Esteemed Malevolence

XXIV: It's An Oblivious Occasion

The exterior of the Judge's residence was a lot more elaborate than it needed to be, but Eleanor Lovett had already expected the place to be like that. Unlike everyone else who was loitering outside and studying the building in wonder, she climbed the steps up to the front doors, eager to get inside.

She plastered a smile on her face, her invitation held snugly between her fingers as she approached the open doors over the Judge's porch. Beadle Bamford was stood to the side of the doorway, deep in conversation with an established-looking gent wearing a dinner jacket. His discussion didn't stop him from taking his eyes away from the man for a moment to send her a nauseating grin as he snatched the invite out of her hands, nodding towards her.

She kept her arms close to her sides as she exhaled a deep breath and headed through to the main entrance. Before she could enter properly, a member of the house staff shrugged her coat from her, swiftly draping it over their arm before they bowed.

After getting over the shock of being served, the place was a sight to behold - columns everywhere where there was any excuse to have any, hand painted murals hogging the place of wallpaper - though such artwork seemed pointless because most of the deep red curtains that had been hung up obscured the full pieces - and a geometric marble floor that was far too disorientating for Eleanor's liking.

She hadn't felt safe outside...

But now she felt dizzy... and trapped. Now that she realised that she was one of the few guests that was attending the event on their own, she felt excluded.

The entire place was bubbling with conversation, laughter and the clink of glasses. For once, she felt completely out of her depth.

Eleanor was visibly uncomfortable, eyes darting around the lobby, which was crammed full of socialites and budding elites, accusing eyes and flaunting eyelashes. She felt like she was the centre of attention as she glided by the dense mass of somebodies, and for once, she wished that she was nothing more than a translucent apparition.

Amongst the guests around her, another one of the house staff managed to shove a glass into her palms, though she was too preoccupied with staring at the high ceiling above her to really understand what was happening.

The Judge's house was more of a palace, and she was amazed - but she wasn't envious at all. Such an enormous building would probably be lonely. Or it would be enough to make someone paranoid.

Her slippy palms cupped around the glass of wine like it was some kind of poisonous chalice that she dared not sip from. If she was honest, she was suspicious of the stuff. She moved forwards carefully, dropping her eyes from the carved ceiling to focus on moving through the sedate atmosphere of the party guests. She reluctantly scanned her eyes over the room, out of nervous vulnerability more than anything.

Crooked noses, narrowed eyes, stern lines for mouths, envious knife-stares, clawed hands around the stems of wine glasses, sniffs of judgement, lovers mingling away from the persuasive entrepreneurs, accusers and loathers...

Strangers were all that she could see.

All she craved for in that minute was someone familiar to calm her rapidly beating heart. She could hear the sound of her discomfort reaching her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to swallow the feeling down...

But it was futile.

She felt completely alone, even though the enormous foyer around her was filled with chattering humans.

She opened her eyes again, exhaling a shuddering breath as she felt tears threatening to spill over. She hated this so-called party and she'd only just got there. She wished she had refused to attend, she didn't care if it went against her appearances. She should never have set foot at the Judge's residence, let alone the cobbles outside.