matilde rollins couldn't walk through an empty field without tripping over her own two feet, but by the saints could she talk her way out of just about anything!
in which a runaway kingpin's daughter puts her etiquette classes to good use, and go...
in which Matilde Rollins and Elyas De Vries most certainly do not want to get married
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"Are you absolutely positive you want to do this?"
Matilde Rollins looked up from where she'd been packing her trunk, a pair of underwear clenched between her teeth. "'Course I am," she mumbled around them, before dropping them atop the pile of clothes. "Don't you dare chicken out of this now, Elyas!"
Elyas De Vries shrugged in that effortlessly careless way only he could manage to pull off without looking like a complete arsehole. "I feel like I should be more offended by this whole situation - don't forget your pantyhose."
"What am I going to need pantyhose for?" Matilde scoffed, garments flying as she rifled through the cacophony of fabric that was her dresser. "And you should hardly be offended! Who would want to marry me - I'd trip over my own feet on the way up the aisle!"
Elyas managed a small chuckle, pressing his cigarette into the pole at the end of her four poster bed. Admiring the little crescent of burnt wood, he flicked a flurry of ash onto the already stained carpet. "I don't know. I reckon I'll miss you at least a little."
Matilde gasped dramatically, red hair flying in all directions as she stumbled over to her vanity to retrieve a tangled cluster of necklaces. "Elyas De Vries! You don't mean to say that you're actually capable of human emotion?"
The boy shrugged and flicked his finished cigarette her bedside table, losing it in the clutter scattered across the scratched up surface. The heir to the De Vries estate took particular care in breaking and marring everything he possibly could, relishing in the destruction of his surroundings. Matilde, on the other hand, didn't mean to ruin everything she touched - it just kind of...happened. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Tilde. My heart is still as cold as ever; frigid, in fact."
Matilde considered her overflowing suitcase and tried stuffing a scuffed boot atop her ink stained pinafore. "There's the Elyas I know and love!"
"But not enough to marry," he said dryly, not a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Matilde raised an eyebrow. "I can tell you're deeply saddened by such a revelation."
"Utterly distraught," he drawled, striking a match against her bedpost and lighting a second cigarette. He watched on in amusement as Matilde launched herself atop her suitcase in an attempt to latch it shut. "You're running away from home; not going on holiday."
"Exactly," Matilde shrugged, finally heaving her overflowing suitcase onto the window sill. "You never know what I might need!"
Elyas raised an eyebrow and leant against the bed frame as the red headed girl tripped over a wayward shoe on her way back to her dresser. "I doubt you'll need your chess set, Tilde."
