Isabelle Alvar stepped to the front porch of their lovely Antebellum-style home and reached up one small, delicate hand to smooth a loose strand from her otherwise perfectly coiffed brunette hair. Shifting uncomfortably in her expensive pumps, she fidgeted with the strap on her Gucci bag as she waited for her husband to emerge from the expansive house.
Her thoughts turned to her daughter, locked up in that awful place (<i>where she belongs,</i> she added to herself before a small stab of guilt made her regret the thought), and wondered, not for the first time, who it was that had talked Robert into handing over his daughter.
Well. She wasn't <i>really </i>his daughter. A fact which he was well aware of, as he was well aware of her... indiscretion with Soren all those years ago. But, as had ever been done in the affluent Alvar family, dirty little secrets were swept neatly under exquisite Persian rugs and subsequently ignored.
To be honest, Isabelle's memory of the entire sordid affair was... patchy at best. It had often confused and worried her how little she actually remembered of her time with Soren and even of her pregnancy with Evelyn.
Isabelle opened the clasp on her handbag and removed a metal cigarette case. Removing a cigarette, she tucked it between her lips and used her lighter to ignite the end, taking a long drag before lowering it and breathing out a spiraling plume of smoke.
Robert stepped from the door. "There you are, dear." He didn't bother kissing her cheek. Nobody was watching. "Are you ready to go?" He gave a disapproving glare at her cigarette.
"Another staged public dinner appearance," she sighed. "Can't we do <i>anything</i> like normal people anymore, Robert?"
"Now, Izzy, you know we need all the publicity we can get for this election," Robert drawled in his rolling Louisiana accent. He plucked the cigarette from her fingers and stubbed it out in an ash tray that sat atop the porch railing.
"You need it, you mean," she said, gazing longingly at the smoldering remains of her tobacco fix. She sighed, finally giving in to her need to understand, and turned to face her husband. "Robert. Are you ever going to tell me why you had Evelyn... locked up there?"
He gave her a condescending look. "Come on now, Izzy. She's delusional. She believes she's been flying through all of time and space with an alien from another planet. She was always a little--" he gave a low whistle and flicked his finger back and forth-- "But something made her completely crack. So I took measures to have have it taken care of. I'm her father. It's my job." The last sentences were spoken with some degree of sarcasm, but she was expected not to comment, so she didn't. His hand closed around hers, and she tensed a little but did not pull away "Tranquility Garden is one of the best places in the state for this sort of thing. Trust me. They'll make her better."
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timeasmymeasure
The Alvars
Date: 2015-10-07 01:44 am (UTC)Isabelle Alvar stepped to the front porch of their lovely Antebellum-style home and reached up one small, delicate hand to smooth a loose strand from her otherwise perfectly coiffed brunette hair. Shifting uncomfortably in her expensive pumps, she fidgeted with the strap on her Gucci bag as she waited for her husband to emerge from the expansive house.
Her thoughts turned to her daughter, locked up in that awful place (<i>where she belongs,</i> she added to herself before a small stab of guilt made her regret the thought), and wondered, not for the first time, who it was that had talked Robert into handing over his daughter.
Well. She wasn't <i>really </i>his daughter. A fact which he was well aware of, as he was well aware of her... indiscretion with Soren all those years ago. But, as had ever been done in the affluent Alvar family, dirty little secrets were swept neatly under exquisite Persian rugs and subsequently ignored.
To be honest, Isabelle's memory of the entire sordid affair was... patchy at best. It had often confused and worried her how little she actually remembered of her time with Soren and even of her pregnancy with Evelyn.
Isabelle opened the clasp on her handbag and removed a metal cigarette case. Removing a cigarette, she tucked it between her lips and used her lighter to ignite the end, taking a long drag before lowering it and breathing out a spiraling plume of smoke.
Robert stepped from the door. "There you are, dear." He didn't bother kissing her cheek. Nobody was watching. "Are you ready to go?" He gave a disapproving glare at her cigarette.
"Another staged public dinner appearance," she sighed. "Can't we do <i>anything</i> like normal people anymore, Robert?"
"Now, Izzy, you know we need all the publicity we can get for this election," Robert drawled in his rolling Louisiana accent. He plucked the cigarette from her fingers and stubbed it out in an ash tray that sat atop the porch railing.
"You need it, you mean," she said, gazing longingly at the smoldering remains of her tobacco fix. She sighed, finally giving in to her need to understand, and turned to face her husband. "Robert. Are you ever going to tell me why you had Evelyn... locked up there?"
He gave her a condescending look. "Come on now, Izzy. She's delusional. She believes she's been flying through all of time and space with an alien from another planet. She was always a little--" he gave a low whistle and flicked his finger back and forth-- "But something made her completely crack. So I took measures to have have it taken care of. I'm her father. It's my job." The last sentences were spoken with some degree of sarcasm, but she was expected not to comment, so she didn't. His hand closed around hers, and she tensed a little but did not pull away "Tranquility Garden is one of the best places in the state for this sort of thing. Trust me. They'll make her better."