“Vivienne Elise!” Vivienne Elise, who had been named, in part, for her mother, cringed at the shrill call of her name down the arching stone corridor. Lady Elise was the only person who bothered to use so many syllables when calling for the young lady of the house. For that reason, in particular, Vivienne was keen on hearing as little of her name as possible. Still, once heard, it was dangerous not to acknowledge. She turned slowly, rotating on one heel with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, to face her mother.<br/><br/>Lady Elise was most things that Vivienne was not—a fact which seemed to irk her mother as much as it amused her father. The regal lady of Whitespire was a capitol girl brought out to this borderland estate, tall and well-bread with artistic limbs and skin like smooth porcelain. Her features were small and delicate looking, not terribly expressive, and Lady Elise seemed to be proud of that. As she strode toward her daughter with all the intention of a woman on the warpath, Vivienne thought her mother was amazing in the worst sort of way. Dressed in severe shades of charcoal, Lady Elise’s hair was a marvelously brilliant flame. Vivienne thought maybe Valkyries must look something like that.<br/><br/>Vivienne had taken after her father in most ways and wore her mother’s ghost about as half-heartedly as she carried her mother’s lessons. Dark hair that carried only the suggestion of auburn in the sunlight. Hazel eyes that were only as green as necessary to notice—her mother’s verdant stare was almost hypnotizingly brilliant. She had Lady Elise’s slender proportions but none of her stately height, leaving her something like peasant-girl small instead of willowy and statuesque. Her appearance was one of the few things that Vivi could definitively say she had no control over, but she would have sworn her mother managed to be disapproving nonetheless. It was a talent, really, to be cross about so many things.<br/><br/>“Yes, mother?” Vivienne asked with a weak curtsey and a down-turned chin. Lady Elise was a head taller than her daughter and did not have to stand so near as to be perfectly intimidating. The woman was pointed with her choice to do so anyway.<br/><br/>“Vivienne Elise, what possessed you to think it was acceptable to miss seeing off our guests?” Lady Elise asked. An impressively frigid woman. Vivienne really had to admire that kind of inflection, in a way.<br/><br/>“Well, I didn’t really have anything to say.” Vivienne admitted sheepishly. She was aware this was a poor excuse. It was very difficult to struggle to find things to say, when the prescribed interaction was to wish someone farewell and little more. Lady Elise sighed, and it was so very fatigued that Vivienne nearly began to worry. Then, she remembered that her mother was always very fatigued when interacted with her.<br/><br/>“You will never be married to any decent man with this behavior. The Marquess and his son were exceedingly kind to pay us a visit. Your behavior has been positively shameful.” Lady Elise always spoke in very definitive terms. Every sentence felt like a life sentence when she got going. Vivienne was usually very sure she was used the sensation until it was made new again. She shrank a bit where she stood, shoulders stooping forward to receive another frustrated inhalation of breath from her mother.<br/><br/>“Third son…” Vivienne offered weakly. She regretted it nearly before she said it, but Vivienne had never been overly talented at holding her tongue.<br/><br/>“As if you could dream to hope for better, at this point.” Lady Elise hissed with enough vitriol that Vivienne actually flinched. “I’ll expect that you’ll be practicing your needlepoint while you reflect on your abhorrent behavior. Janessa will bring your supper to your room.” Lady Elise left in a whirl of skirts before Vivienne could be any more disappointing. It was probably for the best.<br/><br/>Vivienne did not realize she’d been holding her breath until it burst from in force the moment her mother disappeared back into the interior of the manor. She wobbled a step to the side and slumped against the cool stone of an old, but artful, column. The autumn breeze was gentle on her burning cheeks. She supposed her mother was right. Vivi knew well enough that she wasn’t being terribly presentable. This was a routine they’d gone through a few times a year since her sixteenth birthday. Now, three years and some months into the practice, her mother’s fury was coming quicker and with a less mendable disappointment each time. She didn’t blame her, really. Vivi would have liked there to be a better way around it all, too. She didn’t like being insufferable or rude, but really, what other agency did she have? Every attempt at getting the visits to stop had been met with stubbornly deaf ears. It was simply her duty as the sole child of the Earl of Whitespire. Marry to a good family. Bring some fortune to their dated estate. Bring Whitespire back into relevant conversation. As if there could possibly have been a worse candidate for such a task.<br/><br/>Vivi took a deep breath. “Sordis? Sordis, I<i>know</i>you’re there.” She called for him with the expectation he’d appear, despite no real indication he really was near. It probably said something that she was still so certain, though Vivienne had yet to recognize what a luxury that kind of certainty was. She was complaining before she had even confirmed he really was within earshot. “Can you believe she’s still trying to make this whole thing work?” Vivienne sighed in frustration. “Really, at this point, she should realize she’s twice as stubborn as I am. I probably got<i>all</i>my stubbornness from<i>her.</i>” She huffed. She stamped her foot. And then she couldn’t hold a serious expression and had to laugh. How miserable. “I guess I have been a little bit awful, the last few days.” She muttered.<br/><br/>--<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="627" data-username="@Royalcogark" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/627/">@Royalcogark</a>