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A Failure of a Ball


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Helena Charlotte de Rochefort perked a brow upon this particular missive, one she did not recognize amongst the copies of Petit Potins - though amongst her evening of pleasant chatter with the Sir Otis de Rosius [ @0TI5 ] and Adrian de Sarkozy [ @MrChenn] her brow did perk "I must say, it is nice that this developed writer sees clear in their vision, that they are able to execute just opinions in most regards."

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The Duchess of Cathalon bowed her head a couple of times as Amadea spoke - a gentle, yet somewhat absent-minded gesture. Leopoldine seemingly was busy signing and organizing the many documents when the pamphlet fell from the pages of one of them. Her eyebrows furrowed as she reads over the page. "Hmph..." somewhat disgruntled at what had been written on the paper, she gazed up. "You must prioritize your own health over some seemingly mediocore ball, Your Imperial Highness. I am sure His Imperial Highness only wishes for what is best for you..." @Ivoreyy

 

Anne Caroline's parrot brought the missive to her. The Princess briefly gazed over it before letting out a cackling laugh. No further words were spent on the cowardly display of unprompted criticism towards Anne Caroline's own person. Thus, she stepped towards the heck of her ship, a sigh drawn from her. With squinted eyes, the unusual Novellen gazed over the horizon - and at that moment she knew; no matter what sharp tongues may say about her - Anne felt pleased with the choices she had made to lead her to where she was right now.

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8 hours ago, Princess Cardi said:

It should also be noted that “Knight” Edwin de Sarkozy was quick to blame Anton and demanded his apology and roughly grabbed the man’s arm. These actions are not what one should expect from a night, I was quite disappointed.

 

"I was in the wrong." Said the Knight, giving a sigh. "I must find Anton and offer him my apologies."

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*Alex pays such innacurate writing no heed as it didnt mention his dance with Borys the golem*

 

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Alas, Henry was safe and sound in his Manor, a good mile or two from where is senile and haggard mother, Natalia @shay, whom was surely in a fit of momentary rage. As that Draskovic looked about the tabloid, a grin kept upon those cheeks. "How foolish. I, Henry Joseph Draskovic-Kovachev, would never court, my cousin. Imagine, that would be truly absurd."  Henry, after exclaiming such to himself (as one does), tucked away that tabloid. "Rather bold of them, though. Respectable, some might say. I ought to find whoever wrote this and offer them the greatest of thanks." At that, Henry would pucker his lips, tuck away his Playman™ guidebook, and head downstairs. 

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