Spotting their friend Absimiliard heads over to say hello to Appolonia. Half way there they spot Eli … . and continue on their course. “Hey You,” to Appolonia, “I didn’t think you were here on the island.” Their smile is broad, friendly, showing no teeth.
They turn the same smile to Eli, “Hello Eli. Do you dance? Or must you be off? I think if we both asked Appolonia would have a very hard time staying here singing and would have to come join the fun.”
Retrieving it twice was easier then washing the wimple. At first Dirae Erinyes thought it a waste of well water until they actually tried. The zee had not been kind. Still, it didn’t look half bad after it had finished drying, the salt squeezed and pounded out. Next step was to pin to the inside of one of the broad sun hats. Evensong would’ve found wearing a wimple without vows to be a touch too sacrilegious. Dirae Erinyes have felt a thrill as the scarlet silk was pinned out of sight into the crown of the hat. They liked those little secrets, like her wife’s face behind a face.
Reclamation at its finest. With reclamation comes remembrance. Isn’t that what this was all about? Remembering without understanding, but still remembrance of what has been lost to water.
Evensong is calling from the boat. It’s time to fulfill their duty with the rest of London. Eat, drink, and remember, for summer is ending and with it many things.
She stands when he does.
"You too, Eli. Stay safe."
She watches him depart, and then looks over towards the crowd dancing.
The music is lively. Inviting. Music and laughter, mingled.
She hums a bit of the tune.
Is that Absimiliard?
She bids her drownie friends farewell, and drifts over towards the merriment.
And here is Absimiliard who has found her!
"Yes, I thought I’d come join the dancing." She smiles.
edited by Appolonia on 8/17/2016
Two scouts intercept Absimiliard before they can get close and prevent them from speaking to him. They only posture though, and peacefully depart to follow Eli when he walks towards the ferry. It’s unclear if Eli even noticed Abs, but the scouts appear to be acting in his best interests.
Laughing Absimiliard exclaims, “Ah well, he must have business, and I too late and too quiet to have caught his attention.” They look their friend over, “But look at you, all wet,” their smile turns into a grin at that, “I’ll bet dancing by the bonfire will dry you out right quick.”
Absimiliard will drag their particular friend into the swirl of bodies dancing in line to the music, taking a place at the end of the line. Soon, part of the line, both find themselves winding across the sand in circular patterns, occasionally bumping against another line of people dancing as well.
As they dance they speak, “I can’t stay too long. The Fathomking is due to arrive soon, and His Complexity and I have business we must transact. But until then, dancing, and laughing, and maybe drinking between songs!”
True to their word the Captain drinks, dances, and laughs; until the Drownie Diplomat returns and the two walk into the waves to speak to the Fathomking about the Principles of Coral.
Appolonia enjoys the music and the dancing, and a bit of drinking with Absimiliard also.
"Good thing you know the steps."
She stares at her feet a good bit initially, but eventually gets the hang of it, and dances more freely.
She continues dancing - a little tipsy - when Absimiliard leaves to meet the Fathom King.
Eglantine has been dancing with zailors for a while now, until they see the lady dancing alone, and come over, beaming. “Dance with me?” they invite Appolonia, sweeping a playful bow.
Appolonia smiles at the friendly figure who has approached, and their playful bow.
"I will. Dance with you. Yes. But, I don’t think we have been introduced."
"My name is Appolonia. Appolonia Von Ravenscroft."
“Oh, so you are the particular friend Absimiliard mentioned!” Eglantine looks delighted. “Good to meet you. I’m Eglantine Fox.”
They take her hands and move into the lively steps of the dance, still looking delighted.
She follows Eglantine’s lead, hand in hand.
A good dancer, now that she has had time to learn the steps. Graceful. An ear for music, and its rhythm.
"Yes, the Captain is an old friend. And has mentioned you quite fondly." She smiles.
More dancing.
"You are an author, I think? What do you write?"
Giving over one’s steps to the music is easy enough, and Eglantine has attention to spare for Appolonia. “Yes, I write.” They laugh. “Mostly dreadfully shocking things. The Ministry confiscates about half of it within a week, but I still get paid.” An impish grin. “It’s a more restful pursuit than some, though.”
"Oh? I like dreadfully shocking things. Perhaps you can lend me something to read sometime."
"I write music and lyrics - opera mostly. And poetry. Nothing terribly shocking. My political verses on Jenny’s behalf were a trifle coarse and bawdy, perhaps, but the situation required it, and it was anonymous."
"Very brave of you."
“Poetry and songs are good fun to write,” Eglantine agrees. “Faster, too, which is good when you just need to make some money quickly.” They snicker. “Perhaps I can lend you some, but I’ll spare you the ones I’ve written under pseudonyms - if it’s something even I disown, it’s probably a few steps too far.” A wry little grimace accompanies this. “What can I say? Some people have very particular requests.”
"I should not wish to read anything you disown because you are not proud of the beauty of it. But ‘too far’ and ‘particular’ do not necessarily suggest work of inferior quality. Only something…"
She blushes.
"Perhaps it is best not to speculate what you would consider ‘too far’."
She looks down at her feet as if she can’t remember the next step and needs to concentrate on it, and is definitely not rather transparently speculating.
She frowns noticing that the steps of the dance are beginning to flare her already slightly torn skirt, revealing an occasional glimpse of stockinged ankle. The weight of the water had kept her skirts more firmly in place, despite the motion, but the fabric is drying, here closer to the bonfire.
[Is this open for everyone? If not, I’ll delete this post. ]
Amelia had been on the island for some time. Her men had already ventured about, enjoying the festivities while she stayed to shore. She stayed there, watching the Drownies focus on visitors and singing. Her sights shift every now and then to a certain lighthouse but it’s always the same. The pattern stays that way for a while until finally her mind is made up. She takes a rather decaying looking rose and tosses it out to Zee. Although a few Drownies circle it like hungry sharks, she does not focus on them or even the lighthouse.
She focuses on nothing but the horizon. Her thoughts dipping to old memories and a longing for something she can never have. It haunts her for a moment. Then slowly she notices the strange song the Drownies sing. Is it for her, the rose, other visitors? She cannot tell but her heart sinks for a moment before she accepts the pattern of her life. There’s a calmness to knowing things are complete. Something she doubts only she has felt before.
[Yes, this is freely open. :) ]
“Perhaps not. After all, I am a dreadful creature.” Eglantine laughs.
Attentive as they are to the movements of a dance partner, they catch a hint of a frown on Appolonia’s face. “Is something amiss?”
"Oh! I am just… I did not realize how much my skirt had torn, wading out in the shallows, talking to the drownies. Singing with them."
She still smells of the zee water, and under it, a faint floral note. Narcissus and poppy.
"I must be a little less enthusiastic in my dancing!" Her steps become smaller, slower, more careful.
It does not help much, but it apparently provides enough peace of mind that she stops looking so much at her feet.
"Have you been enjoying the Festival? It’s lovely here with all the flowers and trees. I don’t leave London very often. But I thought the trip would cheer me up, and I think it has. The music is so merry. And I do like to dance."
Lord Gazter watches the Ocean from the shore a half empty bottle of wine in his hand. What was that encounter? Why those memories? Lord Gazter takes a drink from the bottle.
edited by Lord Gazter on 8/18/2016
“It’s been wonderful.” Eglantine smiles, obligingly changing their pace to match Appolonia’s.
“I don’t know why your skirt would worry you so,” they say, lightly. “When offered the face of an angel to watch instead, no-one will be staring at her feet.” They offer the compliment up with careless charm, smiling all the more.
She smiles, blushing, at the compliment, but says: "True. Anyone watching is likely looking at you."
"Ah, I should have known I might find an Eglantine while seeking to lift my spirits."
"It is like Milton, yes? ‘Hence, loathed Melancholy.’ And welcome to Mirth. ‘And if I give thee honour due, / Mirth, admit me of thy crew, / To live with her, and live with thee, / In unreproved pleasures free; … / Then to come in spite of sorrow, / And at my window bid good morrow, / Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, / Or the twisted Eglantine.’"