Young Writers Society

It would have been incredibly impolite

I'm cackling this is such an understatement

The chapter I wrote during nano about their first meeting is a lot of Monty’s internal dialogue about how bad of a life choice it would be to seduce Hal. So like a logical person, he decides to stretch that process out over six months.

Love that for them hehe

Week 19 - 5.2 - Monty's Perspective - 1051 words

“Is that really the question that you wanted to ask of me?”
Haller’s hands slipped further down his body until they came to rest on his hips. This position was even more intimate than when the man had wrapped their hands so tightly around his waist. The waist that he would have never thought of as feminine or tender or attractive in any sort of way until Haller had brought attention to it. Along his hips, he could feel the warmth of his lover’s hands and the last edge of the corset’s material.
It wasn’t too obvious to the onlooker. Just enough attention so that he could still feel comfortable in the embrace of the material. But almost too much focus from Haller’s eyes as he tried to decide which question it was that he wanted to ask. He did want to know if Hal wore corsets. They didn’t seem like the sort of man to wear women’s undergarments, but then Monty wouldn’t have thought himself the sort either.
“I guess…I guess I mean to ask if you enjoy wearing the undergarments of others for yourself. Or if you just prefer to see them displayed on other people?”
Monty’s voice sloped down into a nervous tone as he tried to avoid the words of ‘men’ and ‘women’. In the initial process of lacing, Haller had expressed that they didn’t believe any garment was gendered. Even for a man who had spent so much of his recent life if his was truly a human being, it was a hard type of thought to engage with. He had known plenty of men in the service with deviance. Further, he had even known of a few people who masqueraded in the other direction in an attempt to serve their country.
Though he didn’t imagine Hal to be either type of those characters. In some ways, Hal was entirely without a pretense of any gender. They appeared, in most respects, to be like a man. Perhaps even more than a man when one took into consideration their height, unnatural features, and haunting eyes. Those were signs that Monty have caught onto earlier if he had not been swooning over the idea of dancing with a man much taller than himself. Or entirely engrossed with the thought of running his fingers through the gorgeous, pitch black hair.
“Well,” Hal started off slowly, a different sort of nervousness in their voice. Repeating their starter again they said, “Well, I have been known to wear a corset from time to time, but I have never worn one for anyone else.”
“Would you wear one for me? If I asked you to do so?”
“Like I have asked of you?”
He didn’t have an immediate answer to that question. Instead, he looked into the mirror with an ordinarily pensive look and allowed his bedmate to continue rearranging the selected outfit. Haller took a series of scarves on and off of Monty’s neck several times during their next interlude of silence. He found each of them to be equally lovely, but Hal managed to find a fault with each design. During each exchange, they mumbled different remarks about the wrong season, too many flowers or too few flowers, and contrasts between his skin tone and the minor color patterns.
After awhile, their hands fell back to Monty’s shoulder with no more scarves in hand. The fingers began a careful trace along his features. Every touch was a reminder to Monty of the eyes that would surely be following him for as long as he wore this outfit.
“Do you have an answer for me, my dove?”
“No, I don’t think I do. I don’t think I can have an answer for you at this time.”
He took Haller’s hands off his body and brought them down to hang near their sides. They were caught again in the tension of looking at each other in the mirrors of Haller’s shop. It was a rather beautiful piece of furniture and it reflected back the image of one gorgeous person and one averagely attractive person.
(Which person might be the gorgeous one should have been left to an outside observer. Rather than having the opinion switch back and forth with the differing perspectives of the two present participants.)
“How long should I have to wait for such an answer then, my dear? Sometime this evening? Sometime in the near future?”
“I-I don’t know. My mind is empty of every answer to every question and I don’t know if I could ever answer such a question. I even regret asking it now that it has slipped from my lips.”
Before his companion could even question at why, Monty found himself springing up from the perch of his padded stool. He was thankful that all of the fasteners had been closed upon his gear as he made his less than graceful exit from the shop. Wrenching at the door handle like it was the emotions that wrenched at his heart and giving little regard to the sereneness he had been experiencing in front of the mirror.
Monty didn’t look back after he heard the slam of the door behind him and the unnerving rattle of the window panes. He walked slowly down the city lane, trying to remember exactly where it was he had left his horse. Had he taken it to his meeting? Had he rode it back to the office? Was the poor devilish creature standing in front of some business establishment that he hadn’t remembered visiting? Tied to the hitching post, left to the elements, and not knowing what was going to be done with its mortal soul?
Perhaps he was putting too much of his own thoughts into the situation of his horse. The poor old thing was probably back at home in its stable, his mother giving a mercy feeding of oats to it. He distracted himself with the thoughts of the ways his mother treated their animals. All distracting enough so that he was completely unaware of the shadows that were creeping up on him.
It came all together too suddenly as two hands grabbed at his shoulders and a rougher voice than he had ever known announced, “Just where is it do you think that you’re going?”

UH OH

But anyway, prior to the point of "uh oh," I'm giggling at this mostly bc the parenthetical was my EXACT thought at this sentence:

It was a rather beautiful piece of furniture and it reflected back the image of one gorgeous person and one averagely attractive person.
(Which person might be the gorgeous one should have been left to an outside observer. Rather than having the opinion switch back and forth with the differing perspectives of the two present participants.)

Like they literally each think the other is totally gorgeous while not thinking anything of their own looks and it's so funny to me.

@BluesClues yes it’s truly a story of miscommunication.

Week 20 - 5.3 - Monty's Perspective - 1121 words

The shock that went through Monty’s body as a strange hand touched on his shoulder nearly took him away from this existence on Earth. At first, he had hoped that it might of been Haller, following him into the street after his dramatic exit. A turn about his heel though revealed an acquaintance from Norfolk. Someone who had been a frequent guest at his past partner’s residence, but whom had never left much of a print on his mind. This less than acquaintanceship couldn’t have been noticed by witness with his lightning quick reaction.
Monty turned about on his heel to face his caller and exclaim, “Ah, Mr. Waite. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, but I remember last seeing you in Norfolk. What are you doing here?”
“You’re welcome to call me ‘Lawrence’. That’s always an option for people who are as kind to me as you are.”
Lawrence Waite stood before Monty in a rather dusty black suit. Not dissimilar to many of the things that he found during his search into Haller’s closet. It was a bit plainer than his partner’s clothes, didn’t show tightness in the right places, and made it entirely clear to Monty that he no longer had an interest in other men.
“Well then, Lawrence, I’ll repeat my question. What brings you out to this part of the country?”
He saw the other man shift a bit on his feet during the quest for a suitable answer. Monty couldn’t imagine calling someone out in the street. Just as a matter for starters. But he definitely couldn’t imagine going up to a man that he barely knew with no good reason.
“Brig-Lord Bridger has hired me on as his new clerk and he wanted me to escort up here for the weekend. Actually, my current assignment from him was to come seek you out.”
The expression that crossed Waite’s face was the one that men would often give to each other in dirty little establishments. Some sort of expression that might suggest that the dirty little man knew exactly why he had stormed out of Haller’s shop. Of course, he didn’t know if Waite was aware of who Haller was, being a stranger in town, but it was enough to set him off onto a perch of nervousness.
“Brig’s in town? I was planning on going to see him at the end of the month for the party.”
They began to walk together down the street. Away from Haller’s shop and in the direction towards where Waite was guiding him. Likely to the one hotel in town that might be suitable for a man of Bridger’s standing. He well remembered that he wasn’t the sort of the man who might enjoy staying in a discreet place.
“Yes, he’s in town. I know he’s looking forward to you coming to the masquerade ball. Specifically, he’s been asking after you to know if you sent back a response with an additional guest…”
Waite’s voice trailed off in his joint question-statement. It was more of an inquiry than anything else. Words that were trying to poke and prod their way into Monty’s personal life. Still, he couldn’t resist telling Briggy’s new clerk the truth of the matter.
“Until last night, I wasn’t sure of the matter, but I will be having a guest attend with me. Someone whose taste for personal theatrics should be well appreciated at Lord Bridger’s sort of event.”
“I look forward to meeting him. Why couldn’t you have found a man like that for the party that went on last year?”
There was no halting or misstep in the other man’s voice with this reply. As the so called clerk, he was likely well aware that Monty had chosen not to attend last year’s party. In fact, he hadn’t attended any of Bridger’s holiday parties on any occasions in the past five years.
“Well, I couldn’t likely show up to an affair like that with someone to match friends of Hagstein.”
“He’s come up to the country most of the time now, hasn’t he? It was a bit of shock that he wanted to move away from Norfolk.”
Hagstein was one of many people who followed Monty when he left the scene of the port city behind. While Hagstein continued to not be on his list of favorite people, it was encouraging to not be alone. Loneliness had been a terrible repetition in his life.
For the first year without employment by his Majesty’s military service, he had made an effort to continue with the old community. Even if it only reminded him of all of the things that he had lost. Soon though it became too tiring to travel to Norfolk for anything more than a month’s worth of business.
“I think you might enjoy the parties that Hagstein puts on up here, Lawrence. Perfect for people who are seeking other people.”
Once, after leaving Norfolk, Monty had been interested in finding another person to fill the void in his life. Quickly it came down to attending the parties at Lord Hagstein’s estate to provide him with at least a few friends. It was attending those rooms filled with dizzying collections of people that led him down the happiest avenue of his life.
“I know you were having an attempt at asking it to me nicely but-”
“But what, Lawrence?”
“But I am not having any sort of personal relations with Lord Bridger. He is my employer and my friend and nothing further than that.”
Lawrence managed some sort of polite expression on his face at the finish of his blunt statement. He had been assuming that Brig had taken up with the man, but Monty had still been miles away from the confidence to pose such a question.
“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you with any of my assumptions, Lawrence. I do know some lovely people in town whose company you might enjoy.”
“Is that your apology? Finding me a dancing partner?”
If it hadn’t of been for Lawrence’s smile, Monty wouldn’t have known how to take such a question. Joining in with the comedy for the last few steps of their journey, he returned the smile and asked, “I can’t think of a better way to welcome you to the western territory, can you?”
Their stroll down the street had taken them, finally, to the mouth of the hotel. Brig’s clerk quickly ran up the steps, standing at the door in a waiting stance. Monty gently tested each step as he made his ascent. Lawrence gave Monty one last polite look of sympathy before pulling open the front door and leading him into the world he had left behind.

At first, he had hoped that it might of been Haller, following him into the street after his dramatic exit.

Me too, babe, but I trashed that idea pretty fast a l a s .

...but it's okay since nothing bad happened except me going "wait Monty ALSO knows Waite?? how does Monty keep attracting these people."

@BluesClues: maybe it will be haller
also blues: as long as it's not haller's serial killer ex
also also blues: how do all of these people know each other???

well the answer is that the different classes of societal circles of homosexual men in colonial america were all laid on top of each other.

homosexual men in colonial america were all laid on top of each other.

...yes, I'm sure they were--

Week 21 - 6.1 - Haller's Perspective - 1106 words

Haller was not the sort of man to waste any more moments than what was absolutely necessary to complete a task. In general, they were a very precise person whose meticulousness had guided much of the success in their life. From the bits and pieces of their past life that had been restored, they had begun more and more aware of what kind of person they had always been.
Precise.
Calm.
Rational.
Orderly.
This time, however, as they stood alone in front of the ornate mirror in the center of their shop, they couldn’t help but let the sands of time run through the room. Their hands were shaking around the silk ties that they had been holding up to Monty’s neck. Haller could feel the material becoming slipperier and slicker until they dropped to the floor.
The reaper was barely aware of this event. Their eyes remained locked with their reflection as they tried to figure out just what had happened. What had they done to cause their lover to go running from their presence? Not running and screaming, granted, but still clearly running. Ending with the slamming of the front door and the rattling of the stained, decorative windows.
For a few moments, just after the initial shock, Haller had considered running out into the street. They had made an attempt to follow their lover, but found their feet glued to the floor. Each subsequent attempt at movement had only been met with the locking of joints. Their body refused to move from the spot of their betrayal until they gave into the trance of the mirror.
Somewhere in the human mythology there was a story of this occurrence. Haller’s thoughts went to the observations that humans had made of other humans as they tried to return to their senses. Surely for ancient historians to write of men who became obsessed with their own mirror images there must have been a problem in human behavior. No one would dream up a man starving by a pond in obsession if they had not met such a character in their own travels.
“So my logical thoughts are returning,” they said aloud, barely audible to the room empty of occupants. “I suppose it is a good sign that I can form a string of words together in a critique of human behavior.”
Talking to oneself was far though from a sign of sanity among humans. They viewed themselves as sane for as long as they could saddle a horse and please their accounts. Humans surely did not think themselves sane just because they could recognize themselves in the mirror. And after all, Haller’s problems all came from their attempts at masquerading among humanity.
A sudden knock against the shop door helped to bring the reaper back to full attention of the situation. They looked down at the clothing that had pooled at their feet and began a panic over what to do with the materials. Particularly when their visitor called out, “Herr Williamson? Are you in there? I’m here for our meeting about the valuation of those pendants.”
Lord Hagstein.
On this point - on this meeting - Haller had completely forgotten about their affairs. They piled the scarves into a nearby box and quickly laid the coats over the counter top that held their register box. While the store was not in perfect order, there was a clean enough space to give the appearance of Haller’s sanity. The reaper turned back to the mirror, straightening their own coat, and reached the door in a few elegant strides. They took one deep breath and opened the door to their visitor.
“Good morning, George. I hope you weren’t waiting very long.”
Lord Hagstein stepped through the offered entryway, removing his hat as dark eyes made quick observations of the room before them. He stepped over to the stool that still sat in front of the mirror and asked, in an ever so polite manner, “Have I disturbed your morning, Hirschel?”
“Why might you ask that?”
“Well, your coat is buttoned backwards and the seat of this stool is still warm from the presence of someone’s skin.”
Haller looked down at their coat buttons, embarrassed to find them askew. A man such as Lord Hagstein was the sort who would have made a comment in public just as well as in private. They had never quite been sure as to how they had landed in the same social circle as such a man. Perhaps it was, as it always came to be, that men of their sorts had limited connections. If one were to seek anything beyond lonesomeness, then they would have to make the acquaintance of an organizer like Hagstein.
However, they had been perfectly satisfied with lonesomeness. A reputation that preceded them with good respect. Such an image to keep up that they responded to the query by saying, “As you can see, George, I am quite alone in my shop.”
Hagstein’s fingers were still tracing the outline of the slowly rising indents of the cushion. It was hard for Haller to not think of what had just been happening on that chair. And what they had planned to do once Monty had finished being dressed.
“Are you quite sure that it wasn’t the very honorable Montgomery who was sitting here? You know, the man who has been slowly courting you for the past six months because of his history…”
He trailed off as he made the statement, likely testing the waters to find out how much Haller knew of their lover’s past. It was a common tactic among men who wished to know how others were failing. Usually in an attempt to elevate the standing of their own tumultuous relationships.
“Yes, I do know of my Monty’s past, but I don’t see how it might be any concern of yours.”
“Well, Hirschel, it’s only that I have just seen your Monty walking down the street with the secretary of Lord Bridger. As you may or may not be aware, Lord Bridger is in town to discuss the Norfolk deal that Montgomery’s uncle had been handling.”
Haller had rarely heard a mention of Oisean Bridger pass by Monty’s lips and they had always assumed it was for a good reason. They didn’t let the doubt creep into their mind at the thought of a former partner being in town. If their dreams were any indication of reality, then they also had an ex-something running around the territory.
“He’s an adult, George. And I trust him. The real question is, do you trust me to value your box of pendants?”

Week 22 - 6.2 - Haller's Perspective - 1104 words

Lord Hagstein brought the box out of his riding satchel and placed it on the counter beside the box of scarves. Haller began to search through the trinkets, trying to appear unbothered by George rifling through the silky accessories. They could see the eyes of the other man getting caught on the merchandise. Particular interest, most likely by pure luck, was being paid to some of the scarves that they had tried on Monty.
While it was of course perfectly acceptable for a man like George to be interested in purchasing a scarf, Haller couldn’t help but wonder what the other man might be thinking of when touching them. There were many reasons why men such as themselves might buy some such item.
In Haller’s case, as illustrated by their morning activities, they were inclined to giving such items to a partner. As a way of expressing what they could not manage in their speech. Hagstein, however, was not well known for having any sense of ‘long term’ in his life. Silk scarves were far too expensive of an item to buy for a temporary roll in the hay. And, if Haller closed their vision off slightly, George might just be the right kind of person to look lovely in the indigo pattern that he was now holding up to his neck.
The indigo piece would not be let go for a simple price. Haller had carried it across several continents and through a sea voyage. Despite the care and skill in its composition, it was a reminder of who they had been when they first came to Earth.
“Hirschel, how much might it be for the indigo scarf?”
The reaper stepped behind their client, one of the set stone pendants hanging from their fingertips. They moved to drape the ornament over the material and gave George a moment to assess the situation.
“I think it might work best, in both directions, if we were to engage in a trade. A few of your best trinkets would be worth the effort it took me to get that scarf to this continent.”
George’s own fingers touched the scarf that was wrapped around his neck in a carefully placed but seemingly haphazard fashion. Haller watched him purposely avoid the pendant. Fingers, that were almost as elegantly long and slender as Hal’s own, tracing the edge of the area where the chain hung. A piece that leaked of the same overwhelming emotional connection as the indigo scarf.
“Yes, I think that could be fair. These pendants, trinkets as you call them, are part of my past that I’m trying to move on from. This scarf, and the person I intend it for, are the signs of my new stage of evolution.”
In the few years that they had passed in the same social circles, Haller had never known George to be this honest. The man did tend to reveal more to Haller than to most acquaintances, but it’s hard to believe men who are so good with words. The reaper began to study the body language of the man in the mirror. Their index finger and thumb of their left hand continued to hold the chain of the pendant in place while the other hand was held out in a gesture of comfort.
“Who is it that you intend this for then?”
Before answering, George grabbed for the outstretched hand. He leaned slightly into Haller’s support, taking a deep breath, and quietly stating, “Mr. York.”
Last week, if George had grabbed for their hand, Haller would have been even more confused about the human experience. However, the last fifty hours of events had reshaped everything that the reaper had come to know about mortal existence. All of the things that they thought they had been understanding and misunderstanding had been reversed in polarity.
One of those points of understanding, or more an attempt, was that Lord Hagstein was a habitual bachelor. That he could not stand to hold himself to one person when there were too many aesthetic temptations in the world. Haller had never seen the man pay attention to another for more than a fleeting moment. A habit that Haller had often thought dangerous with the small sizes of their mutual circles. They could scarcely believe that it was within George’s ability to enter into a longer term relationship. It certainly would have never occurred to the reaper that George might enter into such a relationship with a man from another class.
“Are you talking of the publican or the publican’s oldest son?”
As they still stood in front of the mirror, Haller made sure to smile so George could see their attempt at a joke. The man happily returned Haller’s smile as he took the scarf from his neck.
“I believe that you should know that it was all on the responsibility of our friend, Montgomery.”
Haller took the offered scarf back from him and removed the pendant from hanging in the air. Their client stayed in front of the mirror, fussing about with his appearance as they looked for a suitable box. If the gift was intended for a young lover, one who had managed to keep George’s attention, then Haller could contribute something to the presentation of the scarf.
Turning back to George, they let their curiosity get the better of them to ask, “Oh is it? What did he do to give you a push towards monogamy?”
“Well, Hirschel, I suppose it was how he talked of you and how the two of you enjoyed each other’s company. Mind you, he refused to tell me anything beyond the polite bits about your luncheons…”
“But?”
“But it was enough for me to think seriously about my future. I’m sure you know of the reputation that I have carried for many years?”
Haller continued with their process of wrapping up the scarf, giving only a nod as a signal for him to continue. They had heard many stories of Lord Hagstein’s reputation. It was part of their ongoing wonder just how many of those sordid tales held their weight in water.
“I haven’t had many of those occasions since the time when you and Monty came to the territory. One thing that is never mentioned about me though is that when I first came out here, on a temporary basis, I had a partner that some might refer to as a husband.”
Ah, there was an interesting tidbit that Haller had never heard before. Something that was strong enough to keep their attention despite the monotonous quality of George’s voice during story tellings.

“Yes, I think that could be fair. These pendants, trinkets as you call them, are part of my past that I’m trying to move on from. This scarf, and the person I intend it for, are the signs of my new stage of evolution.”

Omg is this *gestures in butterfly meme* a well-adjusted character??

@BluesClues somewhere between Lord George Hagstein and Lord Oisean Bridger is a well adjusted queer man with a work-life balance.

Working on edits this weekend for some of the non-sequence chapters of lore that I wrote for NaNo so that I can post the SFW versions to this thread. They should give any potential readers some more insights into the six months preceding where the first chapter for LMS begins.