If you aren't taking advantage of this quarantine to pursue your passions and hone your art, are you actually social distancing properly? Unless you're an essential worker, in which case I feel for you and appreciate tf out of what you do. Hang in there, brave warriors! And fuck the assholes who give you shit for factors beyond your control. Stay safe, wash your hands, and don't touch your face!
Shoutout to Lyssa (BrokenTourniquet) for all her help! You rock!
Dear Ms. Croft,
This letter is in regards to the Croft estate. It has come to my attention that on February 14th, 2010, you will legally be of age. Our records indicate that the appointed conservator is currently Winston Smith. As you may already know, as a minor beneficiary transitioning into adulthood, control over the estate and all of its assets will soon be transferred from Mr. Smith to you. In the past, you have indicated an aversion to your inheritance. I am mainly writing to you today to educate you about possible courses of action with this in mind.
Unfortunately, your father did not complete a Deed of Variation before his death, so your options are limited as far as controlling where the inheritance goes. You could accept the inheritance then give it away, though this could have tax implications. There is another option, however, if the ultimate destination of the inheritance is inconsequential to you. You could disclaim the estate, in which case it will be redistributed at the state's discretion.
Whatever you decide, I will need to know your intentions by the 14th of February, 2010. I will be more than happy to answer any questions you may have. I have worked with your family for years and still maintain my office in Surrey.
Your attention to this matter is appreciated.
Yours truly,
Isaac Palmer
Lara scowled at the piece of paper she held in her hands. That was right. She was going to be eighteen in just a few months. For most, transitioning into adulthood meant going out with friends and getting pissed. For her, however, it meant tedious meetings with the family solicitor and dealing with more of her father's post-mortem baggage.
Damn you, Dick… she thought derisively. What did the ultimate fate of the estate matter to her? For all she cared, the solicitor could set the manor ablaze. The mental image of greedy flames licking away at the centuries-old stonework gave her a morbid sense of satisfaction. The peerage was archaic and obsolete anyways, the world would do better without. Let the entire system that facilitated her oppression burn.
"What's with that ugly expression?" Sam asked from the other side of the room, and Lara realized her bitterness must have spilled over to her face.
"Nothing," Lara murmured.
"Then smile! Psychological studies have shown that smiling increases dopamine production. Now lemme see that Duchenne Marker, bitch!" When Lara didn't lighten up, Sam got up from where she sat and sauntered over, "Whatcha got there?"
"It's nothing, Sam," Lara replied irritably.
"If it's nothing, then lemme see it," Sam insisted.
"No."
"Lara."
"I said no," Lara raised her voice slightly.
"And I don't care," Sam crossed her arms, "you and I should both know at this point how toxic it is to keep emotions bottled up. Just talk to me, what's up?"
"I really don't want to talk."
"How am I supposed to trust you to help me get my shit together when you won't even trust me? It goes both ways, you know." Lara opened and closed her mouth in an attempt to reply several times before ultimately deflating and saying nothing. "I will wrestle you for that damn thing if I have to," Sam threatened.
"Good luck, I used to-" Lara began before she was cut off by Sam yanking her out of her chair and slamming her into the ground. "I- Ow! What the hell?!"
"I warned you," Sam grunted, sitting on Lara's back and twisting the arm that still held the letter behind her back. Lara's shoulder groaned in protest, "Now-give-it-here!" Sam slowly pried Lara's hand open one finger at a time.
"Please- ngh! Stop!" Lara panted desperately, "I can't...breathe…"
"Ha!" Sam exclaimed victoriously, holding the letter high above her head. She stood up and released the pressure from Lara's lungs.
"You're lucky you caught me off guard…" Lara spat.
"Uh huh, that's definitely why I just kicked your ass…" Sam rolled her eyes and took a seat at Lara's recently-abandoned chair to read the letter.
"I didn't want to hurt you," Lara's cheeks were red hot as she got to her feet. She rubbed her now-throbbing shoulder and chewed the inside of her cheek as Sam's eyes flew back and forth across the sheet of paper.
"So what are you going to do?" Sam asked when she'd finally finished.
"Probably just disclaim the estate," Lara admitted with a shrug. Sam raised a brow at her. "What?"
"And you're sure that's what you want to do?"
"Yes, why wouldn't it be?" Sam sighed, put the letter down on Lara's desk, and turned the chair to better face Lara.
"That's a lot of money to just pass on, isn't it? I mean we're talking about a whole estate with a mansion, right?"
"I could care less about the mansion," Lara retorted with a hint of irritation creeping back into her voice.
"Ever heard of avoidance? It's a psychological term."
"Sam. Back off," Lara warned. Sam scoffed.
"No. I'm not going to because you and I both know that I'm striking a nerve and you're about to make one of the worst emotionally charged decisions of your life. Sorry I care."
"I'm going for a walk," Lara snatched her coat off her bed and stormed out the door.
"I look forward to your admission of me being right later!" Sam called after Lara as she sharply snapped the door shut behind her and made her way out of the building. She jerked her arms through the sleeves of her coat and jammed her keys into one of her pockets. The audacity! What made Sam think that she could talk to her that way? She let out a huff of frustration as she began to walk at a brisk pace. Emotionally charged? There was no way. If there was one thing she'd been certain of since the age of thirteen, it was that she would never assume the same mantle her father had. How could a decision five years premeditated be emotionally charged?
The Countess of Abbingdon, Lara snorted in disgust at the thought. Why should she care? How was she being emotionally charged? It was all a load of cock and bull. At least that's what she thought until her thoughts drifted to her mother as she continued to walk and cool off.
After all, the last Countess of Abbingdon had been Amelia Croft, not Richard Croft. Her mind drifted back to the days she'd spent in her mother's gallery in the West Wing of the Manor, and her mother's melodic lilt praising her as she played the piano. She then thought of the countless paintings throughout the manor, all meticulously cultivated through a series of deft strokes by Amelia's hands. What would happen to those if she disclaimed the estate? Her walk slowed to a saunter as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. After some deliberation and lip-chewing, she dialed the number to the Manor's office and waited for an answer.
"Hello?" Came a familiar voice from the other end of the line.
"Winston? It's Lara."
"Lady Lara? My, it's unusual of you to call. How are you? Is everything alright?"
"I'm okay Winston," Lara said, "I just...something's been on my mind and I needed to talk to someone."
"Why not call Mister Roth, then? He's usually the one you go to for parental guidance." Lara felt a pang in her chest. That was true. Even though Winston and Roth shared parental duties following her father's passing, she always gravitated more towards Roth for the simple fact that spending more time with Roth meant spending less time being educated on the Croft lineage by Winston.
"This isn't something Roth can help me with. You see, it's about the estate." There was a pause.
"Ah," Winston remarked at length, "I forgot that time was nearly upon us."
"Yes, I, er...got a letter from the family solicitor today. He wants me to make a decision soon."
"And your reason for calling me is…?"
"I don't know what to do about the estate, if I'm being honest. Dad appointed you as the conservator, and I figured you'd have some thoughts on the matter?" Lara heard Winston let out a sigh.
"Ah yes, it's coming back to me now. Well… For starters, do you know where the estate would wind up if you were to disclaim it?"
"Isn't that left to the state's discretion?"
"My Lady, they wouldn't just distribute the estate arbitrarily. Generally, when someone disclaims an inheritance it goes to the next person in line. Do you know who that is?" Lara raked her brain for an answer.
"Dad's family is dead, right? So that would mean the estate would go to Uncle Atlas?"
"Correct. Do you know what would happen if Atlas DeMornay were to become the Count of Abbingdon?" Winston asked her dryly.
"I would never get the estate back, which I can live with," Lara answered. Winston let out another sigh and cleared his throat.
"Lady Lara, you and I both know that your Uncle and father...well, they were often at odds. Especially after your mother's passing."
"Yes, I'm aware."
"Think about the bigger picture and the type of person your Uncle is," Winston continued, unfazed by how short Lara was, "need I remind you that there are currently staffers who reside on the grounds of the Manor? Think about what would happen to them if your Uncle were to assume control."
"And what would happen?" Lara posed.
"All of those staffers would be furloughed and displaced, forced to find a new place to reside. The Manor itself would be razed and demolished. All memory of the Crofts would be obliterated, not that that would be of any consequence to you I'm sure. At the very least, consider the loyal staffers who have served your family for years. They, at least, deserve better. Especially the gardener. Remember how he used to take you on the mower with him? Forget your blind hatred of your father for a moment and please think about the human lives at stake." Lara stomach churned guiltily.
"Winston…" She began, "when you say 'staffers,' does that include you as well?"
"Just think about it," Winston said before hanging up. Lara's hands went numb and her ears began to ring as she slowly removed the phone from her ear and pocketed it. How could she have been so selfish? Winston was right. The staff at the Manor had been nothing but good to her since she lost her parents, and unemployment was how she was going to repay them? She thought about Monsieur Tibideau, the chef, and how he would always include her in the latest meal preps. He also would frequently make Amelia Croft's favorite dishes so that Lara could feel more connected to her mother.
Then, she thought about Anders, the gardener, and how he would arrange scavenger hunts on the grounds of the Manor, much like how her father did before his descent into madness. Sometimes, he'd also let her drive the lawn mower and they'd pretend that they were in the middle of a thrilling car chase as treasure hunters would try to steal her precious plunder.
Finally, she thought about Winston. Even though her time with him was usually filled with lessons about the peerage and the Croft lineage, he was always happy to provide a listening ear, even if she didn't always take him up on that offer. For all intents and purposes, he treated Lara like one of his own. She also thought about his niece, Amanda, who was around Lara's age and would occasionally come over to play with her. How would Winston be able to buy Amanda birthday presents without a livelihood? It wasn't as though he had a wife who could help with the bills. With a heavy heart and an emphatic sigh, Lara pulled her phone back out of her pocket and dialed a number.
"Hello, Isaac? This is Lara Croft, I wanted to talk to you about the future of the Croft Estate."
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