The Orlov family name was one which struck fear into the heart of many a Russian; muggle and wizard folk alike. To any other, it was just a name which, after the initial pique of interest at it's foreign sound, would blend into the background like t...
Odessa ascended the grand staircase in her childhood home in Paris; the city where the Russian pureblood families had sought refuge from the Bolsheviks all those years ago. This house was modest in comparison to the enormous estate in London, being a Paris townhouse, but it was still large by anyone's standards.
This visit, along with the boring people that always accompanied her visits, was the thing worse than death.
The young witch could not deny her love for life in high society. Despite having a passion for adventure and new things, the brunches, the balls and the afternoon teas were fun. When she was at school she missed it. The people, in contrast, were not so fun. They lacked depth, integrity and a sense of humour worth having. Lurking beneath the surface, Odessa knew that each and every one of these powerful witches and wizards had their own dark secrets. Until these secrets came to light, however, Odessa had little interest in them.
This life was not without its flaws. Unbeknownst to her, Odessa's upbringing had inevitably led to an underlying sense of entitlement. The coldness of her childhood may also have contributed to an absence of real empathy for others. Whilst she tried her hardest to be kind, people frequently felt that Odessa was too obnoxious to pay much care to the feelings of anyone who was not an immediate friend.
The housekeeper, Madame Durand, met Odessa at the top of the stairs. She had been the housekeeper there even before Odessa had been born and so the she had known her all of her life. All of the staff employed at the house were muggles, and Lucille Durand was the only one who had any knowledge of magic.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," said Madame Durand politely. "J'espère que vous trouverez la maison aussi impeccable que lorsque vous l'avez laisséel?"
Odessa ensured her that yes, she did find the house to be in as perfect condition as when she had left it the previous summer. Madame Durand informed Odessa that her aunt and uncle were visiting that afternoon for tea. Then, in perfect timing, the grand doorbell chimed throughout the house.
Giving the old housekeeper a sardonic smile and closing her eyes to enjoy one last moment of peace and quiet, Odessa said, "Et c'est comme ça que ça commence."
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Her time in Paris was so short and so busy that the trip whirled by. Everytime she saw her older cousins they would be involved in a hushed conversation and often went off into another room during engagements. Between this and all of the socialising, there wasn't much time to appreciate time passing.
Odessa was expected by the Armatis in the evening so she chose to spend her final day away from society and in her favourite place of seclusion: her garden. The gardens of the old townhouse were expansive but what you could see from the back-facing windows were not Odessa's. They had been her mother's. Each tree, shrub, perennial, had been lovingly selected and placed by Alessandra when she first came to Paris.
