is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
❛ i can’t help but notice your fixation with the magnifying transmitter. ❜
Fixation, a term that hadn’t fell short of the sheer awe which was induced by the object and the mere notion of it’s creation. Again, it is proven that quantum mechanics alone isn’t the only sure way to engross the prim Madame Lutece.
“But of course, the potential for such a device is infinite.”
Piece of literature in hand, the redhead’s eyes flick to and fro against the lines of the novel with utmost intrigue. Shakespeare had always been a favorite of hers, each sonnet, play, and so forth being enough to convince her of the man's sheer brilliance with wordplay and artistry. One would only imagine that the majority had awareness and took a liking to his widely known work whether it was his productions or written word. Glancing toward the stranger nearby, both lips part.
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” A greeting.
“–And so, you would simply…” Instead of going on to clarify herself, Lutece demonstrates her instruction as she follows through on the chalkboard, making mark after mark. By the time all was finished, she had been looking on an outline of one of the very many establishments which sat buoyant upon inflated materials, among other things. “But that’s enough of this subject, one that I’m sure you are far from engrossed.” Many typically weren’t. As long as everything had been under control and there were others whom understood, why take the time out of your day to fathom the dynamics yourself?
“As appreciated as it is, I’m afraid that my brother and I will have to decline. While an evening with you and the amiable Lady Comstock sounds ever so pleasant… I find myself a bit preoccupied with the upcoming deadlines…”
Pupils traveling down his figure, a rather unimpressed expression is induced. A faint ’hm’ leaves her throat, but only momentarily as though considering various scenarios that had to do with his attendance. Uniforms as intricate hadn’t made her weary as was accustomed to most, but instead, inquisitive. Although she hadn’t been as well versed in the tiers of military status, it had been apparent enough that the stranger had value and importance in his role.
In their own right, both women were hailed as mother within Columbia. Rosalind Lutece had given the city her wings; without the fair Lady of Science, there would be New Eden upon which the faithful and pure might step upon. She was a mother to the country, and in part, the people. Madam President certainly acted as mother to all; and the arrival of the heir apparent had only amplified the maternal way the city viewed her. Indeed; the pair were oft’ seen with the rosy-cheeked infant; dressed in pristine Sunday best with heads cocked towards the other in case she might have an opinion to release. However, public perception was blissfully off. While the womenfolk could run a country rather seamlessly, neither could raise a child and ne’er took delight in the task that had been set out for them. Indeed, the Widow Comstock muchly preferred hiding behind mountains of paperwork.
Gloved hand dragged down worn face; utterly ecstatic to be relieved of the thing that would come to call her mother. Would such hellish noise never cease? Did the child not see the amount of woe she was causing? Did she simply relish it?! Neither had the patience to deal with her for long, and the servants could not be expected to put up with the miserable little girl. Yet mercifully - and only for a brief moment that felt like heaven - did the infant cease incessant blubbering; rosebud lips puckering and tiny hands grasping fistfuls of air with ragged breath.
“A miracle, perhaps?!” Came the murmur from settee; prompting the rather exhausted widow to straighten.
Glee was short lived, however; the Miracle Child began to sniffle and howl with renewed fervour, having rested her tiny lungs. Hands were jammed over ears, and with a glower that rivalled Medusa’s did hiss escape the Blessed Mother.
“It appears I spoke too soon. Might she be hungry?”
In spite of the benevolent glow that these pair of women radiated against the clouds that submerged this utopia, profound enigmas fluttered across their stiff composure. Though adept in the process of administering that these brick built structures would cease to fall on account of either revolution or fluctuation itself, the divine conductors hadn’t been the sort of folk that they were believed to have been. When with the infant, Elizabeth, the pair of mothers appeared absurdly close to being vanquished at the mere constraint that the whines and shrieks had upon them. Unlike Rosalind’s child friendly counterpart, her composure remained solid and agitated at the very sight of her confidant’s offspring, the very image doing enough to drive her far away from any sort of persuasion that would result in a blanketed, fussy whelp. How it had been that any sort of woman found conciliation in these creatures, Rosalind might never come to know.
While her complexion involuntarily soured with the accompanied howls and whimpers that drummed through the woman’s ears, Rosalind persists with indulging the thing with tender brushes of digits against a pliable spine and pacifying consolation in the form of whispers which urged peace. Raising adolescents had been far too tedious and complex; cries meaning not one thing or the other but a great number of different dilemmas that one might not even be able to comprehend.
In a moment’s notice, fixation falls toward reddened cheeks and the sizzling tears which pooled in the chasms of her vast, cobalt eyes. Pleasant prospects had been taken into account, the hope which needn’t be made known through vocals imploring the babe for tranquility… The sirens had been put to rest for the martyrs– briefly.
“Surely. I would only presume that warm milk would do better than worse.”
It was here that the pair had pressed toward the kitchen, squabbling here and there concerning just how hot the milk ought to have been and whether there was a sure way that it would bring about beneficial results.
Roland, in a rare mood that night, frowned for only a moment, any offense or aversion swiftly replaced by cheek and beguile. He’d always been partial to redheads when it came to ladies and he was well aware of the free and rebellious nature they were usually known for.
“Oh, I see…playin’ hard to get, eh? Mm, one of the many, many reasons why I just adore redheads!” Waving a waiter over, he quickly placed an order for a drink, ordering one for the scientist as well. When they’d been left alone once more, Roland leaned a little closer to his “guest”.
“Well, that puts us at an even, unfair fifty-fifty, for I’d definitely appreciate getting to know you better, my dear. Since you already seem to know me, of course.” The little entertainer couldn’t help but allow one of his hands to stray down and give one of hers a squeeze as it rest on a heavy book loaded with numbers and equations. “What’s your name and why hasn’t anyone snatched you up yet? Or have they?”
The fellow didn’t leave. Instead he merely overlooked her implications as though he’d been extremely accustomed and instead recognized them as welcome. Folks like this had been among the many which left a sour taste on her tongue. They’d been too cheery and aggravatingly pep, no matter the circumstances. It had been as though they’d been commandeered by the unknown, attempting to demonstrate themselves as a part of society.
Lips pursed at the comment, patience thinning like one wouldn’t believe. Though she plainly had requested that he take his leave, the man only shrugged it off, giving himself an explanation for her reserved demeanor. Sorts like him often shared drinks and evenings with various women willing to give him the time of day (though it certainly had been a miracle since he’d not known how to approach one, apparently). Eyes following after the help, almost asking why they had so blatantly left the poor woman to deal with unwanted attention…
”Of you.“ Correcting him with a resting expression that had been sharp enough to disembowel the emotionally weak. Of course, the other wouldn’t be rendered defenseless with such a minor gesture as this, it would take so much more to frighten an obnoxious thing like him off. It ought to be much more physical and scar inducing. But as most had known, Lutece hadn’t been capable of the horrendous and at most, he would walk away with but a ruddy hand print outlining his cheek… But that had been if, and only if, he’d continued to persist after she’d stated her thoughts clearly and unconditionally.
Scowling against the paw which clutched to her own, her glare follows it’s way up toward the owner’s gaze before she hissed through maroon lips, "I don’t see how it is any of your concern.” Reeling herself away from the other, Rosalind only readjusts her stare and now focuses against the words that were presented in front of her.
That word was for two kinds of people: uptight, rich English people, and royalty.
Neither of them were warmly welcomed in Nassau, and what with being one of the founders of said island it was his job to make sure this republic was not yanked from underneath their feet. Charles turned towards the source of that disgusting word, swaying lightly in his motions, and twining his fingers between the leather belt and coat he wore.
His shoulders twitched. She was finely dressed; that usually spelled trouble. He would stare at her, try to intimidate her, before speaking; lips pulled into a tight frown. If she spoke again, then he would speak.
Intimidation would rarely ever reign successful with a target like her, a lady whom had grown rather familiar with these sorts of approaches from fellow colleagues and the like. One of the few more commonly known to make an effort being The Prophet, Comstock, in spite of him bestowing a fortunate and successful profession on her hands. Instead she is only indifferent toward the glaring motive.
While it was that this fellow had reasonable logic as to remain weary ‘round the eccentric, Lutece had been among the greater numbers of folk that could more or less, discount any sorts of benefits that such an isle is able to offer her.
“I had been speaking to you, in case you were mistaken.”
In all honesty, she almost regretted taking matters into her own hands concerning her Prophet. Yet freedom was a rare and fragile thing, it seemed; and for now, it belonged to her and the squawking infant. While the babe balled meaty hands into fists and screeched her lungs out, a higher purpose called unto the Lamb and the two clueless woman seeking an answer. No, it was a divine purpose. With a sigh did she run hand through dishevelled hair, utterly at a loss.
“Yes, well —— You brought her here, Lutece.” Came the sharp reply from overtired mother. “I lack the knowledge.”
Liberation among women hadn’t been common and those who governed had been even less in numbers. Stead of perchance persisting with the more popular ideals, having to turn in for days at a time on account of motherly burdens, there would be time away from the offspring she’d taken under her wing… Unnatural but necessary for a woman of her stature. Signifying weakness hadn’t been an option anymore.
An undeniable truth, but her reason for the procedure hadn’t been one which she had practically any say in... The Lady had known this but it was rather evidentthrough the ruddy hues that marked her eyes that she meant no ill will– only had been irked (and understandably so).
“ I see.” Finally remarking, making an effort to coddle though she’d been at a terrible loss. Back and forth did she shift, as if an attempt to sway the thing into sleep.
Cognitive Dissonance- The feeling of discomfort that results from two conflicting beliefs. Taking one’s reality and set foundation and twisting it entirely. The feeling was one he had never expected, and quite frankly never thought possible for a man like himself. Not until the day came that he heard her first whispers, her dots and dashes of a far off reality soon coming an actual possibility in which they might come together and be united as one. It was she that gave him hope, and it was she that caused him to drop all of what made him- him. All to be by her side without so much as a second thought or hesitation.
One may call it love, another may call it a means of escape. Either way the action in doing so caused great toll on his body, one that he never took into consideration, but more so learned from the hard way. Sacrifices were to be made, yet it seemed it was he who payed the price. If only she knew, could feel the confusion and emotions that he was to deal with, maybe then would she understand exactly why it was this caused him to bleed. Never did he think that just by altering the reality he once knew, would it cause for his health to deplete as fast as it did. There was no stopping it, and only was it the smallest things that often triggered him into hemorrhaging.
It was a subtle response, eyes flickering just a little wider, jaw tensing as he could feel the sensation that often came before it would begin. Never was the feeling so bad though, so quick that it had him standing still as crimson red began to drip from his chin, staining the tie that hung about his neck and had him gazing back at her.
”Idon’t suppose you have anything?“ Referring to something to stop the bleeding, his brow merely furrowed as he took to pinching the bridge of his nose, head tilting back in hopes it would pass.
It was in time that Madame Lutece may thoroughly find herself aware of these internal clashes between mind and body, her visual study being the one fellow which she had been able to respect and cherish… And therefore hold in mind all hours of the day, no matter how his health may have appeared one moment. By having secured his proper place alongside her, Rosalind had been willing, rather obligated, to ensure his occupancy. For it had been that once getting an earful of her very title, one which hadn’t been obscure since belonging to his person just as well, that the woman found herself decided. Where he was to reside was in her own universe, preservation of his utmost brilliance being established and put to beneficial use.
Only once they acted on this yearning of theirs, did a lack of recognition respecting the influence tears had upon human anatomy and psych. It hadn’t been so much that they had been dazed by whom knew what– it had just been a matter of devaluation. Certainly the affect would not be as sever as it could potentially be, they might have mentioned a good few instances before the procedure’s inauguration… Negligence had been etched along the innermost wall of her mind and it had been clear that the Lutece's hadn’t fairly made up for the blame which prompted with the man’s trauma. Practically all had more or less, belonged to dear Rosalind whom allowed personal sentiments to prevail.
Concern riddling her very composure, it was all too soon that she rush to his aid, providing what little she could offer as of now: a soon to be embellished handkerchief. ”Use this. “ Already allowing her appendages to ever so subtly guarantee her devotion through physical contact.
" …Brother, you would not lie to me in regards to your well being, would you? Do trust me when I say that I intend to mend you– successfully and unconditionally. ”
