@girlfate, 𓂀 a slender vein of smoke tendrils from the cigarette butt that’d been dropped into the ashtray, serving as a cheap center piece to the old kitchen table. it wasn’t old in a shabby chic way - that curated decay look that seemed to be all the rave - it was old as in drab. with the dark wash finish streaked and cloudy, molted by hot dishes and spills, and its dated stain that didn’t quite match anything else in this room. “Can’t fathom why you insist on keeping this … relic.” perhaps that’s exactly why she keeps it, because it’s just that - an encapsulation of the past - an ode to a time annabel lee so clearly favored. when things were simple.
“Not that it’s of any real shock, I didn’t make this house call just to reminisce about the past.” a manicured nail digs into one of the deep etched ridges along the outer edge, a scar that’d been left by tamerlane’s fork when she’d been in a particular mood some years ago - ever her father’s daughter.
“We-” roderick and i, your children, fortunato - “need you to make a public statement … It’s a small thing really. I’ve already arranged the time and place, Pym’s even written it for you-” a brittle smile is offered, and when madeline’s back curves upward so that shoulders may broaden, she isn’t sure if it’s an act of invitation to draw the other woman deeper into the conversation, or one of intimidation to keep her from refuting. “so you see, it should hardly be any trouble to just … show up, and read from the cards, as they say.”
