Dahlia's whole life is flipped upside down when her eccentric aunt enrolls her in a prestigious university in England. She is forced to make friends with a rather eclectic group of people and adapt to her new lifestyle all while trying to find the a...
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I spent the entirety of Saturday and Sunday in the studio working on my Stories in Stone project, smoothing out bumps and adjusting anatomical details to look as accurately human as they possibly could. Nailing the proportions would make the figures look more realistic despite them bearing a resemblance to mannequins due to their lack of facial features. By the time Professor Jenkins closed the studio on Sunday, my project was complete, minus some finishing touches like painting the plywood base and an item that one of the figures was holding.
On Monday, my classes were back in session, but my Shakespearean Literature class was relocated to a different room in the North Building due to an exam taking place in our usual room. Mr. Browne's lecture had a sedative effect on me, so afterwards, I was eager to get back to my dorm to make myself a coffee. My shoulders and wrists were sore from practically wrestling with clay for the past two days, and that, coupled with a tired mind, made me feel like taking a nap on the quad, but I persevered, sighing with relief as I stepped into the lobby of the Edwins Building.
I began walking towards the stairwell, but was forced to stop when Madame Chesterfield stepped in my path. Her hair was pulled back in a bun that was so tight it gave her a face lift, but I knew it was probably giving her a headache as well.
"Miss Andersen, these were delivered for you," she said with total disinterest, her grating voice harshly clawing away at my sleepiness. She held out two items- an envelope and a bouquet of purple flowers that, surprisingly, were not hyacinths.
I slid my handbag so the strap was nestled in the crook of my elbow and took them with caution, holding the envelope in my right hand and the bouquet in my left. "Um... thanks."
I continued to the stairs, passing by her quickly because I felt the need to squirm under her icy gaze. Ascending the steps, curiosity started to wake me up, and I studied the envelope, noticing that the front was blank. I flipped it over to see a recognizable silver seal on it.
On the third floor, outside my dorm, I switched the envelope to my left hand, using two fingers to hold it against the wrapped stems of the bouquet, and opened the door.
Atlas stood in the center of the room holding an open umbrella above her head while reading a letter, her eyebrows scrunched and her face gaunt. She looked borderline psychotic.
"Isn't that bad luck?" I questioned, shutting the door behind me and walking over to her, the items in my hand being disregarded for a minute.
"What?" She asked, lifting her eyes from the words she was reading.
"You're holding an umbrella. Open. Inside," I stated, and she looked up at it like she wasn't aware of her actions. "Can I ask why?"
"It came with this letter. Madame Chesterfield gave them to me as I walked in." She handed me the paper in her hand, and I read the familiar words written in Harry's handwriting. It was the invitation for tea.
