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She turned her palm into his hand and squeezed back, looking into his eyes and she said, "I am not worried about what society thinks. If Mister Blacke is the brother of Joeseph Blacke, by chance, his family is in the pages of the gazette and I think she would be in good hands. As for me..." She paused and then squeezed again but did not relax her hand for the rest of what she would say.
"It isn't true what they said and you can prove that. In fact, she may very well have been seen by locals in a man's company. I am not fragile like most of the ladies who attend that school. I have nothing to hide and we should not let them have our dignity. Besides, you do know that many servants live for gossip, right? Gossip spreads if it is truly something of this magnitude..."
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Those Blackes? In other circumstances that would have improved his opinion of Mr. Blacke. As it was, he didn't care about the soldier. Not right now. His sister wasn't hearing him. He withdrew his hand and got up, his breakfast practically untouched. "I don't give a damn about our dignity. It's violence I worry about. Pack your things. I need to check on Pippa." And with that, he left the kitchen to go pick up supplies from the consulting room.
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Member
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Pronouns: She/Her
Age: 26
Occupation: Secretary
Height: 5'6"
Registered: Nov 2021
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She stood up and followed him to the other room, her anger boiling over. "If you are so scared, you may go. I will leave this house only since its clear my welcome has been worn out, but I am not running away with my tail between my legs like you want. I am not a coward." She said it in such a tone that brooked arguing at one's own risk, and she did it with her eyes glittering dangerously with her keeping her temper in check. And then she turned on her heel, not caring if he responded, and stormed to her bedroom (if one could do it politely, she did it that way) to get get her few remaining things in the bag she had come with. It would only take her a moment to grab her already packed things and unless Tris blocked her exit, she was gone from the house in the next few moments.
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Tristan closed the cupboard he had just opened. It was tempting to argue with her unfair portrayal of the matter, but he held his tongue. The most important thing was that she left, he reasoned. He could reconcile with her later. If it would be long before she'd speak to him again, he could live with that. But he'd never forgive himself if she came to harm. Anyway, he had to focus on Pippa.
But it was almost a full hour before he knocked on the attic door. "Are you awake, Pippa?" he asked quietly.
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Pippa opened the door, her eyes sort of tired looking, resigned even. She was in the last clean smock that still fit, if you could call the top buttons secure at all and the bottom buttons close to out of the eyes. She couldn't afford a new smock so she crossed her arms over the worst.
She stepped out into the hall and leaned against the door. "I am awake..." They way she said it made it clear she was present in the moment. In her eyes was profound emotion but without tears. She was too tired to cry. She was too tired to feel anything other than mostly numb. She swallowed audibly and her lips slightly tightened as if to keep them from trembling.
"I didn't want it to be true," she said, and the tone was indicative strongly of the death of her family. It was a frail sounding whisper that spoke louder than a scream. Then she simply started making her way toward the kitchen, pausing for him to simply let him join her with a slight nod. Her breathing was deep inhales and slow exhales. She didn't have words at the moment and even almost seemed to stare ahead of her. She moved to start putting a fresh kettle on, her movements done in a way that was practiced. It was with ease that she tidied up whether he spoke or not. She was busying herself because it was how she coped...
Each thing she had learned in a short time was with her doing a specific routine.. add a few sticks to the glowing embers to get the fire going again, adding a few of the split logs... Flames danced soon once more as she got the water, put it on... And so on without missing a beat... She just... Made herself busy in front of him, assuming he did take the silent invitation for tea. Pippa could almost feel her heartbeat in her ears, the inhales becoming deeper. The one thing she could not seem to do just yet was look at him... Looking at him would be the bringer of tears and she did not want to cry anymore.
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To his surprise, the door opened, and Pippa stood in the doorway, dressed and looking slightly better than earlier that morning, he thought. Slightly. Still, she looked miserable. She sounded miserable. Was she speaking of Penelope leaving? Had Pippa heard her?
He wanted to tell her to get back into bed. He preferred talking things through with her while she was in a safe space. But she already moved to the stairs, and Tristan remembered what his sister had told him about letting Pippa make her own decisions. He had been making a lot of decisions for her. He wanted to do so again right now. What if her legs gave way and she fell? What if she fatigued herself and her mind went into a state again? But he followed her without argument, staying close enough behind to grab her arm if he needed to. She made it down in one piece.
“Pippa…” Miss Danes, she was now, “… you needn’t do that anymore,” he said quietly, when she began to make tea. He walked over and gently touched her arm to nudge her in the direction of the bench. “Let me do that. Please sit down. We need to talk.”
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