[color=#D4987F][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/P7enTOf.png[/img][/center]

[color=#035E7B]Time:[/color] Evening 
[color=#035E7B]Location:[/color] Banquet Hall
[color=#035E7B]Interactions:[/color] [@Helo] Leo, [@Lava Alckon] Drake,  [@princess] Charlotte, Duke Gideon, & Duchess Victoria, [@TpartywithZombi] Ariella
[color=#035E7B]Mentions:[/color] [@Apex Sunburn] Sjan-dehk
[color=#035E7B]Outfit:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/QoPP1pz.jpeg]Dress, Hair, and Makeup[/url]

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Thea’s smile had long since faded, her posture tense and still as the drama at the table unfolded like a nightmare dressed in silks and lace. She held her wine glass a little too tightly now, the stem pressed against her palm, trembling slightly.

She glanced at Leo.

[color=#035E7B]“Sometimes you act just like Mother,”[/color] she whispered, the words soft but heavy with hurt. Her voice didn’t accuse—it simply ached. There was no venom in her tone. Just the quiet kind of disappointment that settled behind the ribs and stayed there.

Her gaze followed Charlotte’s retreating form, and a knot formed deep in her chest. Her lips parted as if to call out, to apologize, but no words came. Instead, all she could do was wonder—had she driven Charlotte away too? Had her attempt to stand up to cruelty made her become cruel herself? Was she any better than the women she despised?

A crushing thought settled on her shoulders like a cloak soaked in ice water. [color=#035E7B][i]Maybe Charlotte left because of me.[/i][/color]

Her fingers curled tighter around the glass. Her stomach turned. Every small thing she had said, every teasing remark, every glance all replayed like echoes in a darkened hall. She thought she was being bold. Clever. But maybe she was just… exhausting. Maybe the people who claimed to care about her only tolerated her presence. Maybe they were just too polite to say it.

Her eyes flicked to Drake, only to find his expression unreadable, distant in the way that hurt the most. And when she felt his hand on top of hers—warm, grounding—something inside her cracked. Because she didn’t feel like she deserved it. Not anymore.

She slipped her fingers from his hand, not roughly, but with that unmistakable hesitation of someone who believed they’d already ruined something that mattered.

Her ears rang with the echo of his speech—so calm, so commanding. It wasn’t anger that hurt the most. It was that he was disappointed. And that disappointment felt like a punch to the ribs. She had made a fool of herself. Worse, she had made a fool of him. [color=#035E7B][i]He probably regrets ever giving me his attention.[/i][/color]

Then her mother’s voice cut through it all, sharp and cold like a shard of glass pressed to the skin. Duchess Alice Smithwood. She had been engaged in conversation with others a few seats down when she heard wind of what was occurring with her children.

[color=#BCC6D0]“Thea.”[/color]

Thea turned her head slowly, her wine glass half-lifted as if it might shield her. Her mother’s expression was calm in that bone-deep, icy way that hurt more than yelling ever could. [color=#BCC6D0]“How many times must I remind you that your name carries weight? Must you embarrass this family every time you enter a room? And now you embarrass the Edwards. This is why I [i]thought[/i] I sent you home.”[/color]

There it was. The final blow.

A thousand things sparked behind Thea’s eyes. A thousand retorts, a thousand pleas for someone to say [i]no, she’s wrong, you’re not an embarrassment[/i]—but none came. Of course they didn’t. Because maybe they all agreed. Maybe Leo was tired of defending her. Maybe Drake was rethinking everything. Maybe Charlotte…no… [i]maybe everyone was better off without her.[/i]

She stood slowly, trying not to let her hands shake as she set the wine glass down. Her chin lifted, her eyes dry, her voice a thread pulled tight and barely above a whisper.

[color=#035E7B]“Excuse me, I believe I need some air.”[/color]

She walked toward the exit with practiced elegance, though every step felt heavier than the last. The room blurred at the edges—glittering gowns, flickering chandeliers, the soft murmurs of nobles pretending not to notice. Her mind screamed that they were all watching her. Judging her. Laughing behind their goblets. [i]There goes Lady Thea, drunk and dramatic, just like always.[/i]

As she passed a startled server, she reached out and snatched a nearly full bottle of wine off his tray. No words, no glance back. Just a perfectly fluid, unbothered gesture.

But inside?

Inside, she was unraveling.

Because the truth was… she hated herself.

She hated that she couldn’t hold her tongue. She hated that she felt too much, said too much, drank too much, cared too much. She hated that the moment anyone saw even a sliver of the real her, they looked away.

And gods, she needed a drink.[/color]