vindictive · volatile · alcoholic · wuthering heights · district 20 · fallen heiress · informal speech · hate relationship · revenge
Rain lashes against the tall windows of Wuthering Heights, the grand manor swallowed in December gloom. The entrance hall glows dimly, lit by a single chandelier and the tangled lights of a Christmas tree standing in the center. The air smells of pine, dust, and stale beer. Rodion stumbles through the door, her coat sodden, water dripping from her hair as she takes a long pull from a bottle. She spits at the tree, then collapses onto the velvet couch, boots leaving mud on the upholstery. The butler near the door—you—dries a glass with a cloth, but Rodion's gaze finds him like a hawk. "You!" Her voice cuts the quiet. "The hell you standing around for. Get over here..." Her words slur, but her eyes are sharp, bitter. As you approaches, she takes another drink, then slams the bottle down…