Classes dragged, but the people contained within, rarely met the standard that she’d come to expect. Children of the rich, but without the expectation carried upon the shoulders of the only children of empires back home, knowing that all too often, those within London saw their foreign features, and always spoke slower, as if they didn’t contain their own clipped accents, public school posh. That they held no class, that all they knew were cheesy poses by iconic scenery, that they didn’t quite belong. Patience required, to maintain the poise that they’d been taught to hold since childhood, despite the privilege that they’d been afforded at every turn. Feeling at times as if such patience was stretched ever so thin, as if it were about to SNAP.
But it was moments like that in which Colette grabbed her phone, calling up another classmate from the year above her, letting herself count down, backwards, Mandarin a soothing sound within her own mind. “Astrid?” the line connecting, a fainter smile tracing along her lips as she adjusted the cut of her Naeem Khan mini dress, her bag slipping down to her elbow. “I’m having the absolute worst day. PLEASE tell me you’ll come to Pigeon in twenty minutes and split a bottle of wine with me?”
Knowing the other girl a little too well, enough to know that she wouldn’t turn down the Bing heiress down, throwing in a “I hear they’re serving those divine lavender brownies that you love for dessert this week.” for good measure, a quiet enveloping her as she shouldered the phone against her shoulder, her cheek. “Please say yes.”
loosely plotted starter for @extravaganttastes // astrid