It is a truth universally acknowledged... (open)

[drownedfuchsia]

The following appears on several bulletin boards around the mansion.

A lady, a young 33 years of age, from a respectable family, is interested in corresponding with a gentleman, aged 35-50, with a view toward marriage.
Please address all inquiries to Lady Fuchsia Groan.

No other contact details are included.

[ooc: Characters may either track

Comments

[rub_em_together]

She might find a slightly unshaven gent in a greenish suit over a red and purple paisley shirt, eyeing one of the bulletin boards, smirking a bit.

"Someone lookin' for a mail-order husband?" Eames murmurs.

We promise he'll behave...

[drownedfuchsia]

"No. There is no way for him to be posted here. I don't think we can bring other people from other places." Fuchsia feels the need to explain this, although why wouldn't everyone know it can work in novels, aka history for the Lady Groan.

"But there it is impossible to meet everyone here, so perhaps someone is also looking."

[rub_em_together]

"So I take it yer the gel who's lookin' for her Romeo? Wish you luck with that: plenty o' good-lookin' blokes about here, bound t' be one who'll drop you a love letter," he says.

[drownedfuchsia]

Fuchsia moves herself a bit forward in the chair, excited someone understands what she's doing. "That is exactly what I want. I can't just sit around and hope, so I thought I would do something."

[drownedfuchsia]

For half a second she thinks it's Muraki, but there's something different.

She doesn't presume that the man's seen her advert.

She sits near him, but not so near him to look like she's staring. She's not, just stealing covert looks, to try and figure out the bolt in his head.

[suture_guy]

At length, the odd-looking fellow looks up from his bowl, noting the way she's peering at him. "You're free to ask, most people do," he says, in a flat, slightly husky tenor voice.

[drownedfuchsia]

"What're those?" She doesn't mince words, when curious. "Do you needs them?"

Maybe they're decorative?

[suture_guy]

He raises a hand to the bolt. "This? It's my own invention: it's an implant to increase my brain power. It allows me to use more of my brain's capacity than most people can: the average person uses only ten percent of their brain at a time, but I've gotten my capacity up to around fifty or sixty percent."

[drownedfuchsia]

Fuchsia's not the most stable sort either, but could vastly improve if her own life was somewhat stabilized.

The response makes her literally squeal, and she quickly composes a reply.

Mr. Reese,

You sound like the most lovely of company with whom to spent the afternoon. Would tomorrow afternoon in the sitting room that gets the most sun in the afternoon, suit you?

Lady Groan

[cantplaygod]

She'll find a reply later in the same day, slipped under the door as before.

Dear Lady Groan,

Tomorrow afternoon sounds like a plan. I'll meet you in the sitting room as you asked.

Mr. Reese.

[drownedfuchsia]

Fuchsia's so nervous she can't sit down. This might cause a problem with the whole tea thing, but perhaps she will calm down eventually.

That eventually is not now. There is tea on the table, and scones (were they someone's from the kitchen WHO KNOWS). Fuchsia is standing by the window, as if the outside might give her a glimpse of her companion.

[cantplaygod]

We suspect the scones may have been Muraki's:

She likely doesn't hear her companion enter, since Reese moves quietly even when he's not on a case. But she might hear someone clearing their throat gently from the far side of the table. "Lady Fuschia?" a soft, light baritone voice might ask. And if she looks up, she'll spot a tall, dark and handsome gent in a nice suit standing before her.

[cyranosavignien]

[OOC: I know we have them elsewhere, so I'm hesitant to throw Cyrano in, though he would respond, so if you don't mind the double thread, he could post here too :-) Let me know your thoughts?]

[drownedfuchsia]

[ooc: That would work fine! She had this plan of advertising in her head, and sometimes, she's stubborn enough to do it, no matter what happened in the other thread.]

[cyranosavignien]

Cyrano isn't quite sure how he feels about marriage, but he does have a pink-haired boy in his life, which says plenty about his ability to commit. Fuchsia touched him with her innocence, and so he writes to her, unsure about his own objectives, but not wanting to be left out of the loop.

He is, ah, feeling protective.

And so comes the note, in his neat scribble.

To her grace, the most charming lady Groan,

I have come upon your notes regarding your charming desire to embrace the role of Cupid, and found myself rather touched by the kindness of your soul. As we have not had the pleasure to converse since our chance meeting in the temple of erudition, I pray to speak with you again, as you see fit, for I am most curious of your kind endeavors.

Your faithful servant,

Hercule Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac

[OOC: If edit is required, don't hesitate to poke me! <3 ]

[drownedfuchsia]

There may be an actual squeal at the sweet words in the message. Being the avid reader of romance, words such as charming, embrace, pleasure, all but jump off the page at her. As soon as it is received, Fuchsia pens her response. It takes her an hour and four separate drafts.

Dear Cyrano,

I hope you do not mind the informality, given your beautiful words to me, I wanted to respond promptly. I have never heard of a library being called a temple before!

My project's only just begun, but I would be happy to discuss it with you. I have arranged tea with one interested, elligible man tomorrow, so perhaps the day after? Is that a good time for you?

Sincerely,
Lady Fuchsia Groan

It may have taken four drafts, but no one could accuse Fuchsia of being the world's greatest wordsmith.

[cyranosavignien]

Cyrano had never thought he might be so touched by such visible ingenuity, but he is, he is. Perhaps it is because Wilhelmina was passive and Roxanne was superficial. Perhaps it is that his views are changing.

Regardless, the note comes in response, again, a charming scribble, in which he has put enough thought.

Dear Fuchsia,

Forgive the impudence: a small acrostiche came to me, and I could not resist indulging it.

For as long as can be seen
Universally clear eyes
Seeing what has never been
Chattered by
Harshness:
Innocence
A friend awaits your visit.

I will be waiting for you where we first met, in the gentle hours of the afternoon, should my verses find mercy in your eyes,

Cyrano de Bergerac
Cadet du roy de France Louis le Treizieme

[drownedfuchsia]

Before, there was a squeal but now, she indulges in the greatest of romantic lady's gestures, and holds the newest missive to her, as if it is something precious.

A man wrote her poetry! What great success she's having with her advertisement.

Dear Cyrano,

I shall be
At the library
Where I hope to be
Able to see thee.

Yours truly,
Lady Fuchsia.

She will, most definitely be on time for this.

Also, excuse her poetry. She means well.