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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Mar 28, 2023 19:33:47 GMT
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Oct 31, 2022 20:49:54 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"]  [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","clyrics"] tag ● @eloisebridgerton
notes ● excited for this! [attr="class","cbody"] This was truly incredible! Mirela felt as if she was on some sort of adventure and hoped never to forget every single moment! One of her readers had reached out to her and suggested she attend a rally; a gathering of women who held progressive ideas and used this platform to share them. As she was born in a middle class family, her education was quite limited and so she hoped to gain some knowledge and perspective by listening to these inspiring women. And the number of people here were far more than she would have thought. Eyes wide like a doe in the environment, Mirela was looking every which way to absorb it all. Writing her column had given her a sense of identity and purpose yet here . . . it felt as it many had so much more to offer the world than she ever could. And she could not wait to learn from them! A woman passing by handed her a pamphlet and before Mirela could thank her, she was lost in the crowd.
The writer looked down at the words, skimming over it without reading it in great detail. Perhaps she should have kept her eyes in front of her though, because with the distraction, coupled by her clumsiness -- which were both a rather deadly combination -- Mirela bumped into another woman! "Oh my goodness!" She exclaimed, embarrassed and flustered. "I am so very sorry!" Wonderful! Here she was trying to meet women in a sophisticated way and she had already collided into one of them! "I hope I did not hurt you!" She paused for a moment. "I mean, I do not believe I carry such strength but the concern still stands," she continued, looking over her to see if she had offended the stranger with her carelessness.
[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Oct 12, 2022 20:31:29 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"]  [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","clyrics"] tag ● @kitty
notes ● none! [attr="class","cbody"] Today was indeed a special day! Well, special in the sense that she had devised a new plan -- as minimal as it may seem -- for the man she loved to notice her. It started with braids! Now, Mirela was taught to do braids of course and she was forced to them on her niece, yet she wanted hers to be perfect. She wanted him to notice her and the impeccable presentation of her self that she was attempting to create. She had to work her way from the top down and on the top . . . there were braids. There were not many that she could entrust this task to, and fewer that she knew to be skilled with such talents. So it was truly a blessing, that Mirela had a friend in Kitty for the dear woman was willing to help her. Perhaps for reasons unknown -- for now -- but Mirela was incredibly grateful to the noblewoman.
"Indeed!" She assured her. "I trust in your talents and greatly appreciate them," she flattered with sincerity. "I doubt that you could do a great deal worse than any attempt of mine," she added with an amused smile. "If it was not a matter of necessity, then I would take the time to learn from you," she further explained. But she needed to look nice for later today. So now was not the time to use her own hair for practice. No. Now was the time to find someone to help her in her tragic predicament. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
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euphoria
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Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Oct 11, 2022 18:07:54 GMT
[ braid ] for your muse to braid mines hair.
@kitty |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Oct 11, 2022 17:48:34 GMT
[ ◈ ] my muse makes a drunk confession to your muse.
@kitty
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 24, 2022 18:30:53 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"]  [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] Mirela let out a small laugh when he spoke of yelling at his employees . . . though she abruptly silenced herself, raising her hand to her lips. She belatedly realized that he may not be kidding. That he may actually yell at his employees for . . . he did not seem like the overly joking type. But nor should he be for she knew that this was a professional meeting! She should not expect him to act as if they were friends -- though the thought was a very enticing one. A very, desired one. "Yes Sir," she quickly stated . . . only after realizing that her statement of confirmation was in fact, contradicting what she was saying yes to! "I mean, yes Mister Knightly," she said knowing that she may have very well made a fool of herself now. What if he threw her out on her account to be so daft?! "I understand," she added with what she hoped was a more, coherent respond. As if to prove that she was not unintelligent or possessing some form of mental affliction that caused her to act so stupidly. Though she had to admit, her attraction to him and infatuation may very well be playing a part in her struggle to communicate.
He then told her that he had made the edits and . . . a question entered her mind that she hoped would not be too bold of her to ask. "May I see the edits you made?" She asked. It was not arrogance or any disbelief that there were required edits. She was fairly certain there were many! She was quite, inexperienced in this. Though to avoid misunderstanding, she elaborated. "I ask only so that I may know in which areas I can improve my writing in. So to hopefully save you too much trouble in the future, if all goes well," she added with a light smile only half joking at her latter words. She wanted to learn. She had learned to read and write later in life and was naturally self conscious of it. For this was the best newspaper in London! There were high standards to maintain! She was not being judged on solely content, but the ability to writer with proper grammar as well. "I wish to learn," she added, summing up her thoughts and earlier statements.
He told her of how she would be on page 6. Page 6! And to hear that she could be bumped to an earlier page?! Did he hold that much faith in her? Or was this standard talk he gave any new employee? Her desire to believe the former had her believing it. That he had faith in her! An unfamiliar feeling yet most certainly not an unwelcome one. She nodded along in understanding, taking in all his words and trying to focus on them while she felt herself bursting with so much excitement. "Yes Mister Knightly," she stated obediently to acknowledge his words. "And, you said earlier it would be fine to retrieve the letters from here . . . should this article be a success, which day would I be able to come to collect them?" She had to plan out her day. She had no intentions of telling her brother or sister in law about this. She would need to sneak out to pick things up and drop things off. He seemed to be fairly, meticulous in his dealings so she wished to ensure that she followed with his schedule in adjusting her own. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 24, 2022 17:53:31 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"]  [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] Mirela moved as silently requested when he helped her to her chair. A good sign! It meant that he was fine with her staying. Once she sat, her eyes followed him as he moved around the table to where his chair was. She was taking note of his gait, ensuring that he was not hindered from having hurt himself. "Yes, Mister Knightly," she confirmed knowing it would be far too rude to not answer her employer when he asked about her work. Although . . . she felt her heart pound with excitement when he looked at her and began to speak of her dress. Her article was secondary excitement to this. Her lips curled into a smile as he complimented it, saying that she would turn more than just his head. Not even realizing that it was only his head that she cared about! She let out a small sound of light laughter at her giving the man some warning. "I had thought to use the element of surprise," she admitted. And, it had seemed to work to some extent! For he noticed her. It was worth every coin she had spent on it. "It is after all, only his reaction that I care for. And only his head I wish to turn." Not any other man's . . . only his.
So when he continued and called her beautiful, Mirela could have sworn that it was a dream. He called her beautiful! Her smile grew into a bright one, feeling as if she could practically burst with happiness. She had thought that the best day of her life was when she had first met him and he told her of publishing her article. But, she may have to amend that statement. Perhaps, this was the best day of her life. The day when Mister Knightly called her beautiful. "Thank you, Sir!" She said with genuine appreciation, hoping her cheeks did not colour from the flattery. He thought her beautiful! This was certainly a step in the right direction to have him notice her. And now compliment her! "That is very kind of you to say," she added on. She knew that he did not know just how much the words meant to her . . . for he did not know he was the very man she hoped to seduce! But there was sincerity thick in her tone and reaction as she could not stop from smiling in this moment. "I am quite glad to know you like the dress." As the only man's opinion she cared about. The only man she truly cared about. Which did indeed leaed to her next question. "Is your leg well?" She asked him, wanting to be sure he was alright. "I did not mean to, startle you." Apology in her voice for the part she played which caused him injury.
[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 24, 2022 17:12:27 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"]  [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] His mother?! "Y-Your mother?" She questioned as her eyes widened, blinking a couple of times in disbelief. He was quite close to his mother and Mirela had always wished to make a good impression on her. She had often imagined that when the day came that she would meet her, it would be with her and Tobias's arms linked and he was introducing Mirela to her to see if she approved of their courtship. As a future daughter in law! Mirela had often thought of what she could say to gain her favour, how to be charming and intelligent. She had not thought to meet her so soon though having believed she would have time. But now . . . she was meeting his mother! "Sir, I am hardly presentable to meet your mother," she said, slightly frantic over the thought of Misses Knightly seeing her so disarrayed.
While she was at least grateful he was not taking her directly home in this state, she was suddenly overcome with nerves. Swallowing nervously she looked at nothing in particular in front of her, mind racing as she tried to think of how she could rectify her disheveled appearance! She would have to over compensate with charm for his mother would certainly not be impressed with her beauty. "Thank you kindly for offering, Sir but perhaps it would be easiest for everyone to just drop me at your publishing house. I would not wish to cause inconvenience to your mother." His mother! Clearly the most important person in his life and . . . she could not meet her in this state! [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 23, 2022 2:51:22 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] Mirela smiled once more at his words of what would happen if another publisher sought her out, and the lengths that Knightly would go to in order to keep her in his employment. The thought was a thrilling one . . . but she also knew he was speaking in context of work. Of adding to the already massive success of his paper. She wanted him to see her beyond a writing girl. She wanted him to see her as Mirela. His Mirela. "Well he would most certainly have to take me against my will, for I am emphatically committed to you Mister Knightly," she told him. The words though light, still held a sincere undertone to them that was not difficult to detect. For she meant it. Every part of it. Besides, her commitment to him surpassed that of merely an employee. She was committed to him: heart, body and soul. "Even if it is just to save your fists from harm," she added on more playfully, so not to risk revealing too much of her true feelings towards him. Despite how bold she had grown over time, mainly due to her attempts to seduce him . . . she still did not hold the courage to admit it was he that she was aiming to win the heart of. How many times she had started letters to him to confess her feelings, only to burn it in the fireplace out of cowardice and fear of rejection.
At least right now, she had hope that she could gain his affections. If she scared him off prematurely, it would be devastating. The conversation grew more serious as she fell silent to listen to his words. Once that touched her heart and made her want to blurt how just how much he meant to her. He truly did not know. He did not know how he plagued her thoughts and how her heart beat for him and that each breath she drew was with hope that he would love her as she loved him -- if that was indeed even truly possible. Was he right? Should she stop hiding? Should she just, confess to him . . . tell him the truth? Be free of this, suffocating misunderstanding. His unawareness that he was the man that she spoke of. For as everyone else seemed to know, so should he too. But then his last spoken words, caused her to remain silent. What if he was right? What if Tobias would never truly see her? What if . . . he was not meant for her?
The thought of having to let him go made her heart ache in a way she had not thought possible. She quickly averted her eyes from him, feeling the threat of tears at the mere thought of never being with him. But . . . what if he was indeed right. What if, he would never ever love her. "I must have hope," she said in a whispered voice, perhaps to convince herself more than convince him. "I have to believe . . . there is a chance." But, what if there was not? What if the length of time it took to win him over was simply because it was an impossible task? "Do you . . . believe that there could be a chance?" He did not know it was him yet she would still hold his words dear. She valued him, and his thoughts. All he had previously said made her heart swell with emotion at the prais, the flattery. But now . . . she was all too aware that his words also had the power to break her heart and shatter it into a million pieces. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 23, 2022 2:31:44 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] The poor man! It truly must be bad for he was cursing and then placing distance from her -- presumably because he did not wish for his pride to be wounded as his injury was. Or perhaps to keep her from being concerned! Such a sweet thought indeed. Despite what one may assume from him due to his stoic nature, he truly was a thoughtful man! It only made her love him even more and wish to help him. He did not need to hide this from her! She would not judge him nor think him any less masculine for becoming hurt in her presence. The poor dear. If only he would allow her to help. He said that he needed to walk it off, but Mirela was unconvinced. His tone indicated that he was still in pain, hurting . . . strained. Oh how she could not bare it! "Is there anything I can fetch for you to help?" She asked, defying his nonverbal indication for distance as she stepped towards him again. "To help ease the pain I mean," she added on sympathetically, concern upon her features and tone of voice. His question brought her back to why she had even come into his office. Once again . . . her plan had miserably failed. She had planned to be sensual, seductive, alluring . . . and it had not worked.
None of this had worked! Alas, if nothing else, she at least managed to capture his attention in that briefest of moments that prompted him to drop the board. She supposed she should count that as success, but still, the disappointment of her failure was there. Yet it would be selfish to wallow in such a feeling when the man who owned her heart was hurting. Maybe she could help distract him from the pain through conversation! "Indeed," she said with a light smile. "What do you think of it Sir?" She asked as her smile grew a little, becoming slightly more playful. Perhaps this would take his mind off of things. And, perhaps she was fishing a little bit for him to reveal his thoughts. Selfish indeed but if it also served to help him, then the motivation was not solely for her own self interest. "Do you think . . . he would find it, satisfactory?" Continuing to step towards him. How oblivious Tobias was, for all she cared about was whether he liked it. Whether he thought it nice. Whether he thought her beautiful in it. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 23, 2022 2:10:04 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] Mirela listened intently as she said that he ignored, and then went on to say that her question was not an easy one to answer. She felt a brief wave of disappointment come over her, expecting it to be all that he would say on the matter. But the feeling was brief and fleeting for much to her delight and interest, he continued. She quite liked the thought, of him being displeased with seeing her with another. For it to elicit feelings for her with the realization that he wanted her and wanted her only with him. Just as she only wanted to be his. Yet, the thought of him bursting in a room when she was with another made her . . . fear of the aggression that could ensue. The potential anger and exchanged words, or worse. Attacks of fists. "I would not want a man to fight over me," she said in a quiet voice. Realizing the cockiness in that statement and with the reality of her life where that would never happy, she quickly added. "Not that anyone would." Her words would at least reference nicely to her previous objection to telling her brother. Mislead assumption that it was because she did not wish to see him fight the other man. "I simply mean that I would not wish for anyone to get hurt." She had not thought of that. That jealousy could lead to such aggression and violence.
"I simply . . . wanted him to notice." To see her. That was all. Which, had very clearly not worked or happened even remotely to how she dreamed it would. She slowly nodded her head at his next question. "Advice about a man's jealousy and how to elicit such passion from him." Instead, it had her in the company of the very man while she looked a mess. His next words caused a little burst of laughter to escape from her and a blush to colour her cheeks at the flattery of his words. "You grant me far too much credit Sir," she said shyly. But, she liked that he thought of her as such. That he believed in her so highly that he thought others would be concerned for her. "If Lady Whistledown does not catch wind of it first, then I will most certainly offer a warning to any others who may befall this, misconception." Her tone was light, almost playful at the thought. She casted her eyes upwards, watching him, his expression, before her eyes landed on his lips and seemed to sit there for a moment before shyness took over and she abruptly looked back down. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 23, 2022 1:58:29 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] Mirela was unsure what sort of action she expected, or desired. Perhaps a lingering gaze. Perhaps a compliment of how she looked today. She well knew that a confession of love was perhaps a bit too premature but that would most certainly be the ideal reaction! So many questions and so much anticipation built within her. What she did not expect, was for him to drop a board and then hurt himself! Oh dear! she had not wanted him to get hurt! She jolted a little with a surprised gasp at the injury more than the dropping of the board. Her thrill over his reaction subdued due to her concern for him. "Mister Knightly!" She exclaimed with concern. She did not think twice before rushing over to where he stood. She loved him, and the thought of him being hurt in any way was unbearable. She moved to stand in front of him, having recognized that it seemed to be his leg which he had hurt, due to his reaction and his hunched over stance before having straightened himself up.
She leaned forward so that her upper body was lowered and she was on eye level with his leg. "Are you alright? Is there any tear?" It would indicate how much it may have pierced him. What she had not realized, was the angle she now presented herself as. Mirela had attempted as such with the way she leaned over on his desk but now, she was perhaps even more on display with his elevated height and her lowered one towards his leg. Her mind did not even consider this for she was far more concerned for his well being. "Does it hurt, Sir?" She asked, slowly raising herself so that she was standing straight once more . . . though now realizing how tantalizingly close she was standing to him.[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 22, 2022 23:27:45 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] Weekly! She knew he had said it before but hearing it again just made it all feel more . . . real. As if this was actually happening! That this was happening to her! For so long her life had felt like a mundane endless string of tedium. Nothing to look forward to, no hope of escape -- not even through marriage. And now . . . now, he was giving her a reason to get up in the morning! A reason to be excited! Something to look forward to! Something to work towards! It was all so incredible and she wondered if he realized just how much this meant to her. Perhaps not, but she would reveal it through her diligence and dedication to the role he was offering her -- should all go well. Mirela knew it was dangerous to get her hopes set too high. She was even still wondering if this was all some cruel joke. "Payment?" She repeated curiously, as if she did not understand the word when in actuality, she had not expected it.
She had been so overjoyed over the prospect of simply contributing that she had not even considered payment! She would get paid? Her words were worth coin? Foolish that she had not thought of it but her motivations had clearly not been monetary. "Yes . . . of course . . . payment," she quickly attempted to rectify though she knew a subtle woman she was not. "I will not let you down Sir!" She said excitedly. "I can retrieve the letters from here." Not just as a convenience but also, to conceal this from her own family. They could not know of it for they would not approve and disallow her to participate in any way. "Is there . . . anything I need redo for the next issue?" She asked, referring to the paper he had possession of, and curious to know if she need make any amendments to it. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 22, 2022 23:14:33 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","clyrics"] tag ● Tobias Knightly notes ● let me know if you'd like me to edit anything!! [attr="class","cbody"] Mirela knew she was not a beautiful woman. Not only on account of her brother's criticisms while they grew up -- comments of her skin being too pale. Her freckles unflattering. Her hair coarse. Her figure bizarre. But, recently more so because she knew if she was indeed beautiful . . . then perhaps she would have caught the attentions of Mister Knightly by now. Now she did not think him a shallow man -- however he was still a man. How she envied the women who could lure a man's gaze simply by making themselves present. The way they dressed, the way they spoke, the way they walked . . . every mannerism seemed to draw their attentions and Mirela found herself wishing, longing that she could do the same. She had asked her readers to assist her in seducing her employer and among the latest bits of advice . . . came a rather intriguing one. So no; Mirela may not be pretty but she was a woman. And a woman could indeed use her female attributes -- the ones that all women possessed -- to perhaps draw attention to her. Mainly, the attention of just one man. That was all she desired! She would be well satisfied if she did not gain the gazes of countless other men. But it seemed that her target was perhaps the most difficult one to obtain. Her love for him however, kept her determined. Motivated. Goal oriented.
It brought her to this moment of starting in the mirror. Most of her appearance was the same, with the exception of her clothing. She often wore attire with high collars buttoned to cover her neck. A professional and modest look. But she had recently used her savings and bought a very different styled dress. One that exposed her neck and her upper chest . . . one that accentuated her breasts. Many women did it and Mirela had decided that surely, she could do the same. She lacked the same grace as those confident enough to wear it and know how to use it -- how to use their god given qualities. But Mirela truly hoped, that this was enough. That it would at least cause him to stare and look at her; to let his gaze linger on her and . . . allow her to feel seen by him, even if it was just for a second. Taking a deep breath -- which was quite noticeable with how her bosom heaved -- she wrapped a shawl around her and made her way towards the publishing house.
She felt quite self conscious walking there, but not as much as she did once she arrived and removed the shawl, folding it and casually setting it to the side. Mister Knightly was in his office as usual and Mirela just stared at the door for a moment. Her hand went to the back of her head to flatten any stray hairs as she shifted her shoulders, and straightened her back. She may lack confidence but surely she could mask it. Walking with such sureness would only lend success to this plan. Clutching the papers to be edited in one hand, she fisted her other gloved hand and gently knocked on the door. Granted entrance she casually walked inside, a smile upon her lips which -- was not unusual. How was possible that he grew more and more handsome each day she saw him. "Mister Knightly," she greeted sweetly as she stepped closer to him. "I have my latest column prepared." She moved closer to the desk, purposely leaning forward a little more than she usually did to set the papers down in front of him. [googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass] |
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The Writing Girl
"Dear Miss Mirela..."
Personal Text
Middle Class
Rank
Advice Columnist
Involuntary Maid
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
she / her
Tag me @thewriter
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Post by Mirela Camden on Jan 22, 2022 22:59:13 GMT
[attr="class","cbg"] [attr="class","cbgtop"] [attr="class","cimg"] [attr="class","clbox"] [attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more [attr="class","cscript"] ❀ it is sure to come true ❀ [attr="class","cline"] [attr="class","cbody"] He had felt jealous before? She wanted to ask him details. She wanted to know what made him jealous . . . but in order to feel jealous, one had to hold affections for another. And she knew, that this was an area she still required work in. For him to develop such affections for her. She knew that he clearly cared for her, this present situation evident of that. But she longed to be something more to him. Something more than just a foolish writing girl who was attempting to seduce a man with nothing but failures to show for it. "And, how did you react to it?" She inquired, wondering if that was reaching. If she was prying too deeply into his past or emotional states. For a man so stoic, she wondered if it was easy for him to speak of feelings . . . but she had to at least take advantage of this moment and try.
And in return, she owed him honesty to her question. Though the inquiry made her gaze drop from the continued embarrassment she felt. "Y-Yes," she shamefully admitted. "I thought it would gain his attentions." And, it had in a way . . . but not the way in which she had wanted it to. He found her not when she was looking her best, but perhaps at her worst. "But it was foolish, for it did nothing of the sort," she admitted in defeat. "Would you ever feel jealous if a woman you desired was in the company of another man?" Is that what ignited his jealousy? She doubted she would try this again anytime soon but . . . it was indeed a curious thing. To learn the minds of men in such matters.
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