thequitecontrary: (Default)
Lady Mary Crawley ([personal profile] thequitecontrary) wrote2018-04-30 05:57 pm
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inbox for [community profile] fasti


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worldsaway: (pic#12275290)

[personal profile] worldsaway 2018-05-17 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[Upon receiving Mary's note, Thor is quick to try and respond in some manner. He does attempt to write a letter in return, but finds he prefers to get straight to the point.

Knowing what patron she's under makes it relatively easy to figure out where her door is and he knocks. While he waits, he changes position several times. Arms folded, arms behind his back, one arm on the wall, hands clasped in front of him, she'll probably catch him midway through a change.]
worldsaway: (pic#12049863)

[personal profile] worldsaway 2018-05-27 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
I did. [Thor says, simply. He'll let his smile do the talking.

He bows his head politely at her invitation, feeling some of his courtly manners come back up. It's an effect she seems to have on him, though it makes him feel just a little inappropriate coming into her room.

Not that it stops him.]


I would be glad to.

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wolfofdunwall: (the wolf)

[personal profile] wolfofdunwall 2018-06-14 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ It doesn't take long to find her room. There are only so many rooms occupied (one fewer now, if he's heard right, and what does that mean? what does it mean?), after all.

It's discomforting, being in here. At every moment he half expects her to appear, expects to be - what? - caught and lectured? Caught and threatened with exposure. Caught and suddenly in the midst of a duel he'd rather not dare.

But she isn't here. But he hasn't seen signs of her. And it seems indeed as if Emily Kaldwin's vanished from this insula.

Which is why he's here. Expression discernibly unsettled, jaw tight, knocking on Mary's door. ]
wolfofdunwall: (tired)

[personal profile] wolfofdunwall 2018-06-17 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He doesn't address the question. Scarcely recognizes it, focused as he is on securing answers. (Answers to what, what does he expect to find here or anywhere and why is he here, it isn't his business it isn't his concern and if she's gone, so much the better for him, best to just let it rest.)

He settles his eyes on her, does his best (his rather unsuccessful best) to appear undisturbed. ]


I heard your message in the fountain.

Someone disappeared.

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[personal profile] ex_this_ismydesign36 2018-06-22 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ At some point after this conversation, Will grabbed himself a piece of paper and penned a note to Mary. ]

Lady Crawley,

I hope this note finds you well.

I've been thinking about something, and after some careful consideration I believe you might be the perfect person to determine the merit of this idea.


[ Which is also to say he's not about to try to execute on it, but is thinking she'd be perfect for it. ]

I believe it would be beneficial for the entire group of Chosen, to have an opportunity to discuss common questions, concerns, even speculation about our situation.

We've had the occasional open conversation, but ... perhaps this is a ridiculous idea. Still, it would be better in the hands of someone who has the skills to bring it to fruition.

W. Graham


[OOC: I know Charles' player is working on the mini-senate and this might actually dovetail best into that plot? Will's bringing it up in this way because ICly he's not aware of Charles' intentions. ]

[personal profile] ex_this_ismydesign36 2018-06-23 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
Lady Crawley,

I believe some people have tried to catalog the different abilities that have come from our various patrons. It may be worth following up on that.

My own thoughts have run along the opportunity for us to exchange questions we all have, as well as our concerns and theories. We appear to have a wide array of personalities and experiences, it may help to share our different points of view.

The items you've just brought up, the logistics of keeping up with people as they come and go.

Perhaps sharing experiences we've had since we've been here.

There are probably more possible conversations than any of us will have time for in one sitting. I suspect you would have a better idea of where we should start and how to guide us through such discussions.

W.Graham

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rubikscomplex: (cane | default)

[personal profile] rubikscomplex 2018-06-23 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
You should run a central command for the next battle. They were called Strix.

Legend of Polyphonte says she became "a Strix that cries by night, without food or drink, with head below and tips of feet above, a harbinger of war and civil strife to men." Her sons became an eagle owl "a bird that is seen for no good," and a vulture, "of all birds most detested by gods and men and possessed of a constant craving for human flesh and blood." Their servant became a woodpecker--good omen for hunts and feasts. - Boeus, Origins of Birds

"There are greedy birds, not those that cheated Phineus’ maw of its repast, though from those they are descended. Big is their head, goggle their eyes, their beaks are formed for rapine, their feathers blotched with grey, their claws fitted with hooks. They fly by night and attack nurseless children, and defile their bodies, snatched from their cradles. They are said to rend the flesh of sucklings with their beaks, and their throats are full of the blood which they have drunk. Screech-owl is their name, but the reason of the name is that they are wont to screech horribly by night. Whether, therefore, they are born birds, or are made such by enchantment and are nothing but beldames transformed into fowls by a Marsian spell, they came into the chambers of Proca. In the chambers Proca, a child five days old, was a fresh prey for the birds. They sucked the infant with their greedy tongues, and the poor child squalled and craved help. Alarmed by the cry of her fosterling, the nurse ran to him and found his cheeks scored by their rigid claws. What was she to do? The colour of the child’s face was like the common hue of late leaves nipped by an early frost. She went to Cranaë and told what had befallen. Cranaë said, “Lay fear aside; thy nursling will be safe.” She went to the cradle; mother and father were weeping. “Restrain your tears,” she said, “I myself will heal the child.” Straightway she thrice touched the doorposts, one after the other, with arbutus leaves; thrice with arbutus leaves she marked the threshold. She sprinkled the entrance with water (and the water was drugged), and she held the raw inwards of a sow just two months old. And thus she spoke: 'Ye birds of night, spare the child’s inwards: a small victim falls for a small child. Take, I pray ye, a heart for a heart, entrails for entrails. This life we give you for a better life.' When she had thus sacrificed, she set the severed inwards in the open air, and forbade those present at the sacrifice to look back at them. A rod of Janus, taken from the white-thorn, was placed where a small window gave light to the chambers. After that, it is said that the birds did not violate the cradle, and the boy recovered his former colour." - Ovid, Fasti


[The message left is unsigned and the passages appear to be haltingly written, as though someone were pausing repeatedly to reference the text, in question. It's just planting an idea he'd mentioned to Dorian. House doesn't know when the next attack is going to happen, but he'd prefer Mary over someone like Mustang taking charge for top organization, even if she's not making all the strategic decisions on her own. He'd just prefer an admin more like Cuddy and less like... every military officer he'd known in his childhood.]
rubikscomplex: (cane | default)

[personal profile] rubikscomplex 2018-06-24 05:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[There are at least a few notable characteristics about the writing that might help her. It is all in English, which somewhat narrows the field, the writing is rather large, as well. So, either someone wasn't being economical when considering how much paper this would take, or they have trouble writing small for one reason or another. The writing is halting, but the strokes are steady between the stop points. It's also relatively messy and in block print, rather than the cursive she might be more accustomed to.]
worldsaway: (pic#12275297)

[personal profile] worldsaway 2018-08-04 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
[It's not long after Mary leaves her note that she will find one of her own, on the end of her bed as well.]

Mary,

As you know, I have very little difficulty expressing my feelings outright. Perhaps to a fault. It seemed only right that I should return your favor and write you a letter, you should know that it warmed me to read it.

You should know that the life that I come from is tumultuous at best. We are in amidst a crisis with little hope for resolution in the near future. The fate of my people rests in my hands as their king, and so my responsibility is to them first and foremost.

As you can imagine, being brought to this place has been a trial on my patience. I often wonder how much longer I can tolerate it, knowing that all is not well at home.

I had not expected to enjoy anything about this place, and I certainly did not expect to meet someone like you. I'll admit, I've had reservations about our closeness, knowing that it cannot last forever. When things come to an end here, we must go our separate ways and return to our obligations.

I find that thought does little to diminish the growing fondness I have for you and the time we spend together. I don't possess the eloquence you have in your writing, but I hope to express the sincerity of my feelings.

In the time I have known you, I have come to find you are a beautiful, tenacious and intelligent woman. You describe yourself as cold, but that does little to explain the warmth I feel from the curve of your smile or the light in your eyes. You will play an important role in winning this war, whether you see that in you or not. I feel proud to know what you are capable of, even if it pains me to know that I will have to lose it someday when we are to return home.

If what we have is to be fleeting, then I won't allow myself to hesitate any longer. Anything more I have to say is better said in person, where I can more easily make a fool of myself.

You will find me loitering around your dwelling, because I'm not sure what else to do with myself.

- Thor


[True to his word, he is loitering around, only now realising he's not sure how long it will take her to find the letter and read it.]
bullschistartist: (sup rose u still a virgin?)

Gardening Time

[personal profile] bullschistartist 2018-08-06 10:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ The next time Mary goes out to her garden, she's going to find someone there.

Tara is a small woman, about twenty, and she's bent down without reserve to inspect the plants. Her tunica is goldenrod, only a bit brighter than the blonde shade of her hair; not exactly the shade one would be expecting a prospective gardener to wear. She notices Mary almost immediately, straightening up and offering a little half-wave and crooked smile. Her eyes are accentuated with kohl, and her tunica seems to be modified to be almost indecently short. ]


Yo. You Mary?
bullschistartist: (i could kill u rn)

[personal profile] bullschistartist 2018-08-09 08:47 am (UTC)(link)
Kind of. I was told to talk to you about the garden.

[ She gestures to the plants behind her, indicating the topic of discussion. Tara feigns sheepishness, shrugging slightly. Her eyes flicker to Mary's shovel. ]

I don't know shit about plants, but I used to play in the dirt a lot as a kid. Need any help?
Edited (im dumb) 2018-08-09 08:48 (UTC)

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hotspurred: (no mistake)

[personal profile] hotspurred 2018-09-01 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
Henry makes a habit of checking in on Mary daily. Today is no exception, but it is different. His intentions have no changed, but he does have additional motives. Alongside his newly given power he bears the weight of its sin, with no means of confession in Rome. It seems awfully grim to speak of the prospect of death to a grieving woman, though, and so he hesitates to ask Mary the favour he wants to.

Until he learns the date and sees the way forward: a happy counterbalance.

Were he in England, on the first day of May every community would be erecting their maypoles for a day of revelry. He doesn't know if the tradition continues into Mary's day, but if there is a chance for him to draw forth some amusing memories, it seems worth the attempt.

Henry finds Mary outside of Juno's insula. Whether she is about to tend to her garden or head somewhere else he doesn't know. Either way, rather than greet her normally, he strides up to her and places a freshly woven crown of hyacinth flowers upon her head.

"A crown for the May Queen," he says instead of hello.
hotspurred: (cannot lose)

[personal profile] hotspurred 2018-09-02 10:27 am (UTC)(link)
The effort was worth it for her response. He considers the soft press of her lips his prize.

Henry smiles and then requests, "Tarry with me a while, Mary."

Since he means to talk with her, it's only proper that he asks for her company, just in case she has plans that she cannot delay.

"How does the day find you?"

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hotspurred: (this moment in time)

[personal profile] hotspurred 2018-12-09 02:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[After the most recent of Mary's letters, Henry makes his way to the garden growing before Juno's insula, his chest full of love. Seeing Mary already there, he strides straight over to her.]

My lovely Mary, flower most rare. [He greets, then leans and kisses her tenderly before offering her his arm.] Let us walk, then.
hotspurred: (rumours suggest)

[personal profile] hotspurred 2018-12-11 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
When I read that nothing would make you happier than to be my wife and bear my children, I saw my heart's own desire writ by your hand.

[Henry begins to walk, matching Mary's step.]

I was foolish, Mary. In my distraction I afforded you doubt where clarity should have reigned. You made me remember that all else is trifling. But one truth matters. I want to be your husband.

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hotspurred: (confront alone)

[personal profile] hotspurred 2019-01-22 01:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Henry was in shock the whole journey to Mary's rooms. It scarcely seemed real. But it was, an awful reality that finally struck him when he saw the look on Mary's face before she was in his arms.

Henry clutched her tightly, pressing his face to her dark hair as she wept. He held her, unwilling to let her go. Grief pierced him like a blade, his heart lurching, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain in his chest. Tears began to roll down his own face.

"Mary, I..." he began hoarsely, lost for words. "I thought we had years."

How could this be the end?

Fervently, he finished, "I cannot lose you."

She had become vital to him, like the blood in his veins, the air in his lungs. He could not bear the thought of how little time they had left, of leaving her knowing that they would never see, or hear, or hold each other again. How were they to return to their old lives after these past months?

And yet he knew that Mary must return to her son. As for him—

As for him. He swallowed thickly. Maybe... maybe he had a choice.

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I'm back!

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