finalflight | psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

THE AUBEL ESTATE is located in Derbyshire, England, a stately old home reminiscent of centuries long past. Long ago, it had fallen into disrepair and abandoned until previous generations of the Aubel family purchased the land for themselves, having found their fortunes in matters of real estate. Since that time, the outside has been restored and the inside has been renovated at least three times. Four, if you ask the uncle who remembers the one summer where the chandelier fell from the dining hall, taking a large portion of the ceiling with it. How embarrassing, if such a thing is true.

In its present state, it straddles the line between the old and new. The large, prominent rooms are ostentatious as they are filled to the brim with austere English culture; the smaller quarters, traditionally used by the servants and staff, are far more modest, and over time have allowed the tendrils of modernity to creep in as a result. Regardless, the home is impressive no matter how you look at it, and there are few who do not cast an envious glance at the estate as they pass by Derbyshire on their way to town, or perhaps northwest to Manchester, if they've even farther to go.

PHILIP AND JAMES AUBEL, father and son respectively, are the owners of the home, though only the father remains for any extended period of time. And even then, he only stays perhaps one or two seasons at a time, until he returns to his home in London, spending one or two seasons there, before returning again, living out his life of retirement to the fullest. James visits nearly every week (driving in from Manchester, and back) in the Spring, until the first freeze of Winter, when nothing will grow. Though they have a staff of two dozen -- give or take, depending upon the time of year -- taking care of the estate and its grounds, James is more diligent about keeping up appearances of the house, showing a special interest in maintaining the complex hedge maze on the land directly behind them. Only he keeps access to its center, a literal walled garden of seasonal flora.

AS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WOULD HAVE IT, James has been drawn into an arranged marriage by his father and an old business acquaintance. She is scheduled for an extended visit soon, and the staff have done a meticulous job of preparing the hall for her arrival -- and the rest of the rooms, as well, if she is expected to make her living here permanent, one day. Today, the weather is clear and the help is eager to aid her in unpacking. The grounds are green and the family dog, an old greyhound with cataracts in one eye, bounds up to her with a slow wagging tail. The father will greet her, of course, with all the usual formalities, and though he doesn't know her all that well at all, she at least seems nice enough. He disappears soon after, leaving her to her own devices as she sees fit. James himself is nowhere to be found.

Somewhere, sooner rather than later, a collision course of first impressions will take place.

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D I R E C T O R Y;

➤ shitpost.
➤ first impressions.
➤ diamonds.
➤ text her, texter.
➤ saviour.
➤ flirt.
➤ closer.
➤ cross-examine.
➤ PARTY CRASHERS.
✶ elle + devon
✶ elle + corvus
✶ ian + james + corvus
✶ devon + james
➤ alien abduction.
➤ sleep now.
➤ bathe.
➤ remember.
➤ drink.
➤ welcome home.

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[Her face is neutral, but there is definitely a pang of irritation that stabs her. It fades just as quickly and it's shrugged off by her. When Devon speaks up, her voice is soft, gentle even. It gives off the quality of geniality, which in this moment, is rather genuine. She doesn't want to get off on the wrong foot even though he's close to it with her.]

And a good day to you too.

[A pause before Devon walks towards him, stopping short in front of Simon, as if using the dog as a buffer between them.]

Or as we say in the States, "Hi."

[Now, was that irritation he just felt, brief, like a pinprick? He examines her face, and is met only with a pretty smile, congenial and soft. Either she was good at leashing her tongue, or she was unaware of her own annoyance.

He tries to look amused when she steps closer. Reminds himself that he’s supposed to be the polite host for the day — surely he can manage that this once. Guide her around the premises. Pretend to care about her comfort, like he’d actually be here half the time. One day of that was enough to leave an impression; beyond that, he could consider himself free of his hosting responsibilities.]

Right, I know. I’ve been there before. Hi.

[There’s a pause, made awkward by its length. Simon whines a little.]

It’s good to meet you. I’m James, as I’m sure you know. [He extends a hand for a handshake, an introduction as good as any.] Devon, right?

[One would think Devon would be used to British accents, what being part British and surrounded by them, but when that voice comes out of that face, she realizes, "Wow, I'm weak still." Even with that not-so lovely introductory line from him.

Devon accepts the hand, returning it with a firm grip and shake.]

Devon Ava Winters. Not a Flemming, but according to one, Mr. Lucas Flemming, I guess I'll fit the bill.

It's very nice to meet you too. And thanks for taking the time to greet me. I know you work a lot and out of the estate most of the time.

[She's learned that much from Lucy before... Well.]

[He releases her hand, putting his own back into his pants pocket. His fingers fidget with some loose change as he speaks.]

Blood is thicker than water. Naming conventions, too. And don't thank me for doing what I'm expected to do.

[Really, don't. If he had his druthers he'd be napping right now. Still, he supposes the company could be worse; he really can't complain that much about young, pretty, and female.]

I can show you around. If you like. It's a big house.

[Her trepidation echoes softly throughout her being. Or she could be just as fidgety, if not more so. But it's kept under wraps and she nods in agreement to his offer.]

I'd like that. I've been in a big house or two, but it'll be the first time I'll be staying in one for an extended period of time.

[A beat.]

Not a good idea to get lost on the first day so that Grandpa would have to send another replacement.

[Ah, there it is.]

[He quietly arches a brow, then walks past her, motioning for her to follow.]

This way, then. We'll start up front.

[Heading back in, Simon gets up and follows them idly behind, happy to see what's going on. As they walk down a particularly long hall, James has to remark on something.]

I have to admit that I'm a little confused. The reason why your grandfather decided to switch Lucy out with you is still unclear. Did I miss out on some family drama?

[Straight to it.]

Edited 2016-12-02 16:18 (UTC)

[Yikes.

Devon would have been content to follow along quietly, scratching Simon behind the ears every now and then when James hits her with the loaded question out of nowhere. Well, it isn't out of nowhere. It's a legitimate inquiry and probably better to lay it out on the table instead of letting it stew in a dirty awkward corner.

Not that it makes for an easy answer. Her brows furrow together and she shakes her head.]

I... From my standpoint, I was completely blindsided. I mean, everyone was. Grandpa's spontaneous, but...

[She takes a deep breath and gives her best explanation.]

Lucy was going to be fine either way. With or without your hand. Grandpa said... Grandpa wanted better for me.

[It’s obvious he’s hit something of a sore spot (he doesn’t need empathy to know that much), but his curiosity would not have it any other way. He didn’t particularly care which one he married; he didn’t particularly care that he was getting married at all. Just another notch on the belt of life, something expected of him, another show of success and fulfillment, the mark of a life well-lived. At least, he could only assume as much. Society dictated it, his father dictated it, his co-workers would congratulate him… In the end, there was really nothing to complain about.

But regardless, the switch was sudden. He had texted with Lucy back and forth, he had a vague sense of her personality. With Devon? Well, he barely knows what to expect. She says she was blindsided, and he cannot help but wonder just how uprooted she was. He wonders, idly, if she would grow to hate him and what he represented, the death of her familiar, happy life. And the birth of something cold and alien, a new “home” that he doubted felt like home at all to her. Lord knows his father wouldn’t be against keeping her happy in her new environment, but James knew there was only so much to be done. As for himself, he wouldn’t be here all that often. Then again, maybe that was for the best.

He finds her explanation curious.]

And what exactly is wrong with you? [Well, that came out rude. Too bad he doesn’t seem to care all that much, even if it wasn’t his intention.] Why do you need better, and she doesn’t? I was told about your sleepwalking, but switching out an engagement for that alone is a bit… well, overkill.

[Oh boy. Devon isn't sure if this upfront manner was going to fly in the long run or not. In an a way she appreciates it in a twisted manner, where she at least knows he isn't trying to feign wholly positive traits. On the other hand? He could use a reprimand or two. Mom would be good at that.

She ignores his remark about the sleepwalking.]

Honestly, either one of us would do fine, married or not. I'm not exactly lacking and clearly Lucy isn't. Grandpa's just... Him. What he says goes.

And you weren't trying to get Lu back.

[And now he just looks vaguely confused at that last remark. If he notes that she didn't mention her sleepwalking, he doesn't say anything about it just yet.]

Was I supposed to?

[That's.... Telling.

Devon stops, and stares at James. He definitely wasn't joking. Amazing. ]

... Doesn't matter now, does it.

[It is telling. Strange how a creature as empathic as James can be so cold to others and their own feelings.

They reach the foyer area of the house, footsteps echoing with each stride he takes. The click-clack of a canine’s toenails continue to trail them, though Simon seems to lose interest soon after, curling up on a rug beside the stairs.]

…No, it doesn’t. The decision has already been made. [He looks at her, as if trying to puzzle out why she seemed to be judging him.] Don’t get me wrong, I liked your cousin as much as any other man might have. She seemed intelligent and pleasant enough. But I wasn’t exactly in love with her; all things considered, she was just a stranger. Just like I am to you, and you are to me. The situation hasn’t changed, not as much as some might think. The individuals have just switched places.

[There is a lot to reply to and had they not been strangers as he said, Devon would have given him a piece of her constantly gear turning mind. But she always starts out quiet. Unassuming. So she looks at James levelly. And she nods as if what he said sounded sensible enough. ]

Fair enough. I don't dwell on what's past. I'm already an ocean away at this point.

I do hope you don't think that Lucy and I are a one to one as people though.

Edited 2016-12-02 21:02 (UTC)

I’d hope not. But we’ll see, won’t we?

[He grins again, this time a bit crooked and smug. He hardly expects them to be the same, but he does expect to feel the same way about both of them: mostly ambivalent, but enough to remain cool and civil towards. Her lack of response makes him feel comfortable in assuming this; he doesn’t bother reading further into her emotions this time.]

Anyway, this is probably where you were accosted by the staff—

[He motions at the foyer, and the tour begins properly. He shows her all the rooms on the first floor, first — the studies, the dining room, the living areas, the kitchens and the guest quarters, etc. Once that’s all said and done, he leads her upstairs. Simon remains sleeping on the floor below.]

This, I think, is your room. Though I might be redundant in showing it to you; you've already been inside? [They’re on a second floor hallway, one done-up in austere decor. He opens a door to a spacious bedroom — it’s a step above a guest room, but certainly not as grand the master bedroom, nor his own. Still, it’s hardly anything to scoff at. He watches her reaction carefully.] I think everyone was safe to assume you’d want your own… place to sleep, right?

[She puts her eyes to work as they make their way around the estate, committing the rooms to memory. There really is a lot to take in and that was only the first floor. As they pass by Simon, she gives him another drive by petting before going up. She'll be doing that a lot.

As they go to the second floor and to her room, Devon makes sure that there's enough floor space so she can spread out for... Projects. She'll need to inquire if there's an unused room that she can go hog wild in.

And at James's question, without missing a beat, she answers promptly.]

It was nice and thoughtful for everyone to think of that. I'll have to find a way to show off my proper thanks.

[Zing.

Selectively oblivious? Already prepared with an answer?? Sincere?????

Sometimes, it's hard to tell with Devon.]

[Well, there's his answer to the question he didn't ask. Still, James isn't surprised. He would have been shocked if she had answered in the opposite manner.

He chuckles a little to himself, but doesn't explain why. Instead:]

No need for that. Your own room is the least anyone can do, in a house that you'll be living in.

[He motions down the hall.] When I'm visiting and you can't locate me, I'm probably in my own room. It's just down the hall, to your right. My father sleeps on the second floor as well, but at the opposite end of the estate.

[She is. So tempted to ask if it would be alright to use a scooter to get around the estate. What is she, 12? But Devon has fleeting thoughts such as those, whimsical, ultimately silly, things that she would only really express in text and doesn't show on her face at all.

A gaze is cast towards James's room and she nods.]

Gotcha. It's all clear to me, so that just leaves the grounds of the estate right?

[(also what's the wifi, the truly important question that she decides not to ask yet, it seems so improper even for her in this situation)]

Edited 2016-12-02 23:54 (UTC)

[He can feel a lingering question that she's holding onto, and he even pauses long enough for her to change her mind and ask it. But when nothing comes, he just looks down at her skeptically... and answers her question.]

On a day like this, it'd be a crime not to show you.

[Eventually they'll make their way to the grounds, green as far as the eye can see. It's obvious that a lot of effort is put into making everything seem immaculate. James leads her around the perimeter of the house.]

There's a rose garden just down there. During the spring and summer, they attract the largest bees you've ever seen, but they're usually harmless. And as you can see, there's more than enough room to go for a morning walk, and with how open it is, someone on the second floor of the house could see you, from all the way out here.

[He inclines his head towards the hedge maze in the distance, large and imposing. He couldn't pretend to ignore that.] Unless you get lost in there. Don't.

[Even Devon, in her somewhat fatigued state can't help, but smile at the prospect of roses. She's from Portland after all.]

With how big the grounds are, it's perfect for a morning jog too.

[When he acknowledges the hedge mage, she pauses to look at it. Something about it feels...]

... Definitely won't go jogging there though.

[But back to what she wanted to ask.]

What kind of roses are grown here?

[James is completely fine if she doesn't want to talk about the hedge maze. If it makes her uncomfortable, he won't do anything to assuage that.

Roses, though. He lists them off easily.]

Madam Isaac Peirre, Aloha, Windrush. Tuscany. Your basic Snowdrift. And a few others.

[Someone seems to like gardening...]

You like roses? A bit cliche.

[Pot, kettle....]

[Devon lets out a surprising laugh and shakes her head while smiling down at her feet. Her hands are behind her back as if she's finally relaxed somewhat.]

I'm from Portland, Oregon. The City of Roses? If I didn't have a small appreciation from the city with a garden of 7000 plus species, I'd have to rethink my life.

Seven thousand?

[What. God, he's never been to Portland before. He should. Maybe he can take a business trip there soon? Or come up with a reason to visit the in-laws? How big are their gardens? How can he-]

I... right. I had forgotten. In that case, I don't think this garden will be very impressive to you.

[For the first time since she's stepped foot onto the Aubel Estate, she's finally won a small victory. Mentally fist pumping in her mind, she looks up at James, shrugging.]

I don't know. We'll see about it when the Tuscany ones bloom. It's a good piece of home as any.

Edited 2016-12-03 01:31 (UTC)

[He's mentally recovering from the notion of 7,000 roses in a single place, but to his credit, he does it well. He clears his throat, straightening a little.]

Can't wait to hear your critique, then. The groundskeepers work hard to keep up appearances. Many of the plants here take up most of their efforts.

You probably put them up to it, don't you? I didn't think you'd know such specific roses.

It's good. The care put into the garden I mean.

[It's barely been an hour, much less a day, but Devon has some observations about James Aubel so far: frustratingly and rudely point blank with his remarks, but probably had those looks that helped him get away with it in his work and social life, especially with women. The latter, she doesn't know if he has a high opinion on, but enjoys their company nonetheless. Works a lot, but knows when to prioritize, such as getting her acquainted with the estate.

And he was kind of dumb with how others were feeling. She'd rap him on the back of his head if she could, for Lucy's sake even though her cousin would never talk to her again either way.

Without meaning to, she yawns lightly, and her hand moves to cover her mouth.]

Whoops. Sorry, everything's gorgeous here, but the jet lag's being persistent.

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