I was interrupted by someone carelessly walking by, almost hitting me in the face with a black and white Van's backpack.
"it's impolite to stare", he said when he was already a step behind the table I was sitting at, leaving me with an open mouth.
...
--- "Sometimes you can't explain what your see in a person"
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So... this is how louis looks in this chapter (: and above is a picture if the dining hall... not exactly what I was imagining but the best I could find. OH, AND WE HIT 1K!!!!! I'M FREKAING OUT YALLL ---
-L-
I walked along the majestic hallways with the high, curved ceiling that was characteristic for the royal wing, stopping in front of the dinner hall. Out of formality, two guards were placed in front of the dark cherry wood door, stepping aside, and letting me in. Weren't they so bored? Standing there for hours every day.
The dinner hall was a room I didn't like at all. It was too big to be comfortable for only seven people. The table was so big that there was enough space for at least thirty people, which was useful during political meetings, but not for a 'family dinner'. There were three chandeliers hanging above the table, bathing everything in a cosy light that was reflected in the numerous mirrors on the wall. My little sisters were already sitting at the table, talking wildly about their new private dancing teacher, but they stopped when they saw me. It wasn't too often that we spent time together. My sisters were still in educational training and therefore had a strict programme of school and other lessons from morning to night. I was happy to have that under my belt. I sat down with them and, although it was unseemly, began to nibble on some baguette that was in a little basket on the table. it was supposed to be a side dish for appetisers, but who am I to follow the rules.
Sipping from the glass of water that stood in front of me, with my sisters happily showing off their brand-new dresses to me, I noticed that Emily had entered the room.
"Mummy!", my sisters yelled, running towards her, and hugging her merrily. They loved their mother, and I couldn't blame them. They were too young to notice her intriguing ways. And them being her own children, she treated them better then she treated me. But even in her bests moments she was only vaguely reminiscent of the warmth, compassion and love that Johannah had shared with people every single day.
By the time that the dishes were served, my father still hadn't appeared, and, oddly, my stepmother hadn't lost a single word in my direction. No subliminal criticism, not even a judging look when I didn't properly place the napkin on my lap. I hated those old traditions. If that was good or bad, was a yet unanswered question.
When the main course was served, and my father was still missing, I decided to test Emily out.
"So, where is your husband? I thought he was meant to be eating with us?", I prompted. She turned to me and eyed me appraisingly.
"Yes, he is. And he will. I am confident he will come. I've been told he's had an abnormally large amount of work lately."
"And you buy that? He literally always tells us that," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I doubt she'd seen him more in the last few weeks than I had. As in, not at all.
