❝i thought you were real to me━but you're the gossip girl!❞
ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ Estelle Devereaux does the justice.
ᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ feelings get in the way.
❝won't look down got no regrets❞
book in collaboration with @ArtemisEclipsed !
cover made by elixirxroses o...
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' your 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 is my favourite 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝! '
⤹'the tragic events of '63'
NO ONE HAD ANY IDEA WHAT would happen on the twenty-first of January nineteen-sixty-three in the Devereaux household. There were no signs of elements that would break the Devereauxs' serenity. Like no other day, the weather was merciful, sparing the people of France from harsh winds, like no other day, the man of the house came home early after a short day of work at the Ministry of Magic. Charles Devereaux, stripped of worries, was entertaining his daughter, doing silly spells and earning cute giggles in response. Little Estelle was happily clapping and laughing as bubbles shot up from the man's wand.
The girl so happily replying to his attempts to make her laugh, was the carbon copy of her mother, with brown locks and hazel eyes and faint and gentle freckles over her silky-smooth face. Both parents agreed that their daughter would blossom into a beautiful young lady sometime. Unlike his daughter and wife, Charles had dirty-blond hair that reminded one of the sand on a warm beach and eyes as green as the grass under your boot.
Astoria Devereaux was seated behind a dark-oaked desk, pouring out her soul through the words she spilled effortlessly with a long quill. From time to time, when little Estelle's giggles became louder, the woman slowly glanced up at her husband and daughter, sketching a genuine smile, shaking her head lovingly and forcing herself to continue writing.
"Papa!" squealed Estelle as Charles swooped her up in his arms. The girl tossed around whilst the father tickled her mercilessly. "Papa, s'il te plaît━" but to no avail, her words fell on deaf ears. Completely out of breath and crimson in the face, Estelle escaped her father's strong arms, falling on her feet much like a cat, giggling loudly. The little girl, as revenge, jumped on her tippy-toes, trying to reach the man's sides to tickle him back. Charles fell back dramatically, clutching his sides and even though he felt absolutely nothing, he laughed and begged for mercy from the little lady.
"It's quite late," spoke up the woman, glancing up from the parchment paper lit by a candle's big flame. Estelle pouted and crossed her little arms over her chest in a defensive manner, Charles mirrored her actions earning a scoff from his wife. "Come on, Elle, my love, you need to sleep," Astoria shot up from her seat, the chair being pushed back with force. Astoria Devereaux, unlike her husband, had english heritage and didn't quite like the french language, too fancy and hard to pronounce.
