'she's kook fuckin' royalty, man.'
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄♔⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
a lot of things go unnoticed in the outer banks. things like missing millions in gold, underage drinking, and the bruises that litter the skin of the kook princess.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄♔⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
( midsummers )
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄♔⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
"YOU LOOK LOVELY, LUCINDA" SAID HER MOTHER FROM THE DOORWAY, "RAFE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO KEEP HIS EYES OFF YOU." Lucy blushed. She ignored the self-satisfaction her mother's tone, as if she was patting herself on the back for a job well done. She was used to her mother thinking of her in that way.
For the first time in years, she had broken her tradition of getting ready for Midsummers with Sarah. Her phone had buzzed a few times over the course of the afternoon, but it seemed the other girl had realised Lucy wasn't coming. Lucy couldn't bring herself to call the other girl back. She just felt like things were different between them in some way now. Either way, she would see her at Midsummers, make up a story about her mother insisting she get ready at home, and it would all be forgotten.
"Thank you," she replied. "When are we leaving?" Her mother rolled up one elegant sleeve, checking the watch that was nestled tightly against her pale skin.
"As soon as you're ready," her mother answered. She remained in the doorway, though, seeming expectant. Lucy suspected that 'as soon as you're ready' actually meant 'now'. She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror.
She was wearing a simple satin slip dress, strapless, with a slit that ran to just above her knee. It was a dark shade of blush pink, and caressed her pale skin softly. The patches of freckles on her shoulder were on show. The fabric clung to her waist before smoothing out, flowing delicately down her hips and thighs. It floated around her ankles, making her almost ethereal as she moved. Her hair was loosely pinned up, a few curls falling haphazardly around her face, aiming for an unintentional-but-really-highly-intentional effect. Her collarbones stood out sharply, split in the middle by a thin pearl necklace that reached to just above the top of the dress.
For the first time in a long time, Lucy agreed with her mother. She did look quite lovely.
She felt a tendril of anticipation curl in her throat. Perhaps Rafe would think she looked beautiful. She hated herself for having the thought.
"You look beautiful, too," Lucy added, realising she had not yet given her mother's ego a boost. The other woman simply batted a hand at her, but Lucy knew her well enough to know that had been a success. It was true, though. She may not have known how to parent, but Josephine Cavendish knew how to dress. She made a tsking sound from between tightly-pressed lips.
"That's enough," her mother replied, her voice soft, "Are you ready now?"
Silently, Lucy nodded. As ready as she would ever be.
