ELEANOR WESTBROOKE.

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑨 𝑫𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑼𝑵𝑬 ／She is a child of fortune and misfortune alike - past!au. (on TS)

[ELEANOR WESTBROOKE. @amurgvis]

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[ELEANOR WESTBROOKE. @amurgvis]

The pain in her skull deepened, a violent pounding overtaking her senses.

Somewhere beyond the ringing in her ears, there were voices. Shouts.

Then—darkness.

[ELEANOR WESTBROOKE. @amurgvis]

/ 🤨🤨🤨

[陳, EZEKIEL @alamortien]

Eleanor Westbrooke was not a woman who entertained such foolishness, nor did she wish to dwell on such matters. Of that, he was certain.

And yet—he could not simply let her leave like this.

[ELEANOR WESTBROOKE. @amurgvis]

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────── @ofTrouvailles

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[ELEANOR WESTBROOKE. @amurgvis]

Without sparing him another glance, without waiting for his reply, she turned sharply toward the door. “I have other matters to attend to. I must take my leave.”