Oriana Emmaline Clarkson § 22 § The Tsundere
Location: Outside § Tagged: N/A
Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! The sound of a phone vibrating - accompanied by the soft piano keys of Midna's Lament - on the polished cherry wood nightstand slowly awoke Oriana from her slumber. The short girl yawned, still unwilling to move, at the moment, as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. In truth, she actually felt fairly well-rested; however, this was the day that she was going to meet with her fiance. Typically, it was an exciting event to be getting married - an opportunity that, ideally, only comes once in a lifetime - and it was also always a joy for a woman to meet with her husband-to-be. However, Ori was less than enthused, as she didn't want to be in this situation - not considering the set of circumstances that were before her. It was an arranged marriage, so she was, quite literally, meeting this guy for the very first time. The concept was quite odd to her, in truth - 'meeting' and 'fiance' didn't seem like a good combination of words in the same sentence; not in the context in which they were being used, that is. However, this was to be her fate - courtesy of her ever so adamant parents - so, she had to go along with it, for now.
With great reluctance, she reached over to the nightstand in search of her phone; as soon as she grabbed the smooth, tile-like device, she tapped on the screen, finally turning her alarm off. With a resounding sigh, she forced herself to get out of bed. She headed to the shower, then got dressed in a cream colored knitted sweater, a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a pair of brown leather boots, and the rose gold necklace with a cream colored pearl pendant - a treasured gift from her mother - that she always wore. After drying her long, silky hair, the natural brunette styled her balyage-dyed locks in large, bouncy curls, then did a more natural looking palette of makeup.
With that, she headed out the door, dreading this meetup. What if this guy - whom she knew virtually nothing about, and didn't even yet know what he looked like - was a jerk, or a creep? What if things went wrong? Perhaps she simply needed to trust her parents more on this one, she thought. Still...not choosing who she would be marrying, on her own accord, was uncomfortable to the woman. It didn't much matter if she actually liked him, or not - he was to be her husband, either way, and she felt practically suffocated by her parents' decision, as a result. And then, another thought crept up on her - what if she did end up liking him, but she wasn't good enough for him? What if she became more of a nuisance than a companion to him? What would she do then?
Trying to shrug off the heavy thoughts that weighed on her mind with a sigh, however, Oriana continued on her way to the place that she and her apparent fiance were supposed to meet up at - Starbucks. She wasn't sure how she would know it was him - all she knew was that his name was Harry Anderson - but her parents said she would know it was him when she saw him. She wondered what they had meant by that, but she guessed she would just have to ask random guys if that was their name, if she couldn't figure it out on her own.
Lewin James Patterson § 24 § The Wealthy
Location: Le Petite Bistro § Tagged: N/A
It was an early and beautiful Saturday morning at the Patterson Manor - the clock had just struck 7 o'clock in the morning, and everyone was, for the most part, going about their normal business. Typically, this consisted of breakfast, with tea and coffee, as a family. However, one member of the family was missing, on this particular day. Lewin would have loved to join his parents and sisters for breakfast; instead, he was busy getting ready to meet Ashton Wellington, however. Who was she? She was the girl whom his parents had arranged him to be married to. From what he was told, she was from a fellow wealthy family, and his parents were quite impressed with her. He knew some Wellingtons; he wondered if she was related to them, by any chance. Then again, he supposed it was a fairly common name, so probably not.
Well, I suppose it eliminates the possibility of a girl just wanting to marry me for my money...he thought to himself as he finished fixing his hair, looking to make sure he looked presentable to be meeting the young lady. In truth, he wasn't too keen on finding a wife, at this point in his life. However, his parents were concerned that no one would be with him, a few states away, and wanted him to marry so that he could start a new family whilst establishing a new life. It was true, he was embarking on a new adventure in his life - he planned on opening a gourmet restaurant, actually - and it would be a fresh start in an unfamiliar place. That said, however, he worried that his parents were worrying perhaps a tad too much. Still, he was willing to give it a shot, and give the girl a chance.
Finally, the brunette man headed down the mansion's large, winding staircase, and dropped by the dining room to say goodbye to his family. "Alright, I'm off," he said as he approached them. "Goodbye; we'll see you in a few hours," his father responded with a smile and a nod. Lewin nodded slightly, said his goodbyes to everyone else, and then left the house. He approached his blue Mustang, got inside, and drove off.
Man, life is strange, sometimes...Lewin thought to himself as he drove along to his destination - Le Petite Bistro. It's true - it isn't every day that one hears they will be partaking in an arranged marriage, after all. He wondered more about this girl, Ashton...what would she be like? He hoped she would be a genuine person, unlike his last ex. Biting his lip, he quickly diverted his thoughts to other things on the way there.
When he finally arrived at the somewhat fancy restaurant, he parked, and decided to wait outside for Ashton. Their reservation still wasn't for a little while, so he figured that he could just meet her outside, rather than mixing in the confusion of trying to figure out where one another was. He sat on the wrought iron bench and just scrolled through a book that he had downloaded onto his phone.
