There was too much tea at the table. Angel stared at her favorite samovar looming over the two other teapots crowding the service tray. She would have everything perfect for Emrys' arrival. There was the way she took her tea in Russia, the boring bleakness of standard English afternoon tea, and something she'd had one of her staff hunt down in Cardiff. The Selwyns were Welsh and the tea Welsh; perhaps there was some popular blend that would remind her fiancé(!) of his Welsh childhood. The tea had to be perfect because, truth be told, nothing else was. But, Merlin, that is just too much tea.
Six days ago, she was still Professor Vorona; today, she was merely a witch unmoored. It had been a shock to say goodbye to her students the way she did, more surreal still to explain the sudden change to her colleagues. Today, she was a woman watching pillars of her independence crumble without warning. She needed this space - they needed her to have this space. It was eight days until the wedding and Angelica had begun her strategizing the moment he proposed (Well, the moment after she stopped thinking Emrys capable of the cruelest sort of jest anyway). For this marriage to succeed - and it would, Angelica already made her decision - both of them would need time and space away. Naturally, his Bristol estate was expansive and they could easily spend the day at hope and never cross paths, but the need for space was symbolic as well as literal. Her maintaining a second property meant she could disappear and give him the reassurance of privacy. It meant she could lock herself in her study and spend the day buried in translations or arithmetic equations for alchemy. Her home, her little haven, was a symbol of her independence and it would be sold to a realtor come Monday.
Angelica had written, destroyed, restarted, and hexed her list of marriage expectations multiple times. Perhaps, if she could identify exactly what she expected, Emrys would seem less... resigned to their marriage and future. Maintaining her own property was an essential part of marital happiness for them, she was certain, but here she was, grieving for the material things that made her house her own. "Are you certain we cannot at least keep the home through the honeymoon? There is a week still between Monday and the wedding. I know it might seem silly, but if I am forced to spend the last week of my widowhood with my family, I will most certainly commit some act of violence." Her cheeky smile came and went in record time as she saw his eyes evaluating her furnishings.
Few things in her home matched the beauty of Emrys' own designs, but Angelica had her favorite pieces. If she could truly force him to make room for her things was another story. She was keenly aware she would be living with him at his home. It would not be hers, there would be little that was hers now, and the thought was nerve-wracking. Could she truly force her things (beautiful, timeless pieces, thank you) into his space and expect him to see her as anything but a nuisance? "I will take very little with me. I do not want to interfere with your designs." Her smile was genuine: Emrys Selwyn had an eagle's eye for beauty and decoration. Angelica wasn't fool enough to mess about with his things, not when she found his style still so complementary to her own. She needed little encouragement to join him, she already adored his home, but being a guest and being the lady of the house were different things.
Angelica was gone on her mental train of thought for what felt like hours, but within a few beats, she turned to him cautiously, her mind a scattered mess of 'what ifs' and wondering. "I suppose I will only take the essentials, as I would hate to clutter your home." It was still firmly his home in her mind, there was nothing that belonged to her but hope.
Six days ago, she was still Professor Vorona; today, she was merely a witch unmoored. It had been a shock to say goodbye to her students the way she did, more surreal still to explain the sudden change to her colleagues. Today, she was a woman watching pillars of her independence crumble without warning. She needed this space - they needed her to have this space. It was eight days until the wedding and Angelica had begun her strategizing the moment he proposed (Well, the moment after she stopped thinking Emrys capable of the cruelest sort of jest anyway). For this marriage to succeed - and it would, Angelica already made her decision - both of them would need time and space away. Naturally, his Bristol estate was expansive and they could easily spend the day at hope and never cross paths, but the need for space was symbolic as well as literal. Her maintaining a second property meant she could disappear and give him the reassurance of privacy. It meant she could lock herself in her study and spend the day buried in translations or arithmetic equations for alchemy. Her home, her little haven, was a symbol of her independence and it would be sold to a realtor come Monday.
Angelica had written, destroyed, restarted, and hexed her list of marriage expectations multiple times. Perhaps, if she could identify exactly what she expected, Emrys would seem less... resigned to their marriage and future. Maintaining her own property was an essential part of marital happiness for them, she was certain, but here she was, grieving for the material things that made her house her own. "Are you certain we cannot at least keep the home through the honeymoon? There is a week still between Monday and the wedding. I know it might seem silly, but if I am forced to spend the last week of my widowhood with my family, I will most certainly commit some act of violence." Her cheeky smile came and went in record time as she saw his eyes evaluating her furnishings.
Few things in her home matched the beauty of Emrys' own designs, but Angelica had her favorite pieces. If she could truly force him to make room for her things was another story. She was keenly aware she would be living with him at his home. It would not be hers, there would be little that was hers now, and the thought was nerve-wracking. Could she truly force her things (beautiful, timeless pieces, thank you) into his space and expect him to see her as anything but a nuisance? "I will take very little with me. I do not want to interfere with your designs." Her smile was genuine: Emrys Selwyn had an eagle's eye for beauty and decoration. Angelica wasn't fool enough to mess about with his things, not when she found his style still so complementary to her own. She needed little encouragement to join him, she already adored his home, but being a guest and being the lady of the house were different things.
Angelica was gone on her mental train of thought for what felt like hours, but within a few beats, she turned to him cautiously, her mind a scattered mess of 'what ifs' and wondering. "I suppose I will only take the essentials, as I would hate to clutter your home." It was still firmly his home in her mind, there was nothing that belonged to her but hope.
WC: 684
![[Image: NpMgQU7.png]](https://i.imgur.com/NpMgQU7.png)