tfln open post

[byanyname]

***

either leave a message (or set of muses) for one of my assholes, or request a message from one of them. choose messages from the classic source, from your own skull, or whatever you may please.

Comments

[halfdozenoftheother]

Foolish woman, to overlook such flaws. Give him what he wants; what will he take?

Twice. And heard all the secrets of your heart.

All your talk of touching him. A wonder you've not taken ill. Persistent, you.

[lostyourheart]

Ah - my mistake. You are naturally correct: we did cross paths at that deplorable party.

He isn't contagious. His rash is an adverse reaction - as one might have to a bee's sting, or to poison ivy. Perhaps you ought to have a word with your family's physician, for failing to make such a simple determination. So simple that a foolish, stupid woman could look for only a moment and diagnose it.

And such an inexpensive remedy! Treat it with honey for a week and it vanishes.

What sort of doctor takes your coin for thirty years without delivering the most basic of care? He must have been convincing, indeed, to perpetrate such a scheme for so long.

For surely, you and your brothers are not so ignorant as to throw good money after bad. Astute as you are, you would have seen through all but the most dedicated ruse. (Well, Treavor excepted: in the worst throes of illness, he can hardly be expected to negotiate the finer points of his own care, or do more than trust what he is told by those who look after him. So it goes with us all when we ail.)

Disgraceful.

- I assure you, Lord Pendleton, you have not heard half the secrets of my heart.

[halfdozenoftheother]

[ He'll be irate with her. Eventually.

For now - while he can't see her, while words seem to mean little enough - it's easy to take her disrespect in stride, another sign of just how pointless she is, just how little she understands. Let her prate across a distance; what does it matter to him? ]

Think you're smart.

You mistake our duty.

You mistake the measure of our brother's value.

A shame he's lived so long.

That's your trouble, soon enough. So we understand.

[ ... ]

You with your heart bared. So tender.

Perhaps one day you'll divulge your untold secrets.

[lostyourheart]

I will gladly accept this particular "trouble".

Divulgence is an odd expectation from my brother-to-be. May we not agree there are some things better left unknown?

Ah, but.

Perhaps one day those who imagine the further exposure of my tender heart will run afoul of my untold secrets.

[...]

You would have done better to drive me off early in my dalliances with your unwanted kin; now I have my footing. You will find I am formidable, no matter the scandals revealed or the fright evoked. Find some other use for your time.

[halfdozenoftheother]

No. Never your brother.

[ There. Now he's beginning to grow agitated, cheeky as this woman plays, much as she dares... Well, is that meant to be a threat?

As if she gives any cause for concern. There's nothing she can enact against him, but the sad attempt at intimidation rankles. Amuses. And rankles. ]

Humorous.

We'll see you long you're counted glad.

How long you'll keep content with our wounded lamb.

Incurable, that one. Try your "honey" as you will.

[lostyourheart]

No need at all for quotations. It was hardly euphemistic.

I am not nearly so crass as to discuss the finer points of our interactions, much less to refer to them with innuendo such as that.

Brother dear, when I say honey, I mean the substance found in hives.

And when I suggest your physicians are confidence men with snake oil instead of cures, I mean that you are fools for retaining them.

[halfdozenoftheother]

Bitch of a

Still. Crass enough to fuck him in our home. Creep in like the common whore you are.

No. Less than that. Unpaid, unskilled.

You speak beyond your knowledge.

See who laughs when everything falls.

Cure it for a time. See how every effort fails.

[lostyourheart]

I speak precisely my knowledge.

And act precisely according to my skill.

Ought you laugh at any downfall I encounter? Our fortunes will be so inextricably linked.

What fortunes we have between us.

Perhaps it is easier to laugh when you need not fall far.

[halfdozenoftheother]

[ A pause. A minute, two minutes slip by.

He's angry. He'll need a target for his anger.

The bitch won't do. Distant as she is. He'll need an immediate target.

One of the servants. He sends a summons. Flicks a sneer, pacing. ]

Ill-fitting ideas you entertain.

[ ... ]

The convalescent babbles at the first sign of a coddling hand or a throbbing prick.

Let your boldness damn you.

[lostyourheart]

You told me of your financial situation long before he did.

"Are you prepared to suffer for our insolvent?" you asked me.

What draws you to babbling?

[halfdozenoftheother]

Upstart bitch.

[ He should stop there. Probably. Probably.

Should wait for the servant to arrive. Work out his anger that way, privately.

And yet. ]

I would see you bound and strung.

Prey kept for evisceration.

Brazen snatch though you are, you'd make a serviceable specimen.