She thought she wanted him to suffer. As recently as her arrival by floo, she'd set her heart to stone and was hungry for his unease, but now? Eyes trained on him, she caught the look in his eyes that matched the strained use of her name. The hint of strain in his voice, and she wanted to end the whole matter and save him the wave of despair rising in her chest. It threw every prepared strategy into question and left her again with doubt, always so much doubt with him.

He saw her. It wasn't the definitive reassurance she needed, but it was a glimmer.  Whether he intended to offer her a lifeline or intended it as a rejection, Angel made the decision for him. She reached for him, lifeline or not. "Then don't look beyond me, either." She violated her own defensive lines when she closed the distance between them to reach for his hand. She brought it to her lips without thought, and a light kiss to knuckles, a gesture she must have performed a hundred times with him, became a weighty thing. Whether the Roman's vena amoris connected heart and hand was irrelevant at the moment, she kissed her devotion to his ring finger just the same. "See me, my heart, and be sensible about this. It isn't too late to right things."

"She can give you a wife, but what then? What becomes of you when she realizes her nurse's stories were a fantasy? What happens when she bores of trinkets and being sent off to play when your business ventures demand your attention?" Clarissa Cosgrove was a fine enough person and Angelica wished her well, as she would any past student, but when her dull debutante life impeded Angelica's path, it would be a war without mercy. "Do you think your secrets will be safe with her then? How long before she mentions her roguish husband's piercings to a friend in her boredom? What happens when she grows disenchanted with her mysterious catch and only engages you to nag about the predictible needs of however many children she expects from you? What happens when she inevitably decides she must redecorate your home in a more festive color?" It was a trivial thing, in part, but she knew how much pride he took in his decorations. The idea of some chit swooping in and begging for something abominable like yellow wallpaper should have given the man palpitations. She wasn't as sorry as she could have been for that. "I, on the other hand, am rather fond of the furnishings." The last was petty, but a tiny smirk still appeared. She would find levity where she could.

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The following 1 user Likes Angelica Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Angelica Selwyn's post
   Melody Crouch

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MJ made this miracle!

Her lips on his hand made his knees quiver, and for a moment he wondered if he might at least kiss her once again. It had seemed impossible a moment ago when fire was flashing in her eyes, but now he wanted nothing more than to pull her in close and put a stop to her words with a kiss. He could drag her away to bed to stop this conversation where it stood — though if he did, he risked her interpreting his actions as an answer. He hesitated too long; she was speaking again, and her monologue drove out the idea that he could end this with affection. She thought she had him figured out, didn't she? She had quite the laundry list of things to go through — all the things she anticipated would be a part of his marriage, and each one an assumption she'd never verified — but she didn't have the situation quite as well in hand as she thought.

"You think I want to marry," he said bluntly. It was the chief assumption she'd made, and the root of all the others, but his tone made it clear that it was wrong. She assumed that he'd gotten caught up in some romantic notion and decided to propose, when nothing could be further from the truth. Angelica thought that he hadn't already considered each and every item on her laundry list, and that it might shock him now to realize that taking a bride was inviting a source of gossip into his life, risking children, and having to battle over the decor. He'd thought through all of that — there was a reason he'd never married previously.

"She hasn't seen my earrings," he informed her, pulling his hand free from hers (with no small degree of reluctance). "I wasn't seeing her, that night. I don't think I'd even finished a full conversation with her at that point," he added with a touch of sarcasm. A wild thought flew through his mind: he might as well just tell her. She wasn't going to believe him otherwise; she'd think he was just deflecting, and would drag this conversation out to painful lengths trying to convince him not to be in love with a woman he wasn't in love with to begin with. Telling her would probably mean an abrupt end to the conversation, as she moved from shock to disbelief to (most likely) disgust. Nothing good could possibly come of it, but he didn't see a way for anything good to come of this conversation no matter which direction he took it. Why not take the quickest way out?

Emrys drew back a step, as if he expected her reaction to what he said next to be physical instead of only emotional. "I was seeing someone else. Another lover." It was almost as though he were high, because he certainly didn't feel as though he were present in his body as he continued. "Another man."

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The following 4 users Like Emrys Selwyn's post:4 users Like Emrys Selwyn's post
   Angelica Selwyn, Melody Crouch, Valerian Macnair, Yuri Podsnapper

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Lou made this! <3

She could taste her progress as she pressed her kisses into his hand. It would be delightful to have him weigh her words for their merit alone; if she could reason with him as men did together, but she knew her place in the world well. She could maneuver him easily enough if she led him with her touch and well-pitched sighs. No amount of cleverness could save a man when the promise of pleasure was introduced. It was almost disappointing how quickly even the stoic Mr. Selwyn could waiver under so simple a gesture. In a more equanimous moment, she would concede that she wasn't much better equipped when it came to the dynamic between them. Angelica had been cautious to keep her distance for a reason, the threat of slapping him second only to the real danger of abandoning her grievance if he were to get his hands on her. She had her strengths and her weapons, but she couldn't deny him when he played the lover. She'd never felt the need to try.

She made the mistake of certainty too early, his frank tone forcing her to pause her self-congratulations. To be fair, she didn't say he wanted to marry, but the distinction was pointless as he pushed on. She was beginning to grasp that maybe - just possibly - he deserved credit for thinking farther ahead than she'd imagined when he destroyed her entire framework for his "courtship" in a few words. Pulling free of her hand was merely salt in new wounds. Pleasant.

A master strategist would have let him finish, but as Angelica hoped for joy beyond the borders of maps and dry negotiations, she didn't bother holding her tongue. "You two prefer to snuff the candles, then? How inspired." It was a petty, unworthy salvo, but polite conversation had been beaten bloody before either of them began their dance this evening. Snide commentary stopped at the mention of 'another lover.' That alone wasn't a shock, but she was already struggling under the weight of his Others. Wisely, she kept her questions to herself as he continued. Knowing how, and with whom, he chose to spend his time away from her was both the issue and (in this moment) something she did not want to know. Funny how that came about.

His further retreat was more than she could hide in the moment it took for him to reconsider her. He spoke with a detachment she envied, a clinical statement of fact that was horribly out of touch with the anxiety sparking through her blood as pressed on. She braced for the next name, convinced he could declare his love for the long-dead Founders and she would take it with a smile when he rewrote the rules. Yet again.

Angelica held her breath...and then continued to hold it as she waited for him to make sense. The need for air dictated her next breath, but her inspiration did not, in fact, bring inspiration. She allowed his last words to filter in, poured the words through the multiple lexicons in her head, and still she was at a loss. She waited, expecting this to be a twist of cruel humor she had yet to see, but he had just stopped talking. "I - I beg your pardon?"

Angelica knew what he spoke of, in theory. She favored men, in spite of their faults; some men also favored men, the human embodiment of two negatives multiplying to make a positive. Humans, numbers, both made perfect sense in the proper context, but his words did not fit the facts. "So, to reiterate," Professor Vorona made an appearance for a moment in this debacle, "You conclude that you will not," Angelica held up a finger to stall any interruption. "My apologies, believe you cannot listen to me because you are courting Miss Cosgrove, whom you imply you do not wish to marry, but you also contend that she is not the lover you chose over me. Then the pièce de résistance: your mystery lover is a man." With an impudent shrug, she turned back to him, her hands again on her hips. "Have I missed any key points in your fable, my dear?" The idea that he could be telling the truth completely escaped her.

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MJ made this miracle!

His fable. Emrys had tensed as he spoke, in anticipation of her reaction, and now it seemed as though his body didn't know what to do. Was he still waiting for the other shoe to drop, or had the moment passed? He exhaled, but his stomach twisted, unable or unwilling to release the tension he was storing there. He didn't know that he'd ever made a confession like that before. Of course there were people who knew, but the way his life was compartmentalized meant that he rarely had to disabuse anyone of their assumptions about him. Polite society types thought he was a member of their ranks, and were never given a reason to think otherwise; the debauched likewise assumed he was read in to all the same vices that they were and were never given a reason to think otherwise. The most he'd ever had to do to reveal himself to someone was drop a few hints. It was safe to say at the very least that this was the most high-stakes confession he'd made, and she didn't believe him.

So, to reiterate. Angelica had bought into the same fantasy the rest of society had regarding his supposed attachment to Miss Cosgrove, and was livid about it. Nothing he said could convince her that he didn't particularly care about this potential bride as opposed to any other. In a desperate bid to end this painful conversation, he'd all but come out and said he was only interested in marrying at all as a distraction from his ongoing affairs with men. She had asked him to trust her, and he'd responded with one of his most closely guarded secrets, and (the pièce de résistance) it hadn't even worked. They were still stuck where they'd been a moment ago: her fixated on Clarissa Cosgrove, him so adrift he didn't even know which direction to steer to find land again.

He shifted his weight, uncomfortable in his own skin. "I think you should go," he said quietly. He wasn't going to argue with her to try and convince her he was telling the truth, but he had neither the inclination nor the energy to listen to her embark on another monologue about Clarissa Cosgrove, when nothing could be further from the point.

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The following 1 user Likes Emrys Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Emrys Selwyn's post
   Melody Crouch

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Lou made this! <3

I think you should go. The sentence did more to her sense of self than anything he had offered so far. Ordering a partner away for time to think was unremarkable, but this unease was out of place. Even when caught in a lie, Emrys Selwyn had a way of charming his way from 'liar' to 'lovable rogue' in a way most people lost after childhood. Her Mr. Selwyn did not look out of sorts in his own skin and he did not call off an argument unwon. To his credit, walking away was the mature choice, but Angelica lacked the ability to disengage. How could he drop such a ludicrous response and then fault her for doubting him?

Weighing his assertion (and the past evening) carefully, she could only watch him as she attempted to find meaning in this mess. She craved his trust and he offered her something stranger than fiction. This fit into the mental categories she was creating at the moment, but his discomfort brought her back to her urge to protect him. How she was meant to protect him from herself was something else entirely.

Angelica looked to the fireplace, his direction clear, but it did not take a seer to know what would happen if she left him now. Lowering her hands to her sides and breathing deep, Angelica attempted to tune out the panic rising in her heart at his dismissal. At a loss for words and unable to reach for him (he had already pulled away as if she were poison), Angelica was caught between an exit and protest. "If you wish it, I will." The statement was true, even if the idea caused mental panic.

Biting hard on her own lip to rein in the multitude of questions, she wasn't certain if she'd stalled for a moment or an hour before she offered him "But do not tell me to go." The alarms of 'weak' and 'predictable' were loud in her mind, but the idea of failure - true failure - had remained academic. She arrived tonight ready for battle, but the idea of leaving without him hadn't entered her plans. How could she go the length of her life without a thought of him, but now the idea of this being it was crushing. She had plans for plan's plans when she arrived today, but no contingency featured this.

With all the delicacy she could muster (and all the delicacy she'd never applied to him), Angel searched for his eyes. She reached a hand after him, but thought better of it, pulling her hand back stiffly. She wasn't certain where to begin. How did you discuss your lover having others that may just be illegal? The subject matter wasn't scandalizing for her, Angel had little interest in the love of those out of her bed, but why? As gently as she could, the admission in her words a small olive branch, if he chose to see it, Angelica admitted her own loss of direction. "I do not know what to say. I don't even know what to ask you." It stung, what she needed to say, but this was beyond the pale (at least the sort she'd planned on). "If you wish it, I will go, but please don't tell me to walk away. I cannot." The annoying burning resuming at the back of her eyes and tickling at her throat couldn't have come at a worse time. Defeat was unimaginable, but tears were unforgivable.

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The following 1 user Likes Angelica Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Angelica Selwyn's post
   Melody Crouch

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MJ made this miracle!

Emrys understood her reticence, because he was feeling it too. There was a dark cloud of finality in the air; a sense that if she left, it might be for the last time, and of course he didn't want that. Setting the emotional component of it aside, however, he recognized there was no reason for her to stay. Even if she did come up with questions and he answered them, it wouldn't make her feel any better about this situation, and it would be emotionally exhausting for him. He hadn't missed how she'd started to reach for him and drawn her hand back. He wasn't sure he could endure having it happen a second time. When she thought he'd been enamored with another woman she'd taken his hand and kissed his knuckles; now that he'd told her this, she wouldn't even touch him.

This confirmed his resolution not to marry someone he truly cared about. At least now he could ask her to leave. What would he have done with himself if the largest distance they could put between the two of them at a moment like this was a hallway?

"I can't explain it to you," he said, voice slightly hoarse. "I think it's better if you go."

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The following 2 users Like Emrys Selwyn's post:2 users Like Emrys Selwyn's post
   Angelica Selwyn, Melody Crouch

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Lou made this! <3

"Please, no." It escaped her a breath before the first tear slipped past her defenses and mortification burned bright in her for a moment before she could blink through and see him. It would be funny (if she were anyone else) to stumble into this moment, so sure of her path forward only to end up with him inches and metaphorical miles out of reach. It was the first time she understood the French position in 1812. The thought came from nothing and was made worse as she could swear she heard the muggle Tchaikovsky's overture firing in her head. It brought to mind the hours she'd spent with her mother listening to the Russian muggle's view of the world; how she'd loved and loathed a young Natasha and her journey, and how she'd believed her mother that love won out when the book was closed. How her mother could speak that mantra was a miracle. There was no secret among Angelica and her siblings that their parents' marriage was difficult, to say the least.

Angelica carried her mother's weakness for hope and affection into her own marriage with disastrous results. She knew what it was to see love die and to know what she'd built was made in the sand. She remembered it all: every dream, every hope lost, every second when the man she loved became the enemy. It was still in her a decade later, the remembrance of dreams gone dead. If for a moment, she saw the image of Viktor Voron over her Mr. Selwyn's shoulder, it was best forgotten. Loving the living was complicated enough without the memories of demons lurking. And wasn't that the heart for the issue?

"Then I will explain." Angel's tone was decisive (or at least as near as it had been since she arrived). She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, this time in caution over seduction before continuing. She had so many questions and nearly all related to how someone could be drawn to both wizard and witch, but there was something far more pressing.

In the next few moments, Emrys Selwyn would discard her permanently, or, by some miracle, she would find some common ground and earn a few more moments with him. The infuriating tears in her eyes (she was not crying, there was a difference) stayed strong as she searched for her words. How had demanding his truth devolved into him wanting her to leave on the heels that he was - what? - some new, odd form of a lover?

All her plans and hopes for a strategic victory has evaporated, but she still had the most important piece on the board. With a harsh breath, Angelica reached for him again, her hand grasping his arm tightly. He could recoil and refuse her touch. He could force her out, but Angelica was willing to risk his anger. He would keep her or he would be rid of her, there was no alternative.

With the bits of strength left to her, Angelica tightened her hand on his arm, stepping into him even as she braced to be pushed aside. "Then no more explanations." Her free hand went to his chest, the need to feel him under her hands overwhelming. If this was the end of them, of this, she wanted to remember the feel of his heart beneath her hand, the heat he always radiated. "Please, my dearest, do not ask me to go." It was small, fragile even. Angelica was many things, but a woman in need of rescue was not one of them, at least not before a certain pirate ruined everything.

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The following 1 user Likes Angelica Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Angelica Selwyn's post
   Emrys Selwyn

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MJ made this miracle!

Emrys was entirely unprepared for what happened next. A moment ago she had hesitated to touch him, and now she'd nearly thrown herself into his arms. His hands came up to wrap around her back on instinct while his mind struggled to make sense of this. He felt an overwhelming rush of emotion, too many tangled together for him to sort through. He didn't understand what she was doing, so he didn't know how to react. None of the feelings rushing through him resembled relief — whatever this was, it didn't feel like a resolution. Was she still in disbelief, and was trying to convince him to tell her some 'truth' she still believed he was hiding? Was she trying to convince him to give her some sort of promise that he could change his ways moving forward? Was she grieving what she now believed to be well and truly beyond her reach? Was she too overwhelmed by it all to be thinking straight herself?

His chest was so tight he couldn't have spoken, even if he'd had an inkling of what to say. His heart was racing, despite how still they both were in that moment after he'd accepted her into his arms. He wasn't sure exactly how long it took him to decide what to do next, but after some length of heavy silence, he moved his hands to her face and kissed her as deeply as he could. He kissed her as though it was their last — which it might very well be.

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Lou made this! <3

Angelica had no idea how she got here. She'd braced for his rejection of her touch and was as ready as she could be for his patience to finally run out. He wasn't a violent man, she knew that in her bones, but the past had a way of crawling from the grave. He hadn't asked for her touch, in fact, he'd pulled away from her. If he shoved her away, it was his right. She tensed for a brief second when he moved against her, but he pulled her closer to him. She melted into him reflexively, the familiar scent of him feeling like home even as her head screamed of danger. How could he be her safe harbor and the source of her despair? There was no clear answer, no 'right' answer and the unknowing was terrifying. Still, as she leaned into his hold, it was the fresh hint of his cologne and him that had her resting her head against his chest. She'd stained his shirt with tears, but it was preferable to him seeing them running down her face. Everything was off: their confrontation veering in ways she couldn't have planned for, her emotions bullying their way past her rational mind, her unacceptable tears blurring her vision, his resignation. It was only fair, in a way. She'd dared to be happy again and grew careless in the process. This was her punishment for the sin of dreaming.

His hands on her face were a familiar comfort and she resisted his pull for a moment, unprepared to see 'goodbye' form on his lips, but when the anticipated dismissal became a kiss, she answered him. He dictated the kiss for a moment, her surprise leaving her a beat behind him, but her body knew what to do. Kissing him was always electric, but there was a desperation in this kiss that was so at odds with how she usually savored him. This felt like goodbye. Hands pulling him closer, she pressed as tight to him as she could, wanting to soak in every inch of his warmth before she regrettably broke for air. "Don't stop," was also could whisper to him before she claimed his kiss again.

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MJ made this miracle!

She needn't have said anything; now that he'd begun stopping seemed impossible. Doubtless it helped that they had done this so often before. There was a rhythm to it, a comfortable pattern to fall into — but even if that hadn't been the case, desperation was close enough to passion that it likely would have carried them through all the same. They ended up in the bedroom on the first floor, which was seldom used except spontaneously. The ones upstairs were bigger and more comfortable, but Emrys didn't want to risk stairs. He was worried that if he stopped kissing her long enough for her to catch her breath, a question would find its way to her lips, and he didn't have any answers for her. That would have been the end of this sensual distraction, and perhaps the end of the night. Perhaps the end of everything.

The dread over what she might say or ask didn't leave him when he'd finished; instead it spread through his chest until it felt like he was wearing a heavy coat. He relied on the excuse of needing to catch his breath to excuse his silence as she nestled in beside him on the bed, and when he thought that might be wearing thin he switched tactics and feigned sleep. Luckily, she didn't seem inclined to press the issue while she was here in his arms. The few things she muttered as they were winding down were all encouraging, but he had difficulty taking them at face value. A part of him wondered if she still didn't believe him, or if she thought there was something she could say or do to convince him he wasn't who he was. All these little whispers might be strategic — the sex might have been, too. A growing unease spread over him, which he fought hard to conceal so as not to disrupt the illusion that he'd already drifted off to sleep.

Some quiet minutes passed, where Emrys was left alone with his increasingly more dreary thoughts, and then Angelica murmured one final thing. He hadn't really been listening, so he couldn't be sure he heard her correctly, but it sounded like she'd said I love you.

The hand that she'd rested so lightly on his bare chest suddenly felt like a trap. It was difficult to continue feigning sleep when panic rushed through him, but in the end he managed — his desire to avoid reopening the conversation winning out over the disorientation the phrase had caused him. Had she intended him to hear? He'd been pretending sleep for some minutes now. It could have been another piece of some strategy, or perhaps she'd convinced herself it was the truth. It wasn't — it couldn't be. She didn't know him. He'd given her a chance tonight, a brief glimpse into something he didn't tend to show people, and she'd rejected it. Maybe not even consciously. It was so far removed from her experience that he was convinced she couldn't understand, and he knew there were no amount of words that would allow him to explain it. Where did that leave them? Certainly not in love.

He lay paralyzed and panicked for several minutes, until her breathing slowed with sleep. After he felt confident she had drifted off he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, but it was still some time — twenty minutes, forty minutes, maybe longer — before he found the strength to disentangle himself from her and slip out of the bed, and then out of the room.

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Lou made this! <3