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| Mistletoe; Arthur | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 2 2011, 07:39 AM (504 Views) | |
| Isabella Markham | Dec 2 2011, 07:39 AM Post #1 |
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late December, around Christmas, 1512 Even in the dead of winter, Isabella enjoyed strolling through the gardens. She often felt stifled within the opulent walls of the palace and needed to get away, if only for a little while. And there was a certain beauty in the frost clinging to the stark barrenness of the trees, adorning them like diamonds now that their leaves were gone. The grass crunched underneath her fur-lined boots, and the sun's light was soft, yet still warmed her enough so that she did not feel the need to rush back inside immediately. Her deep amber gown was made of a thick rich velvet, and over that she wore a cloak of soft brown fur lined with crimson silk. A matching hat adorned with jewels and feathers sat upon her head, the fur only a bit darker than the light golden-brown of her hair. Her father's great wealth allowed her luxuries most of her friends could not afford, and so they rarely accompanied her on her walks as they could not dress as warmly as she. And it wasn't their company she longed for it was Arthur's. Since the day she had found out about his wife's death, Isabella had been spending most of her time in the company of the handsome marquess. Always an early riser, she usually arrived at his chambers around dawn, when very few people were about other than servants going about their morning duties. Most of the time he was already up, but on rare occasions ... such as after she had dragged him to a party the night before ... he would be sleeping late. At those times, she desired nothing more than to crawl into his bed and snuggle up next to him, yet the courage to take that step eluded her. Instead, she would spend her time playing her harp or embroidering until he finally awakened. They usually took breakfast together in his rooms, and if he had no work to do, they would spend the entire day together riding, walking in the gardens, or just sharing long conversations or reading to each other while curled up together by the fire. Often she would play and sing for him, especially when his grief overwhelmed him, for her music always calmed him. If he did have business to attend to such as he did today ... she would visit her friends or otherwise occupy herself until he called for her again. During the evening, they often shared supper and she didn't leave until she was so tired she could barely hold her eyes open. Never before in her young life had Isabella been so happy, so content. The friendship between them had blossomed into a deep affection that at least on her part was almost frightening in its intensity. It seemed as if they were becoming dependent on each other in a way that, in her youth and inexperience, she could not completely comprehend. She did know that simply being in his presence made her heart swell with joy and that his company even quelled the incessant longing for that elusive something that she could not define. It was if she needed him now, and that her life would not be complete without him in it. A very scary notion and yet exciting all at the same time. Her thoughts were interrupted by the steady cadence of footsteps behind her. Expecting Arthur as she had told him he would be likely to find her in the gardens this day a delighted smile formed on her lips as she turned around. Yet it was not the marquess who approached her, but Gregory Ramsey, the attractive older brother of her friend Margery. At one time, Isabella had fancied him, and he had paid her no mind. Lately, though, the tables had been turned and he had been pursuing her rather relentlessly. Sometimes she wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but that would affect her friendship with his sister, so it was better that she be nice to him. As he was quite an affable fellow and she did consider him a friend in his own right, that was not very difficult, and her smile faded only marginally as he walked up to her. Mistress Isabella, he said, an impish grin playing across his features. How pleasant it is to see you again. And you as well, she replied politely, not wanting to encourage him too much. Something about the calculating but playful way he gazed at her made her believe that this meeting was no accident, and she frowned slightly as she noticed that one hand was held behind his back. They exchanged meaningless frivolities for a few moments, and then her curiosity got the best of her. What is that you have behind you? she queried bluntly. His grin grew wider. I thought you'd never ask. Quite quickly, he stepped toward her and brought his hand forward. In it was a verdant sprig of mistletoe, which he tried to hold over her head. Isabella had to admit she was impressed with his inventiveness, but she had no intention of allowing him to steal a kiss. She could tease him, a bit, though. Stepping back so that he missed his mark, she laughed. So you want to kiss me that badly? Well ... Grabbing the bough out of his hand, she danced backwards, ... you'll have to catch me first! Taking off down the pathway, she ran as fast as her long skirts would allow, and she could hear his boots pounding behind her. There was no way that she could outrun him, and she needed to find a place to conceal the mistletoe so that he would not be able to find it. If he caught her before she could rid herself of it, she had no idea what she would do. Perhaps she would have no choice but to give him his kiss. Yet luck intervened in the form of one Arthur Chamerlyn. As she turned a corner, she nearly ran straight into him and immediately hid herself behind him. Arthur, you must save me! she exclaimed in mock horror, although her voice held a note of laughter so that he would know she wasn't serious. I am being chased by a boy who wants to take something away from me! You mustn't let him have it! At that moment, Gregory rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the marquess. And that's him! Isabella added, as she peeked from behind Arthur's back and stuck out her tongue at her friend. |
| [align=center]Isabella's Bio >^..^< Plottage[/align] | |
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| Arthur Chamerlyn | Dec 2 2011, 07:42 PM Post #2 |
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It was not unlike Arthur to heavily gravitate to whatever distraction offered refuge from his own thoughts. Whether it be his work, his wine or whatever else, they were never an exception from each other. That was, of course, until Isabella Markham entered his life in ways he only saw essential now. With the death of his precious beloved, the marquess had been dealt things he had ever been prepared for... and there was only one person that had come running to his rescue, one person that had shown any amount of hope and determination to revive him. And she had shown more than enough. Though his grief often times still plagued him, it was by Isabella's hand that it receded at least until another day, where she would be right there to soothe it all over again. Despite his efforts, Arthur had grown reliant on Isabella, her touch, her singing and her care, and he tried as best as his current situation allowed to express his gratitude. And it was around Isabella that Arthur felt the relief of social standards and appearances leave him, allowing him to not only relax but just be himself, utterly and completely. It was this very thing -among many others- that kept him so constant at her side. He was not so much a fool to shut out one of the only ones that brought him peace and happiness. Today, just like every other day this past month, would be no exception. As he strolled through one of the many ends of the palace gardens, dressed in a rich midnight blue and bronze-threaded doublet and a thick, draping cloak of accented leather and furs, the young woman seemed to be the only thing on his mind. His chains of office did not adorn his shoulders, his white staff was not in his hand -as if it ever was- and his usual look of wealth and stance had been somewhat dimmed amongst the blanket of crystal snow. He did not want to be the Marquess of Powis, or even the king's Comptroller. Keeping his eyes out for Isabella, he wanted only to be Arthur Chamerlyn. Reaching the corner of one of the many rows of manicured shrubberies and plants as tall as he, Arthur carried himself with a small, pleasant smile, as if entertained by his thoughts as he walked. Despite how much Isabella occupied his mind, he had not been prepared for her to nearly collide into him, and all he could do to keep from laughing was arch a single eyebrow at her. Expecting a hello or some other form of familiar greeting, it seemed the playful maiden had other ideas, and scurrying behind him, Arthur could only look over his shoulder in confusion. "Save you, aye?" He asked with a smirk, turning his head to see a young, liveried man that had come chasing right after her. The look in the boy's face was unmistakable, and though it furthered the grin on Arthur's face, he dipped his chin and eyed him closely. "Well, you surely do not look like a thief!" He exclaimed, chuckling breathlessly as he stepped aside to reveal Isabella hidden behind him. Turning his head he smiled at her, glanced to the mistletoe in her fingers, and turned back to the younger boy. "If anything.." he began, still smiling, "I believe I owe you my gratitude," he dipped his chin again and glanced briefly to Isabella... beautiful Isabella. "For bringing her to me. I do not think she knows how long I've been looking for her," he flashed the girl a quick wink and averted his gaze back to the amorous boy. "Thank you again, Master...?" his eyes glanced up and down the young man, as if appraising him, but his expression remained kind and welcome. "In any case, I will be taking over things from here, if you do not mind?" He smirked, knowing the boy would not dare object, and with that he turned to Isabella and offered her his arm, his eyes having found hers and nothing else. "Shall we?" |
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| Isabella Markham | Dec 10 2011, 12:03 PM Post #3 |
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The expression on Gregory's face when he saw her hiding behind the king's comptroller was absolutely priceless. Isabella was not certain whether he actually knew who Arthur was
as he didn't really look the part today
but even if he didn't, the confident way the marquess carried himself and the authoritative way he spoke would tell the young man that Arthur was someone important. Most likely he did know, for it was no secret among her friends that she knew Arthur. They teased her about him occasionally, but they had no idea how much time she had been spending with him lately. Some matters she preferred to keep private. It was only a few moments before the boy regained his composure, closed his gaping mouth, and bowed respectfully to the marquess. The differences between the two men were quite astounding. Arthur was so self-assured and held himself proudly, while Gregory's shoulders were slightly slumped, he shuffled his feet nervously, and his eyes darted around the area as if seeking escape. Arthur was smiling affably while Gregory looked unsure and bewildered. Arthur's voice was steady and confident and a bit amused, while Gregory was barely able to stammer out his name when Arthur asked for it. Isabella's smile was smug when Arthur more or less dismissed the young man. You're you're welcome, my lord, her friend stuttered, already backing away from them. I I'm glad to be to be of service. I'll just be going now. Turning around, the boy practically ran down the pathway toward the palace entrance. Isabella fought the urge to laugh as she watched him go, but the intensity of Arthur's gaze caught her attention and she looked up into his eyes, her breath catching in her throat at the affection she saw in his sapphire orbs. She loved the way he looked at her; his gaze was like a visual caress and always sent pleasurable little shivers dancing down her spine. Thank you, Arthur, she said as she placed one small gloved hand on his arm and they began to stroll through a snow-covered garden that sparkled like crystal in the soft winter sun. The familiar warmth of him enveloped her along with his scent and that of the leather and fur that he wore. Isabella sighed in contentment, and she once again marveled how happy she always was whenever she was with him. It felt as if she belonged by his side and she noted how he matched his longer stride to her shorter one without seeming to think, as if their bodies adjusted to each other innately as if they were meant to be together. They were closer now than they ever had been, and while sometimes she entertained the notion that he would pull away from her once he had recovered from his grief, she really did not believe that he would. He seemed to enjoy her company as much as she did his. Arthur would never use her. She knew that he truly cared for her, but how deeply she was not certain. Was he as entranced by her as she was by him? Gregory's been chasing me forever, she continued, rolling her eyes. He's even worse than those Frenchmen I told you about. And because he's my friend's brother, I have to be nice to him, or she might get mad at me. And if she gets mad at me, then ... Her voice trailed off as she realized how immature she sounded. He probably did not want to hear about the frivolous concerns of a silly young girl. He had long since left such youthful folly behind and embraced more serious responsibilities. The disparity in their ages, their experience, and their stations was vast, and she did not like to call attention to such things. It did not matter to her that he was so much older than she, but she sometimes wondered if it mattered to him. Perhaps he only thought of her as a younger sister and her own wishful thinking and overactive imagination had tried to turn it into something more. Yet a man did not kiss or touch his sister the way Arthur kissed and touched her. I just hope he leaves me alone from now on, she said, absently leaning her head on his arm. Her cheek rested against the softness of his cloak and the fur trimming tickled her nose. Noticing that the sprig of mistletoe was swinging gently from her free hand, she moved it slightly behind her, wondering if he had noticed what it was she held. I have no interest in him whatsoever. Glancing up at his handsome countenance, her eyes narrowed slightly and a flirtatious smile turned up the corners of her lips. In fact, I am interested in no one but the intriguing Arthur Chamerlyn. How fortunate I am to be held so highly in his favor. |
| [align=center]Isabella's Bio >^..^< Plottage[/align] | |
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| Arthur Chamerlyn | Dec 12 2011, 10:27 PM Post #4 |
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There was no mistaking the countenance that wavered within the boy. Just moments ago he had been nothing more than a fleeting, frivolous boy, chasing around the girl of his most recent affections just as his youth called for. Yet it was Isabella's youth, too, and he briefly wondered if by dismissing the boy, he was dismissing her playful innocence as well. He seemed to forget that the womanly grace Isabella withheld was betrayed by her shorter years. Nevertheless, Arthur was not too keen with the idea of her spending much of her time with this silly Gregory. Hearing the relief in Isabella's voice, though, assured him he had not overstepped any bounds, and as she spoke of the boy and her friend, Isabella gave way to the trait that wanted only to please those around her... even at the sacrifice of personal comfort. Arthur could only hope she had not sacrificed anything to be here with him. She had paused, though, in what felt like mid-sentence, but by the time he'd turned his head to question, she had leaned into his arm ad rested her head there, harboring both warmth and comfort for the trial-ridden marquess. A small smile touched his lips and he made sure his stride did not falter beside her. "Why, do you suppose I frightened him?' He asked with a smirk, recalling how the silly Gregory had stammered with surprise and self-uncertainty. Though Arthur said nothing to her lack of interest in the boy, he did take a quiet breath of relief. At least he did not have to worry about meager sons of the court. Even so, it seemed it would have to be Isabella herself to worry about, for those narrowed eyes and pretty lips would surely do him no good while speaking those words of open-ended praise. He was beginning to wonder if these were sorts of hints he had not quite gotten, if she had begun placing down a trail of bread crumbs since stepping in as his confidante that he had yet to smell or see. Was this the first of his notice? Narrowing his eyelids only slightly in return, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of her lips and gave his head a slight shake. "Intriguing?" He chuckled as if in disbelief and continued through the pathways lined with snow, the ice crystals in the trees hanging in suspense even as it bathed in the intermittent morning sun. The air was frozen, and with it the branches and horticulture that once decorated the palace's courtyards with colorful liveliness. But even in the cold silence of winter, a new sort of artistry was given to the hibernating life, and for once Arthur was not blind to it as he walked with Isabella on his arm. Was this what it felt like to heal? To feel, perhaps more deeply and with a greater understanding than before? Looking at the young woman next to him, he could see nor feel anything denying the notion. Smiling, he placed his free hand atop the one she snaked through his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as they progressed through the suspended courtyards. "I only feel intriguing when it is you that says so," he smirked and flashed her a subtle wink, the flutter of a small bullfinch flying above catching his attention and drawing his eyes flickering upward. It was soon gone, though, and his eyes remained on the pale expanse of the sky as if suddenly lost in wonder. Gray clouds loomed but between them small glimpses of a hopeful blue pallet lingered, peeking through as if the very signs of hope in his own life. The warmth of Isabella's hand beneath his suddenly became more and more noticeable, and in only a moment he turned back his head to look fondly over at her. "Thank you," he suddenly blurted, his voice rich and smooth despite its precipitance. "I feel as if I have done so very little other than enjoy your comfort and your company," he smiled a small smile, as if trying to stifle how he truly felt about his last month with the girl; he felt much more pleased than he should. "As selfish as that may be... and yet," his oceanic hues nearly widened with wonder, "it as if I have somehow managed to keep you. Am I wrong to question my own efforts?" He asked, his pace slowing if only slightly. "More importantly, am I wrong to feel as if it is only my selfishness you have been drawn to?" Oh, please God, let that not be the case. "Please tell me if I am so very wrong. I do not think I would handle it well were you to suddenly realize I am..." he paused, sighing, "not who you think I am." Arthur came to a slow halt and turned to face her, his eyes glancing to the mistletoe still in her hand. "But I am, oh, but I am.." his voice fell and he trailed off, taking her unoccupied fingers into his own and grasping them promisingly. "Know that you can ask anything of me, anything at all, and it shall be delivered.." Arthur suddenly felt incompetent in his plight to give Isabella what he had received, to treat her as he had been treated, and he suddenly felt as if he needed to vow to her that he would do just that to please not only her but his own sanity. For indeed, it seemed his had come to depend on hers in this most recent month, and could see now the process had begun quite awhile ago during the previous summertime. It seemed so painstakingly clear now, as if The Fates themselves had already planned the death of his wife... and knew he would need Isabella there to, in a word, save him. For who else, if not Isabella? Arthur still had not even gone to Baynard's to see his son, in fear of emotions resurfacing that he was only hoping to be rid of before seeing the boy he had to be strong for. Let the father repair himself now while he still could, before the infant had a memory of such struggle. Suddenly smiling, the marquess breathed a small chuckle and let his shoulders fall in a self-ridiculing sigh. "Apologies.." he continued, shaking his head, "I had to get that off of my mind... doubts, they easily plague me nowadays." Glancing back down to the mistletoe in her hand, he smirked. "Am I to assume you are keeping this for good reason?" He asked, gently taking her wrist of the hand with the mistletoe and bringing it up for curious inspection. His playful smirk did not falter, yet his eyes only questioned both the object in her hand and her smooth, flawless features not even two feet away from him. "Or is it some sort of hint...?" His expression touched with a slight cue of mischief, quietly entertaining himself with the idea of Isabella and a fringe of mistletoe. Oh, the things that she may permit him with this mere piece of Christmas foliage. |
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| Isabella Markham | Dec 17 2011, 11:24 AM Post #5 |
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I hope you did frighten him away, she answered, her head still resting comfortably against his arm. The crystallized gardens seemed ethereal and magical with him by her side. Isabella felt as if she were a princess in a fairy tale, strolling through a world of wonder with her knight in shining armor. And yet a few doubts did cross her mind, marring the serenity of their stroll. Gregory would probably tell Margery about Arthur looking for her, and how familiar the two of them seemed with each other. He might tell his friends as well, and then gossip would be spread all over court about them. It was something she had long been afraid of, as she knew that Arthur had vowed long ago to protect her. He might decide that the only way to save her reputation was to stop seeing her altogether, and that she knew she could not bear. That fear was always with her that something would happen that would convince him that it would be in her best interests to stay out of her life. Perhaps it was this fear that kept her from admitting to herself how precious he had become to her how precious he had always been to her. Even on that day in the gardens, he had totally entranced her. Perhaps the initial attraction had to do with the fact that he knew so much and she knew so little. She had found it very easy to talk to him and he was able to advise her on matters she was not sure of easing her mind that the strange and confusing thoughts and longings she experienced were typical of her age. He had been much like an older brother, a guardian, a protector. Yet over the months, their relationship had moved far beyond such nameable simplicity. What was between them now was deep and complicated and she did not even pretend to understand it. He had somehow managed to become the most important person in her life. She lived for him, she breathed for him, and she would do anything he asked of her anything at all. To step away from her now to walk out of her life forever would utterly destroy her. She wondered if he knew that or if he was oblivious to how much he truly meant to her. His smile, his playful little wink, and his hand so warm over her own banished such ideas from her mind but brought others to the surface of her consciousness. Why should he be so surprised that she found him intriguing? Isabella's eyes widened slightly as she realized that he might suffer some of the same doubts that she did, and his next words did seem to confirm that notion as he poured out his concerns to her. He seemed to believe that she was spending so much time with him only because she thought he needed her comfort. How far from the truth that was. If anyone was selfish it was she, for taking up so much of his time, for needing him so much that she could not live without his presence in her life. He slowed his pace as he spoke, and then stopped altogether as he wondered if she believed he was someone he was not. Her emerald eyes locked on his. Arthur, I know ... she began, but he continued on, entwining the fingers of her free hand with his, professing that he would give her anything she asked for. Did he not know that all she really wanted was him? It almost seemed as if he was afraid that she would one day decide that she no longer wished to spend time with him anymore. Surely she must be mistaken. When he apologized to her, Isabella removed her hand from his and reached up, placing a single finger against his lips. Shhhh, she whispered. You need not apologize to me. And you owe me nothing. All I wish is for you to banish such doubts from your mind. Her fingertips moved over to softly stroke his cheek before she lowered her hand, captured his in hers, and lifted it to her lips, a featherlight kiss brushing over his knuckles. I know who you really are, and it is that man that wonderful intriguing man whom I am drawn to. There is no other place that I would rather be than by your side, no other person with whom I wish to spend my time. When I am with you, I feel so happy, so alive, and so cherished. That longing I told you about no longer plagues me when I am with you. When we are together, I am perfectly and utterly content. If anyone is selfish, it is not you, but I. Her eyes followed his down to the mistletoe in her hand, and she blushed prettily as he circled her wrist and lifted it so he could observe the sprig that she held. She could see the mischief playing across his handsome features and she echoed it with a teasing smirk of her own, tilting her head to the side as if considering what to do with the mistletoe. After a few moments, he gently disengaged her wrist from his grasp and lifted the bough over her head, gazing up at him both shyly and hopefully, a sparkle of playfulness dancing within her emerald eyes. |
| [align=center]Isabella's Bio >^..^< Plottage[/align] | |
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| Arthur Chamerlyn | Dec 25 2011, 08:24 PM Post #6 |
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Arthur was never entirely convinced a mere woman could silence him. But, with a nimble finger just barely pressing against his lips, her mouth puckered in a soft shhh, the marquess found himself utterly speechless. Not that he was lost for words, per se, but gently commanded away by Isabella, it seemed they had completely escaped him. He dared not to disobey her. His crystal hues solidified with seriousness as she spoke to him, words that did not sound as if a mere girl could say them. Ah, but Isabella was wise beyond her years, and a tiny smile brought up the edges of his lips as he quietly admired her. He did not move as she moved her hand to his cheek, stroking it affectionately if only for a moment before whispering an adoring kiss across his knuckles. He smiled approvingly at the gesture, his hand relaxed and slightly cold without gloves as she slowly let it fall back down. The depth of her words, though, he did not miss... and he wondered briefly the emotions behind them. Was this just a fanciful young woman, clinging to the first man that had captured more than just intermittent interest? The line of his brow fell with ponder, and his eyes seemed to search the emerald hues of hers as if looking for the answer. He could not know, and perhaps neither could Isabella. Only time would tell. But surely, those words were not rehearsed or recited. Surely no girl of whimsical fantasies could come up with something like that, for it sparked something within Arthur that he could not possibly ridicule. It was something he had not felt since before his wife's death, and had once upon a time questioned if he even had the capability to ever again. But it seemed with Isabella's constant presence, her encouraging touch, something had been reawakened within him and he owed every ounce of it to the woman in front of him. The very same woman that had seemed a naive teenager naught even a year past. But there were circumstances, he knew, that had matured them both... and to her, it had done so beautifully. For him, he feared it might have put a gray hair or two on his head. But he knew, should she give him any more of those mischievous smiles, those flitting little hints in her green eyes, those batting eyelashes... oh, Arthur could surely not refuse this one. There was not a doubt in his mind that she was simply asking for his affection, and should he be wrong, well... he would deal with the consequences later. Flashing her a happy grin, Arthur lifted his hands and slipped them softly against either of her cheeks, clasping her face in his palms before leaning close and capturing her mouth in the kiss the mistletoe had permitted. The air was certainly cold, but Isabella's mouth betrayed every bite of frost or icicle hanging from the tree branches or courtyard fountains, and as he slipped a curious tongue into the small gape of her mouth, he used every fiber of his being to keep his knees from melting. What kind of new, crippling sensation was this? After months of treading through his grief, it seemed today was the very first sign of a bright, bright change for the better. For what felt like long, long moments the marquess kissed her, their tongues synchronized in their slow, thorough, back and forth motion to and from each others' mouths. They clashed gently but passionately, and with one palm curled about the nape of her neck and the other sliding through the roots of her hair, Arthur did not feel like relenting any time soon. For such an inexperienced young woman, her lips were certainly inviting, her touch most definitely speaking of things that were beyond a simple friendship. Friends did not kiss this way. Friends did not spend their mornings eating breakfast in his sitting rooms, bathed by the early sunlight or drenched by the gray light of clouds, friends did not spend their afternoons and their evenings either before a fireplace with a book in her lap or in his bed merely searching each other for warmth, for affection, for anything that made the other feel absolutely alive. In these times, Arthur certainly needed a reminder of the beating beneath his chest... and with each look at Isabella and with every kiss, it nearly lurched against his ribcage, refusing to be forgotten. Very slowly the marquess finally pulled away from her, dropping his hands from her face and quirking her a pleased, almost playful grin. "Happy Christmas, darling Isabella.." he said quietly, softly, affectionately... almost compelled to lean in and kiss her again. But, it seemed he had captured the perfect window of time, for they were soon encroached upon another passing couple that sought Arthur and Isabella with wayward glances. The marquess did nothing but smile. "I have something for you.." he suddenly continued, offering her his arm again and continuing down the cleared pathway lined with tiny mounds of accumulated snow. "Back in the palace. I could not think of the right time to give it to you, and I could hardly wait for the new year to come to bother with it," he smirked and flashed her a subtle wink, the longer pace of his stride once again following into a pleasant sync with her shorter one. "Who would have thought I managed to do it rather stealthily," he chuckled breathlessly, "I was afraid I would not get a moment to have it commissioned and brought here without your notice." Yet it seemed Arthur had been able to do plenty of things without her notice, including keeping his own tabs on her whereabouts. He tried not to smirk at the thought. "I think you will find yourself rather surprised, my dear." |
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| Isabella Markham | Jan 4 2012, 11:23 AM Post #7 |
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Maybe it had not been a good idea to hold the sprig of mistletoe over her head. Never before had Arthur kissed her in a public area and Isabella suspected that this was to protect her reputation more than anything else. In his chambers, he was not hesitant about stealing kisses from her more than willing lips. When there were people about, though, he acted in a perfectly proper manner toward her. Would he think her wanton now for wishing for a kiss in the gardens? Would he refuse her because of the fear that they might be seen? She held her breath as she watched his face, and when a happy smile lit up his handsome features, she knew that she should not have worried at all. His hands were quite cool when he cupped her cheeks and lifted her face, but the sudden trembling of her body had nothing to do with the cold. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation and his mouth captured hers in a kiss that was exquisitely exciting. His tongue slipped into her mouth and her own met it eagerly, playfully dancing with his in a way that was now familiar but still as thrilling as the first time, if not more so. It seemed to her that he kissed her more intensely than he had ever done before, as if he was abandoning his usual caution and letting his senses run free. Her small form sang with the most delectable sensations, and something pleasurable but slightly uncomfortable sprang to life within the core of her being yet another new feeling that she could not explain, much less understand. Something was changing within her she could feel it and perhaps he felt something similar, for his kiss seemed to deepen and become more bold. His scent was intoxicating and she adored the taste of him and the feeling of his hands moving through her hair. A delicious warmth spread through her body and she felt so alive and so aware of everything around her, as if the world had suddenly turned into a magical place simply because he was in it. What is he doing to me? Why do I feel this way? How can he captivate me so thoroughly with just a simple kiss? And why do I feel something that I have no name for, but which my body and mind seem to instinctively understand? Her arms snaked around his neck and she pressed her soft young body against his masculine form, craving to be as close to him as possible. She could feel the rapid palpitations of his heart, and hers was strangely synchronized with his, as if they were beating as one. The sprig of mistletoe slipped from her fingers as she melted into him, reveling in the sensations he evoked in her. If only they could stay like this forever and ever. Yet soon too soon in her opinion he lifted his lips from hers. Her hands slipped from his around his neck and fell to her sides as she gazed up at him, wishing that he would kiss her again and again and again. And she sensed that he wanted the same thing, but it was not to be, for another couple turned a corner and walked past them, looking at them inquisitively almost as if they wished that Arthur and Isabella would do something scandalous that would give them fodder for gossip. If so, then they would be disappointed. And happy Christmas to you too, my dearest Arthur, she breathed when the couple had gone, a soft mist whispering from between her lips because of the cold that she did not even feel ... for the memory of his kiss still suffused her body with a pleasurable heat. I can think of no better way to spend Christmas than with you. She could think of no better way to spend any day than with him. He was so precious to her, so important, that she did not even want to imagine a life without him in it. She would surely die without him. That was how much he meant to her, although she knew she could never tell him that. He would probably just brush her words off as the musings of a silly young girl who was too immature to know her own mind. And she was afraid that such an admission might push him away from her. After retrieving the mistletoe from where it had fallen in the snow, Isabella placed her small gloved hand on his arm again as they continued their stroll through the crystallized gardens. Her emerald eyes widened when he said he had something for her back in the palace. He seemed quite pleased with himself and she had to admit she was both curious and excited to know what it was even though she had nothing for him in return. At least not yet. She had meant to present him with the song that she had told him she would compose for him, but so far, she had not been satisfied with her attempts. There was something that she wanted to song to convey, but she could not quite figure out what it was. She did have a few other ideas in mind, if the song did not come to her by the end of the year. Her eyes widened even more when he said he'd had something commissioned for her. Whatever could it be? Isabella was still young enough to be captivated by the very thought of presents, and that child-like wonder was probably written across her delicate features, even though she tried to keep herself composed. Arthur, you shouldn't have gotten me anything at all, she said. The gift of your company is all I really need. She couldn't quite keep the anticipation out of her voice as she favored him with a delighted smile. But I can't wait to see what you have for me! Whatever it is, I am sure I will love it! Simply because it comes from you, she added silently to herself. |
| [align=center]Isabella's Bio >^..^< Plottage[/align] | |
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| Arthur Chamerlyn | Jan 7 2012, 10:16 PM Post #8 |
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Indeed, it had been a bold move for the marquess to make to kiss her so openly. So freely, as if already she belonged to him as if she were his mistress, or even yet, his wife. But he did not want people to think either, for a mistress was degradable and a wife? Well, he already had a wife... or used to, and he did not want rumors whispering any ideas of an upcoming wedding for him. The last thing he wanted was to compromise Isabella and her position, her reputation, and kissing her the way he just did probably was not the right step to take. Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to regret it, nor could he even apologize for the gesture. The affection was warming, it livened him, almost as much as Isabella herself did... and not a single soul would keep Arthur Chamerlyn from the things that made him happy anymore. He had survived the war, survived the plague and was enduring the loss of his wife; it would not all be just for another man to tell him what was right or wrong. If Isabella would not protest to this, then there would be no stopping the marquess from stealing kisses like that whenever the opportunity arose. So long as he did it quickly and nicely enough, preferably before they were seen, then Arthur could not see any problems. Besides, no grown man could deny a young woman like this. Her body was soft and even beneath her winter gowns he could feel the frailty and the slenderness of her waist and ribcage. It almost surprised him, the contrasting size of her, but instead he found himself only further endeared to her and bringing her even closer. So easily could she be hurt, so easily could she be broken, and months ago Arthur had vowed to always protect her... and guide her, if she asked for it. Even in his slightly mangled mental state he could still feel a fierce loyalty to that vow, even the burning strength to enact it, but it seemed she had been the one to take the reins... for now. And, for now, Arthur would have to be content with that, and most importantly, he would have to trust her with it. She had done so much good for him thus far, he could not imagine her doing anything to tamper that... so, smiling as he pulled away, Arthur silently vowed to never leave her. He of course acknowledged time might want her to explore new people, to have her heart set on new things, but he knew he would always be there as her concerned guardian if nothing else. If friendship could not be permitted, the marquess would be content with observing from afar, waiting until she would need him most... but maybe, just maybe, God willing and his own mending heart willing, he could be much, much more than just a solid wall for her to lean on. Dearest Arthur. It was so easy for his knees to nearly tremble and melt every time she spoke his name, and he teasingly wondered if giving her the privilege of it was a good idea after all. Certainly not, if he found himself wanting to fall to the ground at her feet every time she used it! Nevertheless, Arthur smiled and brought one of her elegant hands up to his mouth, placing a fond kiss atop her gloved knuckles and flashing her a small wink right over them. "Good. I could not possibly think you would want to spend it with the Gregory fellow." He chuckled then and began to fall in step beside her, her arm snaked into his just as it had been before. The excitement she showed for having a gift and the humility of telling him he shouldn't have put a smile to his lips; he found her jubilance was contagious, and was almost anxious to bequeath the gift he'd had made and delivered to her. Patting her small hand, Arthur shook his head and grinned waywardly over at her. "Nonsense, Isabella," he spoke, an eyebrow lifting above a playful, sapphire hue. "Did you truly believe I would let the season pass without giving you a gift?" He chuckled and shook his head, happily teasing her. It seemed as if the cold weather and the merry spirit had actually warmed and comforted him, and with Isabella on his arm, Arthur was finding it more and more easier to let his mind wander to more pleasant things and places. "Come, I will take you to it now, if it pleases you?" Flashing her another wink, Arthur led her through the snowy courtyards, avoiding any pesky patches of ice, and into Base Court. There he turned and smiled at her, giving the hand she'd put through his arm an excited squeeze and continued on until only the slightly warmer hallways of the palace stretched before and around them. Passing portraits and paintings on the walls, burning torches and candles, chamber doors, Arthur could not help but wonder if Isabella would be happy with her gift... if maybe she would think it too ostentatious, or if her humility would have her gently refuse it altogether. Arthur truly, truly hoped not, for the sake of whatever remnants of his ego he had left. Traveling through the palace and towards his apartments, the marquess did not mind courtiers they passed seeing her on his arm, seeing the way he smiled at her. It was innocent enough, and perhaps somewhere in a corner of his mind, Arthur wanted people to begin seeing him with her, if they surely hadn't already... "Now, I can only give this to you if you promise me one thing," he began with a grin, nearing his apartment doors. "And that is you must use it right away." Letting an usher open the doors for them, Arthur led her through and into his open sitting room. A warm fire had been long since lit and burning, the warm warm and cozy and putting a subtle rise of gooseflesh across the skin beneath his clothes. Stepping into the room, Arthur smiled and extended an arm to the space where once a mahogany table and cushioned chairs sat, motioning now to a towering, polished cherrywood harp, standing even taller than its new owner. The silk strings were just barely visible, pulled so tight it was sure to ring out a perfect, melodic sound. The three pedals at its base were plated with a thin layer of gold, and the wood designs themselves flaked with it. The pillar was of a hard, shining metal, tougher than gold but having the same sort of yellow glow and reflective quality. The dark body of the harp was flaked with a design of ivy leaves and flowers, something he had not specifically asked for but had ordered a feminine quality for the instrument, and Arthur was entirely pleased to see it had come out so nicely. He could only hope its beauty would befit that of its owner. Turning his head to see her reaction, Arthur beamed. "For you, my dear." He bowed to her then, smiling ever so softly as he bent at the waist and dropped his eyes. Only for a moment did he stay there, his mind reeling but his expression constant before rising back up into a smooth stance. |
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| Isabella Markham | Jan 10 2012, 11:33 AM Post #9 |
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There was so much joy flowing through Isabella's heart that she thought that it might burst. It was not as much due to the fact that he had a gift for her as it was due to Arthur himself. She was still basking in the afterglow of that glorious kiss and she felt that just the memory of it would hold her in thrall for months to come. Oh, if only he would kiss her like that more often! There had been so much emotion behind that kiss
on his part as well as hers
and if she had ever doubted that he cared for her as more than a friend, she did not doubt it now. And she she felt something new and wonderful blossoming within her soul an enlightenment that she had yet no name for, but which burned within her brightly, making her entire life seem as if it had meaning. It was a bit strange, but it was infinitely exciting, and it made her reaction to his smile, his voice, the muscles rippling under her hand beneath the fabric of his doublet, the sound of his boots crunching through the snow all the more intense. Whatever this new awareness was, she liked it, and she hoped that it would never go away. I truly did not think of it at all, she confessed. But I am pleased that you thought of me. Isabella knew that there was much more on his mind than her, that he was still quite focused on his loss and learning to live without the wife whom he still loved. Although that kiss had shown her that he harbored more than just a friendly affection toward her, she wondered if perhaps he had just latched onto the comfort she constantly provided and as he healed, his fondness for her would fade. One day, some sophisticated worldly woman would probably turn his head, and he would see Isabella for the naοve child she actually was, not worthy of his attention at all. The very thought sent a pang of agony piercing through her soul. Yet true to her youthful, capricious nature, her heart swelled with happiness again when he asked if she would like to receive her present now, giving her a playful little wink to show her that he already knew what her answer would be. I would love that! she exclaimed. I have to admit that you have me quite curious now. He seemed to be in high spirits as he led her through the courtyards and into the palace. When he pat her hand, she squeezed his arm gently, her emerald eyes sparkling with anticipation. Isabella was so impatient to arrive at their destination that it seemed as if the corridors had suddenly become longer, and his apartments had been moved farther into the depths of the palace. This wasn't true, of course, but it certainly felt that way. And finally they were standing at the door to his chambers, and she tilted her head to the side when he told her that he expected to use her gift right away. Her curiosity grew and with it her excitement. Yes, I promise, she said and then added teasingly, as long as you did not get me a chamberpot. Nearly bouncing with enthusiasm, she let him lead her through his apartments which were now as familiar to her as her own, if not more so and into one of his sitting rooms, warm and cozy with a fire blazing brightly in the hearth. Following his extended arm with her eyes, her gaze lit upon a new addition to the room that had definitely not been there this morning when they had shared breakfast. Her mouth fell open in surprise and delight and her hand fell from his arm. Th floor harp was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful instrument that Isabella had ever seen, and she marveled at the way it glowed in the flickering firelight. Even from a distance, she could tell that it was of the highest quality of carved wood and metal plated with pure gold. Her fingers itched to pluck the silken strings but for the moment her feet seemed to be frozen in place. She could do nothing but simply stare at the magnificent instrument and marvel that it was hers. Isabella had never owned anything so lovely in her life and she was awestruck by the marquess' generosity. Ohh, Arthur ... she breathed, but no other words would pass through her lips. Slowly she moved toward it, as if afraid that at any moment it would disappear. Reaching out, she stroked the wood, running her fingers over the carvings of flowers and leaves before finally moving behind it to sit on the provided stool. Allowing it to rest on her shoulder, she began to expertly pluck the strings. It was, as she had expected, perfectly tuned and was of such a perfect size that she did not have to strain to reach any of the strings. It was as if it had been made expressly for her. A serene smile graced her features as she played a few verses of one of the songs that she knew Arthur loved, for he had asked her to sing it for him many times. She did not sing the words, but let the music stand on its own. The beautiful instrument had the most exquisite tone, much more enchanting than her lap harp. Oh how much she loved it! Flashing Arthur a delighted smile, she stood up, stroking the strings once more for good measure, and then rushed over to him, throwing herself into his arms. Oh, Arthur! Thank you! she enthused. I love it! It is so perfect! Wrapping her arms around her neck, she stood on tiptoe so that she was able to kiss him, lightly but lovingly. You know me so well. There is no way you could have pleased me more! |
| [align=center]Isabella's Bio >^..^< Plottage[/align] | |
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| Arthur Chamerlyn | Jan 19 2012, 02:27 PM Post #10 |
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Arthur hoped he would not miss a single moment of Isabella's reaction. Not because he was afraid of her distaste or displeasure with the gift, but rather his anticipation to see her shock, glee and ultimately a happy approval of what stood before her. A smile that mirrored her own slid across his lips, warmth swelling inside him as she floated over to the towering, standing harp. His eyes did not move to the instrument but instead remained fixated on her face, her hands, the way she moved around her new musical possession, and he could not help himself from sighing in contentment as she lowered herself onto the small mahogany stool and readied her hands for play. Lifting his chin, as if to prepare himself for the sound, Arthur slowly sank into a nearby chair, furnished with drapings and thick cushions to allow the marquess to sink happily in as Isabella's familiar melody sank into his ears, his muscles and to the very core of his being. He brought a hand up to his chin and leaned the weight of his head upon it, closing his eyes with only the smallest of smiles to define his placid expression. He recognized the tune, one of his favorites, and half expected her voice to accompany the plucking of the silk strings, the melodies that were slowly but surely inducing him into a resting sort of trance, but instead she remained silent... and let only her hands do the singing. A long sigh passed his nostrils and brought his shoulders down along with it, calming him and wondering for a brief moment if this harp was more of a gift to him than to her. He nearly chuckled at the thought. When her hands slowed and the tune came to a gradual, perfect end, Arthur opened his eyes and smiled, standing up quickly from the chair as he noticed Isabella making her way over to him. Opening his arms, he received her welcomingly, a light, breathless laugh exhaling from his throat as she nearly flung her arms around his neck and leapt into his grasp. He met her kiss with equal gentility and warmth, his arms circling about her waist and his hands sliding up her back as she expressed her gratitude. Had he really done so well? Smirking, he kissed her again and only nodded in response. "Of course, my dear," he began, flashing a subtle wink at her. "I think I find you rather silly for not expecting something like it." Arthur chuckled again and released her carefully, taking a small step away as if to have a better look at her. "We can have it moved to wherever you like," he smiled and looked over at quite the magnificent harp. "To your chambers, to one of your father's estates.. or," he trailed off, smirking, "we can leave it here, move it out of the anteroom and into the sitting one." He nodded and stifled a chuckle, wondering if his taste for Isabella's music was entirely too obvious. Or perhaps it wasn't obvious enough. "More the reason to keep your visits as constant as they have been." It was only then that a lingering servant boy had finally approached with two chalices of wine, leaving the pitcher on a nearby table and bowing out appropriately. Lifting the cup in the air and towards the young woman in front of him, Arthur dipped his head and smiled proudly. "To you, darling Isabella," flashing her a quick wink, he tipped the chalice to his lips and took a hearty sip, his sapphire eyes searching for hers over the iron rim. "And to more times like this, no?" Leaning forwards, he captured her mouth in a small, wine-tasting kiss and lingered there if only a moment too long, savoring her touch and her aromas before pulling away and leading her into the next room. The same midnight blue and cream accented furniture greeted them, and the same boy that had handed them their wine now moved in with a bundle of logs to light the stone fireplace. The curtains had been pulled back and gray, natural light poured in, but with the candles lit on the tabletops and the torches on the wall, the yellow luminance was almost comforting... relaxing. Isabella's presence only added to it. "Have us some hot tea," he spoke to the servant boy, who had just stepped away from the newly lit fire and was appraising the growing flame. Upon command, though, he quickly nodded and left the room, having long since been accustomed to his master's tenacity for this woman's comfort. Placing down his chalice of wine, Arthur took one of her hands and led her to the furnished chaise, gently pulling her down beside him as the layers of her gowns and furs ruffled loudly with the movements. With careful fingers he slipped off the gloves from each of her hands, smiling as he watched, adoration softening his eyes once her elegant fingers and palms were freed from the gloves and her skin was able to freely touch his own. A contented sigh passed his nostrils and he brought up one of her hands to his lips, closing his eyes and pressing a prolonged, full kiss to the top of her knuckles, even sucking in a long, quiet breath to inhale the silkiness of her skin. "The French may be amorous enough to write you poems," he smirked over her the top of her hand and carefully brought it down from his attentive mouth. "But I hardly think them clever enough" -or rich enough, for that matter- "to have a harp made for you. Mayhaps I can speak with Friar Memmo... I think he will be more than obliged to allow you to play in the Great Hall during the festivities." [ooc: Friar Dionysio Memmo was an Italian organist that Henry VIII adored beyond all reason and appointed him at once as chief musician. Fun fact!] |
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| Isabella Markham | Jan 23 2012, 02:00 PM Post #11 |
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Isabella had never been happier than she was at this moment
held so closely against him as he responded to her joyful kiss. The beautiful harp captivated her, but he entranced her even more. That strange new enlightenment still burned within her, and it intensified as his hands slid up her back and he kissed her yet again. She felt so alive, so wonderful, so secure in his embrace, and when he released her, she grasped one of his large hands in her smaller gloved one, not ready to relinquish all physical contact between them. I am not silly, she said, reaching up with her free hand to trace the smirk that turned up the corners of his lips. You truly surprised me. And delighted me. You are so good to me, Arthur. I truly don't deserve it. Of course the harp would have to remain in his apartments. She was pleased that he seemed to be trying to push her in that direction. Having it moved would certainly not stop her visits to him she was more comfortable in his rooms now than she was in her own, and she would much rather spend her time with him than with her friends or even with her family. She also knew how much he enjoyed her music. It had comforted him in the early days of his grief, and even now it soothed him. Isabella had noted his reaction as she had played the new harp how he had seemed to melt into her melody, his eyes closed and a small contented smile passed across his handsome countenance. He had appeared to be as entranced by her playing as she was by his presence. And she loved to play and sing for him. Now she could do so without lugging her lap harp through the corridors. It was heavy enough that her arms ached whenever she carried it from her rooms to his. Not having to do so anymore was a gift unto itself. Yet that was not the only reason she wanted the harp to stay where it was. Placing it in one of her father's estates was out of the question, and if it was moved to her chambers, her father would eventually notice it during one of his visits. He would wonder who gave it to her, and even if she refused to tell him, he would be certain to find out. And when he discovered it came from a wealthy and powerful marquess, he would see an advantageous union within his reach and probably try to force Arthur to marry her. Which would only serve to push him away from her instead. Forever. Banishing such unwelcome thoughts from her mind, Isabella smiled up at him. I wish it to stay here, she said, as a serving boy handed her a chalice of wine. Tilting her head to the side, she gave him a playful grin. The sitting room is a perfect place for it and I will be able to play for you whenever you wish it. Every day if you want me to. Nothing would please me more. Nothing pleased her more than him. To you too, my dearest Arthur, she breathed, lifting the goblet and taking only a delicate sip before he leaned forward and captured her mouth in a light but breathtaking kiss. She loved the way his unique taste mingled with the sweetness of the wine and the way his warm breath whispered against her lips. She loved everything about him everything that made him him. Still with her hand firmly in his, he led her into the next room, where the same servant was just lighting a fire in the hearth, the golden glow of it surrounding them both in a cozy warmth. The flickering light of the fire and candles played over his fine form as he led her over to a chaise and pulled her down with him. She could feel the delicious heat of him so close beside her even through the thickness of her furs, and that strange feeling assailed her once more, sending unfamiliar little thrills coursing through her body, stronger than any emotion she had ever experienced before. What was it? She could almost name it almost. Isabella sighed in pleasure as he slipped off her gloves until her smooth flesh was encased by his slightly rougher skin instead of leather. Her senses reeled with the most delectable sensations when he picked up one hand and brought it to his lips for a lingering kiss, his lips so warm and comforting against her rapidly warming knuckles. Closing her eyes, she sighed again, listening to the deep rich resonance of his voice as he spoke of the Frenchmen who had written her poems. If she didn't know better, she would almost think him jealous of those men whose presence in England was fleeting and whom she cared nothing about. The thought brought a smile to her lips, for she knew and he should know that no man would ever eclipse him in her affections. What he said next so overwhelmed her that she gasped in surprise and delight. Would he really arrange for her to play during the Christmas festivities? Isabella had always wanted to be known as a serious musician, and the opportunity to play in the Great Hall was a fantasy she had never even considered before for the absurdity of it. The court musicians hired for that very purpose always held that honor, but if Arthur could arrange it . Ohh, I would love that, Arthur! she exclaimed, pulling his head down to hers and rewarding him with a deep and passionate kiss. When she reluctantly pulled away from him, her eyes were sparkling with excitement. But you don't have to do that for me. You have already done so much when all you really need to do to please me is favor me with your company. I am never happier than when I am with you, my Arthur. And it was true. He had somehow managed to beguile her so thoroughly that he was now the most important person in her life the person she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. And she loved him for him. She didn't care at all about Arthur's power or position even if it could get her the opportunity to play and sing in the Great Hall. He could be the lowest servant in the palace and she would love him. If he lost everything tomorrow, she would love him. Yes, she loved him. With every fiber of her being, she loved him. The realization both frightened and elated her. Love was the enlightenment that burned brightly within her. And the mystery of that elusive something that she had longed for most of her life ... the one thing that she always yearned for and could not quite define was now solved. It was so plain to her now. It was him. It had always been him. *finis* |
| [align=center]Isabella's Bio >^..^< Plottage[/align] | |
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| Isabel Leigh | Feb 13 2012, 10:28 AM Post #12 |
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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This thread has been archived either due to forwarding of board timeline or because of a month of inactivity. If you would like to continue, please PM an Admin! |
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[align=center]Mistress Leigh Isabel is in 8 threads and can has more! App | Plot[/align] | |
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10:58 AM Jul 11