February 16, 2022 – 12:14 AM
February 19, 2022 – 1:29 AM
Ford held on to his consternation through Wye's defenses, but softened slightly at the mention of desperate loneliness. Of course Wye was lonely; everyone he'd known in life was long since gone, and while many ghosts had friends and relationships and potentially whole social systems with other spirits it wasn't exactly the same. And it usually wasn't romance, which was presumably something Wye thought his life was lacking if he was interesting in placing Lonely Hearts. It was either that or he'd intentionally set out to toy with young women's feelings because he found the idea amusing, but even in the most uncharitable mood Ford could not believe such a thing of his friend.
"Maybe they're mostly lying," he allowed. "But they're all doing it with an eye towards getting married, which you —" Ford cut himself off shy of saying Barnaby couldn't, because of course he could. The legalities of it were a little questionable, true, but Herbert Fudge had done it with his wife, so there was some precedent, at least. Having spent so long considering his sister's prospects, though, Ford was having a hard time imagining anyone would willingly decide to marry a ghost without a prior commitment to them, like Mrs. Fudge had to her husband. What the girls needed from a marriage were all things that Wye couldn't provide — a home to live in, an income to live on, something — either society life or children — to live for.
"If you're trying to seduce someone, this hardly seems like the best method," Ford argued, instead of continuing the thought. "You think you can woo someone by post and then when you eventually meet them they just won't mind that you're dead?"
Set by Lady!
February 27, 2022 – 11:42 PM
Barnaby Wye — Played by MJ
Barnaby could predict well enough what Greengrass had meant to say before he cut himself off: can’t. He narrowed his eyes knowingly. Oh, woe to be him – woe to be a phantom and to have the world continue to exist merely to show him everything he could not do around every next corner!
Barnaby much preferred contemplating what he could do. He could sing in dulcet tones; compose any number of songs to serenade someone; he could speak on a wealth of subjects, could remember great histories and go where he wished and retain consciousness without need of sustenance or stillness or sleep. He could recite sonnets and pay compliments with flair and he had eyes yet and an imagination, which was probably more than some Living men had to boast of.
So wooing people by post seemed as likely an approach as any other. “Well, there is only one way to find out, is that not so?” He gazed back, wide-eyed and cajoling, defiantly choosing optimism in the face of reason. Best not to count one’s chickens, and so on and thenceforth... nevertheless, he made a grabby-handed motion at the book with the letters stuffed within it, imploring Greengrass to indulge him long enough to read the Good Ladies’ Letters aloud to him, at the very least.
For there were oddities in every race; who was to say someone would not dare to love beyond the usual bounds of conformity? Barnaby was exceedingly loveable, if he did say so himself. And if all else failed, at least he would still have been granted a brief window of getting to entertain the delusion. (Indeed, in ghosthood, entertaining delusions was generally about as good as it got.)
Ford scowled, but he had no response for that. What could he say, that Wye ought to be doomed to be alone forever because he was non-corporeal? Ford was obviously the last one to denigrate spirits as less-than, whatever his personal bias on the matter. He didn't condone Wye leading young women on, but supposing he didn't actually make any promises he couldn't keep... well, maybe it was their own fault for engaging in something as silly as
Lonely Hearts in the first place, as Wye implied.
He sighed and opened the book to pluck one of the letters out. He began to
read, but stopped when he reached
while you list other benefits as immaterial. He raised his eyebrows at the ghost, incredulous. "Did you
really?"
Set by Lady!
Barnaby Wye — Played by MJ
Barnaby settled in, satisfied, to listen to the letter. If his heart had been yet accustomed to beating, he imagined that it might have been doing so at rather a rapid pace as Greengrass unfolded the first letter, all his hopes bound up within the parchment. Oh, and how well it began! Sonnet 116, one Barnaby had first encountered when he was but newly dead: but it was Shakespeare, so surely this young lady’s tastes already tended towards the more antique. And the sonnet itself was the perfect definition of love in a case such as his: a marriage of true minds; resistance to impediments; unaltered even to the edge of doom.
He let out a long, dramatic, delighted sigh – thus far, she was perfect. Greengrass had stopped, though: “Well, they are, to me,” Barnaby replied, with a pert little shrug – as was he, albeit in a different sense. He drifted over to hover over Ford’s shoulder to squint down at the rest, reading on impatiently in his head: oh. Barnaby’s spirits were somewhat savagely dented by the next phrase – a partner who can challenge and stimulate me in all material regards.
Hm.
That might be... more difficult to achieve. Barnaby pursed his lips but said nothing, praying that Greengrass would not proclaim anything cruel like I told you so.
Ford had been fixated on the potential hurt that Wye might cause to his unsuspecting victims when he had first discovered the letter scheme. The way the ghost reacted to this last line was indication that the sword had two edges; affairs of the heart could be painful even after death, it seemed, and Barnaby Wye was just as likely to be disappointed by these letters as a blushing young woman. Ford felt he ought to say something encouraging, but came up short. He'd just spent most of the conversation detailing all the reasons why this would never work and ought not to have even been attempted. He could not change his tune so dramatically — but still, he wished there was something he could say to soften the blow. If Wye was planning to continue these correspondences, this wouldn't be the last time he stumbled upon something like this; a careless line that nonetheless spelled the end of his hopes in this regard.
"Well, nevermind." Ford shuffled the page awkwardly to the back of the stack. "Let's read the next."
Set by Lady!
