𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 | lady lesso

seventeen

Something in my body told me to wake up early the next morning. A feeling in my gut. The warmth of orange clashes with dark blue outside my window – something about seeing the sky when you wake is Leonora’s philosophy for the curtains never being closed. I turn to snuggle into her side, the scent of cinnamon engulfing me again. I might have to hide this from my mother, and it will kill me too.

Her arms tighten around my waist pulling me closer to her unusually warm figure. I lay watching her chest rise and fall, pushing up the silk shirt she sports to trace shapes along her hip and waist. There’s a sort of therapy waking up beside her. Her eyelashes flutter like a butterflies wings to reveal the ocean blue behind them. The bright blue eyes meet mine. We lay for a moment; admiring one another until we recognise the need to be prepared early. I slide out of bed first, dredging out my chosen attire for the day.

I am given the impression my body is not running at the same pace as my mind and will continue to move groggily. Fortunately, I am not at all surprised. Pulling on what I can Leonora joins me in dressing. The warm morning colours start to fade in the small amount of time we’ve been awake.

Large, grey clouds cover the vast sky, small droplets falling against the window. Their pattering sounds are irregular and in no particular rhythm like they are usually in this whimsical land. Light flashes across the sky, the angry grumbles of whatever supernatural being lives in the clouds, following soon after.

The breakfast that is in my usual routine  is not graced with my arrival as I spot two Dalmatians and the monochrome hair used to identify my mother before I can make it out of the damned building. She whips around as if sensing my presence – it’s  either maternal instinct or one of her freakishly stalker like qualities. I gather my courage and meet her at the entrance.

“Mother.” I greet, kissing her cheek. She grabs my face as if to check my complexion, continuing by pushing me a safe distance from her: looking my body up and down. “Glad to see you are not wearing any of the disgraceful clothing I’ve seen some students leaving here wearing.” She shudders, reminiscing on something I have taken less and less notice in. “Who’s that over there, she has an interest in one of us.”

I turn my head and see Lesso greeting other parents but her eyes never fully meeting theirs as she throws distracted glances at me. She finishes talking to a woman I presume Ursula (the purple tentacles really give it away) and starts her brisk walk over. Mother’s mood will sway a certain way depending on how this goes.

“Miss DeVil. Pleasure to meet you.” She takes mother’s pale hand in hers. Something she hasn’t done for any of the other parents. A flirtatious look is sent to my lover. Yuck.

"And to whom do I own the pleasure?” The tone and intention in her voice is obvious. Leonora practically flinches as much as I do as she extracts her hand.

“I’m Y/N’s Dean: Lady Lesso.” She starts, “I also have the pleasure of dating your daughter.” She finishes with uncertainty but relief in her voice, arm wrapping around my waist. The adrenaline in my body increases with my heartbeat. I feel it pounding so heavily against my ribs I’m certain they are about to break – fractures already forming.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” My mother says, the dogs starting to growl from either side of her. Leonora excuses herself hastily, to attend to her educational role. Cruella decides this is her moment to be cruel as she gives me the cold shoulder. The day is going fantastic already. Things could not get much worse.

As if by all blessings I make it to lunch. This is of course after: a thorough inspection of my room, multiple glares, a few smashing of objects, the Dalmatians sniffing all of my belongings and a grunt in confirmation that she has semi-approved of my living conditions.

We don’t sit when arriving in the well maintained dining room as the never side is ‘tacky’ and in an ‘utterly disgusting condition’. So we resolve the problem by standing by the wall, observing the caricatures around us. None of them supply her with enough enjoyment and so she asks me to play a small prank on an Ever. I shoot her a look that screams ‘mother I cannot and will not’. She either doesn't infer it or chooses not to as she pokes my leg with her cane.

“No. We’ve been strictly forbidden.” I spit.

“I am your mother you do as I please. Not what your incessant girlfriend insists you do young lady.” She growls back, equally as vicious as the dogs guarding her.

“I’m not a child anymore, I can do as I please.”

“And I am still your dear mother.” I feel my frustration growing as she continues to pressure me into committing an act that would be admittedly fun, however I made a promise to behave. So, behave I will.

A few of the villains and villainesses eye our disagreement with amused expressions – Maleficent being the first in my sight. I’m sure Jafar is getting a kick out of this also. The stormy mood is obvious to everyone as they watch us carefully. Mother Vs daughter can be a dangerous game.

I search for my relative instead, whom I have not seen all morning. Zylia and the Baroness are most likely having their own dispute in the privacy of a dark dusty corridor. That is if the Baroness could get a day away from the colour orange to visit her daughter. I highly doubt it.

My doubts are countered when the hall doors open, Baroness stalking in like a lioness after its prey. Zylia is a lion cub, trailing in behind her mother with her tail between her legs. Something I understand thoroughly.

The grey eyes of Baroness Hellman meet mine and I sense this day is not going to go as well as I thought. My mother’s head quips up and her hands ball to fists. She blows her dog whistle (she is unaware Zylia has one in her possession) and they trail dutifully to her side.

Everything I’ve built is about to be destroyed. I know it by the sad look in Zylia’s eyes as they meet mine. The family feud has come to bite me in the ass.