You held onto his limp body sobbing as my back was patted by the onlookers.

"It really is all in the wrist" I quiped as a roar of laughter filled the park. I handed my second the flintlock pistol, radiating heat and steam as it was put into a mechanical jar. Designed specifically to cool it now that it has reached its peak temprature after its single shot.

The whiss filled the air as I stomped over to you, rolling back my sleeve I grabbed your wrist.

"Come along, you!" I say, painfully jarring you into the air to lead you to our carriage.

You scream "No" over and over again. I am not sure if you are protestig my win or still mourning the gentlemen on the ground but regardless I was having none of it. I was ready to strike you as your brother shuffled next to me.

He pleaded your case as a simple case of being slightly embarrased over how unbecoming you seemed. I nodded, aware of the women in these lands are accustomed to such nonsense.

I instruct him to bring you to my newly built manor. I will be waiting.

Above is a prompt for a slightly ambitious roleplay. Set in a victorian/steampunk world. My character took a liking to you, and successfully won you in a duel. Killing your sweetheart. You have no time to grieve him before you find yourself with a new bethrowed.

Thus far I see my character as a foregein gentleman, who despite his less than stellar upbrining, has found himself as a lordship. He dresses, looks and acts the part, but he has never been welcome. He intends to take full advantage of anything he has "earned".

hmu with your thoughts and ideas.