#monacosgrace

[bvlmains]

 @monacosgrace​

    kristina’s soft grey eyes survey the living area with a mixture of disdain and vexation. she had left their home a few hours prior and purposely avoided the room she knew was still littered with empty alcohol bottles and an asleep grace. upon needing the kitchen for tea and cake purposes, she approached the space with a gentle sigh. midday approaches. “ grace. ” she calls out to the passed out figure splayed out over one of the white couches, her heels snapping against the marble as she strode over to the kitchen. her tone is flat. unimpressed. “ it smells like depression and cheap tequila in here. wake up, clean up. ” it filled kristina with silent glee that it was the housekeepers’ day off. the princess set to making lunch; brewing vanilla and rose tea, arranging her favorite fruits neatly on a plate. she’d been very tempted to spend the day shut away in her room with the company of a henning mankell novel. homesickness was getting at her, and the whole thing with her brother was just making her feel depressed. she’d spoken to none of her housemates, including alex. she knew her depression was to back to take a hold on her when she stopped speaking. so, she was making a concerted effort to interact with people. taking a bite of a slice of peach, she glances over the counter. “ did you hear me? ”

[bvlmains]

    - ̗̀ ❛ the party-goers were beginning to spill out onto the dancefloor. everyone had greeted each other, exchanged gifts and eaten cake, and it was now the unofficial time to get drunk. the four hung around the upstairs bar, piled high with fine liquor, suitable for a royal private birthday. the club was closed off for the event, only nobles and patricians were wandering about in their finery with their glasses of cristal. eleanor wanted to head over and mingle with one of her best friends, who was actually the birthday girl, but felt somehow obligated to watch over her twin brother who was already indulgently displaying his lack of restraint when it came to alcohol. the tall blond took his third shot of vodka and snaked his arm around the shoulders of the monégasque princess beside him. “ would you three care to join in? i tried mingling with a couple of other european royals around here but, they’re just so dreadfully boring. ” charles screws up his nose, giving a distinctly displeased glance over at a german prince. the german returns the expression— charles had a reputation amongst the young royalty for being quite the snob; more often that not, drunk, plus impertinent and haughty. 

    he hailed the barman to pour another two shots, and offered one to grace. stanisław made a scoffing sound. “ cool— thanks for offering, charles. eleanor and i will just go do some rails in the bathroom and leave you both to it, ” he motioned to pull eleanor along by her arm, who shifted hesitantly, before he replaced his hand lightly on the small of her back. he could play charles’ game as well, leaning over the prince’s sister with his other hand on her shoulder. stan and eleanor's relationship was a constant source of concern for charles; he couldn’t understand her unwavering submission to him, the bizarre force he held over her. stan fully intended to put it on show if charles was going to feel bold enough to make obvious advancements on grace; or he’d try something else. the night was still young. 

[saintclaires-blog]

     the party-goers were beginning to spill out onto the dancefloor. everyone had greeted each other, exchanged gifts and eaten cake, and it was now the unofficial time to get drunk. the four hung around the upstairs bar, piled high with fine liquor, suitable for a royal private birthday. the club was closed off for the event, only nobles and patricians were wandering about in their finery with their glasses of cristal. camilla wanted to head over and mingle with one of her best friends, who was actually the birthday girl, but felt somehow obligated to watch over her twin brother who was already indulgently displaying his lack of restraint when it came to alcohol. the tall blond took his third shot of vodka and snaked his arm around the shoulders of the monégasque princess beside him. “would you three care to join in? i tried mingling with a couple of other european royals around here but, they’re just so dreadfully boring.” charles screws up his nose, giving a distinctly displeased glance over at a german prince. the german returns the expression— charles had a reputation amongst the young royalty for being snobbish and impertinent. 

     he hailed the barman to pour another two shots, and offered one to grace. stanisław made a scoffing sound. “cool— thanks for offering, charles. camilla and i will just go do some rails in the bathroom and leave you both to it,” he motioned to pull camilla along by her arm, which she shook off in a sharp movement, rolling her eyes at him. he replaced his hand lightly on the small of her back, feeling some kind of possessive need to claim camilla tonight if charles was going to feel bold enough to make obvious advancements on grace; or he’d try something else. the night was still young. 

[saintclaires-blog]

     it had been a terribly miserable manhattan day. heavy rain had fallen steadily since morning, trapping the three who were present indoors. camilla was struggling to entertain herself; no book could capture her attention for very long, she’d resorted to hanging upside down on the couch until her cheeks flushed red and she again grew uninterested, wandering aimlessly about the apartment. charles had been immersed in his studies since lunch, his concentration beginning to wane as the gloomy evening crawled in. camilla draped herself lazily over the table, her head resting on her arm as she absently fidgeted with the pens and textbooks laying around charles. massaging his temples with his finger tips, charles shuts his notebook with a yawn and leans back in his chair. he’d ceased to actually absorb anything he was reading. the physics jargon sat meaninglessly on the page as he stared down at it, absently scratching his head. camilla watches her twin with glassy grey eyes, waiting for him to do something even remotely interesting, in the hope of distracting herself from the ever-mounting boredom. 

     “i cannot do any more of this sober.” charles runs a hand through his untidy mess of flaxen hair, leaving his seat to gaze over all the exotic, elaborately named liquors arranged in their carefully organised cabinet. he seizes a bottle of his housemate’s favorite tequila— taking a lengthy swig and making a scrunched-up face afterwards. “you won’t be able to do any more of that drunk, either,” camilla remarks in an offhand way. “though, i’m not against drinking as a way to liven things up.” she languidly raises and drops one shoulder in indifference. charles throws the invitation out to grace, shaking the stout bottle of patrón in her direction. “grace, c’mon. drink with your favorite housemates.” charles says, rifling around in the cabinets for some larger shot glasses. “we should get hammered before stan gets home. make the most of his absence, and all.” 

[ofnicolas-blog]

[ text: wrong number ]: It’s just a game to me.

[ ❛ text message →  grace ]: haha .. unless ur talking about mario kart n64[ ❛ text message →  grace ]: i got no idea what ur on about

[elsasahlen-blog]

( ◤ ✕ ° — heavy weather. )

     elsa watches the smoke curl up in question marks from the tip of her cigarette, floating out the small crack in the window and dissipating in the cold air outside. the smallest crack possible. she wanted to smoke, but the senior counsellors had already given her a couple of stern lectures on fire hazards and other reasons that she wasn’t to smoke inside the cabins. but it’d turned cold, a rainstorm had unexpectedly hit camp. this posed elsa with two problems; it was too cold to smoke outside, and she was stuck inside with grace. perched on the windowsill closest to her own bed, elsa lets out a sharp exhale. shorts, long socks, adidas t-shirt, cigarette in one hand and bottle of red wine in the other. typical rainy day traditions back in stockholm.

     the brunette flicks grey ash out the window, leaving traces on the windowsill. turns around and pulls an earphone out of her ear, sending out the sound of a raucous swedish screamo band to the rest of the room. ‘ do you have any ? ’ she asks grace, directing her gaze to the russian cigarette packet lying empty on the windowsill. she had plenty more packed away at the bottom of one of her suitcases, but wasn’t quite feeling like rifling through all of them to remember which one it was. chain-smoking was another rainy day habit. elsa takes a long swig from the wine bottle before placing it down beside the empty cigarette packet with a loud thud. 

[adclaidcs-blog]

[ text ]: Don’t pretend that you care.

imessage— to grace: that’s how i keep myself sane.

[adclaidcs-blog]

♥

♥:Your muse crying about something

“ i really don’t know how you do it grace. its so much, ” she said, plopping herself on the other girls bed. “ fais ceci, fais cela, être gentil , mais pas trop gentil ... responsable, sérieusement comment l'enfer.. ” adelaide began to cry out of frustration, “ its just so hard. ”