ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 𖦹 🕯️🌊
‹𝟹 「ᴋᴀᴢ ʙʀᴇᴋᴋᴇʀ 」
⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 - eulalie winterrose is determined to find out who killed her sister and make it out alive.
"𝘰𝘩, 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵...
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chapter twenty-two / salt and sorrow ❛ glass shattered on the white cloth ❜
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Turning into the Blue Room, Eulalie stopped short. Her sisters were scattered throughout the room, arranged as if by a portraitist, trying to capture everyone in the best light.
All of them.
Cecily stood by the piano, her hand resting on the lid. Saoirse and Adora were on the loveseat, with arms cozily linked behind their backs. Nadya stood behind them, her fingers perched on Saoirse's shoulder. Pollyanna posed at the window with an open book in hand, though it was upside down. Iris and Brigid sprawled out near the fire on a thick rug. They appeared to be deep in a game of jacks, but nothing lay before them.
Everyone looked up as Eulalie entered with Kaz just behind her, their heads turning in jerky unison. Eulalie blinked at the unnatural movement, and for a terrible second, her breath hitched in horror. Kaz didn't want to know what Eulalie thought she'd seen.
"We'll take care of everything, Asta," Cecily mimicked, breaking the moment as Eulalie walked past her.
Everything returned to normal. Eulalie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid her mind of whatever monstrous vision had plagued her. Kaz could feel Cecily's glare burn into his skull. He turned around to only stand outside in the corridor by the doorway.
"Aren't you the dutiful daughter today? Taking care of your poor, ailing stepmother, stepping in to oversee Mother's Night. Kennedy would be so proud," he heard Cecily hiss bitterly after Eulalie didn't respond.
Eulalie still ignored her sister's barbs, joining Saoirse and Adora in sorting through the notes on the coffee table. Then, after taking a moment to think of her retort, Eulalie finally responded, "I didn't see you racing in to help."
"Nor will I," Cecily quipped. "She brought this on herself."
"She can't help what the baby is doing."
Cecily clicked her tongue in some fake pity. "Such ambitions and all for naught. She dreamt of running this estate, and she can't even handle putting together Yule. I'm not helping her. Let her fail, and Papa will see what a weak Fjerdan woman he married."
