Sister dear

Beatrice ♡

As a time bomb it had ticked a second too far. Upon seeing those ribbons, tucked away needly and far from fathers eyes- something within the young girl had clicked, changed. She had hidden them for years, for if father had found them he'd thrown them and her out in an instant. A small act of rebellion it was, within a household where those seeds often died young and tragic deaths. Over the years this one had lingered, thrived in the shadows and now, as it was exposed to the faintest light it had a chance to grow. Bea never was a purposefully rebellious girl- but upon seeing her mothers' ribbons, tacked away in a box under her bed, she had snapped.

The plan was to move her into a convent, a house of the goddess where she would spend the rest of her days in prayer. For her father had thought of her unfit for the life of a woman in high society. She'd twitch and jump from stupid dream to dream. She would pass her days chasing curiosities not meant for a proper modest woman to chase after. Her head was in the clouds, her body everywhere it shouldn't be and in the way she was most of the time. Despite her efforts, she was bound to fall in her mad mother's footsteps one day. And thus her step mom had suggested she'd be sent off to the convents, safe from herself and safe from bringing the family name down as a proper woman of faith. And up until the last moment Beatrice had gone along with this plan not forged by her yet for her. Her dreams of studying the world's natural wonders and starting a family with the lover of her dreams had seemed unimportant up until now. She had been stuck in paralysis for so long. Been told what to think for so long- No more she thought watching the ribbons her mom wore in her hair years ago. Often times she was compared to her, and often times she had believed this was something negative and scary. But as memories of lady Knightly rekindled in her now more mature mind, it set of a train of thought not yet seen before.

As now, she was running, choked up on a reckless, thoughtless eagerness to stand up for herself after so long- she ran. Away from home, far away from home. Through streets and over beautifully decorated bridges. Whilst with every step she took it felt like breaking unseen and stone-hard barriers. Yet with every mile, she got further the taste of freedom began tasting sweeter and sweeter. And on the last reckless and thoughtless leap, it was as if she tasted honey. Standing in front of the house of a woman close to her heart, no overwhelming dread fell over her as she pushed open the doors. One time before she was taken up into the care of the second most great lady she'd ever met- and now as she faced her again, standing in her voyer surrounded by servants- she was sure she'd be able to take shelter in her arms once again. "M-morgan" she sniffed, clinging her mother's ribbons between her fingers tightly "Sister"

Darlin' darlin'

doesn't have a problem lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf

~~morgan looks something like this~~

Morgan was suffering from a terrible hangover. Probably one of the worst she'd ever had. The woman blamed it on alcohol she had consumed. One of her friends had thrown several well-known brands together. Creating some ungodly cocktail for her. And while it tasted divine at the time. It was clear now that whatever drinks her companion had used weren't supposed to be mixed together. Thus, the woman didn't rise for today, so broken was she that going about her normal routine seemed an impossible task. So she stayed in bed. Half dressed. With letters all around her. Morgan wasn't a big reader; she hated it, actually. But with nothing much else to do, she decided to through some of the sweet nothing's her many lovers had set on paper. Hoping that it would be able to lift her spirits even just a little bit.

The raven haired woman was half-way done with what she thought to be her seventh letter when a knock at the door was heard. It was one of her maids. Asking for entry. "Go away." Morgan snarled loudly, crumpling the piece of paper in her hand out of annoyance. They had made it perfectly clear that she didn't wish to be disturbed at all today. So why was some low-life whore doing just that? Morgan should fire the girl for her insolence, throw her out on the street. There was a silence from the other side of the door for a while, before finally the maid spoke up again. Her voice shaking. Had she realized what she had done? What a hugh mangus (hehe) mistake she had made? The little mouse apologized, but announced she had a visitor. Morgan narrowed her eyes. Who in the world would dare to call in on her without her prior knowledge. Her mansion wasn't just some whore house anyone could to waslt into whoever they felt like it. "I am in no state to receive guests, so send them away." Morgan expected that to be the end. And if it was, Morgan would've probably forgiven the girl. And let her transgression slide.

"Madame please- I cann... we can't just send her away, I-" That was it. The woman forced herself upright. Off her bed. Every muscle in her body screamed in main, and her head was spinning. But Morgan was determent to confront the girl right here and now. The woman slammed open the door and locked eyes with the maid now standing before her. The shock on the girls was of evident. "I am mistress of this bloody house." Morgan began, her eyes wild as she spoke. "And I decided who stays and who doesn't." She was much taller than her servant, so it was easy to engulf her with her body. "Not some mewling grub." Morgans tone was slow and dangerous. The maid was staking at this point, desperately looking for words. But when she found them, she was stuttering like a little child. But Morgan was able to discern some things from her ramblings, "Sister, Beatrice, Foyer" Morgans anger faded, melted away, like snow before the summer sun. In its stead, however, was confusion and even some apprehension. She turned to her servant once again, much calmer this time. "You are fired."

Morgan made her way to the part of the house her sister situated in. She was stumbling a little here and there. But did her best to appear as together as she possibly could. Soon enough, her half-sister came into view. She had grown so much since the last time Morgan had seen her. Beatrice was just a child then, but now she had grown into a fully-grown woman. Morgan wasn't really pleased to her sibling, however. She had no warm feelings for the girl. In fact, she and her rotten sister made Morgans already difficult childhood even more so. By clinging to her like they did. As a replacement for their mother. But Morgan couldn't handle the responsibility of caring for children, since she was just a child herself. "Beatrice," she began calmly, her voice devoid of emotion. "I hear you ran away from home." She went on as she stepped closer to her sibling. "Pa won't like that when he finds out." And when he would, there was no doubt in her mind that the first place he would come to in search of this daughter was the same place Beatrice had come to in hopes of escaping him. Hartfield house, Morgans mansion. "Chances are he is already on his way here as we speak." The woman looked out of the window, the one that had a marvelous view of the courtyard. She could almost see her father and his goons turn the corner, and ride up to the house.

hartfield house

—Hakrabi