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Poil posted:Dance dance revolutionary girl teaparty. Works for me! I'm torn between Ermengarde and Jessie for first playthrough right now honestly.
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Aug 24, 2020 21:35
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| # ? Jun 10, 2024 07:25 |
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Lavinia, because I want to crack her shell.
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Aug 24, 2020 22:14
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Poil posted:Dance dance revolutionary girl teaparty. +1
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Aug 24, 2020 22:57
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Poil posted:Dance dance revolutionary girl teaparty. +1 for me on this.
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Aug 25, 2020 03:08
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Hello and welcome back to LLP. I'm pleased to announce that we have a normal-length update this week!   Well that was certainly some...concentrated stat gain. If you get lucky with your rolls, you can really clean house.This weekend we'll be spending time with Ermengarde, who won in a landslide. I hope it doesn't tip the scales to say that Ermen is one of my favorite routes. She's just a cutie, and a sweetheart to boot.   Sara? I — I wanted to ask you something. If you're not busy. Sara raised her head and smiled. (Only Ermengarde would realise that I might be 'busy' when I am sitting and thinking.) You can always ask me things. She paused, then added. I can't always answer, though. I might not know.Good on you, Sara. There shouldn't be any shame in admitting you don't know something, though there often is. It's something I had to struggle to teach myself... and honestly I still go off more than I probably should, though I do always try to qualify my answer if I don't have a good source.  Oh. Well, I don't know if that is the only reason. I often do not say very much, and she still keeps me there for the rest of it. Some of her visitors are not very interested in French at all. Some of them prefer poetry, or want to tell me how they themselves saw India once upon a time. But sometimes, yes, Miss Minchin has guests who speak French and wishes me to converse with them. You really can speak it, then. Not just a few words or a sentence you memorise. Ermengarde's respectful tone made Sara feel a bit off’balance. She tucked up her feet, sat with her hands clasped round her knees. Oh, no, I couldn’t. I could never speak it. Why not? Ermengarde shook her head so that the pigtails wobbled. You have heard me before. I'm always like that. I just can't say the words. They're so queer. I dare say that little French girls think the same things about English, if they try to learn the language for the first time. But if you had heard it as a child —  My father, he speaks seven languages — or maybe eight. I forget. I forget everything. I always have. My father never forgets. He has libraries with thousands of volumes in them, and he knows every one of them by heart. He says that when I was very young, he used to speak to me in different languages every day because he hoped that I would learn them all. But it only made me cry. My nurse made him stop because she was afraid that he would confuse me so much I would give up on talking altogether.Uh, okay. That is not how one teaches language to a baby, first off-- her father speaking to her in a totally different language each day probably would be really confusing. No wonder she cried. Keep in mind that Ermengarde would have been largely raised by her nurse-- so to her this near-stranger would come up to her once a day and speak different varieties of nonsense, then expect her to understand it. Raising bilingual (much less...octolingual?) children requires immersion in the languages, not just prattling off some French and German once in a while.  I can't speak French, I can't recite poems without flubbing the words, my handwriting is too big and lumpy, I can't calculate quickly, I can't keep my kings straight... I'm not good at anything. But you are. You are clever, aren't you, Sara? Oh, Ermen. Sara looked out of the window into the dingy square, where the sparrows were hopping and twittering on the wet, iron railings and the sooty branches of the trees, and reflected a few moments. (People have often said that I am clever. But am I? And if I am, then how did I come to be that way?) I don’t know. I can't tell. I think that you are. I think you're wonderful. Ermengarde did not know why a lump came into her throat and her eyes felt as if tears were in them.  You’re clever, and I’m the stupidest child in the school, but I... oh, I do so like you! I'm glad of that. It makes you thankful when you are liked. She stood up from the window and took Ermengarde's hands in hers. Yes. We will be friends. The very best of friends. And I’ll tell you what else: A sudden gleam lit her face. I can help you with your French lessons. You can try... L'Opération: Étudiez Français est en cours.That conversation was a little sad, but we got an official BFF out of it. And now we know that we need to make room next to Lavinia in the garbage can, so that we can throw Mr. St.John in there. Seriously, gently caress that guy.    As the weather is particularly pleasant today, we will be taking carriages to the park for extended riding lessons. Please dress accordingly.  I have never greatly cared for horses. It is fashionable, and a lady should know at least the basics, but it is simply not comfortable. Do you ride, Sara? I would not truly say that I ride, but I have met horses, and been in the saddle once or twice. Well, I'm sure you'll learn. You learn everything, after all. I do try. Hardly the best of your backhanded compliments, Lavinia. 2/10.  Oh, I agree, it is much lovelier. Imagine being on horseback, galloping across the wild moors, long hair streaming behind you like a warrior-queen of old... Riding astride like some hoyden? Even Boadicea rode in a chariot. I think I should like a chariot.Hell yeah you would, Jessie.  A 'hoyden' is, apparently, a 'saucy' and 'boisterous' woman-- essentially, someone who doesn't conform to the incredibly restrictive ideals of Victorian femininity. Which did include riding side-saddle, never astride. English social taboos against women riding astride date back to the 14th century and Princess Anne-- the idea being that a woman riding astride must spread her legs and hike up her skirt to do so, which is lewd and vulgar.  Other than the obvious social issues, this was also insanely impractical. Side-saddle riding is infamously more difficult and less comfortable than riding astride, and gives the rider much less control of the horse. Special saddles were invented to combat this, but it was still a loving pain. Thankfully, by the early 20th century women riding astride became more acceptable, and riding astride was adopted by the women's suffrage movement as a symbol of female independence. Queen Boadicea (or Boudica) is a British folk hero who led an army of Celtic tribesmen against the Romans around 60 CE, burning Londinium (the Roman predecessor to London) to the ground before eventually being defeated. She became wildly popular during the Victorian era, with statues, paintings, poetry, and books in her honor being published throughout the 19th and early 20th century.  Miss Minchin was attempting to bring little Lottie together with the older girls, much to her displeasure. I won't go. I won’t, I won't! What a ridiculous noise you are making. Stop that at once! Shan’t! You are more than old enough to begin learning. Every student at this school is expected to — I hate horses! I won't, I wo-oh-oh-oh! If you don’t behave, you shall be whipped, just as a horse would be. No! To Sara's surprise, Lottie suddenly broke free of Miss Minchin and rushed to Sara, cowering behind her and pressing her wet face into the fabric of Sara's dress. (Is this more than just a tantrum?) Miss Minchin, please, could you let me talk to her alone? Dear Sara, you are very kind, but we simply do not have time for these... shenanigans. If you can make her mind swiftly, then do so, but it must be done. Shaking her head, she walked away. Lottie — are you afraid of horses? ... yes. Well, then, no wonder that you are upset! This cheerful justification startled Lottie enough to leave her frozen in mid-sniffle, mouth hanging open. Sara nodded, and continued: It is normal to be upset about things that frighten you. Only — I think it is also normal to try and make yourself less frightened, if you can. You wouldn't want to be afraid forever. Horses are very large, but they can also be kind and sweet. They like apples and carrots, and being petted, just like cats do. Lottie now seemed more confused than distraught.Some people are harsh on Lottie, and to be fair she at least partially deserves it. But I think the main reason she comes across as so juvenile for her age is that she's never had anyone to teach her healthier ways to deal with her emotions. She throws tantrums like a toddler because no one's bothered to help her develop emotionally since she was one-- her mother is dead and her dad seems to have dumped her at a boarding school where she is much younger than the rest of the students, and Miss Minchin is hardly an example of emotional stability. Look at how much a single line of validation did for her! She screams because otherwise, no one listens.   What — what if Lavinia won't let me? Then we shall wait until she is not looking, and while we wait, I will tell you about the horse who rescued a lost prince. She held out her hand, and after a moment, Lottie took it. I think that one day, when Sara becomes a real mother, she will be very good at it. It resembled a long wooden spoon, though somewhat thicker in the shaft, and with a solid round end instead of a bowl. What — what are you doing with that? Jessie turned the object over in her hands. Oh, Sara! Isn't it interesting? It’s from India. I know. I’ve heard there are societies for gentlemen and ladies — separate, of course — where they all have wooden clubs like these and swing them to strengthen their arms. Or even throw them at each other! Isn't that quaint? Are you sure they throw them at each other? In India, the jugglers throw them up into the air and catch them again.The object in question is an Indian club. Its traditionally exercise equipment-- descended from dummy versions of a traditional Indian mace used for training-- but in the late 1800s a white performer began using them in juggling routines, and it quickly caught on. The modern juggling club shows clear influence.  She looked at the solid wooden shape she held, then up at Miss Minchin's painted ceiling. Perhaps I ought not to try that. Where did you get it from? Lavinia gave it to me. For a moment, she cradled the club in her arms as if it were a doll. She wouldn’t tell me anything about it, though. She told me to take it, if I was so interested, and she would say nothing more.   It doesn’t seem like such hard work. Her eyes glinted for a moment with strange emotion. Imagine the blow, if you struck a man with this. What? Why? You uh, you okay there, Jessie?  We are not soldiers, and have no need to defend ourselves. There are brave men for that job. Like my papa. Yes. You are lucky, to have such a father. Sara smiled, pleased to accept any compliments for her beloved papa, and thought no more of it.As smart as Sara is, some things tend to go right over her head. I'm beginning to wonder if Ermengarde isn't the only one with a dad that belongs in the garbage can.  In lighter news, there's finally something to liven up activities selection a bit: a new option!   Voting information has been updated to reflect this change. Please post your votes for both those and who we should spend our weekend with in the thread! See you next time. 
yamiaainferno fucked around with this message at 10:56 on Sep 1, 2020 |
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Aug 28, 2020 20:03
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Tbf, Sara is only 10, so its highly unlikely she picks up on what Jessie is saying at the end. Sara's lived a pretty good life as well so such things might be unknown to her.
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Aug 28, 2020 20:17
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Tutoring, tutoring and more tutoring. Just to try it out. Oooh, this vote is difficult. Very difficult. I really really want for Sara to go riding with Jessie now. Maybe bring that club. Did someone say Boudicca? Poil fucked around with this message at 20:59 on Aug 28, 2020 |
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Aug 28, 2020 20:46
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Poil posted:Tutoring, tutoring and more tutoring. Just to try it out. +1
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Aug 29, 2020 02:48
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Poil posted:Tutoring, tutoring and more tutoring. Just to try it out. +1
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Aug 29, 2020 18:59
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Poil posted:Tutoring, tutoring and more tutoring. Just to try it out.
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Aug 30, 2020 01:29
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This game is wonderful in that all the routes are well-developed and pleasing to travel. Except Lavinia.
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Aug 30, 2020 05:57
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Hello everyone, and welcome back to LLP! Another short update today, but it's a fun one.  The game told us we could tutor, and by god did the thread decide we were going to tutor. A few other activities received one vote, and I went with the diary because it had the best chance of improving our lowest stats. Additionally, note that our stat gains from tutoring (knowledge and patience) were rather low-- because its first two options are "gain x equal to y" we had a 2/3 chance of getting nothing; though once we finally hit the third option we were off to the races. I didn't bother rerolling because our stats were so high already. We were all very worried about Jessie last update, so let's spend the weekend checking up on her.  (Has something fallen?) Opening the door, she found Jessie in mid-leap, practicing dance moves in the unused space.I hope she moved the desks against the wall, at least. I wonder why she's practicing in here? We had a dance lesson, so presumably there's a room for it-- though they could have very well just moved the desks and used the classroom then.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. That's all right. Come in — and close the door. Sara took a seat on one of the form-benches. You like dancing, don't you? All young ladies dance. She pressed a palm to her chest and sighed dramatically. In the ballroom, the beautiful but impoverished daughter of faded nobility can catch the eye of a landed gentleman, and a perfect match will be made. If you you have two left feet, then beware! You might be sent home in disgrace! Sara laughed, swinging up her feet to demonstrate their clumsiness, even though she was privately sceptical.Sceptical is the British English spelling of skeptical, which is news to me! I thought it was a typo.   (Well... Perhaps Lavinia would.) (And Jessie might agree with her. She usually agrees with whatever Lavinia says.) I'm sure people like that don't have ballrooms, but there must be something. Everyone likes to dance sometimes, even servants. I don't know very much about it. My Papa’s friends said that the dances the natives do are called nautch, and that they are impolite, and therefore the British are trying to make them stop. I have never seen such a dance. I am not sure what makes a dance impolite. Being danced by a girl who’s too pretty. In the opéra-ballet, the patrons demand pretty girls for the stage, but then because they are pretty and performing for the eyes of men, they sometimes call them... not-very-nice things. I suppose India is not so different after all.Jessie really got it in one there. Though, as I said before, part of ballet dancers' bad reputation is because many of them were indeed forced into prostitution as a necessity of their career. Though that may be a chicken and egg scenario. I'm not surprised that Jessie doesn't seem to know that particular detail; she is a child, and such things wouldn't be explicitly talked about in polite society. Nautch, anglicised from the Urdu and Hindi naatch, meaning dance, was not a traditional form of Indian dance, but a style that appeared during the Mughal era, probably in the 17th century or so, as people began to dance for entertainment purposes rather than religious. Nautch incorporated elements of religious and folk dances and was intended to be seductive, but 'nautch girls' who performed nautch dances professionally were not considered sex workers by trade, belonging to a class of their own. Nautch girls were considered beautiful and entrancing, and it was a respected profession-- the nautch became wildly popular in the 19th century, including among British officials, but in 1870s Christian missionaries began a moral outcry against the dances. By the 20th century, 'nautch girl' had become a much more pejorative term. Many of these women, now unable to earn a living practicing their trade, turned to prostitution in order to survive. Nice job breaking it, Britain. Here's a video of Ruth St. Denis, an Indian-American dancer, performing a nautch dance.  I would have liked to see a story told in dance, but my Ayah said it took many years of training and she could not show me. The ballet tells stories, too. But I can't imagine that Indian dance is anything like ballet. With a sigh, Jessie swept her long hair away so that she could sit beside Sara.Kahtak is one of the traditional dance styles of India, with a deep history that I can't begin to cover in detail. As Sara said, its choreography is meant to tell a story, and it has its roots in Hinduism. It spread from Hindu temples to the court of the Mughal nobles, where it became more complex and intricate, and mixed somewhat with nautch and other dances. It's worth noting that the British tended to lump all Indian dance together under nautch, because of course they did, and when the moral outcry against nautch began, kahtak was included. The British made a concerted effort to eliminate the dance altogether as part of the usual colonialist checklist of "invade, exploit, destroy local culture"-- but luckily it managed to survive, and made a revival with the Indian independence movement. Today the art form is alive and well, with Hindu and Muslim styles. Searching "kahtak" on YouTube will bring up a lot of results, but here's a famous kahtak scene from a famous movie.  But no English girl could ever be a great ballerina. Everyone knows that it is the French and Italians who make the best dancers.It's worth noting that "ballerina" traditionally applies only the the principal (highest ranked) female dancer of a company-- the others would be "ballet dancers" or "danseuses" (the French feminine form of dancers). It began to simply mean any female ballet dancer sometime around the 1960s. I am, however, the kind of obnoxious pedant who is still slightly annoyed by this usage.  I don't think so. Maybe you don't know all of your talents yet. I'm sure I don’t! I believe that we all have talents and strengths that we don't know, that we will discover when we need them the most. That's the way that stories work. It's magic. But I don't think that dancing is going to be one of my talents. Sara thought for a while, then walked to the centre of the room and raised her arms over her head in a graceful curve, like the ballet fifth position. Once upon a time, there was a prince who was also the sun...Well, that was fun. Dance friends!   Keep together now, girls! Form a line and wait here. Lavinia, dear, I am counting on you to maintain order. I will be only a few minutes. Yes, Miss Minchin! As Miss Minchin walked away, Lavinia raised her chin with pride. She did not notice the conversations going on around her. High indeed. The "camera" begins slowly panning up to the top at this line. It was too slow to get in a gif of reasonable size, though it is cool. The game in general makes pretty good use of its static assets-- moving them around the screen to effectively convey motion without animation.  There is a man who lives up there. The Tower Keeper. It is his job to watch over the bells and keep them clean and ready to ring. He lives there? He never comes down? Sara did not know how the tower keeper spent his days, but she had heard of wise men in India who kept vigils, and of Christian stylites who lived atop pillars. No, never. The priests bring him food and water, so that he never has to look down. He tends the bells, and he thinks about God. Because he’s so high up in the sky, sometimes, if he is very lucky, the clouds part and he can almost catch a glimpse of the land beyond. The shining city, and the fields of lilies? At this point, Lavinia noticed the two of them standing with their necks craned back.Christ. Here we go.  Sara and Lottie lowered their heads — though not, in Lottie's case, without protest. We are looking up at heaven, where our mammas are. They live in a city with golden streets and fields of lilies that everyone gathers. And they watch over us and whisper to us, and they visit the man in the bell tower. Sara told me. You wicked thing, making up fairy stories about heaven!  You — you're lying. You didn't get that story from the Bible. Read it for yourself! Streets of gold and gates of pearl, and many more things besides. Perhaps the lilies are my own invention and perhaps they aren't. But I can tell you — you will never find out whether they are or not if you're not kinder to people than you are now. What?! But Sara, perhaps feeling a bit ashamed of her burst of unheavenly temper, turned her head and refused to respond.Well then. Sara sure knows how to shut a bitch down. Not going to lie, it's pretty satisfying to have the ever-patient Sara deliver a verbal bitch slap to Lavinia like that.  Quite unconsciously, she descended the carriage steps with the grace of a queen, looking much grander than she might have imagined — if she were the sort of girl to think in great detail about how she looked. As Sara crossed the pavement, she caught sight of a dingy little figure down on the servant's area steps: a girl with a soot-smudged face, peering up at her with wide eyes. Something in the eagerness and timidity of that smudgy face made Sara look back, and when she looked, she smiled, because it was her way to smile at people. The eyes went even wider, as if afraid that she ought not to have been caught looking at a pupil of importance. The maid, if that was what she was, turned and scurried back into the kitchen, vanishing as quickly as a reverse jack-in-the-box. (Poor little forlorn thing... I wonder who she is?)I wonder indeed...  The next update may come out a little late-- it's my birthday the 6th and I'm naturally spending it with friends and family, so I won't have time to write the next update this weekend. Here is the activity information, and weekend options are below. See you next time! 
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Sep 1, 2020 10:47
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You tell her, Sara  Happy early birthday, OP! Have fun!
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Sep 1, 2020 12:03
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"And this, Lottie, is called 'claquement de doigt zed'"
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Sep 1, 2020 12:12
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Holy merde the kahtak dance footwork was incredible. As for the voting: Dance, diary and tea party Ermengarde Have a happy birthday.
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Sep 1, 2020 15:15
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Dance, Dance, Dance, Ermengarde Happy Birthday!
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Sep 1, 2020 15:31
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Senerio posted:Dance, Dance, Dance, Ermengarde 
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Sep 1, 2020 17:34
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Senerio posted:Dance, Dance, Dance, Ermengarde You know, I was hoping Lavinia's route would be well-written, but everyone here who knows better seems to hate it? Should I just give up on trying to crack her mean exterior through voting?
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Sep 1, 2020 22:09
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I have not been reading this thread but I just want to say Ive seen the title pop up over the last few days and somehow my mind immediately connected “Anime Lesbian Boarding School” to “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” and Ive had the theme song with the words replaced stuck in my head for like two days now. Thank you for your time.
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Sep 1, 2020 23:57
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Walk, Walk, Walk, Lavinia I still like her.  Happy Birthday!
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Sep 2, 2020 00:08
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PetraCore posted:+1. It's going to be seriously rough once we can't just switch between Ermen and Jessie bc the mysterious last girl shows up. I haven't played the game and I'm waiting until we finish one route before doing it myself so I don't know too much about how well the routes are written. That being said, I think it's less that Lavinia's route isn't well-written and that her mean exterior won't crack when we do her route and more that there are just other options people want to play right now. Jessie and Ermengarde are both kinder girls that appear to be really appealing to a lot of people and thus they're getting more votes than Lavinia, whose harshness can be less enjoyable. If you like her, then by all means, continue to vote for her. Don't let the majority stop you from liking who you like. Oh, and my vote is Dance, Walk, Dance, Ermengarde.
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Sep 2, 2020 01:23
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SimplyUnknown1 posted:I haven't played the game and I'm waiting until we finish one route before doing it myself so I don't know too much about how well the routes are written. That being said, I think it's less that Lavinia's route isn't well-written and that her mean exterior won't crack when we do her route and more that there are just other options people want to play right now. Jessie and Ermengarde are both kinder girls that appear to be really appealing to a lot of people and thus they're getting more votes than Lavinia, whose harshness can be less enjoyable.
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Sep 2, 2020 01:53
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PetraCore posted:You know, I was hoping Lavinia's route would be well-written, but everyone here who knows better seems to hate it? Should I just give up on trying to crack her mean exterior through voting? I wouldn't say that Lavinia's route is poorly written, but Sara's relationship with her is certainly much more fraught than with anyone else. This can be frustrating, as Lavvie does certainly make it hard to like her at times.
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Sep 2, 2020 03:07
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Lavinias route is just a retelling of I Favor the Villainess. Disclaimer: I have not played this game and don't expect this message to be true.
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Sep 2, 2020 04:29
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Sawyer9000 posted:I have not been reading this thread but I just want to say Ive seen the title pop up over the last few days and somehow my mind immediately connected “Anime Lesbian Boarding School” to “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” and Ive had the theme song with the words replaced stuck in my head for like two days now. Pre-Debutante Snippy Schoolgirls
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Sep 2, 2020 12:30
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SHOTS FIRED Tutor, Walk, Read, Mariette
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Sep 2, 2020 17:01
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Hello everyone and welcome back to LLP! Thank you so much for all the birthday wishes-- I had a good time and got some cool stuff. Sorry for the extra long delay-- it's always hard to pick a project back up after a break, at least for me, because I tend to hyperfocus on things (thanks ADHD!). I appreciate your patience in bearing with me.  Not much to say other than that we still have a ways to go in order to reach the requirements for Jessie's next event. This week we're spending time with our very best friend in the whole world, Ermengarde.   Dancing lessons... She sighed noisily, her shoulders rising and falling. I wish that being hopeless at books meant that I was good at something else instead. My father wouldn't be happy if I were only good at dancing, but at least Miss Minchin wouldn't look at me so disapprovingly. But it is only something else for me to fail at. I feel so heavy and graceless compared to the other girls. (She is heavier than the other girls, but she isn't graceless.) But I don't look right when I move my arms, and the dance masters always frown at me. Jessie is the best of us. She looks like a flower in the breeze — like a gloriosa lily. Because its petals are long and red and wavy, like her hair. They tell us we should try to move like a field of celandines. I never feel like a celandine. I know what a celandine looks like, and I am not one. They reached Sara’s room, and took seats upon the bed.It seems to me that water or something would be better imagery than a field of flowers, which are traditionally pretty stationary things. But what do I know.   Oh! A little yellow flower. That's the lesser celandine. They're not very tall, but the flowers are very bright, with lots of yellow petals, like this. She held up her hands, curling her fingers around. They come up early in the spring. They grow in great bunches in the woods, all over the ground. Mostly the leaves, but with little bright dots of flowers. The other kind is taller. Their flowers are yellow, too, bright yellow, but they only have four petals.'The other kind' is probably greater celandine, but could potentially be celandine poppy-- the two are both in the poppy family and closely related to each other, but not the lesser celandine, which is in the buttercup family. While the celandine poppy is native to the Americas, the lesser and greater varieties are not, and have become harmful invasive species there-- particularly the lesser.  What flowers grow wild in India? Oh — many kinds. Tall spikes covered with purple orchids that nod down. Flowers with petals pink as lips that grow straight up from the ground with no stems. I don't know all their names. I wish you could have brought some with you. If I had picked flowers in India before I left, they would have died and fallen apart on the ship. Ermengarde hung her head. I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea. No! I wish I could have brought you flowers to see as well.Sara's descriptions were too vague for me to pin down specific flowers, but India does have a wealth of beautiful native flora. You can click through some on this website.  Can you draw? I — I don't know. She held out her hands in front of her, examining the stubby fingers and their short, blunt nails. I wouldn't expect that I can. Your hands are so delicate, Sara. That's the way a lady's hands should be. Sara pressed her palm against Ermengarde's. Her fingers seemed almost the same length, but more narrow. Well, Emily's fingers are much rounder and shorter than yours, and she is still a lady. Your hands are stronger than mine. I am sure there are many things your hands can do that mine can't. Sara's eyes took on a mischievous glint. Only magic can do everything. (Imagine whatI could do with this school, if I really could do everything!)I really want Ermengarde and Sara to make each other flower crowns. Honestly, let's get all the girls in on it. It'd be adorable, and the kind of fluffy content we need right now.   While the temperature outside was not so great in itself, the ceaseless beating of sunlight upon little heads slowly made their Sunday dresses a difficult burden to bear. This is abominable. My complexion will be ruined. I may have to write to my father and complain! She adjusted the position of the parasol on her shoulder and sighed. No proper young lady should be forced to drudge about on foot like this. Is that not why we have horses? Miss Minchin said that horses should have a day of rest on Sundays. As if a horse would know or care what day it is! I deserve a carriage. It is the due of my rank. While it's true that horses are horses and therefore uninterested in observing the Sabbath, they still breaks to keep them from becoming overworked, Lavina. Sara-mamma, I'm ti-red. Everyone is tired. Sara-mamma, won't you carry me? You have to walk for yourself. You're too big for me to carry for long. Besides, it would be undignified. Our Sara may be many things, but she is not a horse. Perhaps you should ask Ermengarde.Hey, Lavinia?    What did I say? I was only pointing out that she seems to be handling this walk better than Lottie is. Sara looked at her friend. True enough, though Ermengarde's cheeks were as flushed as anyone else’s, she appeared to be walking steadily along without slowing or complaining. Aren't you tired, and hot? Yes. I always feel tired and hot when we walk back from church, so I'm used to it. But this walk is so much longer... It all seems the same to me. (A soldier must have great endurance, and be able to carry on through much more difficult circumstances than this. A soldier might have to walk miles in the sun, in uniform, and carry a heavy pack besides, and be ready to fight when he arrived. Our lives are so much easier, but we must be good soldiers as best as we can.) If Ermengarde can bear it, then I can bear it. If Jessie can bear it, then I shall have to bear it. What's that supposed to mean? What did you mean? ... Nothing. You have legs. Use them, the same as we are. I don't want to. No one is going to carry you, so if you don't walk, you’ll be left here all alone. And then it will get dark, and the tigers will come out and eat you up. !!!Jesus. Guess Jessie plays hardball.  Well, she likes it when Sara makes things up. Sara spoke quickly, to hed off the threat of Lottie deciding to cry and fuss. We will all have tea later in my rooms, and I will tell you stories. But first, we must return to the school — which means, we must walk. Lottie sighed, and carried on.I like the little scenes with all the girls, they're pretty cute. Especially when they give us new art.  It was that power which Lavinia and certain other girls were most envious of, and at the same time most fascinated by, in spite of themselves. And it was in service of that power that so many of Miss Minchin's students had gathered in Sara's jewel-box rooms, seating themselves on chairs or cushions or rugs to listen. The Princess sat on the white rocks beside the lagoon, with a shining white lily in her hands. And as she turned it this way and that, she watched its reflection dance across the water below. The waters of the lagoon lay still, crystal-clear and green as glass, but the Princess could only see her flower in the reflection, and never herself. So she looked, and she looked, until at last she saw a face in the waters — not her face, but the face of a merman. Sara went on to tell of the courtship between the Princess and the Merman Prince, and the girls who listened sighed sweetly and leaned their cheeks against their hands, or each other.Ew, gross. Straights, in my wlw story? It's more likely than you think. I kid, of course.  The maid was cleaner than she had been on that other day, but seemed just as frightened. She hunched by the fire, afraid even to look at the other children or appear to be listening. She put on pieces of coal cautiously with her fingers so that she might make no disturbing noise, and she swept about the fire irons very softly. But Sara saw that she was doing her work slowly in the hope of catching a word here and there. And realizing this, she raised her voice and spoke more clearly. The Princess took her seat in the great clear bubble-carriage, and a team of six sea-horses pulled her into the ocean, their harnesses woven with pearls. Down into the sea they dove. At first, the water grew dark, and the Princess was afraid, but then! Far below, fluttering and rippling through the depths, there shone a light... The small drudge before the grate swept the hearth once, and then swept it again, and finally forgot to play at sweeping at all. The brush hung idly from her fingers as Sara described winding grottos beneath the sea, paved with silver sand and lit by glowing sea-stars. It was the choirs of mermaids singing that proved her undoing. The forgotten brush slipped from her fingers to clatter against the hearth, and drew Lavinia's attention. What? That girl has been listening!How dare she use her ears! The audacity! ...Time to add more garbage to Lavinia's can of shame, I guess.  She grabbed the coal box and simply scuttled out of the room like a frightened insect fleeing for cover. I knew she was listening. Why shouldn’t she? She isn't one of us, Sara. It isn't proper to talk with servants. Unless they are upper servants, like your Mariette. That’s all right.That's the epitome of right there. God I hate Victorians sometimes. I do not know whether your papa would like you to tell stories to servant girls, but I know my papa wouldn't like me to do it. My Papa! I don't believe he would mind in the least. He knows that stories belong to everybody. Nothing belongs to everybody. If it did, they'd all have to fight over it.  I think Sara should tell stories to whomever she wants to tell them. You — you wouldn’t think it wrong if she told stories to Tybalt, would you?...Well, Ermie, thanks for trying, but maybe don't compare human beings to pets.  Oh, please, Sara-mamma, finish the story! Sara looked at the room full of eager, upturned faces. No one wished to follow and harass the fleeing maid, but no one wished to go and invite her back again, either. She would continue her fairy story, but she would not forget.Sara will remember that. Severely out of date memes aside, we're getting very close to having a full roster! Given that this character a) has a sprite and b) is very plainly featured on the main menu, I do not consider that in any way a spoiler. Sorry again for the big delay-- I hyperfocused on some games I got for my b-day, then an anime, and then bad stuff happened and then it was my mother's birthday. Listening to Jane Eyre, whose first section takes place in a 19th century girls' boarding school, helped light a fire to get me back to work. There shouldn't be another delay so long again at least until Christmas, when I may get distracted again, but I'll try my best to not let myself get so far off track again. I've missed you guys! Remember to vote-- activity information is here and weekend info is below. See you next time! 
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Sep 26, 2020 20:01
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 Read a book, have a tea party and write in diary all at the same time. More and more Ermengarde! The out walking artwork is very cute and I kinda hope Lavinia stepped in something unpleasant. I really hope Sara is a very good influence on her on her route. Oh, and mildly related to this thread the dlc to Highway Blossoms was released yesterday.
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Sep 26, 2020 21:40
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Dance til you drop (Dance Dance Dance) and hang out with Ermengarde
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Sep 27, 2020 00:18
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Senerio posted:Dance til you drop (Dance Dance Dance) and hang out with Ermengarde +1 sb hermit fucked around with this message at 07:25 on Sep 27, 2020 |
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Sep 27, 2020 01:09
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quote:Sara will remember that.
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Sep 27, 2020 01:10
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yamiaainferno posted:Ew, gross. Straights, in my wlw story? It's more likely than you think. I kid, of course. the merman only appears to be a merman at first, but is actually a mermaphrodite
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Sep 27, 2020 02:13
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Hwurmp posted:the merman only appears to be a merman at first, but is actually a mermaphrodite I think they prefer the term intersexmer now
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Sep 27, 2020 06:13
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Sorry, who are you +1-ing here?
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Sep 27, 2020 06:48
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yamiaainferno posted:Sorry, who are you +1-ing here? Ah, thanks for catching that, I fixed my post. Reply is not Quote, after all
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Sep 27, 2020 07:27
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Poil posted:
+1 for me. Comparing dancing to flowers is a bit weird. Unless they're saying you should be like flowers swaying in the wind, but that would be some awkward dancing in my opinion.
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Sep 27, 2020 13:33
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Hello everyone, and welcome back to LLP. The RNG really annoyed me this update, let me tell you.  The thread wanted to focus on gaining artistry and grace in order to unlock Jessie's next event; unfortunately, the game was not cooperating. We got jack poo poo at first; I re-rolled a few times and this was the best I could get. Annoying, but not the end of the world. And then the game decides to be a dick and rub salt in the wound. When I'm getting screenshots for an update, I skip past the activities for the current week, resulting in the same activities being repeated. Guess what happened?  Artistry out the rear end, and a good amount of grace too. That is all sadly destined to be saved over. Curse you, game!  Moving on, it's time to hang out with our BFF some more.  Ermengarde knocked rapidly on Sara’s door with one hand, While the other pinned her treasures against her chest. When Sara opened the door, she was surprised to see her friend clinging with such enthusiasm to what appeared to be a pair of books. Certainly, books would be worthy of Sara's excitement, but in Ermengarde's hands they seemed more commonly to be useless weights tying her down. Your father sent you something else? Oh, no! These aren’t from my father. May I come in? Of course. She held out her arm in elegant invitation, a hostess in miniature. I'll have Mariette fetch us some tea and cakes. Oh — no cake for me, please. It's just that my mother is always sending me hampers of sweets, even if I don't want them. I would rather have bread and butter... if that's all right? Of course it is. I will return shortly, mademoiselle. Sara pulled out a chair for Ermengarde, who was still cradling her burden. Are those books something your mother sent, then? No, no. These are from my mother’s sister. My Aunt Eliza. She lives in the countryside. She never married, so she inherited my mother’s parents' property, and she lives there alone, except when she visits my mother. My father doesn't like her very much, because she doesn't agree with him about Irish Home Rule, and she wasn't very clever at school either. He thinks she is a bad influence.Irish Home Rule refers to the struggle for Ireland, which had been under the rule of the English monarch since 1800, for either greater or total autonomy (the aims of the movement varied over time and from person to person). It was a hot button topic throughout the 19th century, particularly from the 1870s on, and eventually led to the island being split between Ireland and Northern Ireland, the latter remaining in the UK. I understand very little about Irish nationalism other than that it's an extremely complicated and divisive topic, so I think I'll just leave things there.  When I go home, my father is always asking me things like 'When did Edward the Third ascend the throne?’ and 'Who died of a surfeit of lampreys?’ And then my mother says, ’Dear me, Ermengarde! You are very fat,’ and sighs. Aunt Eliza takes me riding, and talks about the hunt and Rover and Skipper — her dogs — and her gardens. She sent me these.Ugh, poor Ermengarde. No wonder she's so self-conscious, if her home life is nothing but constant derisive browbeating. I'm glad that she at least as a Cool Aunt. Edward III was crowned in 1327, by the way, and it was Henry I who died of a 'surfeit of lampreys' (AKA eating too many lampreys). That's what his physician attributed his death to, at least; but given that Henry I died in 1135, that diagnosis carries little weight today. A lamprey is a parasitic fish that feeds by latching on to other aquatic creatures, boring into their flesh with its horrifying little mouth, and then sucking their prey's blood. They were apparently somewhat of a delicacy in medieval Europe, especially during Lent, because they had a much meatier texture than other fish.  It is for flower-pressing. You press the flowers tight between the wood blocks and squeeze out all the water inside them. If you put a sheet of paper inside, sometimes the petals will colour it, like a print. When the flowers are dry and flat, then you can frame them, or stick them to the pages of a book with some egg-white. See, she's sent some pansies for a start. Ermengarde spread open the pages of her book, and Sara bent her dark head to take a closer look. Oh — you can still see all the little veins in the petals! If you dry them when you press them, they don't shrivel up. What a charming hobby. Your aunt is very wise. (It is good to know that Ermengarde does have a relative she is fond of.) When I go back there, after I finish school, I will have to press flowers and mail them to you. Go — go back? It had not occurred to Ermengarde until this moment that Sara saw her life in England as nothing but a temporary sojourn. Yes. I must return to my papa. I miss him dreadfully. Then... I will never see you again? Oh. It was one thing to think of those whom she loved and missed, but another to consider that she herself would be missed. Missed quite strongly, if the look in Ermengarde's eyes was anything to judge by. Well... once I am an adult, I will be able to travel, if I please. I see no reason why I couldn't come back to England, once in a while. She reached over and touched Ermengarde's hand. Ermengarde breathed out a sigh of relief. It would be dreadful if you were gone forever. At that moment, Mariette arrived at last with the tea, and Ermengarde's flower/book had to be carefully set aside.The gayness is increasing, at last.  In truth, she had looked for the girl earlier, but had been unable to spot such a person anywhere in the school. If not for the disagreement with her listeners, Sara might have thought she had imagined her. Sara understood that it would cause disruption if she barged into the kitchens to ask questions. She had only one bridge to rely on. Mariette? Who is that little girl who makes the fires? Ah, Mademoiselle Sara! You might well ask, that poor little one. She has just recently been taken on as a scullery maid, though scullery is the least of it. She is sent to do every task that no one else wants. She blacks the boots and grates, she carries the coal scuttles up and down stairs, she scrubs the floors and the windows. I think she has not had enough to eat for years; she is older than her height would tell. And so timid. If I try to speak to her, her little eyes look to pop right out of her head. I hear that called often enough. ’Becky, do this.’ 'Becky, do that.’ Everyone below-stairs orders her about. Becky... (If life were a story, Becky might be the ill-used heroine. And perhaps a fairy godmother might come to her rescue.) You have a kind heart, mademoiselle. Your papa would be proud.Poor Becky. We'll actually meet her soon, I promise. I didn't remember the lead-up to her introduction being this long. (Not helped by me getting distracted.)  All right? Just as I thought. You are growing taller. I am? Sara looked down at herself. (I don’t feel any different... How much have I changed since I've been here?) You are at that age, after all. I will have to alter a few things. (How tall I will grow before I see my Papa again?)Sara won't "graduate" from Miss Minchin's until she's considered an adult-- something not necessarily tied to a concrete age, but more marriage and the ability to run a household (at least for women). Apparently a girl could be married off as young as 12 (gross), but I think that low limit is more for arranged marriages between royalty than for common use. Upper class ladies tended to get married around age 18-21-- and so we'll assume Captain Crewe plans to call Sara back to India at 18. She'll certainly have changed quite a bit, by then. Also, I hope no one minds more Ermengarde, because that's exactly what the next scene is.  A number of students were drawn to the sound of Ermengarde's excitement. It was not often that a girl would call for such attention in her bedroom. Particularly not quiet Miss St. John. What is it? Look, through the window there. That tree outside. Can you see it? From the door to the room, Lavinia smirked. I should hope that she can see the tree outside, or else she needs eyeglasses. Hush! No one invited you, Lavinia. Buzz off if you're just going to be a killjoy. There’s a nest in the branches, there. And there are eggs in it. Soon there will be baby birds. That's darling, isn’t it? Babies? Hahaha, poor Ermen, now just about the whole school has crashed her and Sara's hang-out. I admit I find that screenshot kind of hilarious.  If you do not wish to attract attention in the future, do not bellow. Where are there babies? They're still inside the eggs, Lottie. There will be baby birds sometime in the future. Can baby birds see inside eggs? I don't know. No — I think they're asleep. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a bird for a pet? You could feed it from your hand, and it would sing to you... Baby birds are not wonderful. They're horrible pink-skinned monsters with no eyes. Disgusting.Everyone was ignoring her being rude, so Lavinia just has to try and kill the fun entirely. Also, baby birds do have eyes, they're just closed at first.  No, they aren't very pretty when they're born, but they change as they grow up. A lot of things do. Soon, little birds are covered with fuzz all over. Fluffy chicks are adorable.Yes they are. Ermengarde is also adorable.   There were people in India who kept parrots as pets. Not even in cages. They can be trained to ride on someone's shoulder. My Papa knew a man who gave his bride-to-be a parrot that he taught to recite love poetry to her. How romantic... I don't think a bird is a very romantic gift. What if she didn’t want a pet? What if it pulled her hair? Lavinia reached out and tugged at a strand of Jessie's long red hair. Kwaaaak! My beloved is mine and I am hers, she feedeth among the lilies, kwaaaak! S-stop that! She swatted Lavinia's hand away.Snrk. Okay, Lavinia can be funny sometimes.  Oh, no. That wouldn't be right. Little birds need their parents, to survive. Jessie combed her hair back into place with her fingers. At least until their parents shove them out of the nest — birds do that, don't they? Do they, Sara-mamma? Only when it's time for the young ones to learn to fly. After all, they can't stay eggs forever.And that's the update, folks. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Sorry again for the delay (I don't think it was as long as last time, but still)-- my cousin is having a baby this month, and I'm scrambling to finish knitting the various infant sundries I plan on sending over to her. I really need to learn to hold needles with my toes, so that I can knit and work on the LP at the same time. Here is activity info, and our stats and weekend options will be below. Until next time! 
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Oct 16, 2020 06:20
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Senerio posted:Dance til you drop (Dance Dance Dance) and hang out with Ermengarde This will work eventually
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Oct 16, 2020 07:09
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Senerio posted:This will work eventually +1
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Oct 16, 2020 07:17
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Read a book, read the same book and read the book again. Ermengarde it up in a most gay manner.
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Oct 16, 2020 13:33
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