Drunken chatter filled the entire townhouse, which in Emmett’s opinion, was better than music. As the shock and scandal of the Ryhulian noble dropping dead at the celebrations had died down, his own party-happy spirit (and that of his friends), had gone up. One of the noblemen that he’d been friends with since childhood decided to throw a not so small get together at his home on the edge of the capitol. Emmett was never one to decline an invitation to a party.
The back doors were wide open, and with an arm wrapped around one of his lady friend’s waist, he stood half outside in the gardens, giggling with her as he finished his drink. It was only when he turned around to head back inside that he the party took a turn for the worst.
An oddly familiar face caught his eye. Every muscle in his body froze. Surely it couldn’t be her. The woman at his side asked what was wrong, but Emmett barely registered the words. Rather abruptly, he excused himself, heading straight toward the woman who’d caught his attention. “Delia?” // @delia-arkwright​
