two matches made
[voice post :: failed private]
[Emma is trying to sound cheerful, but a slight tremble in her voice gives her away.]
I believe I am forced to accept that this place is, in some manner, real. How such things can exist, I do not know, but I can no longer delude myself into believing that I am dreaming.
I have found myself a place to stay, and by some mysterious generosity I have money with which to get food, but there is no one but me to make it. I had thought to get paper and ink, but my funds were not that great. Even Miss Bates can afford one servant and paper.
Is this to be Jane Fairfax's future? No wonder she is so grim. Am I to be a governess here? Oh how Papa would fret!
I have learnt to write on this device as others do, but my speed is so slow that there's really no point. There are filters, at least, so I may use this as the diary I could not afford. I thought about writing letters home, but how would I send them?
Oh to be back at Hartfield! I have not appreciated that dear place enough. To be back with Father, tending to his comforts. To be visiting Mrs. Weston. To be talking with Mr. Knightley. I would welcome even his harshest criticism now, for it would mean that he was here, and I was not so dreadfully alone.
That is the worst of it; being alone, with that horrible clock pounding in my ears. I am surrounded by a horrible crowd of people, and yet utterly alone.
[Sniffly silence.]
Enough. I am growing maudlin. I am not a child, to be weeping thus. What would Mr. Knightley say?
[Awkward silence, then click. Recording stops.]
[ooc: Open to all sorts of shenanigans! 4th wall away. Anything I don't want her knowing, she can forget tomorrow.]
[Emma is trying to sound cheerful, but a slight tremble in her voice gives her away.]
I believe I am forced to accept that this place is, in some manner, real. How such things can exist, I do not know, but I can no longer delude myself into believing that I am dreaming.
I have found myself a place to stay, and by some mysterious generosity I have money with which to get food, but there is no one but me to make it. I had thought to get paper and ink, but my funds were not that great. Even Miss Bates can afford one servant and paper.
Is this to be Jane Fairfax's future? No wonder she is so grim. Am I to be a governess here? Oh how Papa would fret!
I have learnt to write on this device as others do, but my speed is so slow that there's really no point. There are filters, at least, so I may use this as the diary I could not afford. I thought about writing letters home, but how would I send them?
Oh to be back at Hartfield! I have not appreciated that dear place enough. To be back with Father, tending to his comforts. To be visiting Mrs. Weston. To be talking with Mr. Knightley. I would welcome even his harshest criticism now, for it would mean that he was here, and I was not so dreadfully alone.
That is the worst of it; being alone, with that horrible clock pounding in my ears. I am surrounded by a horrible crowd of people, and yet utterly alone.
[Sniffly silence.]
Enough. I am growing maudlin. I am not a child, to be weeping thus. What would Mr. Knightley say?
[Awkward silence, then click. Recording stops.]
[ooc: Open to all sorts of shenanigans! 4th wall away. Anything I don't want her knowing, she can forget tomorrow.]