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The Windows to the Soul
Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks tenderly as her eyelids arose from their closed state, the radiance of the golden morning rays washing the walls of her chamber in a luminescent sparkle. The cords of her vocals vibrated in her throat as a yawn escaped the cavern of her mouth, her movements memorizing as she unwound her slim frame from the nest of bed coverings, wandering thoughts organized into their proper place as she released the tension in her taut muscles.
It was a brief reflection, reminding her today was the eve of her day of birth, the long awaited event marking her sixteen years of existence foreshadowed to occur tomorrow. No matter how joyous the affair however she could not bring herself to forget her mother was cursed with her life on a day like this, impregnated with the child of a famous criminal by the brutal force of rape. Kori could only imagine the pain her mother had to bear, the degrading voices and nightmares her mother suffered through as she struggled to unearth the inner peace that lay deep in her soul.
Her scarlet tresses tumbled in turbulent waves, following the rough shakes of her head in a blind effort to erase all the consuming thoughts in her mind despite whatever their nature may be. Before distractions shifted her focus, she slid from the lip of the bed, sauntering to her wardrobe with an effortless confident stride, so blatantly contrary to the muddled emotions rampaging in her heart.
For her preparations for the morning, Kori rummaged through her wardrobe, scrutinizing her clothes nonchalantly on a whim choosing the one that charmed her vision. Today she had chosen a simple dress, sewn from satin and expertly tinted the shade of emerald, its skirt holding a loose flow, draping over her feet to pool to the ground. The bodice was contorted to curve inward at her waist before flaring out to connect to her skirts, the plunging collar decorated with a black floral lace. The sleeves hugged her upper arm before coming to a loose hang at her wrist, the fabric tickling the palm of her hand.
After she had dressed, Kori washed her face with water from the sink, dabbing her face dry with a towel, delighted by the luminous glow of her fair complexion. Not yet socially presentable, she applied rouge to her cheeks; giving herself a quick studious glance, briefly roaming her eyes over her features in the reflected glass of the mirror. Finally satisfied with her overall appearance, she exited from her chamber clambering down the stairs two at time. She journeyed through several of the rooms in the house until she discovered her destination, the dining room where her mother and father sat blushingly close at the table placed in the center, engrossed in a jovial discussion.
It was breakfast, a scene in which brought her unexpected relief, removing the tension that had begun winding in tight spirals in the frame of her form as she failed to hinder her consuming thoughts. The sight of the spectacle had not only eased tautness from her figure but transformed her task from a fruitless empty struggle to one of effortlessness, the ominous memories that tortured her soul retreating hovering at the edges of her conscious as her parents beckoned her to join them.
Breakfast was one of those times that would remain unchanging to the end of her days with no concerns for the events and the calamities that would fall upon them. The conversations that they would share would always be spoken with a tone of merriment, laughter ringing truthfully from the depths of their souls, the food expertly cooked and luscious against their taste buds. And while the peace of the meal was short lived, never harvested to its full potential it was sufficient enough time to leave her yearning for another moment, one of the compelling factors that caused her to rise in the morning, to continue fighting against the strenuous ordeals of life.
She obeyed her parents call, settling herself in the chair across from her mother, her father placed center of the two them at the far end of the table. Kori watched as her mother turned her focus to her, the face of indifference tightening her features for the slow count of seconds before her mother's mouth curled into a radiant smile. Kori, of course, held her doubts about the validity of the grin, cold logic pressing its belief on her that it was a façade, a mere mask in which her mother was manipulating to disguise her true sentiments. However with a mere glance at the gleaming sparkle in her mother's golden orbs perished Kori's qualms, lifting a heavy weight off her conscious.
Once certain their master and mistress along with their offspring were seated and acquainted, a small group of maids appeared from the kitchen door, carrying several plates of steaming food and china teacups. In a systematic order, each maid fulfilled their duty by placing the plates and cups in front of their intended person before filling out the room in a rigid line. Another group of maids would then enter, carrying the necessary utensils and napkins in which accompanied the meal. When the group's task was accomplished, they followed their predecessors' footsteps, marching to the kitchen with the same stiff immobility. All but one failed to silently follow her fellow workers, her presence known by the rustling of her skirts.
Kori's irises drifted over the table, examining the mouth watering meals that lay before their characters with rapacious gaze. Her father held the traditional meal expected for a man, a small pile of smoked sausages, no doubt fresh and sizzled only hours ago, salted boiled eggs, two slices of cold ham, a side of fresh bread with jar of marmalade and cup of black coffee to wash it down. Scarlet and Kori shared an identical meal, buttered toast, dusted with a light layer of powdered sugar and drizzled with luscious syrup from the hollowed depths of the maple tree planted in their garden. Paired with their entrée was a small bowl of porridge, cream and milk offered in petite containers, their favorite teacups retaining the favorite dark brew of Pekoe.
The air rippled with quietness as her mother swallowed a deep breath before exhaling her ritualistic prayer to the heavenly lord. Their cry of amen carried across the room, its vibration deflected off the walls and singing in their ears as they began to devour their meal in elegant graceful motions.
The maid whom had lingered was an elderly woman, her wrinkled folded skin suggested of a climbing age, an age in which many dreamed of living to but would never realize. She stood behind her mistress Scarlet, a smile twisting her thinning lips as if being allowed to stand in such a close proximity to her master was enough to flutter her heart with happiness.
"Madame Scarlet, Miss Charlotte and Miss Grace will come in a little bit later to give you a plate of fresh strawberries and bananas. I hope you can forgive us; they were in the garden while we were out trimming the trees and we noticed they were ripe. We worried if did not pick them they would begin to rot so we did without your permission." The maid's voice was hoarse, her syllables discordant, her words pants as she bowed to the floor, impressing Kori with her unquestionable dedication and determination.
"Johann my dear you really are a worrywart. Relax; such a minuscule thing could never entice my anger, especially towards you. " Her mother turned her focus to the bowed maid, drinking in the details of the maid's quivering form, listening closely to her ragged breathes, noting the color gradually draining from her face. "And stop that infuriating bowing; you know very well I considered you like another mother. Now go get something to eat, I know very well you have not eaten you stubborn old fool."
Joann let out a throaty laugh, her demeanor changing for a brusque composure to a more relaxed stance as she eased her spine erect. With a heartened expression, she patted her mother's shoulder before excusing herself to the kitchen. Kori could barely decipher the faint forms of the words "kind mistress", "lucky" and "food" from the maid as she treaded away however it did not captivate Kori's attention for the time span longer than for a second for she shifted her stare to the food before her, her tongue burning with desire.
The majority of the meal was shared in a comfortable silence, the occasional conversation exchanged through a blazing hum of talking between bites as they consumed their wonderfully prepared breakfast. Much to her distaste, Kori found her food disappeared rather hastier than she wished, the empty china staring at her with the residue of what had been one the best meals of her life. Her mother finished rather rapidly also, her father who ended last in the race due to his slow pace and more quantity finished exactly when required, the clock ticking on the seventh hour for in thirty minutes time her father was to depart to train his soldiers and review the country's defense and other political matters.
However despite the short time none of the three members of the small family felt the need to comply with the rush of life, lounging comfortably in their chairs as they waited for their food to process properly in the digestive track, wishing to not fall ill due to their overindulging.
Glancing at the ticking clock on the wall, her father stored the information in his mind, testing his resting muscles to see if they could handle the stress of the day. Satisfied at the control they presented, he set about to amuse himself for the last minutes until he had to venture to the confines of his unventilated office.
"So what are my two lovely women doing today?" Both women were not blind to see that the man of their house was simply looking for a reason to distract himself and held no genuine interest toward the subject in the least.
"Mother and I are going to attempt to fit a little training in especially with the new influx of trainees. And once we are done proving to your pitiful soldiers how terrible of fighters they really are, I am going to go with mother to collect my dress for the festival tomorrow." Kori informed him, Scarlet conferring him a brief glance meant to confirm their daughter's statement.
It was a thought in which did not abide well with his conscious, the unaware tugging of the corners of his mouth not failing to enchant giggles from his wife and daughter. The scowl was directed at his soldier's small endurance levels and their skill sets in which paled in comparison to his young daughter's. Pitiful did not even come close to how despairingly distressing the very proven fact that all of his men could have easily be defeated by his daughter when initiated in a fight and he had witnessed some battles where she did not even show the faintest signs of tiring. Regret coated his heart as he now felt infuriated by himself for denying his wife's proposal to train his men. It was an idea on which to ponder on a much later date with the hopes he could use his fine tuned persuasion skills to convince his wife to reoffer her service.
"You have not collected the dress?" His tone regained much of its velvet serenity Scarlet observed through the fringe of her eyelashes, the slight strain on his pronunciation in his words the only indication to her of his surprise.
His astonishment and astounded thinking was neither foreign nor startling for the two women. Both had knowledge that John was raised with a demanding sister, one whom often forced John when he was younger to participate in her womanly entertainments, leaving John with an unwanted understanding of a woman's mind. For the past years, the two women have tried to their best attempt to restrain their vivacious feminine spirits in order to salvage what little masculine freedom he had managed to hold yet they felt without the presence of another male their efforts were in waste.
"Mother and I have been busy aiding the festival workers and just have not found the time to complete the task. Besides the seamstress warned us it may not be completed until the day before the festival so it was not anything we did not plan on." Scarlet felt the swell of pride at her daughter's smooth tongue for her words struck the nerve in which comforted her father's spirit, the worry that had begun to twist his features settling to a peaceful calm.
"Yes that may be the case but is not the dress that is considered an important factor in the ceremony?" Her father questioned in a cautious manner, a habit in which he learned to do when he was curious but did not know whether if his inquiry was offensive or not. It took a glance at her mother to see she would remain tight lipped about this subject, placing the heaviness of its responsibility on Kori's shoulders.
"Yes, you are correct in your assumption. The tradition for girls that participate in the festival are to wear two dresses, one preferably designed after a favorite childhood dress and the other in which the girl would be debuted as woman. They are to wear the childhood dress through the entire first half of the ceremony in order to symbolize their time as young girls and around the second half are to change into their debut dress in which signals that they are now considered unmarried women."
Her father snorted, the temptation in which to mock the two women burning on his tongue. He of course knew women were delicate and sensitive creatures, however, he firmly believed they easily went astray from the importance of matters by bathing the little details that could be ignored into out of control and most often expensive proportions. Though the time and energy in which to debate this logic was both pointless and bothersome and if to surface it held the very high possibility it could create a bloody division of the country, something he had worked hard this last decades or so to prevent.
Before her father pursued another question, he gave momentary look to the clock, noticing that he had been so occupied by their discussion that he allowed himself to fall behind in his routinely schedule.
"Well my beautiful women it seems that I am rather in late in departing for work today. I will see you when I return home and I beg you please leave it so my men can still walk." John charmed more giggles from his wife's and daughter's lips as he waved indolently, striding through the door that lead to the salon.
Coming to the shared conclusion that it was also time to depart, the women excused themselves from the table, heading their separate ways to dress for their morning training session.
X-x-X
It was nightfall when Kori and Scarlet returned home, where her father immediately greeted them, a strange flicker in his eyes. It was a warning sign in which Kori was very well acquainted and before she was engulfed in her father's interrogation she fled to her room with her newly acquired dress, abandoning her mother to inform her father of the delicate issue of the cost of the said garment.
As Kori closed her bedroom door, it quieted her mother's voice that rang confidently and proudly, her mother's tone retaining its steady smooth rhythm as it battled with her father's suave baritone. Disregarding the upcoming argument, Kori's features twisted into a smile, happiness overwhelming her heart, her head subjugated by the wrapped parcel in her hands. The seamstress had sewn her design to the exact stitch, creating a garment of perfection in which caused Kori's heart to flood with emotions of adoration and unbridled love.
The dress bodice was fashioned to her corset; silk dyed the shade of crimson sewn into the seams of her linen hardened Italian undergarment, embroidered lace decorating the fabrics surface. Underneath laid a frosted white undershirt; her shoulders exposed as the fabric was folded inward and hemmed, a request she had specifically ordered. Sleeves of pearl satin flowed down her arms, forming tightly to her limb's shape before flaring out in ruffled cuffs around her wrist, falling to cloak her hand. To prevent the hanging fabric from intercepting her eating, the seamstress formed the layers covering the face of her hand into a triangular shape, attaching a ring of red silk to the pointed edge in which she slipped her middle finger, a reassurance in which to hold the lose fabric. The skirt conformed around her slender legs, adopting the style of ancient Greek dress, sensually pooling to the ground in a fountain of pearl silk.
Embroidered into the silk of her skirt was a long stemmed red rose. Thick colored leaves of jade accented by gold outline clung to the malachite stem, abundant hazel thorns fastened to the stalk, protruding contrastingly against the pallid background. Lose back stitches formed into a series of thin lines, expertly sewed into the circular shape of spirals and swirls as they wound around the rose.
The dress when on her form had a mystifying effect, her pale skin aglow in an alluring ivory sheen, the tinge of colors highlighting the vivid hues of her features.
The chime of the clock alerted her from her dazed conscious, waking her from her overwhelming thoughts. Without her knowing, time had passed before her eyes for the clock's face screamed it was the eighth hour, the hands resting on the seventh hour when her mother and she had returned to the residence.
It was not an exaggeration of her imagination to claim her mother at this moment had already reached the state of a flushed face drunkenness with her father carrying a worn and saddened expression on his features as he guided her mother to their shared chamber, struggling as he tried to coerce Scarlet to walk when all she desired was to pause all movements and fall to the floor.
Over the past years, Kori watched her mother, surveying from the shadows as she drowned herself in the liquid of red wine usually during the eve of her birthday or Kori's. She had assumed it was a method in which her mother used to prevent the rising of painful memories, avoiding consciousness so she did not have to witness the clock as it yearly stroked the hours of her worst nightmares, her vulnerable mind subject to the lucid details of her memories.
A short time had come to pass when Kori heard the vibrating thumps of footsteps and the muffle of slurred words. Her father's voice rang throughout the home with a sharp clarity, yet despite that the words were indecipherable to her ears she could easily presume they were light chides directed toward her mother.
When the last rays of the sun faded and night fell to their home, a silence swept through the dwelling, washing the high wooden structure like a wave licking the lips of a sandy beach. And despite the best efforts of the maids and her mother they could never chase away the maddening silence that bequeathed the house. However their efforts were not done in van for Kori was certain if it were not for those seemingly fruitless labors she would have fallen prey to the alluring call of insanity ages ago.
Yet tonight a sound would not be created, her mother's singing would fail to fall to her ears, the comforting crisp echo of her father turning the pages of his book would fall silent, the gossip of maids absent. It was under those conditions in which she allowed herself to foster the crazy notion, any logic she possessed besieged by the emptiness of hollowed fear.
It was a short wait, no longer than ten minutes for in which she passed the time fitting herself into her dress, studying her figure with a pleased pride, watching the material as it was swayed under her dainty twirls.
Footsteps resonated from the staircase, raising in volume as her father lead her mother up the barrier of the stairs, the floor creaking nosily under the strain of their steps. They shuffled across the darkened corridor, turning into another hallway that outreached her hearing. It was the rebound of the door slamming to a relaxed shut that had alerted her of her parents entering their chamber.
To be cautious, Kori waited a few minutes to be certain they would remain in their room before she allowed herself to collect the necessary items, her mother's diary (which conveniently held the aged old map), her training boots and her uncle's forgotten frock coat he had left behind on one of their recent visits. Once prepared, Kori then opened the door to a gap, her eyes roaming the corridor briefly to verify there was not a single soul. Ensured no one would pass, she pushed the door to a larger opening, slipping through before bring returning into its indented resting place.
Once more confirming the hallways avoidance of any presence, she scurried down the corridor, staining her ears along the way to listen to any rustling signs of life however it remained chillingly silent, the air shifting wordlessly around her as she scrambled down the staircase.
It was an easy task to slip unnoticed through the rooms beyond the stairs and without a single incident she had traveled to the foyer, which held the entrance door. Her doubts wavered as she went to place her hand on the doorknob, worries about her mother's health infiltrating her mind, the unconscious halt of motion unnoticed by her eyes.
From the hallway footfalls thundered, two maids who were conversing in light whispers, the air about them holding a slight damper. "Is she going to be alright?" From the girls high octaves she could decipher it was Charlotte speaking.
"The mistress?" The voice was thick and harsh, syllables stressing different sounds hinted the burly woman was foreign, German if Kori was right in her assumption it was Gertrude.
"Of course! Who'd you think I was talking about?" A snort resonated throughout the room.
"We have two mistresses living in this house I remind you so don't expect to know which one you are referring to." Her chiding tone, harsh and guttural had become softened and almost sweet as she spoke her response to the younger maid's question. "Yes she will be fine, she upstairs right now resting. She drank quite a lot less tonight, smallest amount I have seen in my time here."
It was involuntary, her mouth curled into a smile, a sense of relief flooding her soul at the maid's high praise. Kori did not allow herself to linger any longer and continue eavesdrop on their conversation, promptly excusing herself, the door coming to a silent close not a trace of her presence left.
X-x-X
Unlike her mother, Kori did not have accompaniment of the moon for it was in its stages of crescent waning, illuminating little of what lay below its throne. Part of her perceived it as an omen, a sign in which was foretelling her fate was in for a nasty turn of events; however she ignored it, logic crowding her fantasized imagination. In clouded shadows, she traveled through a pitch dense forest, following the overgrown path with her feet where next she met with a deadened meadow whatever mystic beauty it had possessed disappearing with the cycle of the moon. It was not until she met with the silvered sand and the playful ocean breeze did she find the unearthly beauty her mother described, the view of nature running its destined course empowering.
From the corner of her vision she sighted the jagged form of eroded rock, still large in its stature as the waves roared over its surface. This time it was a voluntary smile that wound on her face for she knew deep in her soul that she had rediscovered the ship of nightmares, the ship in which her mother was conceived with her life.
With cautious gradual steps, she traveled around the base of the large stone, its faceless posterior revealing the bow of the ship. Her mother's portrayal of the rotting vessel was accurate down to the very last detail expect for in the time period that lapsed it underwent the process of rapid decay. The railing too feeble to hold the heavy mass of the mast pole collapsed causing the entire stern to be crushed under the mast pole's sinking weight. Moss completely cloaked the ship's starboard where the waves struck the craft, the scent of salt and wet wood burning her nostrils.
She envisioned the ship to be one of grandeur before its owner's and possibly creators had come upon misfortune. She knew it was wrong to consider this place in such an innocent light, to praise it when it was the site of her mother's deep anguish. However there was this cord, this invisible red string in which called her to this ship, this place that had became the haunting location of the conceived joining between the criminal and mother, had given her a piece of her soul, a piece she never knew that she had lost.
X-x-X
Kori found it a much simpler task to enter the ship rather than her mother for the wood had been inundated and with one swift kick of her shod foot the wood easily broke, crushed into dust under the sole of her shoes as she wandered into the interior of the rotting vessel.
A silence welcomed her, one that she could not quite classify as giving her any emotions of fear or the promotions of eerie foreboding but neither filled her with a consoling comfort. In fact a loneliness hung in the air and as the ship cried and moaned she wondered briefly if those who had traveled in its wooden structure and ultimately hung to death knew that their ship was still docked on the shore of their demise, patiently waiting for their return for nearly a century.
That thought then brought on the subject of the owners of themselves. Were they the stereotype what most commoners considered a pirate, drunk, dirty men who plundered villages of their valuables and alcohol? Did they sail across the oceans, adventurous spirits unable to be brought to the settlement of land? Did they ever possess lovers who lasted more than a night, ones whose memories would embedded deep into their hearts and haunted their dreams?
It was with that unquenchable vigor of observance she examined the craft, eyes darting in her sockets as she roamed room after room. Part of her imagined this was the emotions that overcome her mother as she inspected the pirate's vessel, this marvelous preserved museum of a lifestyle those who lived in societies could not dream.
Kori could feel as the memories intersected, the hand of her mother ghosting beside her as she ran it down the rugged plank of wood, her mother's sigh of relief echoing along with hers as she avoided falling into decomposed floor boards. Her mother's laughter invaded her sense of hearing at the comical carvings in the wall, their features cringing in identical disgusted expressions at the remnants of musty ale layered with inches of dust.
She found it located at the end of corridor, the wooden door with the weathered painted gold design, a hum detectable in the air as a sort of magnetic pull surrounded the entryway, subconsciously luring her form to its wooden frame.
An overwhelming sensation crawled over her skin as her hand grasped the rusted doorknob, a burning connection flushing her skin, her breathe holding a slight pant as it rang throughout the concave passage. Reason receded from her mind, her pulse throbbing underneath her breast as she undertook the task of opening the door. As if she had commanded it to or as if it had read her thoughts, the door opened for her, pealing inch by inch off the door's frame to expose the chamber in which she could feel the pulsating of her life. Her instincts were not under the full control of her delirious mind for once the door was fully ajar she had studied its contents, hunting for the silhouette of a human form. It was a crazy idea to believe that the tragedy that befell on her mother would occur twice, however Kori was not foolish enough to down play her mother's misfortune and neither was she going to turn a blind ignorant eye to the low percentage of it taking place again.
Shadows licked and danced at the toes of her boots, attempting to entice her into their mystifying fumes. She disregarded them, pursing her search for the flair of life, her eyes roaming the room with a predatory glare. When her investigation concluded in fruitless results, she entered the room, the shadows shading her form in purring clouds of seducing gloom.
The chamber was blanketed in a pitch blanket of night, the soft gentle rays of the moonlight trickling through, silver light appearing as streaming water of a pond flowing into a waterfall. Part of her regretted that she did not bring an oil lamp and a match for it was difficult to decipher the shapes of objects or study the little overlooked details, though she expected if her mother's memory was anything to go by there was not much to see anyway.
From her standing at the door entrance, there were only two pieces of conspicuous furniture, both bulky items showing signs of sinking into the floorboards. The first was a retrograded dresser and the other a bed blankets thrown askew as it emitted a fowl stench that irritated her eyes and the nerves in her nose.
The bureau lay against the western wall, its length seemingly a little short of reaching the corners. It held nine drawers from her count, three resting comfortably across and three trailing downward and occupied in the center was a small hinged door where the middle and center lower drawer would be. Rusted handles gleamed at her languidly through the grime and rust that had accumulated on its façade, clanking softly against the disintegrating wood. A mirror attached to the rear panel of the dresser, reflecting the spidery tendrils of light seeping through the window, highlighting her vibrant features in the reflective glass through the coated layers of thick dust.
Her footsteps were definite against the crying floorboards as she traveled to the bed, her hand stretching out to reach pinnacle of her mother's sorrow. The curve of the headboard was the trail in which her eyes followed, the sculpted swirls of its design charming her blinded eyes. Her gaze went downward in its path, the mattress sagging, airless, its heavy covers tracing the shapes of the individual feathers of which it was composed.
The drape of the wrinkled sheets told the story of the physical battle of wills that had occurred many years ago, one half dangling from the edge while the other spread across the deflated exterior of the mattress as if it were trying to bury the crime that was committed on its surface. Out on a whim Kori stretched out her hand, her fingertips feathering over the rippling surface. The sheets held a slight coarse texture, otherwise silken to the touch; surprisingly for dust ridden bedspreads her fingers remained unsoiled.
With one last contemptuous glare, Kori changed her focus to the bureau, her footsteps once more the only motion in the room as she journeyed to the item in which held her curiosity. As she approached she unfolded her arm, letting her fingertips once more become her guide as she traced the dull edges of the wardrobe, the moisture clinging to the wet wood coating her fingers.
Assiduously, Kori peeled her sleeves away from her arm, exposing the limbs in her efforts to prevent staining her dress as she liberated the mirror from the tyrant of grime. Disgust crossing her features at the dirt that encrusted the palm of her hand and fingertips, she removed the revolting filth by scrapping her hand against the dull edges of the dresser.
It was as her vision was rising to the now considerably cleaner though albeit hand streaked mirror, she sighted a pair of arctic blue orbs, gray flecks contrasting so luridly against the icy hue. Though part of her felt as if she was incorrect in her description for they were not as frosted as the ice found in the frozen tundra but were considerably lighter than the deep navy of the ocean as it lapped the shore. Jealously scorched her cheeks for the eyes were not only beautiful but so alluring that one could not help but feel the need to gravitate toward them in complete obedience.
That would be her last notable thoughts as she was struck from behind, the desiring irises hovering in her vision as darkness flooded her, the peaceful abyss pulling her soul into their darkness.
Author's Notes: I hate this chapter. It was a difficult writing because I tried to not be repetitive and say the same exact details as in Scarlet's diary and provide you with new descriptions. Okay before I go into a whole page of complaining here is your notes.
1. This chapter is what I call a bridge chapter basically it is the connecting factor between the exposition and the rising action.
2. Breakfast in Victorian Era is considerably different from our modern grab-the-closet-thing-near-to-you-that-appears-edible-and-run-out-the-door-because-you-are-going-to-be-late breakfast. They tended to be formal in which they sat down, ate their meals before did anything that day and other smaller factors that are too numerous to mention. Now from the books and movies I have read and seen these meals tended to be a little tense and so I wished to convey a more casual version. As for the food a man would get either less or more than what John received depending on the social status which dictated wealth. As for the matter of the French toast I really doubt it was eaten in any social class during the Victorian Eras so you're going to have to forgive me for that.
3. The festival in which you have heard mentioned in a previous chapter and now this chapter has the loose basing off an ancient ceremony that I had once come across in a book I have read but for the most part is of my own creativeness.
4. Just to clear any confusion, when Kori mentions a day like this in the beginning of the passage as to mentioning her mother's rape she isn't literally referring to that particular day but rather comparing the dates. You will notice this takes place on the eve of Kori's sixteenth birthday and Scarlet was raped on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. And yes I did that on purpose.
Chapter Three Timeline:
August 20, 1873
The eve of Kori's sixteenth birthday. After breakfast and running through the day's events, most importantly collecting her dress for the festival that will occur tomorrow, Kori and Scarlet return home at seven o'clock. At eight o'clock, Kori sneaks out of her residence with a few necessary items and clothed in her birthday dress and with her mother's diary leads herself to the abandoned pirate's ship. In exploring the room her mother is most noted for being raped she sees arctic blue orbs in the bureau's mirror before she is knocked unconscious.