GARDENS & FIELD

[||ADMIN AL||]

GARDENS & FIELD

[/font]


Just off the porch are the gardens, covered in frost. The back field is located here as well which is the location for the fireworks display.[/size][/center]

[JANE EYRE]

;;outfit;;

Yet another event that Jane felt obligated to attend, this time for something of import. She had made the decision to start to transition out of teaching and into something else. That something else was a not-for-profit gallery that only showed student art work and a charity that went along with it. Unfortunately, for the charity to make the kind of impact Jane hoped it would, she had to hobnob with the elites, trying to garner support for the cause.

Unfortunately for Jane, this really wasn't her idea of a fun evening.

She wore reasonably sized heels but they were heels none the less. Her poor, thin ankles wobbled and teetered as she made her rounds, mingling and laughing with everyone. She sipped water after having to politely declined champagne at every turn. She was tempted to accept it once just to see how it tasted but Jane adhered to the rules and only drank water. Jane lasted a whole forty-five minutes in the crowds before she had to escape to deal with her burning ankles and aching legs.

Instead of running to the library or sun room like she would have done, Jane wanted to make sure she wasn't around anyone as she focused on getting her legs back to feeling normal. Excusing herself politely, Jane made her way through the manor, ducking away from the people, leaning on the wall lightly to keep herself steady.

Through a few twists and turns, Jane stepped through a set of beautiful French doors into the crisp night air. Gasping in the cold air, Jane stepped out into the shallow dusting of snow, glad for choosing close toed pumps instead of the more strappy ones she had been pressured into wearing from her neighbor and fashion consultant now. Slowly, Jane ventured forward, the snow crunching softly under her toe. There was a fountain, the water frozen over, and Jane thought it would be a lovely place to sit for a while.

Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders just a bit tighter to fend off the chill, Jane made her way to the fountain. Bending just a bit, Jane hastily wiped the snow from the stone edge and sat down. With a sigh Jane stretched her legs out in front of her and rolled her ankles, deftly pulling her nerve pain medication from her handbag and taking her scheduled dose.

The garden was quiet though the din of the party was in the background. Jane found herself rather enjoying it.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

2011 marked the twentieth year since Richard had been in the war. He had returned to New York and to a time of perpetual peace under his brother's reign, a time that had made him resort to murder to escape. And yet here Richard was, at a party, a prime example of all the mirth and frivolity he so despised.

It wasn't an unusual means of escape, coming to a New Year's Eve party. Many people found their escape in alcohol, in meeting friends, dancing the night away. But not Richard. Most definitely not him. Yet there he was, following in the footsteps of hundreds as he attempted to escape his thoughts. This too was unusual, considering Richard's solitary nature - often he regarded himself as the only person with whom he could hold a halfway decent conversation. But now he could not handle thinking the same thoughts over again; the murder of his brother, losing the election, the voice of his conscience, his deteriorating relationship with Anne...

They had arrived together of course, in order to keep up appearances. But they had broken apart from each other not long afterwards, as though they could not bear to be around each other for any longer than necessary (though this feeling, of course, hadn't shown in their faces). Anne's deception and her insistence she was seeing someone else had led to another fight still in recent memory, and she and Richard had barely talked since then - it was only a matter of time before they spoke again however, if arguing can be classified as such.

Despite the fact the noise and bustle of the party were doing their bit in freeing Plantagenet from the confines of his mind, he did not find it an altogether pleasurable experience. It was too noisy, too crowded, and although Richard could very well have skulked in a corner all evening as was his wont, he soon found himself leaving the room in order to get a breath of fresh air.

Donning his coat over his suit, the jacket of which bore a number of medals from the war, including his Gulf Medal and the one he'd earned for leading the patrol that had cost him the ability to walk without a limp, Richard made his way out into the back gardens and the cold night air, inwardly cursing his own pride for urging him to leave his oft-unneeded walking stick at home.

Although the grounds were lonely and seemingly devoid of occupants, the noise of the party still remained in the background - distraction enough. The light dusting of snow that coated the ground was pleasant to walk in with the noise it made, though soon enough Richard found himself needing to sit down awhile -his leg was causing him more pain than usual that evening.

Seeing the fountain not too far ahead, Richard made his way haltingly over towards it. It was as he drew closer that he noticed someone else already sitting there. Surprised but not dettered at this unexpected development, Richard brushed some snow from the fountain's edge and sat down himself, with a simple nod at his companion in an attempt to cover up a slight wince of pain.

[JANE EYRE]

Jane had her head tilted up to the sky, smiling as the chilled air colored her cheeks and the stars twinkled. This was something she missed dearly from England. English winters were lovely and not unlike this evening at the party's manor. The snow fell ages ago and now it was just part of the scenery, melding into the background and becoming part of her as she sat out there. It was calm and peaceful; not inspiring, not agitating, nothing insane or intense. It was just serenity in a snow dusted garden.

Jane heard someone step out onto the snow, the subtle crunch of the snow giving them away.

Jane twisted to see who it was and knew the face was familiar but didn't know where from. He walked with a limp and made his way to the fountain, sitting on the edge as well, nodding his greeting. Jane smiled at him and nodded back, pretending not to notice the wince of pain. She understood that far too well.

Jane kept watching the stars for a while, letting her new companion sit in peace for a while. Glancing at him again, Jane realized where she knew him from.

"Pardon me, but aren't you Richard Plantagenet?" Jane hadn't been particularly adamant about following political races but remembered Tormei's face and his opponent's face as well. The man on the fountain with her was the loser, unfortunately for him.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

The woman sitting at the fountain smiled and nodded but otherwise made no attempt at conversation. This suited Richard well, as he found himself enjoying the stark whiteness and calm of the gardens, as though they had been frozen in time. It was strange to suddenly be so calm considering his recent fury and Plantagenet found himself smiling, if only inwardly, for the first time in several weeks.

However, this peace could not last. Respites such as this never seemed to with him. The woman, who had turned her attention elsewhere, had now returned her gaze to him and spoken, asking him to confirm his identity.

"Pardon me, but aren't you Richard Plantagenet?"

Momentarily, Richard wondered how she could know who he was; he had never seen her before in his life. It was then that he came to the only logical conclusion - she would know him as the losing party in the election. How long had it been since Tormei had won? Two months? Three?

He turned his gaze from the expanse of the garden to the woman's face, smiling weakly and extending his black-gloved good hand for her to shake.

"Indeed. And you are?"

Considering his assumption that she only knew him as the loser of a recent election and the fact that he wasn't in the best of moods, Richard managed not to sound bitter and instead simply curious. It had been some time since he had had what could be deemed a normal conversation such as this - arguments with Anne and discussions of Mafia business with Hector did not count.

[JANE EYRE]

So, she had been right, it had been Richard Plantagenet. Jane leaned over and shook his hand lightly. "Jane Eyre." She introduced herself and redirected her gaze to the frosted field in front of her. "Sorry for intruding," Jane smiled sheepishly and pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders. She had only wanted to satisfy her curiosity really, she hadn't meant to disturb him.

Jane didn't vote, she couldn't vote. She still had a few years of living in the country then a handful of interviews, an exam, a swearing in, and then paperwork to complete before she could vote. For what it was worth (and Jane sure it was worth almost nothing) Jane would have voted for Mr. Plantagenet. Mayor Tormei advocated too much change far too quickly. Jane had had enough sudden change in her life to want something more gradual. Not that Jane objected to the mayor's policies, not really. Individually they were fine. There was just too much being forced to change in too short a time.

Jane's hands restlessly smoothed the skirt of her dress down. She got cold rather easily and when she was somewhere nippy, she had to keep moving to keep from getting too cold. Poor circulation was nuisance. Her hands kept smoothing down her dress, stopping every so often to fiddle with her hair when a gust up wind kicked up and tangled it around her face.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

"Jane Eyre. Sorry for intruding,"

Richard would have said she wasn't intruding (although, in truth, she was) - he wouldn't have minded having a stab at a conversation. However, Jane Eyre had already redirected her attention to the gardens. Retracting his hand to adjust the collar of his coat, Plantagenet did the same.

Silence. It was calm, peaceful, serene. Under any normal circumstances Richard would have appreciated it. Yet his thoughts made him determined to break it. He knew why he had decided to leave the party...why had Jane? A terrible conversation starter, but a conversation starter nonetheless. As he turned to pose the query, however, he noticed Jane's continued restless movement and posed an entirely different one.

"Are you quite alright, Miss Eyre?"

It wasn't in Richard's nature to be kind; he was a heartless man with an aptitude for plotting to murder people his disliked. Yet with that question he sounded concerned for Jane's welfare. Perhaps the party was having the desired effect after all.

[JANE EYRE]

Jane kept rubbing her hands together or rubbing her legs, trying to stay as quiet as she could. She didn't want to bother Mr. Plantagenet but it seemed like she didn't do a very good job at it.

"Are you quite alright, Miss Eyre?"

Jane looked over at him and nodded, smiling politely. "I'm fine. Poor circulation." Her hands were very thin and pale outside, a hint of blue creeping into her fingernails which she never painted. "My hands get cold easily, I have to keep warming them up." Jane shrugged a little and chided herself. She should have brought gloves or at least a decent coat. All she had was her wrap and while it really wasn't that cold, it was just cold enough to bother her hands.

A little embarrassed at having disturbed Mr. Plantagenet, Jane lowered her head and studied the bits of snow clinging to the hem of her dress and her shoes. It was a nice little contrast, but not enough to hold her attention really.

"So, what brings you out here and away from the festivities? I would have thought someone as well known and esteemed as you would have been quite the popular conversationalist in there."

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

"I'm fine. Poor circulation. My hands get cold easily, I have to keep warming them up."

Were Richard any other man, that probably would have been his cue to offer Jane his gloves or something similar. But Richard wasn't that sort of person, so he simply nodded in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner - he of all people could sympathize with ailments- before returning his attention to the gardens.

It was only as he observed the snow-encrusted grounds once more that Richard seemed to feel the cold himself, despite his coat and gloves. But then, perhaps it wasn't just the cold of the night air he felt - there had been a certain coldness in his demeanour for years - was it only now, attempting polite conversation, that he had realized it?

"So, what brings you out here and away from the festivities? I would have thought someone as well known and esteemed as you would have been quite the popular conversationalist in there."

Richard laughed before speaking again, in a rather self deprecating manner.

"To tell you the truth, Miss Eyre, I do not enjoy such frivolity as this, though one would assume someone in my position should. Am I to assume you are of a similar frame of mind?"

He did not care to elaborate on her use of the word popular. He wasn't and never had been, especially not now with Hector in power, but he realized pointing this out would come across as rude...and for once in his life Richard didn't want that.

[JANE EYRE]

Jane was glad that Mr. Plantagenet didn't make a big deal about her ailment. Some people were very kind and would have offered to help, but Jane was simply uncomfortable by it. She was more than happy to deal with her problems on her own but she couldn't always do that. Jane kept rubbing her hands together quietly, still looking out over the snow.

"To tell you the truth, Miss Eyre, I do not enjoy such frivolity as this, though one would assume someone in my position should. Am I to assume you are of a similar frame of mind?"

Jane smiled and nodded, relating to that sentiment completely. Jane preferred simpler things, big parties like this weren't exactly her idea of fun. Jane liked small, informal gatherings. Things like this where everyone wore fancy clothes and did their hair and make up made Jane feel like she was surrounded by play actors, not people.

"I'm here for business purposes, this isn't exactly my sort of gathering, typically." Jane was sure he could tell. Her posture, her demeanor, it smacked of someone made for simpler things having been raised in a simple life.

"I came out here because I didn't want to clog up the main room." Jane admitted somewhat sheepishly. Because of her need to sit at regular intervals, she was worried that she would just be in the way in the main rooms.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

"I'm here for business purposes, this isn't exactly my sort of gathering, typically."

Richard nodded. He had only come for an attempt at a reprieve, Jane had only come for the purposes of business. They were both strangers to the enjoyment of such events but unlike many others they were both content to be so.

The mention of business purposes surprised Richard. Looking at Jane he wasn't able to deduce what sort of business she dealt in (then again, who could do as such at an event like this, with everyone in their finest?). What purpose of business would lead Jane to attend this gathering if she was not partial to such?

"Business purposes?" he repeated, a question rather than a statement. "What sort of business is it that you deal in, Miss Eyre?"

"I came out here because I didn't want to clog up the main room."

Richard too used to share this sentiment, his position considered in light of Edward's in his day, not to mention his ailments, but deigned it best not to voice such concerns and leave Jane to answer his previous query.

[JANE EYRE]

"Business purposes? What sort of business is it that you deal in, Miss Eyre?"

Jane looked over at Mr. Plantagent and gave a small shrug. "It's a charity, really. I've come to raise awareness and to hopefully gather a few donors." Jane picked at her shawl and looked back off at the fields. It wasn't a business at all, really. It was giving back to the community that had kept her from going completely insane after moving to New York. Her students were her everything.

This charity was for them, really.

The gallery, the scholarship fund, the free classes, it was all for them. Jane smiled at the thought and suddenly she didn't feel as cold.

"I'm...was, an art teacher, you see. I got that job during a rather difficult time in my life and I owe everything to my students." There was a good chance that Mr. Plantagenet honestly didn't care about this and that was alright.

It felt good just for Jane to say it out loud.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

"It's a charity, really. I've come to raise awareness and to hopefully gather a few donors. I'm...was, an art teacher, you see. I got that job during a rather difficult time in my life and I owe everything to my students."

Richard nodded.

"That sounds like a worthy cause," he replied. He could not really relate, not being the most charitable of people nor a man who could teach people anything (unless one counted teaching a lesson in the sense of taking revenge), but he felt a response such as the one he had given was needed and would be appreciated.

He could not deny he was curious when Jane mentioned the difficult time she had been through, as anyone doubtless would be, but knew it was best not to question it. Instead he simply asked,

"Have you had some success thus far, Miss Eyre?"

[JANE EYRE]

"Have you had some success thus far, Miss Eyre?"

Had she had success? Oh, Jane supposed she did. Small successes, like selling a painting here or there, having a student get into a prestigious art school, getting the gallery up and open. Those all counted as successes, yes, but not ones most people would agree with. The gallery may be running, but it wasn't out of the red zone yet, her paintings were sold in pawn shops or at some obscure charity auction, and her students did all of that on their own. Were they her successes? Not in the strictest sense, but Jane counted them.

But, she couldn't answer that to Mr. Plantagenet. "Very few to speak of and none worth mentioning," Jane smiled a little and moved her legs a bit, just stretching them out.

Not wanting to appear a selfish conversationalist, Jane had to take a moment to think of something to ask Mr. Plantagenet in return for his kind inquiries. Floundering minutely, she finally settled on what she hoped would be a safe question.

"Do you plan on returning to the political field any time soon, Mr. Plantagenet, or are you looking into a different option?"

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

"Very few to speak of and none worth mentioning,"

"Pity," Richard said simply, with a small shake of his head. He said nothing else on the matter and made no offer to help; at present his heart was not in the endeavour and his current distemper considered he got the impression he would not be able to hide this from Miss Eyre as well as he usually could.

The comptroller had momentarily returned his attention to the grounds even as he made this answer and subsequently his interest in Jane's next question was evident in the fact he turned once more to face her as well as in the way he spoke on the topic.

"Do you plan on returning to the political field any time soon, Mr. Plantagenet, or are you looking into a different option?"

"If and when the opportunity of re-election arises I certainly plan to pursue it," Richard said with a small smile, not wanting to elaborate further due to the general public overall impression of his time as mayor of the city. "As for a different option, I have been involved in politics all my life, as have the rest of my family - other options have never really been a matter for consideration." It was only as he said this that he recalled Harry Chandler mentioning how he would be well suited to doing voice overs 'if the mayor thing fell through'. He mentioned this in an offhand, joking manner as though to lighten the mood - politics was never the most entertaining of topics.

Involvement in politics, however, was a very loaded phrase, not that Jane would know this. It not only referred to Richard's time as comptroller or mayor but also to the power politics played out behind the scenes - the political assassination of the Lancastrian party leaders, Edward's murder, the rigged election...