masquerade ball starter for @creatrix-mea
Roughly an hour until the first guests arive, he thinks as he walks by several servants working to get the last preperations for the ball out of the way. He would love to lend a hand, do something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied.
However, with his mask held tightly in one hand, his festive attire in place and also already sufficiently uncomfortable as he tends to be before bigger events such as this, Clive instead is forced to make his way through the castle halls towards his mother's study. Her having summoned him on very short notice.
His hair is for once tamed into a somewhat tidied appearance, although it threatens to curl at the the ends, whatever the servants tried to put into it this time to keep it straight failing it's intended purpose like all the others before it.
He breathes deeply, shuffling his feet as he stands infront of the door, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. A nervous knot in the pit of his stomach keeps him from raising his hand to knock. It's never a good sign when the duchess bids him for conversation.
As of late she seems to prefer to act as if he doesn't exist at all, which is an improvement to the open hostility she utilized before. However, it is also all the more reason to be wary of whatever she means to speak to him about now.
At last he raises a hand to knock and then, he waits.