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geometryc
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Plantation.
A young lady of nineteen stepped through the large doors of her family's Georgia mansion onto the lavish porch that wrapped around the entire house. Hazel eyes with a hue of green, decorated by baby doll like eyelashes, scanned the beautiful land scape surrounding her. She moved to the rail of the porch, resting her hands every so delicately on them. As she took in a deep breath of fresh air, she took in her surroundings.
Beautiful trees draped with luscious, green vegetation and Spanish moss shaded the home. A large dirt road led up to the establishment, which enabled the inhabitants to spot visitors or intruders from afar. The long strip of road was a part of acres and acres of land, just on the outskirts of a small town a small distance away. To one side of the home was a farm, where crops and livestock to sustain the large family were raised. To the other side of the road were stables and six horses grazing, confined by a wooden fence built by her father and his workers. The large mansion, built by French immigrants many, many years before, had been in her family since her ancestors first came to the New World. It was always buzzing with life, as her family hosted many dinner parties. There were always guests staying in the guest wing, servings constantly moving in and out of the house carrying out their day to day duties. Her father traveled from time to time, and her mother constantly rearranged the home to fit whatever the decor trends were at the time.
One servant had been holding a parasol over her golden hair, curled to the fashion of the ladies of the era, swept over to one side over her shoulder and pinned in some places. She wanted to feel the sun on her delicate skin, with some color. It was in fashion to have porcelain skin, but she loved being outside and hated being pestered with that stupid parasol. Bonnets made her hot in the Georgia sun, so she opted to read under one of the ancient trees on her land when she needed a cool break from riding her horse or whatever else she would be doing.
Her dress was thick, as hoop skirts were the fashion of the lades. The hem covered her feet, the sleeves itchy under her arm. Though a pain to wear in the southern climate, the dresses were very flattering to most young women. The corset cinched her already thin waist, a life of wearing them giving her an hourglass figure. It was rather low cut in the front and back, showing off her supple breasts and delicate shoulders. Her father had gone into town earlier that day to attempt to settle a dispute with the governor. For years, he'd been trying to expand the city. Her family's land had been in the way of his expansion, only desired for his own personal use. The two families had been at war since her father refused to give up their family heritage, especially for such little offered compensation. Eventually, the offerings turned into threats, though legally the governor had no leverage. She'd await his return to hear the news of the event. Picking up the hem of her large dress, she carried herself and her book to rest under a tree. Despite the buzz of the home, she could hear the chatter of birds above her, the horses making their occasional wines. She loved everything about being a southern belle, and could not imagine what her life would be like should she lose the land and animals she'd cherished her whole life.
A young lady of nineteen stepped through the large doors of her family's Georgia mansion onto the lavish porch that wrapped around the entire house. Hazel eyes with a hue of green, decorated by baby doll like eyelashes, scanned the beautiful land scape surrounding her. She moved to the rail of the porch, resting her hands every so delicately on them. As she took in a deep breath of fresh air, she took in her surroundings.
Beautiful trees draped with luscious, green vegetation and Spanish moss shaded the home. A large dirt road led up to the establishment, which enabled the inhabitants to spot visitors or intruders from afar. The long strip of road was a part of acres and acres of land, just on the outskirts of a small town a small distance away. To one side of the home was a farm, where crops and livestock to sustain the large family were raised. To the other side of the road were stables and six horses grazing, confined by a wooden fence built by her father and his workers. The large mansion, built by French immigrants many, many years before, had been in her family since her ancestors first came to the New World. It was always buzzing with life, as her family hosted many dinner parties. There were always guests staying in the guest wing, servings constantly moving in and out of the house carrying out their day to day duties. Her father traveled from time to time, and her mother constantly rearranged the home to fit whatever the decor trends were at the time.
One servant had been holding a parasol over her golden hair, curled to the fashion of the ladies of the era, swept over to one side over her shoulder and pinned in some places. She wanted to feel the sun on her delicate skin, with some color. It was in fashion to have porcelain skin, but she loved being outside and hated being pestered with that stupid parasol. Bonnets made her hot in the Georgia sun, so she opted to read under one of the ancient trees on her land when she needed a cool break from riding her horse or whatever else she would be doing.
Her dress was thick, as hoop skirts were the fashion of the lades. The hem covered her feet, the sleeves itchy under her arm. Though a pain to wear in the southern climate, the dresses were very flattering to most young women. The corset cinched her already thin waist, a life of wearing them giving her an hourglass figure. It was rather low cut in the front and back, showing off her supple breasts and delicate shoulders. Her father had gone into town earlier that day to attempt to settle a dispute with the governor. For years, he'd been trying to expand the city. Her family's land had been in the way of his expansion, only desired for his own personal use. The two families had been at war since her father refused to give up their family heritage, especially for such little offered compensation. Eventually, the offerings turned into threats, though legally the governor had no leverage. She'd await his return to hear the news of the event. Picking up the hem of her large dress, she carried herself and her book to rest under a tree. Despite the buzz of the home, she could hear the chatter of birds above her, the horses making their occasional wines. She loved everything about being a southern belle, and could not imagine what her life would be like should she lose the land and animals she'd cherished her whole life.
