The True Story of Emily Lockwood / g. karim

𝟚𝟙. 𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔾𝕒𝕝𝕒

~ / Episode Six- Part Three \ ~

"young and beautiful"

❀

--The Fittes ball was, as Emily expected, horrific in the way that it was full of pompous ladies and gents, all a bit full of themselves. Overwhelming, as well. The trio swooped into the large room, and Emily caught a glance of them in the reflective surface of the doors.

Her and Anthony, looking more like twins than ever - their outfits nearly matching. And Lucy, looking radiant in her blue attire that Anthony seemed to love very much. It was a full house, and as they strolled about Emily admired the various fashion, smiling faintly.

Oh, how she wished George were here.

The way Lockwood and Lucy kept gazing at one another, well, it made Emily a bit jealous. The trio descended a set of ornate stairs, finding themselves in the main ballroom. A gentlemen holding a tray of champagne offered one to the young people.

Emily smiled as she took the slender glass in her hand, sipping it politely. They had come to stand in the center of it all, in a space looking as if it were made just for them. George would have hated this, Emily thought with a pang of sadness.

But for her, she knew he would have danced.

"We should probably do some mingling first, yeah?" Anthony suggested, standing with the girls.

"Make it look like we actually came to party, not commit a crime," Emily smiled wryly, clinking her brother's drink with her own.

"Great," Lucy drawled boredly, staring around the room. "Two of my favorite things. Posh people and small talk." On that note, they began 'mingling', walking about the room, Emily feeling secured by the cool metal of her silver dagger on her thigh, beneath the sleek black skirt.

"Jesus Christ, are those things sources?" Lucy asked, angling her head to stare up at the wall. Emily looked at the sources, whose spirits were tied to them still. Her stomach churned, as she breathed her way through the onslaught of agony.

"Ah, the famous relic costumes," her brother replied, gazing at the girl. "Not a fan? Penelope's never let danger or good taste get in the way of her showing off her family's famous legacy." Emily scoffed.

"Ah, the things we do simply for aesthetic," she commented in repulsion. "oh, speak of the devil!" Emily plastered on a polite smile, and lifted her glass to the woman, who'd taken up a place on the balcony above.

It looked like the woman had stood there, to observe the party. But for some reason, Emily had an awful feeling, like Penelope was not ad pure-intentioned as she seemed. But, then again - she had made her fortune off mass tragedy.

"Oh, God, I think she saw me," Lucy said, turning her head, nearly burrowing her face into Anthony's shoulder. "What are you doing?" She gasped, as Anthony raised his hand to wave at her like a little child.

"What?" The boy laughed, and Emily looked away to admire the room, to give the two of them some semblance of privacy. While they talked, she gazed around, imagining George's flawless map in reality, and their way to the Black Library.

"I sleep in a loft," Lucy pointed out. Emily spun, and put her hand to her chest in disgrace.

"I also sleep in a loft, darling," she trilled playfully, not missing the way her brother's face softened when he saw Lucy. Nervously, it seemed, their friend grabbed an appetizer of minscule portions off a platter, carried by the waitstaff.