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Apr 17, 2023 16:22:00 GMT
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 7, 2022 21:05:03 GMT
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 7, 2022 20:59:06 GMT
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 7, 2022 20:54:10 GMT
[ ✪ ] our muses are stuck in locked room together.
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 7, 2022 20:50:26 GMT
A Moment of Weakness
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 7, 2022 20:49:26 GMT
A Moment of Weakness
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 7, 2022 0:03:40 GMT
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soft | It was not as though anyone had ever spared them a second glance before. When they sat too close to one another, or when they led each other to various places by the hand. Each tiny action that caused Penelope's heart to sing, was insignificant to them. Friends held hands constantly, young ladies could forget themselves and were observed being overly affectionate among their friends frequently.
Perhaps if anyone noticed the pair of them holding hands, they would not spare them a second glance. But Penelope knew that if they lingered long enough, witnessed how they looked at one another, then it would be another matter entirely.
Friends did not look at one another like that.
"You are not afraid of what people might think?" she questioned, leaning across the table so that she could keep her voice low. It was admirable how confident she was, how she could be unapologetically herself, unafraid of what others might think of her.
Her smile slipped a little when Eloise suggested that she would not want to hold her hand. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I wish to hold your hand" she argued, before noticing the grin on her face, the challenge in her eyes.
Taking a steadying breath, she cast a look around the room. She saw no sight of her mother, nor her meddlesome sisters. Then slowly, she reached to slip her hand into Eloise's, her face alighting with newfound glee at even the smallest of gestures.
Thumb stroking over Eloise's knuckles, she watched the people moving around the dance floor with practiced elegance. "I should think I would like very much to dance with you" an impossibility, but a lovely dream. "Do you not wish for that sometimes?" the act of dancing with gentlemen was taxing, a chore that they had to endure to appease their mama's, but the idea of dancing with each other was a magnificent feeling.
It was a lovely dream. |
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 5, 2022 22:49:42 GMT
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| For as long as she could remember, she had loved Eloise Bridgerton. It had started out as such a tentative thing, all nervous energy and stolen glances. When she could never have imagined such feelings being reciprocated. She still remembered how it felt to have those feelings validated, to know that Eloise did in fact love her in return and had for a while.
In the back of her mind, Penelope knew that they could never be together. Society would never allow it, but her heart would not accept that as fact. How could she possibly entertain the thought of marriage when the person she longed to be with would never be her betrothed.
It did not matter how many suitors her mama presented to her, none of them would ever compare to Eloise.
She desired nothing more than to take Eloise's hand. It had been all she could think about on their walks, when they walked so close that their hands would brush. They would share a smile and revel in the idea that no one else in the world knew the thoughts playing on their minds. She had been too afraid to take Eloise's hand then, and she was too afraid now.
It was why she did not reach for her now, even as Eloise made the suggestion, even as she glanced around the crowded room and saw that everyone was too caught up in their own trivial affairs to pay them any mind. "We can't, what if someone sees?" she whispered across the table, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 2, 2022 1:10:12 GMT
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if any | The moment the door slammed shut, Penelope turned, attempting to stifle the sound of her cries behind a gloved hand. She could not hold back the tears that seemed to flow freely now that there was no audience to witness them.
Eloise's words cut deeper than any blade could ever hope to reach. Carving deep wounds into her very soul, wounds that felt as though they might never heal. Penelope could not pretend as though she did not enjoy her position as Lady Whistledown, she had loved the buzz about the ton with each publication. The way she could illicit such passionate reactions from her readers, spreading gossip that was strategic in a way most would never be able to wrap their heads around.
She had loved it, but she had never been prepared to sacrifice her relationship with Eloise for the sake of it. In fact, she had been ready to stop, to throw it all away for her.
Looking about the ransacked room, she recalled the fear she felt when she realized her secret had been discovered. Yet, the first thought through her mind when Eloise began to question her was not that her cover had been blown. Instead, it had been solely focused on the idea that she would lose her.
Wiping at her face, angry at the stubborn tears that continued to fall, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She had ruined everything, and now the one person whom she cared for above all else, the one person she loved had walked out of her life... For good.
She knew that she was not supposed to feel this way about her friend. For the longest time she had denied those feelings existed, refusing to acknowledge them for what they were. But how could she continue to be dishonest with herself, when she could not keep from smiling whenever Eloise stepped into a room, how her heart skipped a beat upon hearing her name fall from the brunettes' lips.
Penelope's heart felt like it might shatter to think that she would never illicit a laugh or smile from Eloise ever again. That their only interactions going forward would be of resentment and bitterness.
The door opened behind her, and she turned, sucking in a breath when she saw Eloise standing once again in her room.
I wish never to see or speak to you again.
That was what she'd said to her, so why had she returned?
Penelope did not have a chance to speak before Eloise was ranting again, and for a moment her heart sank. Believing that she just wished to argue further, that she had not finished that first time. Wiping at her wet cheeks, she shook her head adamantly. No.
"No, I do not believe a word of it, not a word" she insisted, her voice rising in volume as if that might convince her of the truth that they held. "I never meant to hurt you El, I was trying to protect you" of course now it seemed foolish that she had not just disclosed her identity as Lady Whistledown to her best friend. It seemed a simple solution, but she had liked the secrecy, she had revelled in the thrill of no one knowing she was the writer behind it all.
"Do not do that! Do not assume to know me! Do not assume to know of my feelings!" hurt and frustration gave way to anger, it boiled beneath the surface of her skin, subtle at first and then red hot. She knew nothing of her feelings, of how she struggled to find her own place in society. Eloise only seemed to think about herself, and how things would affect her. Now she dared to stand there and tell Penelope how she felt.
She hesitated when Eloise blurted out that she had loved her. Words that once Penelope would have given anything to hear, but now just felt hollow. They were empty words that no longer meant what she hoped they would.
"And I loved you... But that hardly matters now, does it?" it had never mattered. They could never be together, and now there was no reason to continue along the path of hope, it was a fool's dream. "I made a mistake, it was a mistake, and I'm so sorry that I ever hurt you" she was sorry that she had hurt Eloise, but she was not sorry that she had created Lady Whistledown. She was not sorry that she had kept El from coming to harm, even if she was arguably at fault for placing her in the firing line. |
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Nov 1, 2022 23:21:46 GMT
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see, no angst. I'm nice. | It was apparent that her mother did not believe her capable of attracting a suitor. It was clear in the way she prioritized her older sisters on the marriage mart. Penelope did not trouble herself with such a realization, mostly due to the allowances it granted her.
She had asked her mother if she might call upon Eloise that morning, and at first, she feared her request would be denied. But it quickly became apparent that Lady Featherington had other things playing on her mind, and those thoughts did not involve her youngest daughter.
Penelope had been shown inside by a maid and allowed to go straight upstairs to Eloise's room. It was not as though the staff were unaccustomed to her calling, she spent so much time around the Bridgerton girl.
"Surely, she cannot be that bad?" a smile played at the corners of her mouth upon entering the room to hear her friend complaining about her younger sister.
Walking across the room, she settled on the bed beside Eloise. She seemed particularly animated that morning, and soon she discovered why. "I take it you have?" she prompted, wondering what her thoughts were on the latest publication. "What did you think of it?" it was unlike Eloise to censor her thoughts on such matters, she could always count on her for an honest account of her thoughts. |
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Post by Penelope Featherington on Oct 19, 2022 22:57:32 GMT
| ~ • ~ | Character Basics | ~ • ~ |
.:Name:. Penelope Featherington .:Nick Name:. Pen .:Rank:. Nobility .:Age:. 17 (s1)
| ~ • ~ | Appearance | ~ • ~ |
.:Physical Appearance:. The first thing many notice about Penelope Featherington are the bright yellow gowns that her mother insists she wear, though they do little to flatter her pale complexion. Beautiful as she is, Penelope often finds herself overlooked due to her habit of hugging the wall at the many balls she attends each season. Of course, if you pay attention at such gatherings, you may find much more than just a husband. .:Height:. 5'1'' .:Portrayed by:. Nicola Coughlan
| ~ • ~ | Personality | ~ • ~ |
.:Personality:. Penelope is a kind-hearted girl whose warm nature has earned her favour from those fortunate enough to count themselves her friends. She is often labelled a wallflower, quiet and soft spoken. Though that may be due to the outspoken almost obnoxious presence of her older sisters, whose teasing is only encouraged by their dear mother, which promotes her silence. Penelope does not crave the attention that many other ladies seem to thrive off of, preferring to go unnoticed and ignored, only spending time with those whose company she actually enjoys.
Penelope hides an intelligence behind a mask of compliance, always doing as her mother asks, never arguing or doing much to arouse suspicion. It suits her just fine to be underestimated, and in her spare time she writes. Honing her craft to a fine art and using it to address the ton each season with tales of scandal and no one is ever the wiser that it is she, who pens each article. .:Skills:. Writing, Observation skills, Compassionate, Cunning, Intelligence .:Weaknesses:. Willing to cross lines and justify herself even if her actions were morally ambiguous, sensitive to criticism, her mother, too trusting.
| ~ • ~ | History | ~ • ~ |
.:Birthplace:. London, England .:Family:. Archibald Featherington - Father Portia Featherington - Mother Prudence Featherington - Sister Phillipa Finch (nee Featherington) - Sister .:Occupation:. Writer .:History:.
The youngest Featherington daughter, she has gone most of her life with her mother's nit-picking and criticism. She is often viewed as the ugly duckling of the Featherington brood and as such, her mother has shown little interest in finding her a marital match. Focusing on her older sisters who are about as bland as the gowns that are thrust upon them in some far-fetched attempt at making them appear more desirable, or perhaps to draw attention away from their abysmal personalities.
Penelope does not desire the same attention as her older sisters, preferring to blend into the background and observe the goings on around her, the act of finding a husband a distant thought. Why would she bother pursuing the affections of a man when the one man whose attentions she would welcome, has little interest in seeking much more than friendship from her.
Men do not wish for their wives to read or write; those are not desirable traits in a Lady. But those are the only things that bring Penelope joy on days when her mother's cutting words leave scars that might never truly heal, and so she has resigned herself to the idea that she might never marry. Dedicating her life to her works, channelling her efforts into writing about the ton's most scandalous gossip season after season.
| ~ • ~ | Member Info | ~ • ~ |
.:Name or Online Alias:. Seren .:Your Pronouns:. She/her .:Are you 18+:. Yes .:How Did You Find Us:. I live here.
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