Blaire's first night at Charmity was nothing short of dramatic exuberance. Surprising even more so was that she genuinely had fun with Iyla and Harriet. Iyla hurled them in her Bugatti and took a night spree around town, treating Blaire with flavours incomprehensible by her tongue. Iyla and Harriet bickered so much that it was surprising when Blaire got to know that they only met a day ago.
Their gaze did not view her as utter intrusive filth, degrading and discriminating with smiles and choppy remarks. Instead, they willingly accepted her because of who she was. Blaire knew because she asked about it.
"Why did you choose to be friends with me? I'm not rich or noble or socialab—"
"Girl, did you hear yourself in front of the Crown Prince? You were exceptional! I've been here for a whole year and anyone who crosses him ends up crying on their knees."
Yeah, well, makes sense. I, too, was near tears after hearing about the 16 billion monetary compensation. The thought of tomorrow haunts me.
And haunt it did, snipping at her sleep in the lonesome dorm room. She twisted and turned, unused to the softness of the mattress. The comforters were consuming her with warmth, yet, her limbs laid cold underneath. Her room was so barren, open, desolate, empt—
"Oh my goodness, I knew the feng shui was bad in here!" Blaire snaps as soon as the dorm system rings the 5 A.M. alarm. Scowling, Blaire crawls off her bed and stomps into her bathroom. A good warm bath would surely soothe her sleep deprived senses.
It would. If only she knew how to work the sorcery these golden lion-faced faucets were.
Blaire tries twisting them, left to right and right to left. She tries knocking against them, she tries, "Open sesame? Water please? Help? Give me water! I demand liquid from thine mouth! Wotaahhh!" in different accents, to no avail.
She's about to give up and dejectedly places her hand in the porcelain petal shaped washbasin, when, suddenly, ice cold water starts gushing out of the lion's mouth.
Blaire screams, her foot slips and her face meets the ground in a resounding fashion. Like lost lovers, the ground embraces her.
"Blaire! Are you okay? What happened?!"
"I heard a scream! Do you want me to call the guards?! Is it an intruder?!"
Iyla and Harriet burst in. Iyla has a sheet mask on and wields a hot curling iron as her weapon of choice. Harriet had rushed in her bathrobe, wielding her cloth slipper in defence. The girls grimace upon greeting Blaire's face with their feet.
"M-morning," Blaire croaks.
"My poor child," Iyla sobs, handing the curling iron to Harriet, "How'd you trip? Oh dear, let me help you." She tskes all the while she helps Blaire up and settles her on the marbled floor around her bathtub.
"Are you okay? Does it hurt? What were you doing without your maids?" Harriet cringes through her words as Blaire moans and groans while stretching her limbs.
"I was—ugh, I forgot about the maids! I was just trying to turn on the taps. Why's it so hard!?" Blaire cries, lower lip jutting out and brows mushed together with misery.
"Oh! my poor babie," Iyla pulls Blaire in a hug, "Can you show her how the taps work, Har?"
Harriet nods and simply places her hand under the faucet. "It has sensors, nearly everything has. If you want cold water, you tap the top once, twice for hot water, thrice was scalding and four times for lukewarm. Do I make sense?" she asks.
"That's so dumb! We've got them twisty taps! Life's so easy back home!" Blaire cries.
"Wait till you get used to how convenient these are. It'll take time but you'll learn to love everything around you." Iyla says.
"Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome to me," Blaire sniffles.
"Now, now, get up, you've got a big day ahead. I'll call for breakfast. Is there something specific you wanna eat?"
Blaire shakes her head and glad she is because what greets her on the breakfast table is a feast disguised as a light breakfast. What do you mean a person can have fruity cereal, pancakes, chocolate milk, avocado toast, buttered chicken sandwiches, walnut cake, crispy fried eggs, fried dough and rice balls for breakfast?
"Woah this is a dream! I'm so blessed! Thank you, Annalise!" Blaire sobs as she joins her friends on the breakfast table. Harriet's maids serve them food. It was so strange for Blaire to wait while another person brought food into her plate…she felt disabled while being perfectly abled. It felt wrong on so many levels yet Iyla and Harriet sat without a concern in their faces.
"What are your plans for the day?" Iyla asks. She's got a giant screen in her hand (a tablet) and she's scrolling through her timetable for the day.
"Nothing much. I'll attend all classes diligently and hopefully get to have lunch with a royal or higher noble," Harriet declares.
"What about you?"
Blaire shrugs, "Dunno, classes? Talking of classes, we must be in the same class, right Har? Can we go together? I don't really know where everything is. Also, is there something specific I must take--?"
Blaire stops speaking, mid-question, as her dormmates' confused gazes become more obvious by the second.
"What?" Blaire whispers, "Do I have something on my face?"
"Blaire," Harriet starts, "I'd love to go along but…"
"Don't you have to go to the boys' dormitory? Crown Prince's punishment? Did you forget about it?" Iyla snorts.
Fuck. I truly did. The fall. The bath. The breakfast.
"Arrrghhhhh!" Blaire screams with all the passion she can summon and jolts out of her chair, "I must get ready now! See you later!" She's already into the lobby by the time she's bidding her farewells.
"Finish your breakfast first!" Iyla scolds but Blaire's already disappeared behind her door. "Don't forget to take your tablet along! It should be in a folder that Madam Layla sends!" Iyla shouts again, knowing in her bones that Blaire would have no clue.
The ravenette's door snaps open and Blaire sobs a, "Thank you, oh my lord, you're heaven-sent for me!"
"Of course," Iyla grins. "She's so adorable for no reason!" she whispers as soon as Blaire closes her door.
"But I am adorable?" Harriet eyes, heart lips pushed in a pout and doe eyes blinking in her direction.
"Of course you are," Iyla pats Harriet's head.
"But am I more adorable than Blaire?" Harriet asks, eyes widening to their limits, quivering and blinking.
"Hmm…I dunno about that…" Iyla teases, sipping on her grape juice.
"Illy!" Harriet whines.
"Okay, okay, you're the best girl!" Iyla gives in, laughing out loud.
"Yes!" Harriet exclaims, smiling as she continues to eat her sandwich with a knife and fork.
.
.
.
Charmity's uniform is a white shirt with puffed sleeves paired with a beige vest and a plaid brown skirt for girls. Mandatory accessories include white or black thigh-high stockings, brown Mary Janes and a metal pin of the tower they belonged.
Blaire's rustic orange Miranda Tower badge catches the morning sun and glints like a treasure in the empty field. Her dark curls are tied in a pony-tail, held by a plaid ribbon that matches her skirt. She's running over the cobbled path leading to the Boys' Dormitories. The Crown Prince is supposed to be in the first tower, according to Juniper's information and Blaire beelines to it with no sound or reason.
Seven minutes remain to 7:30 and all Blaire can see is the ghost of the tower, a darkened silhouette shrouded by distance and mystery. It is the Thorian Tower, known to only ever host the royalty and the royal council's children. Source? The only nobility Blaire's acquainted with: Harriet.
Blaire hastens her pace. Blood rushes to her face and warms her cheeks whilst the tip of her nose is left frozen cold. As the distance closes, Blaire spots a person's silhouette waiting at the foot of the tower.
Shit! Am I late? Already? Oh he's gonna be so mad! He's totally gonna make me pay! Ahhhhhh!
Internally screaming, Blaire rages on, only for the blobby silhouette to gain a feminine shape. Blaire rolls her eyes, gasping for air as she realises it was Courtney she was wasting her strength for.
"You poor mule," Courtney greets.
"Good Morning to you too," Blaire coughs, wheezing for air.
"Aren't you a vision to witness," Courtney mocks, eyeing sweatdrops race down Blaire's face. "You could have used a vehicle you know, didn't Madam Layla tell you about it? Oh- my apologies, you're supposed to own one in order to use it." She grins.
"Apology accepted," Blaire grunts, much to Courtney's distaste, and crouches to the cobbled ground. "What are you doing here?" Blaire asks, considering the emptiness of the area. "Stalking? Waiting for your boyfriend? Oh are you one of those who brings packed lunch—"
"Shut up, Winston, I prefer silence."
"Of course." Blaire mutters and faces away from the tower and Courtney. I hope the Crown Prince is comes late… it'd be so fun seeing Courtney with her boyfriend! Blaire thinks, giggling internally. But if she had a boyfriend, why did he not stand up for her yesterday? Maybe he wasn't there, yes. If she's waiting for him, surely, she'd be one of the—oh wait, no, no, no, how did I forget? Did she not like the Crown Prince?!
Blaire's eyes widen.
She whips her head to look behind.
"Lemons?"
Huh?
The Crown Prince is standing at the foot of the dark tower, surprise lacing his handsome face.
"Why are you on the ground?" he asks.
Before Blaire could stand up, Courtney jumps in.
"Your Highness!" she curtsies, "I'm here to beg for your forgiveness on my friend's behalf!"
Oh?
Nostrils flared and eyes widened, Blaire stands up, visibly interested by the spectacle. Silas' frown deepens and he eyes Blaire with a look of: what the hell is this about?!
Blaire shrugs, pushing her lips in a line, as if to say: Dunno.