Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)"Damn... I'm late" Was all Charlotte Ashdown could think about as she sprinted through the gates of her family's estate and tore through the yard with astonishing speed. Indeed, she was late. Terribly late for her eldest brother's 20th birthday party, and she knew if her father noticed her tardiness, she would be in deep shit. She had been late for her older sister's party the month prior, and her father had been nothing short of furious.
Bursting through the massive, iron-wrought doors of the mansion, she climbed up the stairs from the foyer, taking them two at a time, and slipped into the ballroom. Carefully trying to close the door, she accidentally let the knob slip from her boney fingers, and the door slammed shut with a resounding echo. "No big deal..." She thought.. Everyone would be too busy to notice one door slamming.
Charlotte spun around on her heels, ready to sneak to her family's dais---until she met faced to face with a room full of guests, seated quietly at the table, all staring at her. The room was silent as they watched her intently. "Oh God...Were they waiting for me..?" She began to power-walk quickly over, ducking her head down meekly.
Charlotte peered up briefly as she neared the dais. She saw her mother sigh in relief, happy that she was okay. Her older brother, Edgar, bit his lip and looked away, stifling a laugh, and her older sister, Katherina, shook her head in disapproval. Her eldest brother, Donovan, stared down at her irritably, vexed that he had to wait for her to arrive. His fiancee sat at his arm and sniffed haughtily when she caught a glimpse of Charlotte. Charlotte's tunic was wrinkled, and her breeches were stained from the grass. Her riding boots had a thick caking of mud on them, that she undoubtedly tracked the pristine marble flooring with on the way in. Her thin, angled face was unwashed, and her curly, chin-length hair was unbrushed. She did not look at all like the daughter of a Baron, despite the striking resemblance to her father..
Charlotte did not have to look at her father to know that he was seething, and the Baron did not even have to look at his daughter, or say a single word to her, to notify her of how much trouble she was in for. From the corner of her vision, she saw him briefly stroke his finely trimmed beard to masquerade the growing frown, before standing up with a smile. Proudly, he announced---hiding his anger well--the celebration of his eldest son and heir's 20th birthday. Donovan briefly pulled away from his fiancee and whispered to her, with a tone of dark amusement. "You are in quite the world of trouble.." Chuckling, he stood up and strode over to his father's side, to greet the guests likewise. Charlotte slunk back in her seat, dreading the punishment she knew would come after.
Bursting through the massive, iron-wrought doors of the mansion, she climbed up the stairs from the foyer, taking them two at a time, and slipped into the ballroom. Carefully trying to close the door, she accidentally let the knob slip from her boney fingers, and the door slammed shut with a resounding echo. "No big deal..." She thought.. Everyone would be too busy to notice one door slamming.
Charlotte spun around on her heels, ready to sneak to her family's dais---until she met faced to face with a room full of guests, seated quietly at the table, all staring at her. The room was silent as they watched her intently. "Oh God...Were they waiting for me..?" She began to power-walk quickly over, ducking her head down meekly.
Charlotte peered up briefly as she neared the dais. She saw her mother sigh in relief, happy that she was okay. Her older brother, Edgar, bit his lip and looked away, stifling a laugh, and her older sister, Katherina, shook her head in disapproval. Her eldest brother, Donovan, stared down at her irritably, vexed that he had to wait for her to arrive. His fiancee sat at his arm and sniffed haughtily when she caught a glimpse of Charlotte. Charlotte's tunic was wrinkled, and her breeches were stained from the grass. Her riding boots had a thick caking of mud on them, that she undoubtedly tracked the pristine marble flooring with on the way in. Her thin, angled face was unwashed, and her curly, chin-length hair was unbrushed. She did not look at all like the daughter of a Baron, despite the striking resemblance to her father..
Charlotte did not have to look at her father to know that he was seething, and the Baron did not even have to look at his daughter, or say a single word to her, to notify her of how much trouble she was in for. From the corner of her vision, she saw him briefly stroke his finely trimmed beard to masquerade the growing frown, before standing up with a smile. Proudly, he announced---hiding his anger well--the celebration of his eldest son and heir's 20th birthday. Donovan briefly pulled away from his fiancee and whispered to her, with a tone of dark amusement. "You are in quite the world of trouble.." Chuckling, he stood up and strode over to his father's side, to greet the guests likewise. Charlotte slunk back in her seat, dreading the punishment she knew would come after.