She doesn't want to sleep during her plane ride, but to no avail. It's the same dream again; the inky blackness, the sensation of falling off an edge she cannot see. Piles of feathers, silvery and opal like. She walks forward in the blackness, being lead by someone. Something. It calls for her. It's telling her to come back. Don't go, don't go, come back, come back, where are you going?
No matter where she goes, it'll follow. They all will. Because she needs to return to them. She belongs to them.
❋ ❋ ❋
The past few months have been, in a word, stressful. Stressful beyond belief.
When the announcement and order was given, Lucy Flemming was dumbstruck and would not look Devon in the eye and her pleading messages to make amends with her beloved cousin went unanswered for the rest of the year. Her aunts and uncles were outraged, demanding answers from Lucas Jayden Flemming, the esteemed patriarch and questioning his much too sudden judgement and their disdain towards the favored grandchild was no longer hidden. Devon's mother, Christine, pursed her lips, after a heated discussion with her father over a phonecall which ended with a sickening silence and although she tried not to cry in front of her daughter, Devon knew that worry plagued her every night and she would cry to Aaron, her father, who did his best to soothe his wife and reassure his daughter that perhaps this new path was not so bad. Devon wouldn't leave them forever, they would save up and visit her, she can always fly back to see them. (Oh, but the worry got to her daddy too, both him and Mom would wonder who would be there for her sleepwalking episodes, what if she got lost, they don't want her out of their sight). Her parents, despite how they felt, helped Devon with filling the appropriate paperwork and making the necessary preparations for the big move.
Her teaching supervisor was confused, but sympathetic to Devon, being sure to leave her kind words and have the entire classroom create a lovingly made scrapbook album for every child to give their goodbyes and thank yous to Miss Devon. Some of the children, bless their souls, were bright eyed at her moving away to Britain, asking her questions about the seemingly mysterious kingdom. Devon could only smile and answer the best she could, not wanting to break their hearts with her own forlorn feelings.
Oh, but worst of all was poor baby Ian. A nine year old, sure, but always the dear squirt to his big sister. Thinking about who would take care of him now that she wouldn't be around distressed Devon the most. He was so sensitive and she wanted to see his soccer games, she wanted to embarrass him in front of his friends, she wanted to treat him to ice cream on Fridays and watch his favorite movies on the weekends. Ian had been the most quiet out of everyone on both sides of the family about the whole matter. But he gripped Devon's hand more tightly in the mornings when she dropped him off for school and he ate all of his vegetables more easily instead of protesting, as if trying to make everyone's life easier with that minimal task. He only started to cry when he and their parents, waved to Devon as she walked to her plane terminal.
And after a long flight and a persisting fight with jet lag, Devon Ava Winters stands before the Aubel Estate in all of its high British glory. To say that she felt overwhelmed is an understatement. Portland was green, but here, the green is an ocean. Grandpa had a fancy place or two and they might have been about the same size, but Devon never felt intimidated in those places like she did here. Those were filled with family members and with Lucas's robust personality that could fill every nook and cranny. Here, there was just so much emptiness.
When Philip Aubel greeted her cordially, but briefly, her reply felt automatic and robotic. Soon, her bags and packages were swept away and she's left with the grey hound, a truly friendly face. You can always count on dogs. Devon is soon in the front hall, and kneels on the floor, ruffling the dog's head in an absentminded manner. Her dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, bangs obscuring her tired eyes. She's dressed in a leather jacket and modest pants and flats. Hardly the ideal picture of a glowing fiancee. Her thoughts had been all over the place and ironically, it's been making it hard for her to sleep which was a stupid benefit. There was no sleepwalking during the whole debacle at least. That would have been too much on top of this arranged marriage business and ruining ties with her extended family (well, the Winters are still there, but their humor probably wouldn't pull her out of this funk).
It was all so frustrating. Why the sudden change of mind? Why the urgency? Why did it seem like her mother and grandpa kept withholding information from her as if this engagement was truly for Devon's benefit? Grandpa's reasoning was simply that Devon needed it more than Lucy. Lucy had many other prospects and she was not wanting for a promising career with her brains and talents. She didn't need this marriage to be successful. Devon, on the other hand, needed a boost. She deserved better than being a schoolteacher.
Yeah. Being treated as a switchable object is way better than reaching out to kids," is Devon's uselessly sarcastic thought as she stands up, looking down at the grey hound. She sighs and speaks to it while looking at her new home.]
Guess you'll be my first friend then? I could really use it.
[Devon takes comfort in the fact that she hasn't seen her partner to be yet. He is, in fact, the last person she wants to see after this emotionally trying journey.]
ƑƖαѕн Ƒσяωαяɗ | YEAR LATER
No matter where she goes, it'll follow. They all will. Because she needs to return to them. She belongs to them.
The past few months have been, in a word, stressful. Stressful beyond belief.
When the announcement and order was given, Lucy Flemming was dumbstruck and would not look Devon in the eye and her pleading messages to make amends with her beloved cousin went unanswered for the rest of the year. Her aunts and uncles were outraged, demanding answers from Lucas Jayden Flemming, the esteemed patriarch and questioning his much too sudden judgement and their disdain towards the favored grandchild was no longer hidden. Devon's mother, Christine, pursed her lips, after a heated discussion with her father over a phonecall which ended with a sickening silence and although she tried not to cry in front of her daughter, Devon knew that worry plagued her every night and she would cry to Aaron, her father, who did his best to soothe his wife and reassure his daughter that perhaps this new path was not so bad. Devon wouldn't leave them forever, they would save up and visit her, she can always fly back to see them. (Oh, but the worry got to her daddy too, both him and Mom would wonder who would be there for her sleepwalking episodes, what if she got lost, they don't want her out of their sight). Her parents, despite how they felt, helped Devon with filling the appropriate paperwork and making the necessary preparations for the big move.
Her teaching supervisor was confused, but sympathetic to Devon, being sure to leave her kind words and have the entire classroom create a lovingly made scrapbook album for every child to give their goodbyes and thank yous to Miss Devon. Some of the children, bless their souls, were bright eyed at her moving away to Britain, asking her questions about the seemingly mysterious kingdom. Devon could only smile and answer the best she could, not wanting to break their hearts with her own forlorn feelings.
Oh, but worst of all was poor baby Ian. A nine year old, sure, but always the dear squirt to his big sister. Thinking about who would take care of him now that she wouldn't be around distressed Devon the most. He was so sensitive and she wanted to see his soccer games, she wanted to embarrass him in front of his friends, she wanted to treat him to ice cream on Fridays and watch his favorite movies on the weekends. Ian had been the most quiet out of everyone on both sides of the family about the whole matter. But he gripped Devon's hand more tightly in the mornings when she dropped him off for school and he ate all of his vegetables more easily instead of protesting, as if trying to make everyone's life easier with that minimal task. He only started to cry when he and their parents, waved to Devon as she walked to her plane terminal.
And after a long flight and a persisting fight with jet lag, Devon Ava Winters stands before the Aubel Estate in all of its high British glory. To say that she felt overwhelmed is an understatement. Portland was green, but here, the green is an ocean. Grandpa had a fancy place or two and they might have been about the same size, but Devon never felt intimidated in those places like she did here. Those were filled with family members and with Lucas's robust personality that could fill every nook and cranny. Here, there was just so much emptiness.
When Philip Aubel greeted her cordially, but briefly, her reply felt automatic and robotic. Soon, her bags and packages were swept away and she's left with the grey hound, a truly friendly face. You can always count on dogs. Devon is soon in the front hall, and kneels on the floor, ruffling the dog's head in an absentminded manner. Her dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, bangs obscuring her tired eyes. She's dressed in a leather jacket and modest pants and flats. Hardly the ideal picture of a glowing fiancee. Her thoughts had been all over the place and ironically, it's been making it hard for her to sleep which was a stupid benefit. There was no sleepwalking during the whole debacle at least. That would have been too much on top of this arranged marriage business and ruining ties with her extended family (well, the Winters are still there, but their humor probably wouldn't pull her out of this funk).
It was all so frustrating. Why the sudden change of mind? Why the urgency? Why did it seem like her mother and grandpa kept withholding information from her as if this engagement was truly for Devon's benefit? Grandpa's reasoning was simply that Devon needed it more than Lucy. Lucy had many other prospects and she was not wanting for a promising career with her brains and talents. She didn't need this marriage to be successful. Devon, on the other hand, needed a boost. She deserved better than being a schoolteacher.
Yeah. Being treated as a switchable object is way better than reaching out to kids," is Devon's uselessly sarcastic thought as she stands up, looking down at the grey hound. She sighs and speaks to it while looking at her new home.]
Guess you'll be my first friend then? I could really use it.
[Devon takes comfort in the fact that she hasn't seen her partner to be yet. He is, in fact, the last person she wants to see after this emotionally trying journey.]