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── 'AREN'T THOSE THE FUCKS FROM THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY?' ── [CH.II]
"Trust me, I'd do anything to miss out on that fucking mess of a ceremony."
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THE CAR STOPS MOVING from beneath Ophira, engine sputtering to a halt.
A pair of precisely manicured fingers slide their way into the frame of a delicate purse, retrieving an even more delicate mirror. Their hypnotic fingertips hang onto the golden filmed latch, flipping it open with a mere touch. Ophira peers into their reflection, their perfectly-captured face graced with precisely applied makeup looking back at them. Ophira's eyes trail downwards, catching onto a smudge of red across their otherwise glowing, fawn-hued canvas. Their fingers narrowly swipe across the mark, perfecting the blemish with an effortless hand. Better. Ophira takes grasp of the mirror, sliding it back into the purse without a second glance.
The door on their side is swung wide open by one of Ophira's many bodyguards, who steps to the side with an immense amount of respect for the woman who he is in the presence of.
Ophira slides from their seat, careful hands subconsciously smoothing down the creases of their cat-black tinged dress, tailored to fit. Their fingers flutter over the ornate material with an easeful hand. The devastating thud of Ophira's thinly framed heels sound as they hit the ground, asserting their arrival.
