solid gold, fourteen carat, barely burnished despite twenty years of hard molling. but beneath it, i knew, beneath that gold & stardust, she was all grit and sharp teeth gnashing, head twisting, talons out, tearing flesh.
make me queen
private, selective, independent blair waldorf.
or i'll make you bleed
you have to decide who you are, little girl, she told me once. once you know that, everyone else will too.
she flopped down on the mattress next to blair, letting out a slight huff as she felt the designer sheets ( of course. ) under her skin slowly start to ease her into a somewhat relaxed state. “i hate parents.” she muttered after a few moments of silence, eyes glued to the ceiling above them. “i fucking hate parents.”
sharpened tongue is dulled by empathetic eyes . the girl raised by ELEANOR WALDORF certainly understood the trials certain parents could bring ; a simple glance around constance billard and st. judes couldn’t tell you , but more often than not , the only thing the park avenue princes and princesses lacked were GOOD PARENTS , she sat up , pulling a pillow into her lap and patting it , beckoning her friend . usually harsh voice was now soft and she managed a soft smile . ❛ do you want to talk about it ? i could have dorota bring in a bottle of dom . ❜
