If Lydia could have avoided everyone that she knew that evening, she would have.
She didn’t much care for the opinions of others, but she had no doubt that at least one person whose opinion at the very least could get under her skin would have a thought or two about her apparel selection for that night’s festivities.
Her mother had always been known for wearing pink.
She was not her mother.
Lydia had taken one look at the light pink ensemble that had been laid out for her and the overwhelming urge to set it aflame had almost won out. But it had been a gift with a clear societal expectation of acceptance, and at the very least she knew that she needed to be thankful she hadn’t been shoved into the horrible chartreuse frock that someone else from the Shadow Realm had been forced to endure. She’d donned it begrudgingly, and let one of the overeager girls in a nearby room do her hair in what they insisted was the latest fashion. She had no doubt that she looked like a proper young lady, and she hated it.
She had much to say about how she had the feeling that they were all playthings for the Auradonians, their little dolls that they could dress up and have their fun with only to be discarded once they’d grown tiresome. However, there were more pressing matters at hand at the moment.
Eyes darting about to take in the luxury as soon as they’d been admitted to the great hall before them, it had only taken seconds for Lydia’s gaze to land upon Andres. Her attendance at his side came swiftly after. There would clearly be no avoiding that evening, so she found it of high importance to get things over and done with as soon as they possibly could.
“Before you say anything, know that I was able to procure a blade upon our arrival in town, and I think we both know that I would be unafraid to use it.”
@talesnbone