xanadu | district one | wip

trigger warning: animal cruelty, suicide, violence


Xanadu Eklund

His father is a furrier

and his mother was a seamstress.

Stitches may loom the most handsome garments, but they may also mend wounds. That was the way of the Eklund family. Their life together, although seemingly pristine, was plagued by deception. They fashioned incredible wears, but each stitch patched a slash, a gouge, a tear. Mother’s work was really just a figure of her suffering. She was like a fur coat, disgustingly divine and enclosing a past of pure carnage. Performative. That was why she killed herself.

Xan found her in the parlour room, the one nearest the front foyer where they would corral their pseudo-friends to keep them from prowling around. A lot of District One’s socialites liked to hunt for weakness in their associates. Mother knew this because she was culpable herself. Nothing she ever unearthed was treasure, however. These so-called “friends” would not have to lurk far beyond the parlour to find imperfection. Mother poured a good portion of their finances into that room; buying the most rich furniture with leather upholstery and a single impressionist art piece that was hung ever-so-slightly out of kilter. It was a façade as was she. Which was why she chose to die among her delusion, one last grasp at the life she would never live.