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It’s too late to be called afternoon, yet it wouldn’t quite be considered evening. The sunlight isn’t burnt orange, but that burning star is notably lower in the sky, scattering sideways through tree branches. The city is still somewhat busy, but beginning to quiet down as work draws to a close.
€ Hermione Rockefeller €
Dinner at the Rockefeller household was always mostly quiet. Her mother and father would exchange brief remarks over their days, while Hermione and her sister politely ate in silence, simply listening unless called upon. The snapper had been cooked to perfection, but they were beginning to draw closer to the end of their meal.
“Aurelia, after dinner is finished, I would like to speak with you.”
The heiress looks up at her mother’s words, and gives a small, polite smile. “Of course, mother.”
Hermione focuses on her last bites of fish. Then her mother reverse bitch-slaps her so hard she's sent spiralling mid-air and through the window, which explodes into a rain of crystal shards.
As their plates begin to be taken away, her father steps away to finally sleep. When her mother stands, her sister does so as well, and the two leave the dinner room to have their conversation. Before she exits, Aurelia glances back and gives her a small wave with a smile.
Hermione lies half-dead in the backyard, contemplative as she stares at the sky. The burning from her face didn't subside at jack-fucking all, in fact it hurts like a bitch.
"Bitch," says Hermione to no one in particular.
>Any plans for tonight?
