House of Cards RP

It's been a whirlwind of a couple of weeks. Maybe a typhoon. Maybe just a broken string of things. Evan isn't really known for his subtle and well-crafted metaphors. Or his general ability with subtlety of words. Or amazing timing when he's not singing, dancing or punching.

But with the world turned upside down, it has seemed like a good time to ask the woman he loved to marry him. Which had ended exactly as anyone else in the Deck--anyone who wasn't blinded by McCartney optimism even in the pit of things--could have told him it would.

For the moment, it's the last straw he can handle.

So Evan will pack his bag after he's taken his things from Leah's room, kiss his parents good bye and call for a plane ticket. He'll slip amazingly quietly through the universe to tap at his sister's door and tell her he's leaving. Everyone else who needs to know? Can have a mass-text.

[[ooc; This post for Elani; sws for anyone who Evan would typically say good bye to before leaving. And thus begins "the McCartneys will be in South America for at least a few weeks."]]

Maggie hadn't phoned. Hadn't called. Didn't want to make a fuss. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of not coming back. But then Sebastian had been utterly sweet and utterly unreasonable and asked her to marry him.

Poor dear. She thought he'd understood.

Then news came of Itchy, and Maggie knew she was needed at home. She packed her bags, patted Sebastian on the cheek and set off. And what does the prodigal Seven do once she's back home? Why bake and garden, Darlings!


[OOC: Anyone wandering around Hearts way might be concerned when they see the windows to Maggie's villa thrown wide and the garden gate open. You can also run into her in town. She's been gone several months and needs to stock up.]

Silas is in a good mood today, and justifiably so. He managed to get through one of the imposing piles of paperwork backup, and is celebrating by singing into his pen in his office. He may have forgotten to close the door all the way, though. Oops.

Ooc: Respond here or at the link however you like, my hideous lovely kittens.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

[It was odd, being in these rooms again. She'd last been here when she had hidden that one letter in a drunken fit of... whatever it had been. The letter she wasn't sure he had found. The Honest One, not the official, cold note she had left when she'd thought she would leave the Deck for good.

Breaking into his private rooms really shouldn't be a habit like that, should it?

But it was necessary, very much so. And an official visit to Spade Castle didn't seem like a safe idea just yet, for various reasons. Besides, none of the things she wanted, no, rather needed to discuss with him mattered to anyone but them.

This... was part of her newly found (or more accurately: regained) stubbornness. Defiance. Determination. However one wanted to put it, it came down to the same thing: she had returned, and she had done so to fix things.

And part of these things was her marriage. Maybe even the most important of these things, but certainly the one thing that losing had hurt the most.
In retrospect.

She was waiting for his return, right from the door.

She'd step between it and him once it had fallen shut and he was inside, lest he'd just turn on his heel and call the guards to kick her out.]

Happy anniversary.

[Twelve years of marriage, right down to this day - if that wasn't something worth celebrating...]

Even just a day away from everything was centering, and by dusk on Saturday night, Elisha was feeling much more...even than he had been. New plans and ideas were buzzing in his head, and while he'd promised to spend a weekend away from his work, his work was still on his mind.

Still, he'd gotten out a sketchpad and settled on the couch in the cabin he'd taken for the weekend, ready to turn off his brain and get to work on other work - a mural of Israel for Elani's festival, maybe a general world culture mural too. But then his phone rang.

It took a second for his brain to start translating the Russian, but the name Athena snapped his mind to attention. He'd left after she'd arrived, so he knew, of course. And was just as glad not to be anywhere near the inevitable Spade explosion.

"Why don't you come out here," he said after a moment in fluid Russian - still accented with Israeli, as it always was with that language. "I've got steaks. And vodka."

She is a woman on a mission. A mission for something delicious and not made by her own two hands. (Someone could only have so many sandwiches and bowls of cereal before seeking sustenance elsewhere.)

The sound of her Louboutin boots echo down the hall as she marches towards the kitchen.

So, it's happy hour and there's been all sorts of upheaval in the Deck recently.

Times like these, she really did miss having Garrett around.

"Oh well," Diana muttered to herself as she opened the bar. "You'll manage, you always do."