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finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
hedgemaze) wrote in finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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.
no subject
If by "putting them up to it" you mean "pay them well", then yes. I do. But maybe I am a bit biased. I've always been a little fascinated by things that spring up from the soil.
[But he supposes that was neither here nor there. He frowns when a wave of tiredness suddenly washes through him, and when he sees her yawn, he realizes why.]
You're just trying to say I'm boring you, aren't you? I understand.
[He smirks, before turning to head back inside. In that case, he can consider his duty done for the day.] Go back to your room and take a long nap.
no subject
As they go back inside, she does have one or two more things to mention...]
I do have a question. More like... Are there any unused rooms in the estate? Not like a guestroom, I mean a room that isn't used for any purpose really.
no subject
A room with no purpose? That's specific. What would you need it for?
no subject
[She pauses when he does. And then she holds up her hand to list off a few more...]
Drawing. Printmaking. Sewing if Mom sends over my machine in the next few weeks. Pewter casting if I get really ambitious. Ceramics if I get an itch for it again.
...
...
Mostly painting though. Don't worry, I can get supplies myself.
no subject
So... you're saying you want studio space, is that it?
[She's an artist, then? Suddenly he's curious what her work is like -- but only passingly so, honest.]
no subject
Yeah, that's it! I wasn't sure if there was a room that could serve that purpose, so I thought I'd ask. I'd use my room otherwise.
no subject
[He frowns for a moment, thinking. There's only the smallest moment of hesitation before he says:] Follow me. Again. [And he leads her up the stairs to the second floor again, to another long hallway. At the end, there's another room, and James opens the door.
It's empty... more or less. There's a armoire or two in the corner, covered up with a white sheet, and a lamp without a shade propped against the wall. But barring that, the room is empty, whatever personality it possessed years ago drained dry. It's a bit dusty, as if the men and women who cleaned paid little attention to this particular room -- either on direct orders, or simply because it was merely an empty storage area and did not require the attention.]
Would this do?
no subject
Perfect. It's better than what I would have hoped for.
no subject
Good. It's about time this mausoleum of a room found life again.
[Because this was once his mother's room, all those years ago. He won't tell her that much. It might unsettle her, and honestly, it's not a line of conversation he particularly wants to go down.
He won't step in, but he'll gesture in a mockery of a fake bow from where he stands.]
All yours to do whatever you want with.
no subject
[None the wiser, she walks outside, ready to retire to her room. Speaking of rest though? Devon's been avoiding the subject, but there's only so long before it comes up again especially if it starts up again.]
I'm... Going to keep my door locked at night.
[She purses her lips as she clasps her hands together.]
I haven't done any sleepwalking... That I'm aware of for the past few months, but. Better safe than sorry.
no subject
His frown returns. An interesting problem to deal with, one that he had been warned about ahead of time.]
Right. Have you ever hurt yourself while sleepwalking? This place is large and unfamiliar to you, after all.
[Though he has no emotional attachment to her, he's not so big of a jerk that he'd want her to go tumbling down the stairs or anything like that.]
no subject
[She shakes her head fervently disputing the notion. ]
I've just... I've ended up going far, far, away when no one was looking. No one's ever figured out why, but I've never walked into harm. I've even avoided traffic easily during one of my episodes.
no subject
You wandered out far enough to go into traffic?
[Geez.]
We have acres of land here, so you'd have to wander very far to stumble into any real danger. But... [He purses his lips.] There are still trees and wildlife at the edges of our estate. It'd be best if you avoided stumbling out in that direction.
[He says as if she can help it. But still, if she wandered out that far, it would be difficult trying to find her. And it would be startling whenever she woke up.]
Maybe Simon would wake you up. He always wakes up when someone gets up in the night. Tries to sniff out what they're up to. But if all of that's remedied with a locked door, then we've nothing to worry about?
no subject
And then she stood up and left.
No one noticed anything strange about a young woman walking by herself even if she looked rather dazed. She went through a crowd, coasting along until she was finally alone, walking across the street and onto the next block. Ian had zipped out of the store, running after her, yelling and tackling her before she went any further. Their parents had to lock all the doors and windows that night. That was just one, among the many instances of her dazed slumberous journeys which she hated repeating so many times.
Devon rubs her forehead and crosses her arms after James speaks.]
Simon might be a good idea. Great idea actually. If he barks, it'll wake me up.
[And what does she have to worry about? The restless dreams. The silent voices that cast an unsettling lull when she DOES sleep. But that's more than she's willing to share with the stranger in front of her.]
Then that's all there is to it.
[Hopefully.]
I'll get going now.
no subject
He exhales, straightening and offering before she goes:]
If you need anything, let the help know. Or my father. Or... myself. [If she has to, I guess.] Until then, get some rest. Wouldn't want a face like yours to start getting bags under the eyes.
[On that note, he'll leave her to her own devices, flashing her a cocksure grin, and turning to move down the hall and return to his own room.]
no subject
[When he turns around to leave, she rolls her eyes so hard. So, not as bad as he could be, but definitely rather bad. Lucy might have liked him for his sophistication and at least he doesn't appear to live in foolish excess. That much, she can give him credit for.
But man oh man, there is only one future Devon can see, and it's a one way trip to a divorce. Okay, so that's being dramatic, but still.
Glad to know my face is suitable, she thinks gloomily. With that sobering reflection, she goes into her room, has the door locked and collapses into her bed, that's much too big for her.
It really will be the longest engagement in history.]