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Ѻɳϲє ϑҏɵɳ ɑ ȶiɱє...


stari_maga
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Chelsea Taylor loved the rain. Delicate fingers reached out, and a fat, perfect raindrop fell into her palm. Chocolate eyes flicked to its silvery depths, then out across the huge yard at the mansion. It was huge and dark, not a place she'd choose to have a party. But they'd done a good job, fixing it up. The glowing windows looked inviting, and the buzz of friendly, polite chatter met her ears. If not fun, this party would at least be bearable. Chelsea let the drop slip through her fingers, then turned to get her luggage.

Luckily, she wasn't in any rush. Earlier, eying the gray clouds, she'd bought a cheap plastic umbrella in case she was caught in the rain. It wasn't like she minded getting wet. In fact, Chelsea would love to do a ridiculous, childish dance across the wet green lawn. However, it wouldn't do to muss her perfect hair, as she'd spent hours in a salon that morning having it styled into gorgeous gentle curls. Her pale yellow party dress and white heels where expensive, but they'd dry.

Only a single, though large, suitcase was waiting inside the taxi's trunk. Chelsea took it, then gave some money to the taxi driver, who left. Slowly, she made her way up to the door. As she stepped inside, she closed her umbrella and gasped. The inside of the mansion was wonderful, old fashioned and almost fantasy. She put on a pleasant, alert expression, and started wondering if anything interesting had happened there. Of course, her wild imaginings were far from the truth- stupid, really. Gates to other worlds, criminals hiding in forgotten rooms, the like.

Snapping suddenly back to reality, Chelsea decided she'd better greet the hosts. Then maybe she could do some poking around in the open rooms. She loved new places, but nothing was going to make her go into the darkened, unknown part of the castle. Especially not at night, in ominous rain. But enough of that. This was a party, meant for fun. Chelsea wasn't going to ruin it by freaking herself out.

As always, her steps were measured and her posture perfect. Chelsea craved acceptance more than anything, and that often meant putting on a false smile, like the one she was wearing now. It wasn't like the hostess, Marilyn, would be rude or anything. In all the time they'd known each other, Chelsea hadn't seen her any way other than calm and polite. Unfortunately, that probably meant that she was just another formal acquaintance- everyone rich had hundreds. True friends were harder to come by. And the host, Anthony, was rude to everyone. It was hard to tell what he really thought.

There was a loud, cocky woman talking to the hosts. Chelsea sighed. She'd never get any attention with that lady around. Deciding to come back later, her eyes scanned the crowd for someone worth talking to. There was a large group of people, mostly older than her. She knew a few, but didn't bother talking to them. They were busy, and boring. Finally, her eyes rested on a worker. Her face was blank, meaningless happiness. Her hair was short and blonde, not that it mattered. Of course, she was probably busy... Chelsea walked over to her, nodded to show that she didn't feel... superior. Then she said, simply, "Hello." No asking for food, no meaningless chatter, just a greeting. Chelsea Taylor didn't waste her words.





 
 
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