''this is the name given to the intense feeling of invasive arousal that one feels when engaging in mutual gaze-making direct eye contact with someone''- Opia.
Adrian Astor. Son of Lord Astor. Despite being the firstborn he wasn't the Heir as he was...
The light from the moonlit gardens shone into Emeli's chambers. The maids chambers.
Despite maids chambers normally being dull, dark and dirty, Here at Astor Manor the maids were treated with utmost respect, but they were still looked down upon by the family. Sneers, Bad looks, Making the place messy after they had already finished cleaning. The 2 daughters of Lord Astor had made it their goal to make the Maid's lives a living hell.
Despite the liberality of the Astors, the maids were made to wear masks while cleaning, similar to the masks worn in masquerade party's, hiding most of their faces so no males could pry too much
Emeli's silk nightdress had been draped under one shoulder and had risen, allowing her upper thighs to be on show slightly. She was sitting by her window on a small wooden creaky chair overlooking the miles and miles of green in the distance. Mountains rolled over each other, Meadows of every colour spread across and every species of flower ever known to man spread across the manor. Thorns growing on the fountain sides spreading into water.
Her attention had been taken off the book she was currently reading, the pages flapping in the light breeze coming from the open window. Someone was there. Outside Dressed in midnight black, Running into her building.
She held her breath as she heard walking from outside, luckily the door had been locked from earlier. There was a rustling of notes then she heard a small plink as an envelope was swiped under her door. Slowly creeping to the door she picked it up and let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.
Her eyes widened as she saw the unfamiliar stamp upon the envelope. It was a tree with a lion and a lamb on it. with a phrase wrote under in a small handwritten messy writing, ''it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be''
She opened the letter and it read,
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