Young Writers discussion

Here, I will be serializing a roleplay that Savannah and I are doing together. It follows four young people in their quest for love (or lack thereof) in Regency-era England. We are also incorporating a magical twist that we hope you'll enjoy.

My writings are written in regular text, while Savannah's are italicized. We each take two viewpoint characters.

Savannah's viewpoint characters:

Name: Anna Kingsley
Hair: Pure yellow-blonde
Eyes: Blue
Age: 19

Name: Roger Brimston
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Vibrant green
Age: 30

Taylor's viewpoint characters:

Name: Arthur Rutherford
Eyes: Blue-gray
Hair: Neatly-trimmed light brown
Age: 25

Name: Sevania Schellenburg
Eyes: very light green
Hair: Dirty blond
Age: 17

The carriage was not the most comfortable nor the coziest. In fact, upon entering, I had noticed a small section where the fabric of the cushion was torn. I was simply glad to be out of it. Hours of riding was quite tiring, after all. The estate was better than I had expected, which was a small relief.
It was the newest home of a sister-in-law of mine and her husband. I did not know her well, and I did not particularly like her brother, my sister’s husband. However, she had asked if I may visit. I owed it to my boredom as of late. Perhaps Helena had been rather concerned in her letters. I was not very rebellious, but a little put out with society. Not enough, however, to forget the wonders of the bigger and better company I now lacked. After all, this sister-in-law, Marianne Lawrence, insisted I go to the town every so often. Town!
Marianne was a tall, thin woman with a pleasant face. I could not help but smile at her because of it. Harold Lawrence was also extremely agreeable.
“Anna! Hello there.”
I curtsied. “Wonderful to see you. Thank you for allowing me into your home.”
“Oh yes yes, now none of that silliness. Come inside.”
After settling in to my only decent room, I visited with Marianne in a parlor filled with sunlight.
“You will go into town, won’t you? Tomorrow perhaps? I wanted to surprise you—there is a ball! It is a public one, but nonetheless, I think it will be a grand place to introduce you to many people. Is there anything you would like to purchase for it?”
“That is very kind, but I do have plenty of dresses with me, and no one here has seen them.” I sipped some tea.
“Well, I’m sure we can find something to do,” she said, then chuckled.
I suppressed an exasperated sigh.
***
“Don’t you think that’s a bit old-fashioned, Sir?”
“How so? Pistols can’t always be used,” I grumbled.
“I mean that’s it’s a bit inefficient…when you have access to so many other easier devices.”
I scoffed. “Mocking the artifact are we, Jameson?”
He gulped.
I put an arm on his shoulder. “I’m not angry. You just need to respect old things, my young fellow.”
An arrow was placed on the bowstring. I aimed, then shot.

I put the clay dish back on the flame, but only for a moment. My chocolate-making methods may have been unorthodox, but no-one has manufactured chocolate that is more than satisfactory using traditional methods. I was after the greatest of chocolates -- the Chinese silk of the confectionary world.

I set the little bowl, the contents of which which were steaming slightly, in a larger container of barely-lukewarm water. With a quick motion like a mischievous child, I dipped a small metal rod into the quickly-cooling chocolate and took a taste.

It was all I could do to not spew the horrid concoction across my laboratory. I shouldn't have handled it so roughly. Perhaps something else was also wrong. The purple hue I was attempting to attain was not even close to the result I received.

But no matter. I'd been searching for this perfect chocolate for nigh on ten years. I'd gotten fairly close multiple times, but never truly produced the results I desired. Just in case, I took another small sample, once again forcing myself to not vomit on my cravat.

It was the cocoa bean that was flawed, not my method. I payed a very large sum of money to sponsor this enterprise in their growth of cocoa, but they seemed to have forgotten my investment when they sent me that last shipment.

They would certainly be hearing from me on this.

***

They say my godfather is insane. They claim that he is delusional from all the time he's spent in his laboratory.

At the dinner parties, they even claim he is secretly exporting opiates. These claims are largely unfounded, yes, but he is nonetheless a little…odd. Perhaps it is all of the chocolate he consumes in a day. But, oh the insanity I would like to endure for such a life! In solitude, with only the food of the gods to please me.

I'd helped Sir Rutherford once before, when I was a few weeks past my tenth birthday. I haven't been back since then due to setting some of his equipment aflame. One would suppose a man as scatterbrained as he to forget quickly, but the burns in the wood paneling do not make one forget too easily.

Although I was in the drawing room, I could still hear dejected moaning coming from the cellar. Yet another failed attempt, perhaps.

"Dearest Sevania, please get me my writing desk! I have a letter to write."

He poked his head out the door. His hair, as always, appeared windswept. I found it endearing -- the ladies he spoke with did not agree with me on that matter.

"And, for your knowledge, remember that you must do your best to appease your benefactors if you wish to do well. This is the last time I will be slighted by anyone contributing to my cause!"

He'd been saying this for ten years. Perhaps he was a little mad.

Ah, don’t you look remarkably lovely this morning.”
“Oh?” I said with question in my voice. “It’s nothing, really.”
“I’m afraid that our ways are not so glamorous as yours, Anna.”
I smiled. “I’m sure that’s not so,” I lied. “I can manage perfectly.”
Marianne smirked. “Well then, shall we go?”
I nodded. I almost asked her about the clattering, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something felt…not right about saying anything. Though I was ever the more curious—what could have made the scuffling noise last night? If it continued, I would warn them of pests.
We arrived in town. “How…quaint,” I muttered. “Where are we off to exactly?”
“Let me see.” She closed her eyes, pointed a finger (almost rudely), and spun a few times. After doing so, she opened them and her finger pointed toward a little shop I couldn’t quite read the sign for. “Ah! Apparently you could use some new ribbons!”
“Marianne, I really don’t—”
“Nonsense. When were ribbons not useful?”
To comply to her wishes, I purchased a few cream and blue ribbons, feeling absolutely bored and sick of this trivial game she was playing. “Next?”
She stepped outside the shop and once again performed her ridiculous ritual. Her eyes widened. “I haven’t gone there for a while. Hmm.”
“Where?”
“The chocolate shop.”
I suddenly became a bit more interested. “I’ve…only had chocolate once or twice if I recall correctly.”
She took my arm. “Oh poor dear. You MUST try Mr. Rutherford’s!”
We crossed the cobblestones and walked in.
***
Jameson Pierce was the best tea maker in the world. I sipped some from my cup, lounging inside the green parlor when he entered. “Ah, good morning, Sir, I trust you—” He stopped. “Sir!”
“Yes?”
“You let my wife serve you breakfast so improperly dressed?!”
I looked down. Shirt, old breeches, bare feet. “Forgive me old fellow, I wasn’t thinking about that. Take it as a compliment if you are able. I am, as always, very grateful for the tea.”
He shook his head. “Well Sir, I simply came to enquire as to which top hat you may need today?”
“I need a top hat yes, for these.” I brushed my hands across my ears. “But I could really use the red tailcoat today.”
“That far, Sir?”
“Yes.”
He bowed and walked out. I walked as calmly as I could to the nearest piano room, sat down, and played something to soothe my mind.

I heard the shop's bell chime, and I rose rather dejectedly from the stool behind the counter. I forced a smile onto my face because it simply does not do well for a businessman to mope about.

Standing in the doorway were two young ladies. One looked somewhat smug. I didn't like her much, although I believe she was a regular customer. And the other wore an expression that was magnificent to behold. She had a contented smile, and I watched her shoulders relax as she closed her eyes and breathed in the aromatics of the chocolate.

I'd forgotten how good it smelled in here. And…what was that scent mixed with the chocolate? Some sort of flower, I believe. This pleased young woman had a wonderful taste in perfume. And it wasn't overpowering in the least, even as she stepped closer to the counter.

"Good morning, ladies. Is there anything I may do for you?"

The smug one smiled at me almost patronizingly. "Yes, Mr. Rutherford. May we sample some of your chocolate?"

The nice-smelling one looked down at the floor. "No, Marianne. It's quite alright."

Marianne (so that was her name) laughed for some reason.

I jumped in before any diatribe could come from the woman's lips. "Yes, it is quite alright. What kind of chocolate would you like? Something infused with fruit juice? Perhaps a small bit from the Swiss mountains? Or we can sample something more exotic…peppered with, well, ground peppercorn."

---

"Sevania Schellenburg, you are a devious girl."

I often spoke to myself when I was alone. I suppose that was something one would do after living with Mr. Rutherford for so long.

I was listening to Rutherford speak with the ladies downstairs, and I found myself being rather excited. I didn't see the women clearly as they walked into the shop, but I was willing to gamble my best dress that one of them was in search of love. I can usually tell these things.

I wanted so desperately for Rutherford to marry. He had a lot of money, and wasn't too awful in appearance. Why, I'd marry him myself if he weren't my godfather! But, because of his place in society, he was not desired by the women…or more specifically, their fathers.

And, while I could skip down there and flute them through the marriage ceremony (preacher and all), that would be hazardous for Mr. Rutherford's frail reputation.

I sighed. Maybe someone would find him appealing. But not today. Not now.

“Mr. Rutherford, this is Ms. Anna Kingsley. She is the sister of my brother’s wife and has just come for a visit. It may surprise you, but she has not had chocolate for a very long time, the way she says it. How long has it been, dear?”
“I do not recall the time nor the taste, I’m afraid, Sir.”
“What do you think is best for that situation, then Mr. Rutherford?” Marianne continued. “Perhaps plain chocolate to start? I myself would fancy some with the fruit juice if you please.”
I watched this Mr. Rutherford scurry about and gave Marianne a quizzical look. I looked around a bit, but could not ignore the glorious smell in the shop. Even then, I could not remember what chocolate tasted like exactly. It wasn’t that odd to never have it—I was richer than probably everyone here, technically. They simply happened to have a chocolatier in their midst.
***
I straightened my top hat smartly and stepped into the street. It was far from home. Nearly eighty miles. And an unfamiliar face in a bright red tailcoat do come off a bit suspicious. I looked around me. Kept walking. More looking. More walking. Then I saw it. Trinkets was all the shop sign said. I chuckled to myself and walked in.
It was filled with cages and an overall fluttering sound. There were several birds, only there I’m sure, to mask the real sound. The shopkeeper was a woman with bright blue eyes. Obviously a sprite. “That’s a very dated trick, Sir. The hat. There’s plenty of people around here with ears just like you, so people have gotten used to it. Accepted it.”
“Well, thank you for the warning, but, I’m still not sure how I feel about them.” I took off my top hat and let her stare.
“Sir—what exactly—” They didn’t look terrible, they just were as elongated or pointed as those of other elves.
“Where is she?! I received a distress call saying that she’s been hiding here.”
“Search if you like Sir, but she’s gone. Some two people came and took her with them—don’t know what for.”
“Names?”
“How about yours? Can’t let you buy anything without a name.”
I leaned in close, glaring. “You don’t know? Well then. Roger Brimston.”
I turned around, knife I had been fondling in my coat sleeve pulled out and raised at the man that had approached me.

I moved quickly in the back room, out of sight. My storage room was, unfortunately, rather large and full. My chocolates have a relatively long shelf life, though I went to the most recent of my "experiment" batches. One day, I would formulate chocolate I could give to God Himself as a gift for granting me this life.

These were simply not the days.

I withdrew a small box with a sheet of cranberry chocolate from its place in the chilled room. It was meant to be a gift for Lady Velout, but she denied it quickly. I understood why very quickly -- her family thought her to be a werewolf and she quite liked the fearsome reputation. But this subtle tartness would compliment Miss Marianne's temperament. As for that Kingsley girl….

I knew exactly what to grab for her. I pulled a little white box from its place on the shelf -- one of my most recent results -- and brought the two chocolates up to the front of my shop.

"I believe I have found some chocolate that will suit you, ladies." I pulled out special carving knives for each chocolate. They were cleaned in special spring water to cleanse all remnants of the taste of cocoa from their blades, so as to have the most pure flavor from my chocolate.

"For you, Miss Marianne, I have some chocolate with cranberry extract. This cocoa came from the Americas, but do not let that deceive you. Its quality is still up to par with the rest of my confections."

I lifted the lid from the box and began to cut a small square that could easily fit in her mouth. Too big, and she couldn't savor it properly. As soon as the knife made a small incision, the aroma of cranberries and bitter cocoa filled the air.

I barely glanced at Marianne's expression. I was more concerned about this young Anna anyway, who had never sampled even shavings of my chocolate. As soon as the lid came off, I felt all the more certain that she would enjoy this.

"Miss Anna, this is among the best of my sellable chocolates. I will only tell you that this batch has more of…my personality in it. From there, let us see if you can determine what I added to it."

I cut a piece of equal size to Marianne's and put it in her pale hand. She lifted it to her slightly-parted lips, inserted it into her mouth, and chewed slowly.

***

This was marvelous. I had no idea Arthur could handle himself so perfectly around women. He was quiet (despite what society may say, it is the men who should never speak unless spoken to), and he didn't give away too much.

Though it was probably a poor choice to pick the chocolate that would best describe him. That implied that it was coated in sugar and laced with opiates…and the cocoa was manufactured in a garbage heap. I laughed to myself. I loved Arthur as much as the next young lady, but that was his problem. So it was sometimes all too tempting to mentally mock him a little.

Depending on the outcome of this encounter, though, I believed Arthur would end up with either a love life or a mess. Not that there's much difference for a man like him.

I closed my eyes delicately, savoring the flavor. I smiled, and felt a little color rise in my cheeks. How could I describe this thing called chocolate? Its sweet taste and silky soft texture—I finally made some sort of noise. “Mmm.” The sound of my pathetic voice made me open my eyes, rather flustered and embarrassed. I looked at Mr. Rutherford and let out a little laugh, if only to soothe my own tension. “Sir, could you possibly explain how this is like your personality? I’m positively stuck. Do not take offense when I say this—after all, I only know of your ability to make chocolate—but last I recall, no one is perfect.”
Marianne chuckled. “Ah you clever girl, that was a bit harsh. Perhaps you should have some peppercorn!” She tapped my arm where he couldn’t see. I turned and she and raised her eyebrows at me. Warningly?
I looked once more to Mr. Rutherford. “Do forgive me. I meant no real harm. It truly was perfect. What did you add to it?”
***
The man didn’t seem terribly surprised. It wasn’t hard to sense him—the knife was one of my favorite tricks. “Hello Roger Brimston,” he said. “Been expecting you.” He grinned.
“Ah. Marvelous.” I lowered my knife and shook the man’s hand. “Been nearly a month, Cranfield. Do tell me that means you have good information.”
“Harold and Marianne Lawrence,” the woman said. “They took her. Said you knew about it. Or would know soon enough.”
I put my hat back on as slight astonishment came over me. “Of all the people to have magic…are you certain the name is Lawrence?”
“Positive, Sir. They said they live near you.”
“By golly, they do! To think I didn’t know they—” I shook my head. Well. They have a ball at their home. I don’t even need to break in, then.
Cranfield led me out of the shop. “Good to see you, lad. Want some tea, and information besides that?”
“I’m no lad, and you know it. But please.”