December 31st, 1891 - Prewitt NYE Gala,  Destiny Hotel

Engaging in the social season was something Atticus had always held a particular desire to do; he lived and breathed for the extravagant events and social events, although right now it was not out of desire but rather necessity that kept him rooted to the New Years Eve ball; he had promised his mother he would try to find someone suitable to be a wife, although he perhaps yearned to find one nearly as much as she - at thirty years old, he was becoming old enough to be considered a confirmed bachelor.

It didn’t help that some of the women who frequented these events were sharks who smelled blood in the water; one woman who’s name he couldn’t quite recall had latched on to his arm earlier, and it had taken a certain talent of flashing a facade smile whilst quietly pulling away from her, feigning that he needed to step away for a moment to discuss personal matters with the gentleman over there, but he’d be back as soon as he could. Atticus had disappeared, grabbing a champagne glass from one of the trays on his way to disappear into the crowd. He kept his eyes on her, turning his head whenever he felt she was getting too close to seeing him.

Now she was looking for the eldest Foxwood, her head swiveling around the room so quickly he was afraid it was going to pop off, and Atticus ducked behind a column to avoid her gaze. It was much too early to leave despite his wishes to, and he knew he would never hear the end of it from his dear brother were someone to tell him that Atticus Foxwood left a social event early, whilst conning him into going in the first place. He deserved it - Basil needed to socialize, to show his face lest people forget he existed, and it always seemed to be up to Atticus to push him to do so.

Letting out a breath he’d been holding in, Atticus straightened his back as he stepped away from the wall and took a sip of the champagne. The woman seemed otherwise preoccupied for the moment, and he took a moment to step back into the crowd, a smile pressed against his lips; perhaps if he looked interested in someone else, she would leave him alone. (Or perhaps she was made of envy - something Atticus had no intention of finding out.)


Words: 409

---

  

---

“Atticus Foxwood, sir!” Porphyria exclaimed, partly in greeting and partly in delighted triumph, as if she had caught him in the act of some terrible crime. He seemed preoccupied enough with something, even though he had just been looking this way, so perhaps she had caught him off guard, too.

She swanned on over to him, primarily because she was absolutely bored, having done almost nothing tonight but drink the strongest cocktails on offer and play cards. It was not her particular idea of a New Year well spent; the turn of the year felt better commemorated out of doors under the moonlight somewhere, but when all her society friends were here, Porphyria had delayed the midnight nature wanderings by a few hours more.

This Mr. Foxwood had been in Ravenclaw, a year her senior, and thus he had always been a half-interesting study amongst the other strangers she saw at parties. Of course, Atticus Foxwood was the most conventional a man could be – first son, gentleman of leisure, did nothing with his life but engage young ladies in appropriate conversations in hopes of one day choosing the least objectionable one from amongst them – so he ought not to actually be that entertaining. But the whole concept was so foreign and so patently alien to her own preferences that she had to find some amusement in it, from time to time. Perhaps because Mr. Foxwood tried so hard.

But he was acting distinctly strangely at present. Phyri – with no intention of holding her tongue to preserve his dignity – grinned at him now that she was close enough to ask about it. “I had no idea hide and seek was one of the games on offer tonight. What were you doing behind that column?” She raised an eyebrow knowingly, although she must be wrong in her impression: for Mr. King of the Social Scene, hiding at a society party seemed ridiculously out of character.

---

  

---

a sublime set by Lady! <3

While not a man easily caught off guard, Atticus outwardly winced as someone called his name. His fingers tightened around the champagne glass as he turned with a forced smile, finding Porphyria Dempsey behind him. A year younger than himself, she’d always been… interesting. Not a woman he would approach at a social event of his own accord for a dance as he didn’t enjoy rejection knowing it was coming,  she at least always proved to be an intriguing conversation.

And tonight there was nothing he wished for more. He was already irritated that his little brother hadn’t bothered to show his face despite making ample promises he would, and the hawk-eyed woman would find him the moment he attempted conversation with anyone he was remotely interested in. He was trapped at a party he’d normally thrive in.

She grinned at him, and Atticus tossed a look over his shoulder; he’d lost sight of her. Great. Pausing for a moment, he finally turned his attention back toward her. “I’m afraid there’s a hag on the loose.” He finally settled on - he’d blame the alcohol for the insult. “And I have little desire to be her first meal of the new year.”

Then Atticus laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably, before he grinned at her.. “And who are you hiding from, Ms. Dempsey?”

****
Porphyria Dempsey

---

  

---

Merlin, he looked as though he was being hunted. Porphyria was not, herself, entirely unfamiliar with the sensation, though she liked to think that in her experience as a ‘debutante’ – she had only ever accepted the term very loosely to begin with – she had long since graduated from being anyone’s prey.

“Oh dear,” Phyri exclaimed, letting her eyes discreetly sweep the room in search of the hunter. She had to laugh at his remark about the hag – though she suspected he merely meant a woman, and not the actual child-eating sort (the latter would have been an interesting use of an invitation) – with a touch of sympathy, but more than a little amusement at his discomfort. Forget damsels in distress, then: apparently it was the poor pitiable society-minded bachelors one needed to worry about after all.

“Oh, I never hide,” she said brightly, feeling self-satisfied at how the tables had turned for once, and left her life choices on top. “When you cultivate the sort of peculiar standing as I do, it becomes very easy,” she explained. “People are about as likely to approach me as they are oncoming stormclouds.”

Which was how she liked it, naturally. “So perhaps I shall scare her off from you for a while by proximity,” Porphyria offered magnanimously, about the woman evidently after him. That said, if she was going to take pity on Mr. Foxwood and extend herself as a sort of antisocial umbrella, she most certainly wanted to gloat a little more about his distress. “But whatever did she say or do to earn such scorn from you?”

---

The following 1 user Likes Porphyria Dempsey's post:1 user Likes Porphyria Dempsey's post
   Poppy Dashwood

---

a sublime set by Lady! <3

Atticus watched her curiously, his eyes lingering on her as she appeared to search for his hag; she’d be hard to spot, a pretty woman who he could only wonder if she actually belonged at this sort of event. It had been a long while since someone had thrown themselves at him in such a way, and while flattering, she wouldn't be a girl he’d want his brother to meet, let alone his mother. His eyes turned back toward her as she spoke brightly, and he could only smile at her. Of course Ms. Dempsey wouldn’t have to hide from anyone! Oh, a life he wished he currently lived at the moment.

“Well, I promise when I see you at such events from now on, I will drop by for hello. I am certain you’ll provide a much better conversation than some of the women I meet, and there won’t be anyone butting in for your attention.” Chuckling quietly, Atticus took a quick look around the party, his eyes lingering on some of the participants. Contrary to belief he had some standards as to who he’d take as a wife, which is probably why it was taking him so long to even want to court someone.

Atticus smiled at Ms. Dempsey as he gave a slight nod. “And surely she’ll become too jealous and will throw a fit. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see.” He turned his attention back toward her, pausing as he picked his words carefully; he wasn’t someone to speak ill of a woman, but well, he was certainly making an exception for her. “I swear she was murmuring Mrs. Foxwood underneath her breath, and I am not entirely certain I wouldn’t wake up with a ring on my finger tomorrow morning if she were to see me again.” He nonchalantly shrugged.

He needed another drink in his hand, stat.

****
Porphyria Dempsey

---

  

---

Porphyria grinned at his resolution – she was certain, now that she knew of poor beleaguered Atticus Foxwood and his party stalker, she would derive great amusement from looking out for the so-called hag at future events.

And the prospect of her throwing a very public fit made Porphyria laugh deeply. “Oh, I hope she does,” she agreed emphatically, still assessing the other guests to see if any young lady looked especially livid in this direction. “This party could use a scandalous scene or two to liven it up.”

No, she was only teasing – but the woman did sound entirely unhinged, so she had to feel sorry for Mr. Foxwood. “Here,” she said more soothingly, exchanging his champagne glass for a cocktail glass off a passing tray that she suspected would have more of an effect than champagne; she whisked off one for herself, too, because she was stuck enduring a society party. “Clearly you deserve something a little stronger for all your suffering. Unless you’re worried she’s already gotten to these too, and slipped in a love potion for you?” Phyri tried valiantly not to cackle this time, though she really should stop poking fun, not when it sounded very much like something in a scheming debutante’s wheelhouse. “Shall I test it for you first?”

---

  

---

a sublime set by Lady! <3

Atticus couldn’t help but laugh alongside Ms. Dempsey; even he had found the party to be lackluster and was looking forward to leave. “Even I agree with that statement. This party has been quite lackluster although dare I say I wouldn’t want to be front and center.” If only he knew he’d be dealing with a drunk brother and a drunk cousin in separate instances later this evening - perhaps then he wouldn’t find himself eating the words.

When she plucked a cocktail glass off a passing tray he made no moves to take it, instead allowing his grin to widen. “Ms. Dempsey, if you are confessing you’ve been in love with me for quite some time there are much more interesting ways to go about.” Atticus laughed with a wink as he reached forward to pluck the glass from her hands. “I expect a grand show so our grandchildren will always ask us to tell the story.”

Atticus let out another chuckle as he took a sip of his glass, and while he thought of playing in love, he might save that for his next act. “Perhaps we could even be scandalous enough and I’ll take your last name.” Playfully rolling his eyes, he couldn’t help but smirk at her over his glass; he knew she had no desire to get married but it certainly didn’t make the situation any less fun. He would dare say it made it even more fun.

****
Porphyria Dempsey

---

The following 1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post:1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post
   Porphyria Dempsey

---

Any smugness she felt at hearing Mr. Foxwood call a party lacklustre was swiftly drowned out by her indignation at his next jest. Oh, so now he was teasing her? The cad! She was here trying to be a considerate soul, helping him, and what did he repay her with? Talk of their supposed grandchildren.

If she had not known he and his brother so long, since their Ravenclaw days, she might have been more genuinely vexed. As it was, she just stepped forwards and subtly pressed her shoe down (childishly) hard on his toes: for all their talk of scandalous scenes, Porphyria had spared him her first urge, which had been to punch him in the arm.

“Fortunately for us both, I am chronically invulnerable to love,” she deadpanned, taking a long draught of her newest drink to show how unafraid of a love potion she was. And Foxwood was only needling her because he knew it would irritate her, she was sure – but she did indulge in smirking back at the latter comment, in spite of herself. “But if anything could tempt me into marriage, it might well be that,” Porphyria admitted, raising her eyebrows in mock-warning and grinning as she tried it out, just to scare him. He’d asked for it, after all. “Atticus Dempsey. It doesn’t sound so bad,” she said. “Will you be moving to Ireland too?”

Even if she had had a single bone in her body that was inclined to marriage, she suspected the thought of the Galway Dempsey Estate and her family brimming with poets, eccentrics and unparalleled dramatics would scare most anyone sane quite away.

---

  

---

a sublime set by Lady! <3

She stepped forward and Atticus watched her with interest, his grin widening as she pressed her shoe down onto his toes; it wasn’t painful, at least not as painful as it could be, but still uncomfortable. He moved his foot away from her as he resisted the urge to frown at her. Her next comment made him though, before he chuckled quietly, watching as she took a deep drink from the cup in her hand. Atticus did the same. If he was going to be forced to fall in love from a potion, well, there could be worse choices than Dempsey. (But luckily for him she seemed to be immune to falling in love, and well, luckily for him a fake love potion was able to take into consideration how picky he was about his future wife.)

Then he nearly snorted into his drink at her comments, only refraining as took a long sip of the liquid, feeling it burn as swallowed it. It was an odd thought to be anything outside of a Foxwood, and well, Basil would have a conniption if found himself to be the only one left with the last name. The family line would end with Basil, that Atticus was sure of. “Atticus Dempsey. It certainly could be worse. Like Porphyria Foxwood, for instance.” The words were accompanied with a slight shrug, although his smile didn't falter. It was fun, trying to get a rise out of her.

He managed a wink at her before he found himself laughing quietly again, ignoring the grin that had etched onto her face. Atticus had every reason to be frightened of Dempsey, she certainly was a wildcard, but at the same time it was enjoyable that a woman was capable of jabbing him back. (And one that Mama Foxwood wouldn’t pester him to court.) “Have you not heard the rumors that an Atticus Dempsey is quickly rising amongst the ranks as a world famous bagpipe player in Ireland? I’m afraid my career won’t allow me to stay in London much longer.”

He wondered, briefly, if she was actually uprooting to Ireland. It was an odd choice, but then again Dempsey was an odd woman.

****
Porphyria Dempsey

---

The following 1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post:1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post
   Basil Foxwood

---

Well, he had been the more mature person when it came to the matter of stepping on toes; but he had not outwardly chided her for it, either, so she would take that as a win.

She laughed long and hard at his bagpipe answer, amazed that she was actually having a decent time at this party after all, and that her entertainment was coming from Atticus Foxwood, of all people. “Truly, I would pay good money – the full worth of all my sisters’ dowries – to see that man of talent play,” Phyri assured him, once she had enough breath to speak again. (In actual truth, the fact was more like Phyri would never uproot from Ireland, not if she had her way – but if she had to listen to Atticus playing the bagpipes all over the place, it might be safer to leave the country.)

“I have heard that Porphyria Foxwood, on the other hand,” Porphyria said, lowering her tone so no one heard that nightmare of a name and misconstrued it, “is a creation by the devil’s own hand. They say she is a most committed socialite –” she took a breath, paused for dramatic effect, shuddered – “but that when she is suitably impressed by her invited company she refuses to let a party end, and locks her guests up instead just to keep them there; so that the Foxwood Estate rather resembles the hallways of a lunatic asylum. Lots of screaming.”

This alter ego of extremes, Porphyria Foxwood, sounded like the name of a most unstable woman, indeed. Phyri grinned again, finding herself very much in the spirit of this little game. At least they could agree on sheer ludicrousness. She took another draught of her drink and another thought sparked. (She was always a little too enthusiastic about the potential of a gothic story; if Mr. Foxwood knew what was good for him, he ought not let her get too carried away.) “And oh, the unspeakable things she serves at her dinners... Come on, that poor hag who’s after your hand tonight is beginning to sound like a better option for your wife now, isn’t she?” Phyri teased.

---

  

---

a sublime set by Lady! <3

Hearing her laugh made him do the same, although he tried his best to hide it in his drink. It was nice, even for a change, to be away from the people who Atticus was always with. A breath of fresh air, one he didn’t know he needed but very much appreciated. “Eighteen ninety two is his year. When you spend your sisters’ dowries, I also heard he’s looking for some bandmates.” Atticus raised the glass in the air as a form of cheers before he laughed quietly and shook his head, finding absurdity in the entire conversation. In truth, he would never uproot from England to Ireland, but maybe he’d learn to play bagpipes as a backup plan, just in case his family did actually manage to drive him to the brink of insanity. It would serve them right.

Leaning forward as Phyri spoke lowly, Atticus grinned, flashing all his teeth. It was an odd feeling to have someone almost be ashamed of sharing his last name, but as she continued to speak, pausing for a dramatic effect that made him snort much louder than he intended, his hand moving to cover his mouth, he understood why. It took a moment for him to recover. He almost wheezed to keep himself from laughing again. “She sounds like a very well adverse host, and I’m quite certain that Pendergast's School for Young Roses would be thrilled to have her as a mistress. She can bring all her Roses and show them exactly how a committed socialist should act.”

Attius tapped his chin as he thought for a moment. “In fact they can all lure the guests for Mrs. Foxwood so she can truly commit herself to the throwing best party imaginable. And the screaming can be taken care of. Atticus Demspey promises to make an appearance every so often and play extra loud.” He winked before tilting the glass against his lips to take a swig of the liquid.

Atticus enjoyed reading; he spent many of days tucked away in the library away from the staff and always sighed loudly when they needed something from him. When it was a particularly good book he’d hide away somewhere on the property where they wouldn’t think to look; whatever story they were conducting was enough to captivate him and keep his attention away from the worries of the hag - until Miss Dempsey brought her up again.

“Have you never met Merlin?” His lips curved into an amused smile; anyone who knew Atticus would know how much he loved his beloved owl. He pestered everyone and everything for attention and food, and while not ashamed of it, the Foxwood brothers had indulged the poor thing until a healer had deemed him nearly too rotund  to fly. “He eats everything, so Mrs. Foxwood can add a diving owl who would personally fight all her guests for scraps of food to her list. Call it, after dinner entertainment if you will.”

His eyes fleeted around before he turned back to her and laughed a little louder than he intended, a grin spread across his lips. “Honestly, she sounds better than the hag who would instantly turn into a statue and be insistently boring until I withered away into nothing from the lack of rousing conversation.”

****
Porphyria Dempsey

---

The following 1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post:1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post
   Porphyria Dempsey

---

Oh: he had grinned again, and Atticus Foxwood looked like a very different person when he grinned ike that. A much more fun person, Phyri decided. And the snort! For a split-second, he’d shed all of that society trimming of restraint, those forced smiles and upright posture and amusement hidden behind his glass. (Not that she was well-placed or remotely predisposed to give anyone spouse-hunting advice, but admirable Mr. Foxwood would find himself a wife he actually liked far quicker, she thought, if he bothered to enjoy himself more.) 

She made no effort to hide her laughter at the thought of the added bagpipe playing at this already horrendous theoretical dinner party, anyway, just threw her head back and laughed: the amusement was quite infectious. “Ah, well, thank Merlin for Merlin,” she exclaimed, supposing that Atticus hardly needed a wife at all, for how much affection he evidently still foisted upon that owl.

She was still brimming with ideas of how to make a terrible dinner party worse – Porphyria Foxwood could turn all the guests to owls when they annoyed her, like a veritable Circe; or turn them to mice and rats to feed to Merlin – but, since the hag in question still seemed to be nowhere in sight, Phyri thought she had better let Atticus Foxwood slip off again back to his friends and more eligible young ladies while the coast looked clear. “And if that’s the case,” she merely pointed out, teasing, of having an untalkative statue of a spouse, “perhaps you will have to turn to taking up the bagpipes, after all. Here’s to 1892,” Porphyria added, toasting him cheerily. “I look forward to seeing it.”

---

  

---

a sublime set by Lady! <3

Atticus raised his glass in response to her, another chuckle escaping him. “It will be my 1892 goal, Miss Dempsey.” He could only imagine what mama and Basil would think if he were to actually begin practicing the bagpipes, especially to impress a woman he never had any intentions of trying to court, let alone marry. Mama Foxwood would have a heart attack and Basil wouldn’t ever speak to him again if he accidentally killed her off.

Shaking his head, he offered her a smile. “Have a wonderful night, and do scream if you see the hag.” Atticus resisted the urge to wink at her. Instead he mimicked her movement and toasted her. Then, without saying much else, he turned around to disappear back toward a few people he knew. The night was still young, but he still felt a little pep in his step.

****
Porphyria Dempsey

---

  

---