𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘
Grosvenor Square, London, Spring 1815

Darling. You've found us. How thrilling.

Napoleon has broken his exile with magic that raised the dead. Parliament melted every iron railing in London to fight him — the wards are gone, and the Fae have taken this as an invitation. They are attending our balls. They are charming. Last week one complimented Lady Ashworth so beautifully she forgot her own name until Thursday.

The Season continues. Her Majesty insists.

You might be a debutante whose fortune is built on iron she's never questioned. A soldier who can't stop checking mirrors. A Glamourist whose own face is starting to feel like a rumour. A scholar whose equations are being answered. A merchant's daughter in a ballroom that wants her money and not her company.

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𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄
Regency Gothic Fantasy RP
The ballroom is a battlefield. Five kinds of magic are tearing Britain apart. A curtsey can be a declaration of war.

▸ 21+ only
▸ Literate, multi-paragraph
▸ Real face claims
▸ Deep original lore & living plot
▸ Inclusive — no period bigotry, all the snobbery
▸ Five magic systems ✦ Four regions ✦ Collaborative worldbuilding

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Do try not to die before the first dance.
P.S. — If anyone offers you a mirror, say no.

regency gothic ✦ fae horror ✦ napoleonic fantasy ✦ social intrigue