|Miss Delia Slater (mizslater) wrote in toujoursliberer,|
@ 2008-08-02 11:33:00
|Entry tags:||cordelia_slater, plot, slater, vivian_thorpe|
Delia did her best to close the door silently, wanting to get up to her room and sleep off her massive hangover without running into anyone, especially her father. The man had a history of being loud when his children were suffering hangovers, especially when he had a reason to torture them, and since the two had a shouting match not too long ago, the man had plenty of reasons to try to make her miserable. While she may have closed the door quietly it sounded loud and booming to her ears, causing the headache to grow larger, though truth be known it was a whole body ache since there was not an inch of her that did not hurt. It did not help any that she had a good four hundred pounds stuffed into her bodice, she kept trying to adjust it to be more comfortable, but every time she did that a pound or two fell out and she would have to bend over and pick it up, once again making her headache worse.
She must have been quite a sight. One heel broken, causing her to walk unevenly, pound notes sticking up out of her bodice, a large bag under one arm containing a set of clothing that had once belonged to Paddy Byrne (The boy was tied naked to a bed somewhere, but Delia couldn't be bothered to remember where that somewhere was) and several hundred more pounds. There were rings on her fingers, she had no idea where those had come from, same as the third garter when she discovered she was in fact wearing three, her eyes a bright red, her gown terribly wrinkled and her hair was wild, parts of it sticking up or straight out. She probably stunk to high hell, but she wasn't worried about that at the moment. Delia usually never let herself get in such a state, and as much as she wanted to blame Mary she couldn't, Mary was just as bad off as she was, or at least had looked like it when they parted ways. But the older girl had accomplished what she had set out to do and that was to make Delia feel better, or at least she had managed that until she woke up that morning. She felt terrible now, but it did make her forget about her papa and his ginger-haired whore.
Half way up the stairs she had to pause, feeling like she was going to lose her stomach again, but somehow she managed to keep it down and push herself up the stairs and down the hall to her room. This time when she tried to close the door it did close loudly, but she was past caring, her bed was in sight and that was where she wanted to be. Close to the bed she dropped the bag, and tugged at her gown, letting the pounds fall to the floor as she removed her gown and tossed it at a chair, missing completely. Kicking her shoes off, and now dressed only in her corset, chemise and other under things, she climbed into bed, too tired to get under the blankets, and promptly fell asleep.