12-02-2019, 08:07 AM
Olivia was nowhere to be seen, though her bed was neatly made and everything was in order. Somehow, despite her constant nipping at the bottle, the woman held herself together surprisingly well--unless, of course, her betrothed was brought up. And oh did she bring him up every chance she got. Looks of sorrow followed in her wake, and the tsking of gossipmongers was a constant whisper hovering behind her back.
The intruder would be given free rein of the room in her absence. Two nightstands flanked the four-poster bed located with its head against one wall, and a few books rested upon one while several bottles of whiskey at varying levels of filling cluttered the other one. To the left, was the entrance to a large closet, and to the right a vanity dresser. A letter was attached to its mirror, signed with her fiance's looping signature. It was one of many--if he were to peer into the drawers, he'd find more. Every single one, in fact.
Her closet was probably the best place, for one seeking to hide from another, but within it, there were fewer clothes and more of a shrine to her missing fiance--as well as several letters to her betrothed in Olivia's familiar flowing script. Every gift he'd ever bought her was stacked around it, neatly and decoratively placed within their respective gift boxes. Some of the items were worn from constant fondling.
Outside her room, there came the gentle footfalls of someone light, and preceding it, if one had a particularly sensitive nose, was the rank smell of alcohol. Olivia was back.
The intruder would be given free rein of the room in her absence. Two nightstands flanked the four-poster bed located with its head against one wall, and a few books rested upon one while several bottles of whiskey at varying levels of filling cluttered the other one. To the left, was the entrance to a large closet, and to the right a vanity dresser. A letter was attached to its mirror, signed with her fiance's looping signature. It was one of many--if he were to peer into the drawers, he'd find more. Every single one, in fact.
Her closet was probably the best place, for one seeking to hide from another, but within it, there were fewer clothes and more of a shrine to her missing fiance--as well as several letters to her betrothed in Olivia's familiar flowing script. Every gift he'd ever bought her was stacked around it, neatly and decoratively placed within their respective gift boxes. Some of the items were worn from constant fondling.
Outside her room, there came the gentle footfalls of someone light, and preceding it, if one had a particularly sensitive nose, was the rank smell of alcohol. Olivia was back.
