( song for the chapter: apocalypse — cigarettes after sex )
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗦 until they gleamed and glistened. Her mother never sets foot into the kitchen, not unless she needs to get a glass of wine. Speaking of wine, Celeste must have chugged down two bottles of alcoholic beverages the moment the guests stepped out. The Malfoys stayed over in the two guest rooms, and Scarlet distinctly remembers Regulus telling her that his cousins are also staying over at the Black Manor.
At times, she pitied her mother. Being a trophy that takes up too much space in the dynasty Zircon Bridget has prepared and maintained must have been inexplicably miserable. Celeste Bridget spent her life being labelled as the pathetic soul that was too far down a fucked up tunnel to uphold a respectable family's reputation. There were times Abraxas Malfoy babbled to the entire community about how Celeste had been 'fixed', all he wanted was for his sister to be married into a good family and not spend her entire life being shunned.
Celeste got everything she wanted. But at what cost? Being a canvas painted with vivid colours and scattered with rebellious memories and impact brought her nothing. With a single footstep into the Bridget Manor, her canvas became devoid of vibrancy—became a white expanse only tinted by murky water from worn-out paintbrushes. It was not at all what she had imagined.
Celeste Bridget's adventurous youth should have left people awestruck, her life should have been celebrated instead of being tolerated by a horrid man like Zircon—a man who rained misery upon her like unassailable sleet on a well-built farm.
"How many of those horrid drinks did you have?" Scarlet asked, passing a pile of dirty tablecloths to Jaggy so he could put them in the laundry.
"Many. Do you blame me?" Celeste gestured around, referring to the tight atmosphere the dinner had brought. The little comment Orion made, a reminder that the woman married a thirty-year-old man at the mere age of seventeen still hung in the air.
Scarlet fiddled nervously with her rings, "Perhaps, we can have our conversation later on,"
"Merlin, do you have to start this again," Celeste scoffed, blinking away the blurry visions of her sight.
