Isaiah Cornwall Rose IV (murse) wrote in britannia_ny, @ 2009-08-15 10:47:00 |
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Current mood: | bored |
Current music: | David Mead ~ Only in the Movies |
Accidental Arrivals (Closed RP)
((EDIT: Now NSFW. It's Tristen and Isolde. What can I say?))
The town of Britannia, Isaiah thought, really could use a face lift. It was nice enough, sure, if one was into the cutsey, Hallmark moment store fronts with...
Oh. Hello. Hot guy half naked in a window. Building something, but that was hardly what Isaiah's eyes were on. Idling in his black Jeep - mother had insisted on a Bentley, and Isaiah, as always, had decided to be passive-aggressively obstinate - incredibly grateful for the red light, Isaiah allowed himself an eyeful.
Mmm. Now that was more like it.
Anyway, face lift. Absolutely. Maybe not the full thing - there was a certain charm to small towns that Isaiah could appreciate - but quite possibly some sort of town Botox. Just a little something to make it fresh and modern.
Like, oh, he didn't know - a bar that didn't focus exclusively on cheap beer and played something other than Carrie Underwood when the manager wanted to cater to the young people? Not that he had a problem with Carrie. Come on, Before He Cheats was a standard. But sometimes it was nice to get a little variety, was all he was saying. His family had had a summer home on the lake outside of town for nearly his whole life, but Isaiah never found much reason to wander outside of the grounds lately. Right then, he was just looking to get to the house, which was gloriously empty of tulle or seating charts or catering samples, and spend a week absolutely, deliciously alone.
Well. Alone in the philosophical sense. Isaiah sincerely hoped he'd find some kind of distractions.
The rain had started up half an hour ago. It wasn't even the nice kind of summer sprinkle that made one want to curl up with a nice iced coffee inside and watch the rain. It was a downpour that was causing Isaiah to seriously reconsider his plans for the week, because nothing said downer like rain on his last week of summer freedom.
Isaiah Cornwall Rose IV was set to get married in two months, two days, and about sixteen hours. He and his bride to be, Margaret Elizabeth Kingston, had delayed their engagement for as long as humanly possible. Well, possible in their world, Isaiah knew for a fact that other people, in other situations, could have held out much longer. Or, quite probably, not been in this situation at all. But for people like them, the outside length an engagement could wear on without setting a definite date (which must be, according to his mother, no more than a year and a month after the engagement party) was eight months.
Appearances were, after all, everything.
Maggie had been brilliant about the whole thing, of course, Probably because she didn't want to get married, either. Oh, they liked each other well enough. They'd been friends since she was born and Isaiah was three, trying his damnedest to haul baby Mags around like a wonderful, life-sized doll, while both of their respective nannies chased after him. But love, love like one was lead to believe happened in marriages, was pretty much out of the question.
Isaiah being horrendously, totally, and fantastically gay probably had something to do with that.
Still, neither one had expected much more out of their lives. They were lucky it was each other, they'd agreed on more than one occasion, lifting their glasses in a teasingly somber toast. They would have the required offspring and then live, quite amicably, in separate bedrooms, having discreet affairs and properly fabulous parties. Such was their lot.
The light changed and Isaiah very reluctantly pulled his gaze away from Carpenter Hottie (why yes, he'd named him; he always did like to give his potential lust objects pet names, it cut down on confusion) and hit the gas. A little too hard. The roads were slick, his tires spun, and all of a sudden Isaiah shot through the intersection far faster than he'd intended.
Which would have been fine, really, except apparently a man had wandered out in front of his vehicle.
Oh. This probably would end badly.