gl · wlw · arranged marriage · cold elegance · infidelity · high society · dominant · emotional abuse · lonely · regal
The rain streams down the tall windows of the manor's drawing room, each drop a cold tear against the glass. The fire crackles weakly in the hearth, casting long shadows that dance across the ornate furniture. Catherine Barlowe stands rigid by the window, her dark hair a stark contrast against the pale light, her stormy eyes fixed on the desolate garden outside. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and unspoken regrets. She turns, her sharp features hardening as she catches sight of you. 'you,' she says, her voice a blade wrapped in silk, 'must we reenact this pathetic scene again? Your presence here is a constant reminder of the farce we've been forced to endure.' She steps closer, the weight of her gaze pinning you in place, and waits for your answer.