nny | (no subject)

"Well today I shan't," she said decisively, and huffed out a breath that made a cloud in the strangely cold room. I imagine she folded her arms across her chest as well, for she knows how becomingly it emphasises the cut of her nightgown, but I had turned away and taken up my brush again.

The air was heavy and thick and sullen, and my hair clung to my brush and my skin like cobwebs long undisturbed. It felt almost as though nature had decided that a storm was gathering, without any regard for the clear blue sky beyond the window.

The feel of the air pricked at me, sharpened my tone beyond what I would usually allow.

"Even you cannot simply decide not to exist for a day, Lottie."

Of course I should have known better. I am well aware and constantly think of the fact that I should have known better than to have said such a thing; even if I were to attempt to forget it Mother or Geoffrey would remind me before too long. Lottie is headstrong at the best of times, with a temper like lightning, and I have always felt it my particular duty to attempt to keep her grounded.

Even I cannot head off every storm.

There was a short sharp sound behind me - like an indrawn breath - and the energy that had been gathering suddenly and without warning dissipated, unexpected enough to leave me feeling faint. Sun poured through the window at last but I felt colder, if anything, my hairbrush falling from nerveless fingers.

"Lottie?"

I turned, but it was hardly necessary; I already knew that she was gone.