Description

“How paltry are the traces left behind by a life, even one concentrated around those supposed things of permanence called words. We spend our time upon the earth and then disappear, and only one one-thousandth of what we were lasts. We send all those bottles out into the ocean and so few wash up on shore.” ― John Darnton, Almost a Family: A Memoir

Full Name: Nathaniel Jacob Courtenay-Hale

Nicknames: He is more commonly known as Nate or Nathan, he quite despises his full name.

Gender: Male.

Age: Thirty.

Birthday: 1st April

Occupation: Former Lieutenant Colonel in the 21st Lancers, the only horseback division who remained in France after 1915. Now the war is over he is debating a new direction, he had wanted to go into politics but now he quite fancies making a career in the military.

Nationality: British

Height: 6' 01"

Weight: 187lbs

Build: Slender, with well defined muscle, a typical cavalry build.

Hair Colour: Raven Black, a family trait.

Eye Colour: Emerald Green

Scars?: Multiple, most of them battle scars. Nathan has quite a few slash wounds on his legs and torso, from close combat with bayonets, he also has a bullet wound on his left shoulder from one of his charges, luckily he managed to remain in his saddle and made it back to base.

Brief written description: Nathan is quite an intimidating figure, he is tall, standing at just over six feet tall, he is slender, inheriting his father frame, giving him the appearance of a true English gentleman. Although quite thin, Nathan does hold some well defined muscle, mainly in his calves and thighs from years of horse riding, but also in his biceps and abdomen. It is easy to see the relation between the Courtenay-Hale siblings, they certainly all get most of their looks from their father. Like the other, Nathan has rather pale skin, can can often look quite sickly, even when being in very good health. His face holds quite sharp features, it is slightly long, coming to an end with a pointed chin, supported by a strong, defined jaw. Nathan's nose, is too quite sharp, his eyes narrow, with a vibrant emerald green hue, a colour he shares with Georgie, like all his siblings his hair is raven black, which is often kept slicked back.

He can look quite threatening and many often mistaken him for a grouch, he does have a few frown lines or worry lines, when angry he can seem quite threatening, his face will redden and a vein bulge in his forehead. Although Nathan is only thirty years old, he has aged quite dramatically, looking almost late thirties than early. Despite this he is a handsome man, if not slightly broody looking.

Skills:
-Nathan is a wonderful tactician, although his charges weren't always successful, it could never be blamed on him, it was the German guns that mowed them down in their saddles, not his battle plans.
-He is quite a splendid rider.
-Mathematics
-Hiding his feelings.

Quirks and Habbits:
-Since returning from war, Nathan has suffered terrible night tremors, like most men who experienced the horrors in France, the images are in the forefront of his mind.

Likes:
-Keeping busy
-Going out for rides
-Sports
-Keeping active
-Brandy
-Cigars
-Learning
-Facts
-Science
-Women, although he wouldn't describe himself as a womaniser.
-Respect
-Honour
-Being a gentleman
-Friends
-Family, he is incredibly fond of Little G
-Prosperity

Dislikes:
- Going to sleep, he always sees a field full of bullet ridden bodies, men and horses.
- The German's, the war is over but he still cannot shake his hatred.
-Being taken for granted
- Fiction, he is very much a man of facts.
- Being cold, it reminds him of France.
- His younger brothers infatuation with poetry and novels irks him a little bit.
- People who disrespect Astley Park
- His sister, Josephine's urge to escape their home, he can't quite understand why anybody would want to leave.
- People who don't agree with his opinion, especially when it comes to business plans/deals.
- Georgiana's infatuation with love.

Fears:
-Truth is Nathan has become an extremely fearful man, he fears the loss of his parents or siblings, he fears responsibility, he fears failing and loosing Astley, sometimes he even hesitates leaving the house. The war changed him, he went a fearless man, ready to take anything the Germans could throw at him, he returned a former shell of himself. Although his family and friends bring him happiness, the fears are still there, he just want to lock them all in Astley and never let them venture out.

Aspirations:
-He want to marry and do right by his family, though at this current time, he wants nothing more to be the man he once was.

Written description: Nathan is quite a serious man, that doesn't mean that he doesn't have fun, on the contrary he likes nothing more than to laugh and spend time with friend and family, although he does take things quite seriously. Before the war he could have been described as reckless, he hand no real regard for his own safety, he would gallop around his families estate at dangerous speeds, jumping hedges and fences, not paying much thought to the fact that he could easily fall of and break his neck. It is a different story, infact he condemns reckless behaviour, after seeing all those young lads die overseas, Nathan has come to realise just how precious life truly is. Although he still rides daily, he is more careful, truth be told, hearing the pounding of hooves takes him back to France and the charges he would go, he very rarely goes above a canter now. He is a protective man, he guards his family close, especially his sisters and probably more so with Little G, he is quite fearful that if he doesn't keep an eye on them something will happen. He probably shares a temperament more with Josephine, he too is impulsive, hot-headed and quite quick to anger, his rash decisions have often led to many regrets, although unlike Josephine, he doesn't quite hold the same desire to see the world, in that way he is quite set in his ways, too Nathan nothing compares to the beauty of Astley Park.

Contrary to popular belief, Nathan does know how to have a good time, he laughs and jokes just as much as the next man, he enjoys music and parlour games as well as drinking and playing cards. Though he is not one too make friends with new people, he likes his current friends and doesn't particularly need new ones, this is just one of the ways his stubbornness is shown. He hate being wrong and I mean hates it, there is nothing more embarrassing to Nathan than being proved wrong. He is very much a man of facts and science, he likes things that can be proven, not, what someone has imagined up, this often leads him to having very little patience to people who prefer fiction over fact, do not even get him started on these 'spiritualists.'

Relationship Status: Single

Family:
Henry Courtenay-Hale - Father
Clarissa Courtenay-Hale - Mother
Josephine Courtenay-Hale - Sister
Theodore Courtenay-Hale - Brother
Georgiana Courtenay-Hale - Sister

Secret Word: Astley

So begins...

Nathaniel Courtenay-Hale's Story

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Setting

Astley Park

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Character Portrait: Nathaniel Courtenay-Hale

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#2013-05-28 00:25:50, as written by Calvazara

Saturday, December 20th 1919

Nathaniel's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at his men in front of him, he was thankful god had blessed him with a brave facade, otherwise he would have been a quivering wreck before his Lancers, it wasn't that he was too proud to show his fear, but fear was contagious in warfare, everyone had it, but they suppressed it deep down, it was something they just had to do, to keep going. He glanced to his right and saw Major William Maxwell mounted beside him, he expression stoic and unreadable, although he knew him well enough to know deep down, his fear equalled that of his peers, Will had been with him from the start of their campaign in 1914, when they had first descended of France, that now seemed like a lifetime ago, so much had been lost since then, they were no longer the village boys marching of to war as 'Jerusalem' played by the churches brass band, they were hardened and scarred veterans of a war which had been raging for three years. They were broken.

His gaze returned to his men in front of him, very few faces he recognised from their training camp back in England, most of them were replacements, filling the gaps in the ranks of those who had been wounded, captured or killed. So few, so few of his men were left, something which weighed heavily on the young Lords heart, he had known after their first charge that this war would be the end of cavalry charges, times had changed, weaponry developed, his golden boys on horseback were no match for German machine gun fire. He had seen so many of his men, his friends mowed down in a hail of bullets, it was a little more than a miracle that his name was not, also etched onto a little white cross in a vast field. Nathan use to believe that every man was given equal portions of luck in life, he no longer believed this, he had more than his fair share during this war. At the beginning he did not feel that this war would take his life, now, he felt it was just a matter of time before that fatal bullet came, he no longer made promises to his younger sister Georgie that he would return, he couldn't even if it did spare their feelings.

Nathan was proud of his Lancers, he really was, they knew these charges they were sent on to try and startle the Germans into submission were suicide mission, yet still they polished their buckles, groomed their mounts and looked ever the true English gentlemen just before. He couldn't help but smile at them, Nathaniel looked quite the part himself, sat tall atop of his glorious thoroughbred stallion, Sunny, his green uniform neatly pressed, his sabre display proudly by his side, his hat pulled low over his forehead, nestled just high enough so that he could still see, his entire aura screaming a true born leader. He had stopped giving pre-battle speeches the previous year, his men did not need to hear of moral boosting topics, they saw passed the bullshit of 'you are making every difference to this war, your comrades will not die in vain' truth of the matter was they did very little, if they did manage to break line the infantry was often to far behind or too exhausted to remain in control of the gained territory. Instead they rejoiced in the hymn 'Jerusalem' it had been a favourite of his as a child, it unleashed a sense of patriotism and calmed his nerves, he liked to believe this happened to his men also.

"And did those feet in ancient times..." He began immediately revoking a response from his men "Walk upon England's mountains green..."

Before he knew it Nathaniel was in formation, staring at his pocket watch, a whistled pursed in his lips, waiting for the moment they would mount, the breath caught in his throat as the hand struck two and with all the breath which he could muster, Nathan blew, a high pitched whistle signalling it was time to mount. He swiftly put a foot in his stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle, drawing his sword he held it in front of him, forward walk, forward march, forward canter...forward charge!

The pounding of hundreds of hooves were a deafening sound, it was near to a clasp of thunder, it could be terrifying, the sound haunted Nathan at night, he may have survived previous but that didn't boost his confidence, as they charged forward he was briefly taken back to a child, wanting nothing more than to cry out for his mother, then he heard it, the high whistle of bullets flying past his head, the metallic clanking of the firing guns, this was it...this was his end.

Nathaniel woke from the recurring nightmare with a sudden start, a cold sweat coating his hair and forehead, his breathing heavy as he looked around his childhood room, he was alive, he was home. As his breathing steadied Nathan ran a hand over his face trying to steady his nerves, he dreams had been plagued ever since he had returned from France the previous year, he still found it difficult to believe that a year of peacetime had passed, he had resided in the fact that he would not survive the war, he never thought he would see his family or his beloved Astley again, when the church belles sounded for the first time in four years on the 11th of November last year, signalling the end of the bloodshed he didn't know whether to be happy to be alive or sad that he didn't fall with his men, why should he get to live out the rest of his life, as men younger and better than him in everyway lay to rot in the ground? It was one of life's utter cruel mysteries, he had breath in his lungs and all he exchanged was sound sleep, it wasn't enough if you asked him.

Still, even if he thought he should be buried in a field in France not warmly tucked in a bed in England, he had a duty to try and live a life worthy of the men he had lost, it was all he could do, his horrid memories towards the war would never go away but his bitterness clouding his happiness could. With a sigh Nathan, rose from his bed, walking directly for the ceramic wash bowl and jug set atop of his bureau, pouring the cool liquid into the bowl, he set the jug down and splashed the cool liquid onto his face, instantly feeling relief. The young Lord proceeded to dress, not bothering to ring for his valet, he wanted to suspend any social contact until as late as possible, with any look he would be the first to breakfast. Dressing in a light grey three piece suit, he tied a yellow tie around the collar of his white shirt, pulling the knot to his Adam's apple, lowering the stiff collar over the yellow material, he finally reached for his comb and with help of a little oil, he slicked his raven hair back. Finally he was ready for breakfast.

As he walked the corridors of Astley house, he was surprised at how quiet it still was, he had heard the grandfather clock on the landing strike nine a little while back, yet the usual sound of hustle and bustle was absent from the household. With his hand tucked loosely in his pockets he walked down the grand staircase and took the familiar route towards the morning room, where a breakfast buffet would no doubt be waiting for him. He entered the room and saw his mother sat nursing a cup of tea "good morning mother" he smiled, placing a quick kiss onto her cheek.

Clarissa smiled at her eldest sons light kiss "good morning, my darling" she greeted in return "Do you have any plans for William and his family today?" She asked.

Nathaniel shrugged from his position at the buffet, placing eggs and sausage onto his plate, carrying it back to the table and took a seat opposite his mother "I was going to ask William if he fancied a walk into the village with me, I said I would accompany Little G home" he replied casually, poring himself a cup of strong tea. "I'm sure Josephine wouldn't mind entertaining Jasper and Victoria in my absence, failing that I do not feel Magnolia would mind" he continued, reaching for the newspaper beside him, unfolding it to see what was recent in the news.

Clarissa nodded "I do worry about Maggie, she has been ever so low in spirits, it just wish their was something we could do" the older woman sighed.

"With any hope the ball tonight will raise them, mother. Try not to fret to much over our cousin, she is more resilient than she looks" he replied trying to ease his mothers fears, she had enough on her plate as it is, dealing with a house full of guests as the festive season quickly approached, but also had to deal with a reclusive husband, who very rarely showed his face anymore, let lane spoke to anyone.

Setting

Astley Park

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#2013-05-30 03:43:00, as written by Jynxii

Sayuri

Sayuri glared at the chef as he gave her a Cheshire grin. White flour covered her ink black hair and dusted over the shoulders of her dress. "Say, is it snowing, Sayuri?" She could only glare some more at him as she threw her towel down and carefully picked up an egg. "What- What are you doing? Oh, no... Oh no you don't! Sayuri! Sayuri don't!" Alas, it was too late. The fragile shell cracked against the swell of his pregnant belly, sending it's slimy contents down the front of his apron. "Brilliant." A small smile toyed with the corner of her mouth, but only slightly, as she picked up her rag and began to scrub the white powder from her dress. After she was finished, she pulled down her hair from the tight bun that it was in to shake the particles out of her onyx locks. Once her mane was once again completely black, she braided it down the left side of her neck. It was freezing outside, and the snow had not stopped falling since the previous day. The little warmth that her hair could offer would be appreciated once she stepped outside.

"What are you doing down here, anyway?" "Getting firewood," she answered, offering the cook a smile. "Oh, love... We're all out down here, you'll have to go to the shed." The shed. Sayuri looked out of the small window above the sink, out onto the grounds. The estate was completely covered in what had to be at least two feet of snow. "Alright," she sighed, walking over to the door and slipping out of her heels and into her tall back rain boots. "Be sure to bundle up," the chef warned over his shoulder, too busy kneading bread to look up from his task. "You could always go for me?" The chef laughed, shaking his head. "Lots to do here! Hurry back." She shook her head with a smile and went to grab her coat, but it wasn't there. Frustrated, and short on time, she decided to abandon the jacket idea, and just hurry through the cold. As she opened the kitchen door, a gust of wind nearly threw the wood into the wall but she managed to catch it in time. Taking a breath, she stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her.

As she stepped outside, she held out her hand, watching in awe as fat snowflakes delicately fell into her palm. The warmth of her skin melted the frosty design within moments, reminding her that if she stayed out too long she would be soaked to the bone. Sayuri hurried across the lawn to the shed at the mouth of the woods. She filled the wheel barrel with a large pile of already chopped wood and pushed it back across the estate. By the time she made it back inside her shoulders and hair were soaked, and she was shaking. Sayuri quickly slipped back into her heels to avoid tracking mud through the house. Then, she handed off some wood to the kitchen servants and then filled her apron as full as she could to take to the living and dining room. She entered into the dining room with her back to the room, having used her hips to open the swinging door.

As she turned around, she froze, caught completely off guard by the Mistress and her son eating breakfast already. Sayuri mentally cussed the chef for not warning her about the Lords and Ladies being up already, and dining at that. "Good morning, Mrs. Courtenay. Sir Courtenay," she said softly. A blush warmed her cheeks as she carefully made her way across the room. Please let this fire start quickly, Sayuri prayed, kneeling beside the fireplace at the back of the room. She unloaded her apron and set about starting a fire. Thankfully, within moments the wood sparked to life and began to burn. She stood, straightening her dress and apron, knowing that she must look terrible. Wet hair, wet dress, dirty apron. Just eat your eggs, she thought to herself as she kept her head down and scurried out of the room for more firewood to light the living room fireplace.

After Sayuri finished building the fire in the living room she decided to sit by it for a short while. Both of her wards were currently not in need of her, so she found herself finding odd jobs to do around the house to entertain herself. Currently, though, the fire was warm and she could feel her dress and hair becoming drier the longer she sat.

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#2013-06-04 00:26:17, as written by Scarlet Loup

((Crud...I have no idea how this got here. Ugh...this is what I get from late-night roleplaying))

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#2013-06-10 03:42:39, as written by Scarlet Loup

The cold, winter snow swirled through the grounds of Astley Park and landed in a large, white blanket that coated everything living and non-living. Each unique snowflake tumbled against another and stuck together as it hit the ground. William Maxwell sat by the window in the room that had been provided for him at the estate. His forehead pressed against the glass and his lips hovered only a few centimeters from the surface of the window. Each time he breathed, it fogged up lightly, clearing up slightly when he inhaled again. The cycle repeated again and again as Will focused on the simplicity of the task, willing his mind to focus on such a trifle thing. It was better than focusing on other things, at least.

This Christmas was to be the first one spent without his mother or his father. Their untimely deaths, so soon after his return from war, had plunged him into a depression so unlike any he'd ever felt before. The young man, not even in his thirties, was a broken soul. What purpose did he serve in life anymore besides protecting his younger siblings. In fact, perhaps it was only his siblings that kept him from pointing a gun down his throat. As more snow gathered on the grounds, William groped around for the rosary on the windowsill while his eyes still focused on the view. His fingers fastened around the familiar cross and he pulled it close to his lips. Pressing it against the slightly chapped skin, he closed his eyes and winced lightly as if the memories of the rosary brought by memories too painful to handle.

"You would love the snow here, Mother," he murmured, his voice on the edge of cracking. He could keep a strong front for his siblings and for Nathan...but, on his own, he was nothing more than a miserable wreck of a man. "The grounds glisten with so many little snowflak-." His voice caught in his throat and he stopped, pressing his lips together. What had become of him, damn it? Was he not Major William Maxwell of the 21st Lancer Division? Had he and his stallion not chased the damned Germans back behind their lines? He could almost hear his father, a rough, outspoken man, scold him for his childish behavior. Stiffen that upper lip, William, he'd snap, silencing Will almost instantly.

He dropped the rosary and slowly stood up, legs weak from what must have been hours of sitting at the window. He walked to his nightstand and turned on the lamp there before sitting on the bed. Face in his hands, he shook his head slowly and sighed. He couldn't go out like this...he couldn't let Nathan or Jasper or Victoria see him so upset. The young lawyer looked up and reached for the flask that sat on his bed stand. Flipping open the top, he tipped his head back and poured a decent amount of the sharp whiskey into his mouth. He swallowed the liquid and sighed again, this time in relief, as it slid down his throat. That should do for now, hopefully. Will stood and stretched his arms above his head. He'd already dressed for the day in a blue suit with a white dress shirt and light blue tie underneath. William stuffed the flask into a pocket in his trousers, keeping it on him should he need it later.

The lawyer turned off the light and moved across the room to open the door, which creaked lightly. In turn, he suddenly heard paws against the floor and turned to look down at two of his dogs. He couldn't bear to leave all of his dogs behind and, despite Jasper's dislike of them, he'd brought along a greyhound named Duke and a beagle named Teddy after one of the first casualties he'd seen on the battlefield. The dogs stopped in front of him, tails wagging expectantly as if hoping he'd let them outside.

"Not now," he murmured, voice staying low. "After breakfast." They couldn't understand him, and he knew it fully well. Yet, he still seemed to get some sort of satisfaction from speaking with his dogs. Closing the door carefully behind him, William started down the stairs to the dining room, buttoning his suit jacket up slightly as he'd had it open while sitting down. By then, the whiskey seemed to have cheered him up and he turned into the morning room with a smile upon his countenance. "Good morning, Countess. And, good morning Nathan." He stopped by the breakfast bar and placed some sausage on to his plate along with eggs and a slice of toast before heading back to the group. Will slid out the chair beside Nathan and sat himself down before he began to eat a bite of his toast. "So...how did the two of you sleep last night?"

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