"I'm a feminist obviously
But I wouldn't really mind him savin' me"
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Ophelia Eleanor Waldorf-Huntington: cousin to infamous Blair Waldorf, niece of Eleanor Waldorf, returns to the Upper East Side after a year away spent with h...
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More towers than Trump more bucks than Bloomberg. Bart Bass definitely made his mark on Manhattan. The passing of a public figure can shake a whole town, but the real story is always the one happening in private away from the headlines, at home.
"How am I expected to attend any event with this hideous cast?". Ophelia groaned as she motioned towards the cast now donning her right arm, the pain had subsided a little but the ravenette was beyond exhausted of hospital stays and visits. It had been a week since the accident the heiress found herself in and, unluckily for her, it had also now been a week since Bart Bass was killed in a car crash - the same crash that had hit the ravenette in question.
Ophelia had sustained a broken arm as well as fractured ribs and a concussion that led to her being hauled up in hospital for the first few days post-accident. The heiress hadn't come to until roughly twenty-four hours later with no recollection of the accident nor the Snowflake Ball earlier that night, she had been informed of the humiliation Jenny inflicted on Vanessa on top of her stepping in to help but she still couldn't remember it for herself. The only people who had been permitted to see Ophelia for the last week were her family, but Spencer had managed to sneak Theodore and Carrington into the apartment when their parents had gone to check in on Lily Bass - something the ravenette was immensely grateful for.
"I think your choice in fashion is going to be the last thing on people's minds El." Michael reassured, reading the newspaper sat upon their kitchen table as Ophelia did her best to find something appropriate but also easy to put on. "Given we're lowering a man into the ground today." Spencer spoke candidly before receiving a glare from his father in response. "In the most sympathetic way possible... of course." "Of course." Margaret agreed, making her presence known to the family as she placed a soft kiss on her husband's cheek.
"Mom, I need fashion advice." Ophelia tried again, hoping the only other woman in the house would care even slightly about their families' appearances. "Just find something black." The older woman insisted, sipping her coffee from the table before caving at the insistent look from her daughter. "Fine. I'm coming now." Placing the coffee back down the older woman followed after her daughter, knowing she had experienced something traumatic herself and hoping she could be of any help to her.
Looking upon the excessive amount of clothes in Ophelia's wardrobe Margaret couldn't help but be shocked, not remembering her daughter ever wearing the same outfit twice. "Maybe we should take your survival of the crash as a new lease on life... a chance to tidy things up..." "Mom, are you seriously using this time that we're preparing for a funeral to tell me to clear out my closet?". Laughing softly at the absurdity of the woman's suggestion caused Margaret to raise her hands in defense. "I'm just saying, it may be nice." "I'll think about it when I get this ugly thing off my arm."
