bury my heart six feet deep - Printable Version
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+--- Thread: bury my heart six feet deep (/showthread.php?tid=16372)
bury my heart six feet deep - Callista Adebayo - December 16, 2024
7th December, 1894 — Adebayo Estate, Cambridgeshire
It had been easier to weather it before; she had still been managing to seem herself, unaffected and content. But now it wasn’t just spotting Mr. Echelon-Arnost across a room at an event, or feeling vaguely guilty when another debutante mentioned the rejected courtship. Now the details had surfaced in recent social gossip, and Callista had felt a wave of sorrow all over again. But if she was feeling sorry for herself and frustrated at the world, she had been doing her level best to hide it from everyone else by spending hours alone in her greenhouse. She tried not to take it out on the plants, but she was working unnecessarily vigorously today, earmuffs clamped over her ears and angrily patting down earth as she repotted some toddler mandrakes for the winter. She couldn’t hear their bawling screams, but she felt them, the inexpressible emotions locked fast in her chest.
Someone must have heard the mandrake’s cry, though, because somewhere by the door of her greenhouse there was a muffled thump of someone falling. Callista didn’t notice until she had tidied up, brushed soil off her gloves and hung up her gardening smock – and finally, as she set off back for the house, she saw them.
* * *
With a little help from one of the household staff opening doors for her and a levitating charm, Callista had gotten the visitor back indoors and sprawled out, still unconscious but hopefully more comfortably, on a chaise longue in the drawing room. A hired architect, the housekeeper had said. They had been out cold for an hour or two. Callista had been sitting, and fretting, and flitting around the room and fretting some more. The last thing she needed now was for anyone to hear she was trying to murder house calls. Finally, their eyes fluttered. “Oh, thank goodness!” Callista murmured, hastening to their side to help steady them as they came around.
Someone must have heard the mandrake’s cry, though, because somewhere by the door of her greenhouse there was a muffled thump of someone falling. Callista didn’t notice until she had tidied up, brushed soil off her gloves and hung up her gardening smock – and finally, as she set off back for the house, she saw them.
With a little help from one of the household staff opening doors for her and a levitating charm, Callista had gotten the visitor back indoors and sprawled out, still unconscious but hopefully more comfortably, on a chaise longue in the drawing room. A hired architect, the housekeeper had said. They had been out cold for an hour or two. Callista had been sitting, and fretting, and flitting around the room and fretting some more. The last thing she needed now was for anyone to hear she was trying to murder house calls. Finally, their eyes fluttered. “Oh, thank goodness!” Callista murmured, hastening to their side to help steady them as they came around.
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Gregory Hart - January 4, 2025
The last thing Gregory remembered before everything went dark was the sound of a shrill scream piercing the December air.
* * *
An observatory. That was his reason for travelling to Cambridgeshire today—not even a new observatory, but dramatic improvements to an existing one. It was frivolous, Gregory thought as he made his way to the Adebayo estate, but in a charming, erudite way: something intellectual, rather than a herd of zebras or curtains made of pixie wings intended solely to show off to others. Perhaps he mith have one of his own, some day, if his fortunes—both metaphorical and literal—ever improved enough to actually build the house he insisted to his mother and siblings was presently under construction.
It was a victimless lie, one designed to help the wizard maintain his pride and dignity after his concience had gotten the better of him, prompting him to abandon his dishonest pursuit-for-pay of Miss Oakby. It was also a lie that was getting progressively more difficult to keep the longer he remained under the same roof as his family. For this reason, the architect had hurled himself with rather more fervour into his work, even seeking out projects—such as the botanical gardens in Padmore Park—to bring in to the firm in the hope of clout, a promotion and, consequently, money.
This was why he was "here", broadly, in Cambridgeshire. But why, Gregory wondered was he here, more specifically? And where was "here"?
"Where... what..." he did not quite have a grasp on the reins of his line of questioning, but both of these seemed like a sound place to start. He had a headache. That much the wizard knew for certain. Not the dull throb of a very-much-earned morning after, but something sharper.
An observatory. That was his reason for travelling to Cambridgeshire today—not even a new observatory, but dramatic improvements to an existing one. It was frivolous, Gregory thought as he made his way to the Adebayo estate, but in a charming, erudite way: something intellectual, rather than a herd of zebras or curtains made of pixie wings intended solely to show off to others. Perhaps he mith have one of his own, some day, if his fortunes—both metaphorical and literal—ever improved enough to actually build the house he insisted to his mother and siblings was presently under construction.
It was a victimless lie, one designed to help the wizard maintain his pride and dignity after his concience had gotten the better of him, prompting him to abandon his dishonest pursuit-for-pay of Miss Oakby. It was also a lie that was getting progressively more difficult to keep the longer he remained under the same roof as his family. For this reason, the architect had hurled himself with rather more fervour into his work, even seeking out projects—such as the botanical gardens in Padmore Park—to bring in to the firm in the hope of clout, a promotion and, consequently, money.
This was why he was "here", broadly, in Cambridgeshire. But why, Gregory wondered was he here, more specifically? And where was "here"?
"Where... what..." he did not quite have a grasp on the reins of his line of questioning, but both of these seemed like a sound place to start. He had a headache. That much the wizard knew for certain. Not the dull throb of a very-much-earned morning after, but something sharper.
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Callista Adebayo - January 26, 2025
He was conscious, finally! And he had managed a few words, beginnings of questions that Callista could hazard well enough without hearing them. She hadn’t known anyone would be out on the grounds, else she would have left the mandrakes for another day – but she been feeling guilty about this since she’d found him.
“Mr. Hart, isn’t it?” Callista tried, where she was standing at his side, closer to his feet than his head in order to be better within his frame of vision, hopefully without him needing to sit up too fast. (Hopefully he did recall his name and had not hit his head on something on the way down; she did not want to be at fault for any life-ruining brain damage.) “You passed out,” she explained gently, supposing Cambridgeshire or Skyfall or my house would be less immediately helpful, if he was still a little out of it. She probably ought to explain about the mandrakes, but – in case she ought to send for a healer or take him to the hospital, she looked him over again, her brow furrowed. “How do you feel now?”
“Mr. Hart, isn’t it?” Callista tried, where she was standing at his side, closer to his feet than his head in order to be better within his frame of vision, hopefully without him needing to sit up too fast. (Hopefully he did recall his name and had not hit his head on something on the way down; she did not want to be at fault for any life-ruining brain damage.) “You passed out,” she explained gently, supposing Cambridgeshire or Skyfall or my house would be less immediately helpful, if he was still a little out of it. She probably ought to explain about the mandrakes, but – in case she ought to send for a healer or take him to the hospital, she looked him over again, her brow furrowed. “How do you feel now?”
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Gregory Hart - May 3, 2025
He nodded, a motion that caused a ringing in his ears loud enough that it was swiftly abandoned with a wince.
"Like the Devil's own carriage has run me down, if I'm honest," Gregory's words were half a groan as they left him, and a beat passed before he hastily added, "begging your pardon, Miss Adebayo."
"Like the Devil's own carriage has run me down, if I'm honest," Gregory's words were half a groan as they left him, and a beat passed before he hastily added, "begging your pardon, Miss Adebayo."
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Callista Adebayo - May 5, 2025
Callista winced – both in sympathy and in guilt. “I feel I ought to be the one begging your pardon, in fact,” she confessed, never mind his coarse complaints; by the way he was – barely – moving, she thought it was best he held still for some time longer.
“You overheard my mandrake potting,” she added, rather grateful that no one else was overhearing her now, “so I fear your head will be aching for some time yet.”
“You overheard my mandrake potting,” she added, rather grateful that no one else was overhearing her now, “so I fear your head will be aching for some time yet.”
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Gregory Hart - May 15, 2025
Mandrakes. That explained it, Gregory decided, thinking back to his time at Hogwarts. One of his friends had fainted when repotting the things during herbology class, though that was so long ago that he might not ever have thought of it again were it not for present circumstances. Merlin—he had a bit more sympathy for Theodore Funke now, that was for damned sure.
"A rather dangerous hobby, is it not?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows in question and immiately regretting the motion. For a young lady might have been implied—but then again, given Gregory was the one who had been felled, perhaps not.
"A rather dangerous hobby, is it not?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows in question and immiately regretting the motion. For a young lady might have been implied—but then again, given Gregory was the one who had been felled, perhaps not.
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Callista Adebayo - June 3, 2025
Callista tried not to bristle outwardly at his remark, though it rubbed her the wrong way. It was why she tried to keep her interest in herbology private before she knew whether someone would be inclined to judge her for it. She felt a small bubble of defiance in her chest – because she was allowed to have hobbies, however ladylike or unladylike they might be, and a hobby like this was hardly dangerous when one knew what they were doing (and she did know what she was doing here), and so it didn’t harm anyone.
Ahem. Well. Usually, anyway. “I didn’t know you were out in the grounds,” she protested. (She had been in the process of trying to offer him a glass of water, and had it in hand for him, but had gotten sidetracked in defence of her mandrakes.) “I would have warned you before you got too close.”
Ahem. Well. Usually, anyway. “I didn’t know you were out in the grounds,” she protested. (She had been in the process of trying to offer him a glass of water, and had it in hand for him, but had gotten sidetracked in defence of her mandrakes.) “I would have warned you before you got too close.”
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Gregory Hart - June 7, 2025
Gregory was, quite decidedly, in no position to argue—nor was the wizard certained he was inclined to. Indeed, all he was inclined to do was recline and possibly settle back into the nice coma that had been much preferable to the present sensation in his head, but that seemed unwise at this juncture (unfortunately). His eyes landed on the glass of water in her hands: was it for him, and had now been made hostage?
"Miss Adebayo, if I have caused offence, I do apologize—an apology I hope you will accept in light of my present indisposition," the wizard offered. "Offence was not at all intended, though I confess, I am not altogether certain what was intended. I am, to be frank, rather impressed I retain the knowledge of my own name, given the state of my head at present."
"Miss Adebayo, if I have caused offence, I do apologize—an apology I hope you will accept in light of my present indisposition," the wizard offered. "Offence was not at all intended, though I confess, I am not altogether certain what was intended. I am, to be frank, rather impressed I retain the knowledge of my own name, given the state of my head at present."
RE: bury my heart six feet deep - Callista Adebayo - June 22, 2025
Callista was – so surprised and appropriately abashed at his apology, and the manner of it, that she gave a weak chuckle of sympathy and softened instantly. “Only if you will please accept mine,” she said, ruefully, “and I am a little sorry they are growing so well – they don’t know the power of their cries, though you’ve suffered the force of them.”
She came a little closer and offered him the water now, hoping he had come around enough to hold it without spilling it over himself. “This should help. And – if you can sit up a little, perhaps I could get you another cushion?” (This was as much for his comfortable recovery as it was, she supposed, damage control. She was rather hoping he would not tell his friends about this mishap. It was really the last thing she needed.)
She came a little closer and offered him the water now, hoping he had come around enough to hold it without spilling it over himself. “This should help. And – if you can sit up a little, perhaps I could get you another cushion?” (This was as much for his comfortable recovery as it was, she supposed, damage control. She was rather hoping he would not tell his friends about this mishap. It was really the last thing she needed.)