moritat | Victorian weenie au

If only Jekyll had a fan to keep up his end of this silent part of the conversation! He seems to have no way to tell her she's easily forgiven, of course it's a simple mistake, confused in translation. Other than to quickly put in, "It's quite alright!" He isn't exactly unused to such gestures...the real problem is that they do come with a twinge of guilt on his part, not so much the embarrassment.

And then, as if to link it in to the spoken conversation, make it a part of that for anyone who might hear, "You have more grace with them than most, it is not all in precise wording, after all. Which vein of art most captures your interest?"

Although her hold loosens, it stays where it is as if in preparation for more apologies.

Relief is apparent in how Paloma exhales. For Jekyll she shares a quick smile, tempered by eagerness to look elsewhere. The painting on the wall is a convenient focal point. No gossip to be founded there ...

"You do flatter me." Her finger twitches subconsciously to curl around an imagined stick of charcoal. "Portraits. I hear them called mundane, but to show the best piece of a man or woman-- there is pride in the piece. To share a portrait is sharing the pride of an artist and their person. It is like immortality."

Like sharing the pride of an artist and their person - like immortality. He positively beams, lighting up. "I entirely agree! There is so much to be captured in a portrait, it can be more breathtaking than any other artform. Whether a loved one or a stranger, there is something to be discovered of a person through such work." And a good way to remember someone as well. ...Or keep them around to watch you always as a detriment to misdeed.

Paloma quite forgets her fan and any language to be used therein, taken with his light and responding with a girlish grin of her own. Anyone who can stand to face the sun should do so in joy, shouldn't they?

After weeks of social deprivation, dependent on the maid for access to the wealth of London, he may as well be her sun.

"One night I hope for such a pride. To share love and--"

"Paloma?"

His voice. Carlos is calling, making his excuses to another man, unperturbed to any looking on. He is only being careful. Her smile changes back to the uneasiness of a butterfly in frozen display. "You are hosting a grand event, and I am greedy."

He has always been too excitable, without a doubt his worst trait. Far more extreme in his emotions than he would like, they're much more evident on his face than they should be, and especially in any happiness or eagerness. It's too much for polite society, he should be more mild. But he's quite forgotten himself now with this topic. Until they're interrupted. Ah, right. He must be making a fool of himself right now, and he should move on to keep that in check.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Jekyll smiles and bows his head again. Deference to the call of a husband. Although the shift in her expression isn't missed. "Another time then. Good evening, Mrs. Vasquez, it has been a pleasure."

"Likewise," she assures him. "I hope to meet on another path."

When her sire frets less over whom Paloma may insult or do grave harm to. Before he takes her away, when Carlos is looking somewhere else, she spares a wistful glance for Jekyll.

Victorian weenie au

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject