theo | like a salt sore soaked in the sea.

[annabella acardia bletchley]

fill my soul with vomit
then ask me for a piece of gum.

annabella wasn't a fool. she knew that when a certain self-proclaimed slytherin prince made a promise, he was going to keep it. with that in mind, the blonde pulled herself out of bed and decided she had no choice but to show up for breakfast that morning. neither breakfast nor getting up early had ever been appealing to her, especially since those served inside her own home usually ended up as their own little catastrophes. ever since the death of her brother closest to her in age, the bletchley estate hadn’t been the same. while annabella usually would have spent the morning exchanging sarcastic remarks with her eldest brother and conversation topics with her father, she now ate her meal in silence, noticing the way her mother gazed at the empty chair across the table from her. most families looked at it as luck; at least the bletchley parents had been fortunate enough to produce two heirs, and the deceased was the second in line anyway. technically speaking, their family hadn’t suffered any loss. realistically, the loss was obvious whenever annabella, or anyone else for that matter, looked into her parents eyes or noticed the silence that seemed to hang over the family of four every time they gathered. the house was quite a bit darker and the mood was always grim.

unless, of course, they had company. like a well rehearsed act, fran put on her fake smile and miles pulled out his poor conversation topics; all of which stayed away from the fact that he had lost both an heir and a son. mikayle seemed to have a way of avoiding said parties and gatherings, but not annabella. fran made a point to cover her daughter in lace and lights, using her to take the focus off their loss and instead place it upon what they were proud of. the young blonde was ushered from wealthy family to family with powerful position, never asked to remember names but instead smile and nod. she was her parents favorite trophy; the one they polished each and every time they lamented the loss of a crucial family member. usually, fran found comfort in directing her daughter to the arm of her fiancé; she liked the way her blonde princess looked next to a malfoy. annabella, however, was bored. like any other pureblood woman, she had been placed with the richest and most worthy bachelor that showed interest in her hand. there was no excitement in her betrothal; no choice. she wanted excitement and she wanted a choice; an unconventional girl deserved a different story. and so, she decided to show up for breakfast.

with her arms hanging at her sides, the blonde quickly scanned the hall, looking for two blonde males in particular. one was her begrudged destination, the other she planned on avoiding like the plague. however, the coast was clear for the time being, and she was free to take her usual seat at the end of the slytherin table and help herself to a cup of juice in a small, golden cup.