Post by SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY on Aug 27, 2015 20:26:58 GMT
Sir percival blakeney
The Prologue
The Scarlet Pimpernel (a humble wayside flower) is a fitting name for the man who in his own small way is helping the cause over in France. This man was christened as Sir Percival Blakeney, and is known among the British Aristocrats for being a fop and a dandy. He has worn his mask for so many years that the lines between Sir Percy and the Pimpernel have become blurred. He often wonders which he truly is, for both his persona's have mirrored aspects of each other.
Into the looking glass
Percy has very distinguished features, his high cheek bones and pale blue eyes, can be traced back several generations. He is very much the image of his father; the only distinguishable feature he inherited from his mother was his blue eyes, although it has been noted his lips are fuller than any of his ancestors. His hair is a raven black and it reaches just below his shoulders, he always wears it neatly tied back with black ribbon. No one would say that Percy was conventionally handsome and his slender build can often be a hindrance.
Apart from his wedding ring, the only other item of jewellery Percy wears is on his little finger. One side is plain, but when turned it has the emblem of the Scarlet Pimpernel, a way to confirm his identity to those who question it.
Percy is a master of disguise and has perfected the art of hiding his identity through wigs and prosthetics. He often disguises himself as Peddlers and low class citizens of France, generally as someone whom a high-class person wouldn’t look twice at. He uses fake noses and wigs to change his appearance just enough that no one would recognize him.
Sir Percy is extremely vain about his appearance mirroring the Pimpernels vanity about his reputation. Sir Percy loves fine cloth, well-tailored suits and the latest fashions. Heaven forbid if his cravat is even slightly out of shape and the cuff of a coat is very important, after all appearance reflects the quality of a gentleman.
Sir Percy is known throughout Europe as a fop and a dandy. He is an extremely over stated man who loves making a scene and causing a fuss. He is the best friend of the Prince of Wales merely because of his entertaining quips and tendencies to make rhymes about anything. Fashion, gambling and cricket are the most important things in his life, and he often makes long speeches about the importance of ones cravat and how cricket could deter the most determined of revolutionary’s. Percy enjoys making a scene and an exhibition of himself, his current favourite topic is the Pimpernels impoliteness in bringing all the Frenchies to England. The more outraged Percy becomes by the Pimpernels exploits the stronger his disguise. He does however, enjoy stirring the Pimpernels reputation up as much as he can, for his own entertainment. He enjoys making presumptions at balls about who the Pimpernel is, why he does what he does and much more, taking it to the extent of writing a poem about him.
Perhaps one trait that Sir Percy and the Pimpernel have in common is vanity; both of them are extremely vain proud men. Because Percy has had to destroy his image to keep the Pimpernels identity secret, he does all he can to promote the Pimpernels reputation. His arrogance is shown through his every move, he holds himself with the grace and stature of a finely bred aristocrat. As a result of his arrogance, he often finds himself in sticky situations, but his quick wit usually gets him out of trouble as his strengths do not lie in brawn.
He has a highly stressful life, but wouldn’t change it for anything because he knows he is doing something worthwhile. Percy has quite a temper on him, however he only shows it when under a lot of pressure, and rarely raises his voice. Percy is incredibly headstrong; once he gets an idea into his head it will be damned impossible to change it. Determination is the key to him succeeding in his dangerous mission; he has never given up on anything and does not intend to start now. Percy does not take his friends for granted, he knows he is incredibly lucky to have such a loyal league and if one of them was to be captured he would do all he could to rescue them. Sadly, though men have been lost for the cause, which is when Percy reminds himself that they knew of the risks.
Percy’s major flaws lie in his arrogance and the way he indulges himself in hearing the talk of the Pimpernel. Nothing satisfies him more than stirring gossip among the ladies and having people defend the Pimpernels actions while he as Sir Percy trashes them. Sometimes he is too quick to judge other peoples actions and has often misread a situation as he assumes the worst. His headstrong sensibilities often cause him to butt heads with others as he has to stir a situation if something isn’t to his liking.
The sport
Sir Percy's hobbies include many things such as confounding frenchies, collecting cravats, writing poetry, rhyming, duelling, sailing, cricket, rescues and impossible situations.
Please don't talk about science with him, he deems it as tedious as tedious gets. He greatly dislikes gunshot wounds, poorly tied cravats, Monsieur Shuffle-on...Chauvelin and the current state France is in.
He loves being the centre of attention at social parties, jumping off high walls into haystacks, his wife, the league, gambling and new cravats.
The story
Sir Percy Blakeney was born with a title, money and many privileges other children wouldn’t receive. He was born into one of the richest and most respected families in England. His father was very high up in court and a well-respected man, while his mother took pride in keeping Blakeney manor one of the most stately homes in Britain.
Appearances can be deceiving, although they appeared to be the perfect family underneath the surface there was a lot of tension between Percy’s parents. It became apparent when Percy had reached his tenth birthday that his father often kept mistresses at the home, although he didn’t fully understand the situation he knew it was the cause of the upset among his parents. Percy rarely saw his parents together, formal occasions were the rare opportunity’s he would, but it was clear the love between the two was dwindling. Percy was lucky enough to have a mentor through his younger years that taught him not only Maths, English, French, Science, History and Geography but taught him to fence and shoot. It was obvious from an early age that he was talented in the art of fencing and his mentor often mentioned to his father that Percy would benefit greatly from attending one of the more prestigious boys schools in Europe.
When Percy reached his twelfth birthday, his father agreed to send him away to one of the better boy’s schools. There he was educated in all subjects as well as taught in social etiquette, fencing, shooting and horse riding. His time at the private boy’s school was well spent, he not only learnt all the skills he would need later in life but made many friends and connections that would later use.
He left the private school aged twenty having stayed on to mentor many of the younger boys. His father wrote to him explaining that his mother was gravely ill,and Percy rushed home to be with her in her finial days. It was in those moments he truely understood his mothers condition. It was a disease of the mind that had plagued his mother since he was a young boy. It didn’t take long for Percy’s father to move one of his mistresses into the family home, much to his disgust. Unable to cope with his father’s life style, Percy spent the next five years attending court. He managed to gain himself a wonderful reputation; his personal life had been a source of great interest among the court. Percy found all the chatter incredibly amusing and started to play it up eventually making him-self known as one of the biggest dandies in England. The role entertained him, it was almost a private joke with himself, as he mocked the more foolish of his kind.
At the age of twenty five Percy inherited the huge Blakeney fortune, his father had passed away as a result of his lavish lifestyle. A boating accident.
The problems in France were beginning to grow worse, and eight years later Percy realized someone needed to do something about it. While this thought stayed in the back of his head he was invited to a dinner of the Flanders regiment at Versailles, it would be the last time he would have an audience with the royal family before they were executed. During that dinner and the after party a woman by the name of Marguerite St. Just had caught Percy’s eye. During several of his speeches about the idiocy of the revolution Marguerite had challenged him, and the whole confrontation had greatly amused him. It would be another year before he would see Marguerite again but he certainly wouldn’t forget her.
During that time he started recruiting men to help him fight for the people, hundreds of innocent people were being murdered in France that he couldn’t do much about but he could save members of aristocratic families who didn’t deserve to die. Who were good people.
He recruited men from aristocratic families who felt the same as he did, building up alliances with people in France and having weapons made. While he trained the men he continued to keep his reputation going as Sir Percy, the fop. For who would believe that Sir Percy was recruiting a small army of well-trained men to save people from the guillotine in France? He had made good friends with the Prince of Wales and spent any free time he might have amusing the Prince and attending parties alongside him.
It was then he met Marguerite again, she was spirited and Percy had fallen completely for her. Whenever she attended a party his eyes would follow her around the room and he found himself spending more and more time with her at parties. He knew he could eventually trust her with his secret. It was a stoke of luck that Percy rescued Marguerites brother and she invited him to her party. Of course Chauvelin tried to disrupt Percy plans, but the Frenchie was no concern of Percy's. He knew where Margots heart lay.
His first mission to France went smoothly; he had rescued two aristocratic women from right under the guard’s noses with the help of the league. Boldly he travelled back to France determined to ask Marguerite for her hand in marriage. He proposed to her one fine Sunday morning. She accepted and they married almost a week later. Percy was ecstatic until the third day of their marriage were he learned that Margurite had given up the names of a royalist family in France and they had been executed.
Percy’s heart was torn in two. One part of him loved Marguerite greatly, no matter what she had done. The other part of him resented her for making him love her so much and betraying a cause he prized so dearly. He knew he couldn’t trust her with his secret and so began to treat her as if she were someone at court. As if he really was Sir Percy. He found his life turning down the path of his parents; although he would never take another lover he could see the hurt in his wife’s eyes whenever he would push her away with his ‘Sir Percy’ attitudes.
Perhaps it was fate that caused Marguerite to realise that Percy was in fact the Scarlet Pimpernel. She followed him to France worried she had given him away to Chauvelin. Through his disguise as Sir Percy, he was able to escape Chauvelin and he and Margurite returned to England.
Many plots and rescues continued over the revolutionary years. Until the king was placed on the throne and Percy hung up his mask. Although its seems like it won’t remain hung up forever.
Sneak preview
The night had been a long one for Percy; he’d spent half the evening pacing the library arguing with himself. Was he doing the right thing? Shutting Marguerite out pained him dreadfully. He’d promised her when they first married that she would get to see the Percy that no one else saw, but how could he remove the mask when his own wife was a traitor? Every day was becoming harder and harder, he could see the confusion in her eyes as he became more and more distant. When Pimpernel business cropped up he would fob her off with excuses such as he needed to visit his tailors as the shoes didn’t fit correctly and the buckle wasn’t exactly to his liking. He knew, however she wasn’t dim, ‘od’s fish! That’s why he’d married her! When she entered a room all eyes were on her, he remembered the first time he saw her. She was sat across from him at a dinner, she’d the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and skin as white as ivory. He had admired her greatly for her conversational skills, and knew one day he would marry her.
How things had changed, how could he trust his wife now? Why had she betrayed the St. Cyr’s? He had all these questions and no way of finding an answer. The clock struck one, the chimes echoing around the room like the tolling of a bell. He knew he couldn’t leave it much longer, he hoped she would be asleep now so he wouldn’t have to carry on with his charade. He hated climbing into bed next to her and seeing the perplexity in her eyes as he blew out the candle and turned to sleep exclaiming that he was exhausted from a days sailing or something similar. He was considering suggesting separate rooms so that he could at least avoid this painful confrontation.
He dragged himself up the stairs and was relived upon entering the room to see Marguerite asleep, a candle was burning dimly on the table next to her and a book open at the page she had been reading. He quickly changed into his night clothing and removed the book from her fingers gently careful not to wake her. She seemed so peaceful, her face relaxed and almost vulnerable looking. How could she have sent the St. Cyr’s to their death?
He blew out the candle and slipped into bed beside her. Sleep didn’t seem to want to come, his thoughts kept mulling over the past few months events. And now one of his most dangerous missions was fast approaching even now he had men in France preparing to help him rescue the Dauphin from the clutches of the revolution. What if he never returned? Would he ever get to tell Marguerite how much he loved her? Not being able to show ones affection was the most difficult thing of all.
It was about an hour later his mind still reeling over these thoughts that Marguerite started to toss and turn. Her mouth opening in a silent scream, this disturbed Percy greatly but he was powerless to do anything about it not wanting to wake her but watching her in such distress bothered him dreadfully.
His eyes eventually became heavy and he drifted off to sleep…
He awoke to the sound of movement in the room and sunlight streaming in through the window. Blast! He thought, he’d slept in. Usually he tried to rise before Marguerite did to avoid the early morning banter. He opened his eyes to see Marguerite stood gazing out of the window; a flicker of admiration crossed his face before he covered quickly with a disdainful look.
"My apologies I did not mean to wake you. Do you stand any chance of getting back to sleep or would you like me to call for some tea as the cook will already be up at this time."
Percy raised an eyebrow at her remark, “Sink me! I for one wouldn’t be able to consider tea before tying my cravat!” he said sitting up in bed and placing his hand under his chin-surveying Marguerite with amusement. “Every morning should be started with a fresh Cravat tied firmly under ones chins, how else are we meant to distinguish ourselves from the lesser mortals?” he asked shaking his head with embarrassment.
Percy found it difficult to keep his eyes upon Marguerite as he said this, he could handle seeing other people’s reactions to Sir Percy but Marguerites was the worst. He rose from the bed and walked with confident grace to the sink were he ran some cool water over his face.
“Did Lady Blakeney have any engagements for today?” he enquired as he gazed into the mirror and started to prune his hair into shape. Bed hair wasn’t his best look and Percy prided himself on being immaculate, his long dark strands of hair had fallen out of place and he began to retie his ponytail with a peace of simple black ribbon.
Your Alias: Slayer
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Time Zone: GMT+1
The Scarlet Pimpernel (a humble wayside flower) is a fitting name for the man who in his own small way is helping the cause over in France. This man was christened as Sir Percival Blakeney, and is known among the British Aristocrats for being a fop and a dandy. He has worn his mask for so many years that the lines between Sir Percy and the Pimpernel have become blurred. He often wonders which he truly is, for both his persona's have mirrored aspects of each other.
Into the looking glass
Percy has very distinguished features, his high cheek bones and pale blue eyes, can be traced back several generations. He is very much the image of his father; the only distinguishable feature he inherited from his mother was his blue eyes, although it has been noted his lips are fuller than any of his ancestors. His hair is a raven black and it reaches just below his shoulders, he always wears it neatly tied back with black ribbon. No one would say that Percy was conventionally handsome and his slender build can often be a hindrance.
Apart from his wedding ring, the only other item of jewellery Percy wears is on his little finger. One side is plain, but when turned it has the emblem of the Scarlet Pimpernel, a way to confirm his identity to those who question it.
Percy is a master of disguise and has perfected the art of hiding his identity through wigs and prosthetics. He often disguises himself as Peddlers and low class citizens of France, generally as someone whom a high-class person wouldn’t look twice at. He uses fake noses and wigs to change his appearance just enough that no one would recognize him.
Sir Percy is extremely vain about his appearance mirroring the Pimpernels vanity about his reputation. Sir Percy loves fine cloth, well-tailored suits and the latest fashions. Heaven forbid if his cravat is even slightly out of shape and the cuff of a coat is very important, after all appearance reflects the quality of a gentleman.
Sir Percy is known throughout Europe as a fop and a dandy. He is an extremely over stated man who loves making a scene and causing a fuss. He is the best friend of the Prince of Wales merely because of his entertaining quips and tendencies to make rhymes about anything. Fashion, gambling and cricket are the most important things in his life, and he often makes long speeches about the importance of ones cravat and how cricket could deter the most determined of revolutionary’s. Percy enjoys making a scene and an exhibition of himself, his current favourite topic is the Pimpernels impoliteness in bringing all the Frenchies to England. The more outraged Percy becomes by the Pimpernels exploits the stronger his disguise. He does however, enjoy stirring the Pimpernels reputation up as much as he can, for his own entertainment. He enjoys making presumptions at balls about who the Pimpernel is, why he does what he does and much more, taking it to the extent of writing a poem about him.
Perhaps one trait that Sir Percy and the Pimpernel have in common is vanity; both of them are extremely vain proud men. Because Percy has had to destroy his image to keep the Pimpernels identity secret, he does all he can to promote the Pimpernels reputation. His arrogance is shown through his every move, he holds himself with the grace and stature of a finely bred aristocrat. As a result of his arrogance, he often finds himself in sticky situations, but his quick wit usually gets him out of trouble as his strengths do not lie in brawn.
He has a highly stressful life, but wouldn’t change it for anything because he knows he is doing something worthwhile. Percy has quite a temper on him, however he only shows it when under a lot of pressure, and rarely raises his voice. Percy is incredibly headstrong; once he gets an idea into his head it will be damned impossible to change it. Determination is the key to him succeeding in his dangerous mission; he has never given up on anything and does not intend to start now. Percy does not take his friends for granted, he knows he is incredibly lucky to have such a loyal league and if one of them was to be captured he would do all he could to rescue them. Sadly, though men have been lost for the cause, which is when Percy reminds himself that they knew of the risks.
Percy’s major flaws lie in his arrogance and the way he indulges himself in hearing the talk of the Pimpernel. Nothing satisfies him more than stirring gossip among the ladies and having people defend the Pimpernels actions while he as Sir Percy trashes them. Sometimes he is too quick to judge other peoples actions and has often misread a situation as he assumes the worst. His headstrong sensibilities often cause him to butt heads with others as he has to stir a situation if something isn’t to his liking.
The sport
Sir Percy's hobbies include many things such as confounding frenchies, collecting cravats, writing poetry, rhyming, duelling, sailing, cricket, rescues and impossible situations.
Please don't talk about science with him, he deems it as tedious as tedious gets. He greatly dislikes gunshot wounds, poorly tied cravats, Monsieur Shuffle-on...Chauvelin and the current state France is in.
He loves being the centre of attention at social parties, jumping off high walls into haystacks, his wife, the league, gambling and new cravats.
The story
Sir Percy Blakeney was born with a title, money and many privileges other children wouldn’t receive. He was born into one of the richest and most respected families in England. His father was very high up in court and a well-respected man, while his mother took pride in keeping Blakeney manor one of the most stately homes in Britain.
Appearances can be deceiving, although they appeared to be the perfect family underneath the surface there was a lot of tension between Percy’s parents. It became apparent when Percy had reached his tenth birthday that his father often kept mistresses at the home, although he didn’t fully understand the situation he knew it was the cause of the upset among his parents. Percy rarely saw his parents together, formal occasions were the rare opportunity’s he would, but it was clear the love between the two was dwindling. Percy was lucky enough to have a mentor through his younger years that taught him not only Maths, English, French, Science, History and Geography but taught him to fence and shoot. It was obvious from an early age that he was talented in the art of fencing and his mentor often mentioned to his father that Percy would benefit greatly from attending one of the more prestigious boys schools in Europe.
When Percy reached his twelfth birthday, his father agreed to send him away to one of the better boy’s schools. There he was educated in all subjects as well as taught in social etiquette, fencing, shooting and horse riding. His time at the private boy’s school was well spent, he not only learnt all the skills he would need later in life but made many friends and connections that would later use.
He left the private school aged twenty having stayed on to mentor many of the younger boys. His father wrote to him explaining that his mother was gravely ill,and Percy rushed home to be with her in her finial days. It was in those moments he truely understood his mothers condition. It was a disease of the mind that had plagued his mother since he was a young boy. It didn’t take long for Percy’s father to move one of his mistresses into the family home, much to his disgust. Unable to cope with his father’s life style, Percy spent the next five years attending court. He managed to gain himself a wonderful reputation; his personal life had been a source of great interest among the court. Percy found all the chatter incredibly amusing and started to play it up eventually making him-self known as one of the biggest dandies in England. The role entertained him, it was almost a private joke with himself, as he mocked the more foolish of his kind.
At the age of twenty five Percy inherited the huge Blakeney fortune, his father had passed away as a result of his lavish lifestyle. A boating accident.
The problems in France were beginning to grow worse, and eight years later Percy realized someone needed to do something about it. While this thought stayed in the back of his head he was invited to a dinner of the Flanders regiment at Versailles, it would be the last time he would have an audience with the royal family before they were executed. During that dinner and the after party a woman by the name of Marguerite St. Just had caught Percy’s eye. During several of his speeches about the idiocy of the revolution Marguerite had challenged him, and the whole confrontation had greatly amused him. It would be another year before he would see Marguerite again but he certainly wouldn’t forget her.
During that time he started recruiting men to help him fight for the people, hundreds of innocent people were being murdered in France that he couldn’t do much about but he could save members of aristocratic families who didn’t deserve to die. Who were good people.
He recruited men from aristocratic families who felt the same as he did, building up alliances with people in France and having weapons made. While he trained the men he continued to keep his reputation going as Sir Percy, the fop. For who would believe that Sir Percy was recruiting a small army of well-trained men to save people from the guillotine in France? He had made good friends with the Prince of Wales and spent any free time he might have amusing the Prince and attending parties alongside him.
It was then he met Marguerite again, she was spirited and Percy had fallen completely for her. Whenever she attended a party his eyes would follow her around the room and he found himself spending more and more time with her at parties. He knew he could eventually trust her with his secret. It was a stoke of luck that Percy rescued Marguerites brother and she invited him to her party. Of course Chauvelin tried to disrupt Percy plans, but the Frenchie was no concern of Percy's. He knew where Margots heart lay.
His first mission to France went smoothly; he had rescued two aristocratic women from right under the guard’s noses with the help of the league. Boldly he travelled back to France determined to ask Marguerite for her hand in marriage. He proposed to her one fine Sunday morning. She accepted and they married almost a week later. Percy was ecstatic until the third day of their marriage were he learned that Margurite had given up the names of a royalist family in France and they had been executed.
Percy’s heart was torn in two. One part of him loved Marguerite greatly, no matter what she had done. The other part of him resented her for making him love her so much and betraying a cause he prized so dearly. He knew he couldn’t trust her with his secret and so began to treat her as if she were someone at court. As if he really was Sir Percy. He found his life turning down the path of his parents; although he would never take another lover he could see the hurt in his wife’s eyes whenever he would push her away with his ‘Sir Percy’ attitudes.
Perhaps it was fate that caused Marguerite to realise that Percy was in fact the Scarlet Pimpernel. She followed him to France worried she had given him away to Chauvelin. Through his disguise as Sir Percy, he was able to escape Chauvelin and he and Margurite returned to England.
Many plots and rescues continued over the revolutionary years. Until the king was placed on the throne and Percy hung up his mask. Although its seems like it won’t remain hung up forever.
Sneak preview
The night had been a long one for Percy; he’d spent half the evening pacing the library arguing with himself. Was he doing the right thing? Shutting Marguerite out pained him dreadfully. He’d promised her when they first married that she would get to see the Percy that no one else saw, but how could he remove the mask when his own wife was a traitor? Every day was becoming harder and harder, he could see the confusion in her eyes as he became more and more distant. When Pimpernel business cropped up he would fob her off with excuses such as he needed to visit his tailors as the shoes didn’t fit correctly and the buckle wasn’t exactly to his liking. He knew, however she wasn’t dim, ‘od’s fish! That’s why he’d married her! When she entered a room all eyes were on her, he remembered the first time he saw her. She was sat across from him at a dinner, she’d the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and skin as white as ivory. He had admired her greatly for her conversational skills, and knew one day he would marry her.
How things had changed, how could he trust his wife now? Why had she betrayed the St. Cyr’s? He had all these questions and no way of finding an answer. The clock struck one, the chimes echoing around the room like the tolling of a bell. He knew he couldn’t leave it much longer, he hoped she would be asleep now so he wouldn’t have to carry on with his charade. He hated climbing into bed next to her and seeing the perplexity in her eyes as he blew out the candle and turned to sleep exclaiming that he was exhausted from a days sailing or something similar. He was considering suggesting separate rooms so that he could at least avoid this painful confrontation.
He dragged himself up the stairs and was relived upon entering the room to see Marguerite asleep, a candle was burning dimly on the table next to her and a book open at the page she had been reading. He quickly changed into his night clothing and removed the book from her fingers gently careful not to wake her. She seemed so peaceful, her face relaxed and almost vulnerable looking. How could she have sent the St. Cyr’s to their death?
He blew out the candle and slipped into bed beside her. Sleep didn’t seem to want to come, his thoughts kept mulling over the past few months events. And now one of his most dangerous missions was fast approaching even now he had men in France preparing to help him rescue the Dauphin from the clutches of the revolution. What if he never returned? Would he ever get to tell Marguerite how much he loved her? Not being able to show ones affection was the most difficult thing of all.
It was about an hour later his mind still reeling over these thoughts that Marguerite started to toss and turn. Her mouth opening in a silent scream, this disturbed Percy greatly but he was powerless to do anything about it not wanting to wake her but watching her in such distress bothered him dreadfully.
His eyes eventually became heavy and he drifted off to sleep…
He awoke to the sound of movement in the room and sunlight streaming in through the window. Blast! He thought, he’d slept in. Usually he tried to rise before Marguerite did to avoid the early morning banter. He opened his eyes to see Marguerite stood gazing out of the window; a flicker of admiration crossed his face before he covered quickly with a disdainful look.
"My apologies I did not mean to wake you. Do you stand any chance of getting back to sleep or would you like me to call for some tea as the cook will already be up at this time."
Percy raised an eyebrow at her remark, “Sink me! I for one wouldn’t be able to consider tea before tying my cravat!” he said sitting up in bed and placing his hand under his chin-surveying Marguerite with amusement. “Every morning should be started with a fresh Cravat tied firmly under ones chins, how else are we meant to distinguish ourselves from the lesser mortals?” he asked shaking his head with embarrassment.
Percy found it difficult to keep his eyes upon Marguerite as he said this, he could handle seeing other people’s reactions to Sir Percy but Marguerites was the worst. He rose from the bed and walked with confident grace to the sink were he ran some cool water over his face.
“Did Lady Blakeney have any engagements for today?” he enquired as he gazed into the mirror and started to prune his hair into shape. Bed hair wasn’t his best look and Percy prided himself on being immaculate, his long dark strands of hair had fallen out of place and he began to retie his ponytail with a peace of simple black ribbon.
Your Alias: Slayer
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Time Zone: GMT+1
