Afternoon.
Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
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Lydia was in a fitted purple dress, a chiffon long sleeve with a button at the wrist, a flowy length, a dress she and her husband had picked after she picked his for him, she was delicately placing the roses and daisies that she had picked from the flower garden into the blue and gold designed vases that she had sent the maid to get for her, it shall make the mansion brighter and even more lively. The presence she feels in the mansion is still there most of the time but it only adds to the eerie of the mansion. Sometimes her steps falter because she believes someone has been following right after her with its eyes but they are nothing, so she sighs and ignores them.
