psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

[hedgemaze]

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.

Comments

[hedgemaze]

If you did... we would have had a different sort of fun.

[He chuckles, but when she invites him to rest his head on her lap, James doesn't hesitate to do so. He lies down across the backseat and finds that, when he does take her up on her offer, she feels quite warm. Comforting.

He's looking straight up at her. He feels like he could fall asleep like this.]

You know... Devon... you may have to carry me to my bedroom at this rate. If you take terrible advantage of me after you do, well... I can keep a secret.

[James... he never changes. And right in front of their driver, too.]

[winterheart]

[While she was shameless outside during their crawl, now that it's the driver plus them, Devon's face immediately reddens and she covers her face with one hand as James lays himself on her lap. His face looking up at her doesn't help matters, GOD.]

Just. Please. You're drunk.

[And she can't carry him, geez! But she's thinking about at least sleeping next to him. That she can handle.]

[hedgemaze]

[And naturally, he just laughs at her. A drunken sort of amusement.]

And look at your face... now you're really red, redder than in any pub.

[He chuckles again and closes his eyes.]

No need to, you know, deny your... natural urges...

[winterheart]

[It's amazing to Devon that alcohol has only made a slight dent in her inhibitions, but around James, he makes it... Difficult. As if he's the one intoxicating her at times (And wasn't she the one who had pulled him into her arms in the first place? Gah).

Her fingers brush his bangs out of his face and she rolls her eyes.]

I think you should listen to yours and go to sleep. It's going to be a long ride.

[hedgemaze]

[Her touch is gentle, and welcome. Relaxing. It only pushes him further towards the edge of slumber. He grins, his eyes still closed.]

Hm. You'd like that... wouldn't you? A... long ride...

[Even as he's falling asleep, he doesn't change. But fall asleep he does, and Devon won't hear much else from him for the rest of the car ride, except for his steady breathing.]

[winterheart]

[James... Devon doesn't make a remark about what he last, allowing him to drift off into drunken sleep. She and the driver exchange glances and both shake their heads knowingly at each other.

He's a bit much.

* * *

Whoopsy-daisy.

[It's super late, but the driver graciously helped Devon to get James upstairs into his room, without comment before retiring for the night himself. Exhaustion has caught up to her as well and it only really hits her once she lays down next to James, after taking a deep breath and yawning.]

Wow. God, I'm not drunk, but I might as well be.

[hedgemaze]

[James is just barely awake enough for him to manage to get up the stairs (with a bit of help, of course), and he's cognizant enough to be deposited into his bed without making himself look too foolish. The room is spinning just a little, but you know, what does it matter now that he's horizontal?

He's even possesses enough awareness to feel his mattress sink next to him, and he turns his head to catch a glance of Devon laying down.]

...Looks like I got you into my bedroom anyway. A win for me.

[He shifts his weight a bit, and some part of him is telling him his clothes are going to be so wrinkled in the morning, but he just... doesn't care enough right now.]

[winterheart]

If that's what you meant by spending the night with you in your room as part of the bet then... Sure. You win.

[She can let the man dream. She kicks off her shoes so that her feet are bare. Looks like she'll just sleep here tonight.]

But we all know who really wins here.

[hedgemaze]

Tech... technicalities and semantics. [He raises a hand in the air, gesturing uselessly as he declares:] The world itself runs on them... So yes, I do know. I win.

[Ha, so there!!]

I said stay the night. I never said have sex with me.

[winterheart]

[Devon reaches up to give him an exasperated hair ruffle. Ruin his hair too, why don't you.]

You know what you meant and I know what you meant. We BOTH know what you meant.

[hedgemaze]

[He moves his hand to move her hand away. His hair, geez! But we all know he misses completely.]

You don't know what I meant. You don't. You assumed.

[winterheart]

Don't be a sore loser dear.

In any case, I find it hilarious that I've been in your room a few times already and I've come out unscathed.

[hedgemaze]

[He shifts to his side, his hair a mess thanks to Devon's ruffling earlier.]

We can... always break the streak.

[He's obviously too drunk for this. What a champ for trying regardless.]

[winterheart]

Uh huh.

Go to sleep.

[hedgemaze]

Mm. You don't...

[He's reaching an arm out to put around her torso, drawing her near. And yet, despite his words, he does nothing more than that. He just lets his head settle into the pillow, feeling comfortable.]

...get to tell me what to do.

[winterheart]

Pft.

[She lets out a puff of air, shaking her head at him, but doesn't protest to the arm around her torso. Devon just gives him an affectionate kiss on the nose.]

Sweet dreams.