Re: Inside 905: 12:05 a.m.
Ella was awake, of course. After she'd finished talking to her father, she'd set about writing a heartfelt, unguarded letter to the author of Dusklight (Bessa and Edmund's creator, of course).
Dear authoress,
I am writing to share my feelings about the characters you have created in your new novel. Bessa, having no likes or dislikes of her own, is a blank template which is meant to be a self-insert. It worries me that I find myself wanting to be loved in the way Bessa does. This worries me because Edmund is very much a creepy stalker. I am scared tha-
When the knock at the door came, she put her pen down and she stood, walking past the piles of books she'd taken down from the shelves. She peered into the hallway, having no trouble with the buttercup yellow dress that swirled around white, antique, laced boots. She didn't have a tiara to deal with; instead, her hair was half-up in a yellow ribbon, the rest loose down her back.
Maybe it was father? Or her sisters and brothers? But no, they wouldn't knock, surely. She shook her head. Sister, singular. She only had one, and if Vaughn was knocking on her door, Ella was determined to answer.
She tipped her chin up, still defiant, even in this form, and she went to the door and pulled it open.
"Rosa-" She stopped, forgetting the rest of the woman's name a moment. But then she smiled warmly, inviting and kind. "Would you like to come in, Rosalie?"