[ Morning finds her by the docks, watching as her father's workers begin early on the construction of the sea's grandest vessels-- large ships, some nothing more than wooden skeletons to start. But by the time the work is complete, they will be beautiful crafts, gliding out on the ocean to bring her father back the silks and spices that make him so wealthy.
In her white dress, with her feet bare, Robin leans forward from where she sits on the wooden boards of a dock, watching her own reflection in the water and swinging her legs. ]
[ Iggy wanders, not because he particularly needs to or wants to, but just because he can. It serves as a sharp contrast to his existence before there were vessels for him to wander in. Roots were ill-made for mobility, so now that he has legs to carry him, he tries to make the most use out of them in whatever way possible.
That means, in the mornings, he strolls and this morning he's out on the docks. He looks up into the sky, watching some of the ocean birds cry overhead, and notes a grey cast covering the sun. Pursing his lips in dissatisfaction the clouds in the sky evaporate slowly until Iggy finds himself smirking faintly at the profile of a young woman seated not too far away.
He approaches quietly and then asks, with vague amusement: ] Caught by your own reflection, are you? Understandable.
[ There's a moment where the girl's shoulders seem to briefly tense-- but she's a quiet, proper thing by nature and she does not make a sound to betray her surprise. Still, her surprise is clear when she tilts her head towards him, making her lips part for a moment before she responds in an almost childish voice: ]
Oh. [ A brief hesitation, as if she senses something is not quite right but can imagine no other explanation but the slightly amiss one she has come to. ] How lovely to see you, Master Windham.
[ Iggy smiles at the girl the way one would look upon a doe or some other kind of small, skittish animal. He's familiar with humans like this one (though, yes, it can be said truthfully that he is familiar with everything) and so he does not let confusion of any sort manifest on his face. Just lets his smile soften and approaches a bit closer. His voice is mild. ]
My dear, I have been called many things in my time, but I'm afraid Master Windham isn't one of them. [ He lifts his chin, as if to show her his face. ] A case of mistaken identity, perhaps? It would not be the first time.
[ There's a certain air of naivete to her-- something about large, brown eyes or the youth of her face-- but it seems to take little more than that softened smile to gain the beginning of her trust. Or perhaps it's more that this face is familiar to her, perhaps even dear to her, and despite her confusion at this-- ah, mistaken identity?-- she can't help but treat it as familiar.
Her hands, when she lifts them to brush curls from her face, are small, delicate, and soft-palmed. She's a sheltered creature, bred for proper marriage and birthing lovely children.
She purses her lips at his response, not quite understanding what he means. Her answer, when it comes, is thought out, careful: ]
I... Know you prefer "Aubrey," but it's not really proper for us call each other by first name yet. [ A hesitation, then she glances down into her lap. ] I am not-- a close friend. Like Master Mallory is to you.
[His recent wandering has gotten to be a bad habit; whether or not Victor has noticed doesn't matter, he hasn't said anything, and if he decides to, June will only goad him. He wants Victor's anger, it's been too long since he's seen it, he fears it's gone forever. Now, his foster father is more preoccupied with other business associates than anything.
It's this that's left June in a foul mood, having abandoned the house with perhaps the idea to seek out Aubrey, but instead he finds himself near the docks. He hates them. But it's a good flavor of masochism so early in the morning.
Keen predator eyes spot the girl and June sneers, moving closer. He stamps down the urge to shove her off into the ocean, and it takes all of his scarce willpower to plaster on a polite little smile.]
[ She's a naive creature, sheltered by her birth and breeding, and so when she turns to him, vaguely recognizing his voice, her returning smile is genuine if small. It's the sort of smile that seems controlled despite its sincerity, as if when she was young, someone scolded her if her smile showed too much of her gums or teeth. ]
Good morning, Master Mallory. [ She carefully rises to her feet, graceful as a little ballerina doll. Robin curtsies. As she continues, her words are precisely enunciated and slowly spoken-- the result of speech lessons, no doubt. ] What a lovely surprise, to see you at the docks.
[ A pause, then: ] Is Master Windham not with you?
[A lovely surprise indeed. His smile (if it really can ever be considered something so seemingly harmless) is nothing but insincere. Such a ignorant, simple little girl, he's met dozens in his young lifetime, knows their chaste habits and overly polite mannerisms, knows how to play them like an instrument. After the incident with a rich mayor's daughter in another city, Victor has stopped trying to force them on June in hope he'd fall in love and marry.
Just the idea is enough to make June livid; it's why he can't stand this particular arrangement between the Windhams and Stonewells. Oh, no.
At the question, June doesn't quite hide his sneer.] I'm afraid not. I thought he might be with you; after all, you've both plenty to discuss. [The young man's black eyes are hard with something indeterminable, something faintly dangerous as he steps closer, leather shoes hollow-sounding on the dock.]
I don't think I've yet to formally congratulate you on your engagement.
[ The Stonewell heir is unlucky to be a girl. A powerful merchant like her father would never write his will to give her everything without a proper husband-- never. But then again, she is-- at least outwardly-- not ambitious enough to care about such a thing, only knowing that marriage is what good girls do and so married she must be.
She is lucky, she thinks, to be the future wife of an ambassador's son. And she does privately find Aubrey's wide mouth and splattering of freckles a bit charming. ]
Congratulations are not necessary. [ Robin tips her head politely at the Mallory heir in a vaguely grateful gesture. ] But, thank you kindly. I hope you will-- attend the wedding, as my fiance seems very close with you.
[He knows that. The lack of ambition is something June will never personally be able to relate to, although he has a suspicion there is a lot the two of them will never be able to relate to, except that certain fondness for Aubrey's wide mouth and splattering of freckles. It's a strange thing to find in common, and of course June is hardly willing to share.
The mention of their inevitable wedding curls disgust in his gut, but outwardly June plays the part of cool, charismatic politician. Usually, in such a situation, he'd turn flirtatious-- but not now.]
That's right, he is. [Very pointedly spoken, as if June wants to get that across: you may marry him, but he will always be close to me.]
Miss Stonewell, I was curious. What do you think of Master Windham? As a good friend, I want to make sure his, ah-- [June smiles a little wider, looks off across the shipyard,] fianceé is satisfied with her father's choice.
[ Something flickers in her gaze at June's pointed agreement, but Robin does not respond on that trail of conversation again. Perhaps she doesn't realize entirely what manner of person June Mallory is, but she has a sense-- a woman's sense, perhaps-- that there is something subtly dangerous here. She is at once cautious and polite, keeping her eyes down-turned when June poses his question. ]
I... Am very lucky to be engaged to Master Windham.
[ She responds carefully at length. She wants to fidget when a brief glance shows her June's smile-- but it's not proper for a girl to fidget, so she stills herself. ]
He is-- [ How to put it. ] Unconventionally handsome. And very well-read.
[He might disagree with her former remark, doesn't truly believe luck has anything to do with this and if she has any at all it's ill luck. But that's another matter, and Miss Stonewell isn't yet aware of what she's getting herself into, trusting herself to the Windhams' youngest son.]
Has he shown you around his study? It's quite an impressive sight. [Yes, maybe, although June has little interest in Aubrey's study and littler interest in the many books held there. He can't recall much of it, too focused on Master Windham's presence at the time.
Angling his head back, June watches her with her eyes away, so softly spoken. Unconventionally handsome. He nearly scoffs.]
[ Robin pauses, her eyes turning thoughtful for a moment. She has been welcomed to Windham estate on only a few occasions, perhaps half of which she was able to actually meet her fiance. The other times, it was a diplomatic gesture-- from her father to Aubrey's. Here, this is my beautiful daughter. She is quiet and well-taught. She will bear you strong children.
She does not recall ever seeing any room that personally belonged to the young master himself. They've never even touched, beyond him taking her hand in greeting. But she doesn't dwell on it-- June's question distracts her. ]
Do I...? [ She seems surprised mildly by this question. Love is a fairy tale thing, isn't it? For princesses in books. Marriage, she was told, was not a matter of love but strategy. Still. She finds it in her heart to at least be somewhat fond of her husband-to-be, in a distant way. ] I. Am sure I will grow to love him. He will-- be a good husband.
[She is truly a prim, perfect little thing. Aubrey's father did well in choosing her, though he's certain Aubrey must loath it--after all, while his brother's free to pursue the soaring political path of their father, he is trapped under the resolute weight of his own future. A pleasant wife, a pleasant family, an ordinary, dull existence. They will have beautiful children, June admires.
He's already shown Aubrey how dangerous the world can be, how much potential it holds outside the scope of his limited perspective, but there's still so much more. He isn't done.
June wonders how this delicate little thing would react knowing the true nature of their relationship, entertains the idea, although he knows it won't satisfy him. Spoken darkly, carefully, planting his seeds of quiet deconstruction,] And do you think he loves you? Miss Stonewell, are you sure this is what Aubrey wants? Are you sure he hasn't already given his heart to another woman? You hardly know him.
In her white dress, with her feet bare, Robin leans forward from where she sits on the wooden boards of a dock, watching her own reflection in the water and swinging her legs. ]
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That means, in the mornings, he strolls and this morning he's out on the docks. He looks up into the sky, watching some of the ocean birds cry overhead, and notes a grey cast covering the sun. Pursing his lips in dissatisfaction the clouds in the sky evaporate slowly until Iggy finds himself smirking faintly at the profile of a young woman seated not too far away.
He approaches quietly and then asks, with vague amusement: ] Caught by your own reflection, are you? Understandable.
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Oh. [ A brief hesitation, as if she senses something is not quite right but can imagine no other explanation but the slightly amiss one she has come to. ] How lovely to see you, Master Windham.
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My dear, I have been called many things in my time, but I'm afraid Master Windham isn't one of them. [ He lifts his chin, as if to show her his face. ] A case of mistaken identity, perhaps? It would not be the first time.
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Her hands, when she lifts them to brush curls from her face, are small, delicate, and soft-palmed. She's a sheltered creature, bred for proper marriage and birthing lovely children.
She purses her lips at his response, not quite understanding what he means. Her answer, when it comes, is thought out, careful: ]
I... Know you prefer "Aubrey," but it's not really proper for us call each other by first name yet. [ A hesitation, then she glances down into her lap. ] I am not-- a close friend. Like Master Mallory is to you.
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It's this that's left June in a foul mood, having abandoned the house with perhaps the idea to seek out Aubrey, but instead he finds himself near the docks. He hates them. But it's a good flavor of masochism so early in the morning.
Keen predator eyes spot the girl and June sneers, moving closer. He stamps down the urge to shove her off into the ocean, and it takes all of his scarce willpower to plaster on a polite little smile.]
Good morning.
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Good morning, Master Mallory. [ She carefully rises to her feet, graceful as a little ballerina doll. Robin curtsies. As she continues, her words are precisely enunciated and slowly spoken-- the result of speech lessons, no doubt. ] What a lovely surprise, to see you at the docks.
[ A pause, then: ] Is Master Windham not with you?
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Just the idea is enough to make June livid; it's why he can't stand this particular arrangement between the Windhams and Stonewells. Oh, no.
At the question, June doesn't quite hide his sneer.] I'm afraid not. I thought he might be with you; after all, you've both plenty to discuss. [The young man's black eyes are hard with something indeterminable, something faintly dangerous as he steps closer, leather shoes hollow-sounding on the dock.]
I don't think I've yet to formally congratulate you on your engagement.
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She is lucky, she thinks, to be the future wife of an ambassador's son. And she does privately find Aubrey's wide mouth and splattering of freckles a bit charming. ]
Congratulations are not necessary. [ Robin tips her head politely at the Mallory heir in a vaguely grateful gesture. ] But, thank you kindly. I hope you will-- attend the wedding, as my fiance seems very close with you.
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The mention of their inevitable wedding curls disgust in his gut, but outwardly June plays the part of cool, charismatic politician. Usually, in such a situation, he'd turn flirtatious-- but not now.]
That's right, he is. [Very pointedly spoken, as if June wants to get that across: you may marry him, but he will always be close to me.]
Miss Stonewell, I was curious. What do you think of Master Windham? As a good friend, I want to make sure his, ah-- [June smiles a little wider, looks off across the shipyard,] fianceé is satisfied with her father's choice.
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I... Am very lucky to be engaged to Master Windham.
[ She responds carefully at length. She wants to fidget when a brief glance shows her June's smile-- but it's not proper for a girl to fidget, so she stills herself. ]
He is-- [ How to put it. ] Unconventionally handsome. And very well-read.
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Has he shown you around his study? It's quite an impressive sight. [Yes, maybe, although June has little interest in Aubrey's study and littler interest in the many books held there. He can't recall much of it, too focused on Master Windham's presence at the time.
Angling his head back, June watches her with her eyes away, so softly spoken. Unconventionally handsome. He nearly scoffs.]
Do you love him?
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She does not recall ever seeing any room that personally belonged to the young master himself. They've never even touched, beyond him taking her hand in greeting. But she doesn't dwell on it-- June's question distracts her. ]
Do I...? [ She seems surprised mildly by this question. Love is a fairy tale thing, isn't it? For princesses in books. Marriage, she was told, was not a matter of love but strategy. Still. She finds it in her heart to at least be somewhat fond of her husband-to-be, in a distant way. ] I. Am sure I will grow to love him. He will-- be a good husband.
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He's already shown Aubrey how dangerous the world can be, how much potential it holds outside the scope of his limited perspective, but there's still so much more. He isn't done.
June wonders how this delicate little thing would react knowing the true nature of their relationship, entertains the idea, although he knows it won't satisfy him. Spoken darkly, carefully, planting his seeds of quiet deconstruction,] And do you think he loves you? Miss Stonewell, are you sure this is what Aubrey wants? Are you sure he hasn't already given his heart to another woman? You hardly know him.
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