly reserving his judgement.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course she's not moving to Ireland. She will stay in England and she will become Mrs. Malfoy and the mistress of Malfoy Manor," Victoria spat her disapproving gaze moved from Declan to Farren.

"Enough Farren, enough of the theatrics, enough of the rebellion. You've had FOUR YEARS to live your little London life. Living alone in that house you all but stole from the Rosiers. Your little job at the Prophet pretending to sustain pureblood influence through the arts. Enough pretending," Victoria's tone was harsh as she glared down her daughter. "You have a duty to this family. We have given you everything and only asked for an appropriate marriage and sons in return."

"Me drawing my first breath was not some kind of unbreakable vow to do your bidding. I will marry and I will have children but on my terms to the person I love. It is you who needs me, remember?" Farren dropped Declan's hand and stepped forward almost putting herself between he and her mother.
Victoria scoffed. "Indeed, how could we forget. So this is what you have chosen then? A meek, Irishman of no reputation in society whose own father admits he is too weak to take the Mark and serve along side our kind?"

"STOP" Farren bellowed. Hearing her mother speak this way of Declan, how she seemed to know just enough to intuitively twist the knife.
Victoria sneered and rose to her feet.

"You cannot speak to him, about him, like that, you must show him respect," Farren hissed her body tensing as rage and hurt clouded her mind and heart.

"Respect? He isn't even man enough to come here on his own and make his case to your father and ask for your hand. What kind of a man..." Victoria couldn't even finish her sentence. Suddenly she gasped for breath.

Farren had raised her hand towards her mother, her wand flew from her pocket into her hand and immediately a shock of white light emanating from the tip directed at her mother. She'd silenced her and added the troubling sensation of pressure against her throat creating a false sense of strangulation.

"No," she bellowed, staring down the tip of her ashen wand at her mother as the other three members of her family started, dumbstruck.

Victoria struggled for a few seconds, rasping for breath against the hex before she raised her hand and wandless cast a spell to disarm her daughter. But Farren was too angry and too quick. She deflected the spell with a flick of her wand, releasing the grasp on her mother as she did and deflecting the disarming spell so forcefully Victoria fell back into the sofa sputtering.

"Enough. I will not marry Malfoy. I will marry him," Farren said turning to glance over her shoulder back at Declan, "I love him and if any of you care about me in the slightest as anything but a political pawn you will be glad for me. You will respect him. You do not have the right to look down at him just because you don't trust my choices and it won't be tolerated."

There was a brief moment of stunned silence. Victoria, smoldering, was being held back by Spencer who had raised his arm to stop her as he stared, truly alarmed at his granddaughter.

To Farren's surprise it was her father who stood. Crossing the space between them he approached the couple. "Farren," he said softly, reaching up to place his hand on her shoulder, a weak attempt at emotional comfort. "Mr. O'Dwyer, if you have the time, I believe we should retreat to my study with Farren and discuss what you two have discussed." Rawdon extended his hand to Declan for him to shake. "If you are willing Mr. O'Dwyer."

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