Be Our Guest [OPEN]

Estella Arabella Antoinette

Is anyone going to get the door? It seemed pointless to attempt to ask the question but it slipped from my grasp without restraint, ricocheting against closed doors and walls decorated with material items. After several seconds and a sudden build of hibernating noise, two doors spilt open at once; one emitting the blurred figure or my mother floating down the stairs alongside the disgraceful riff-raff she now called her husband. The other my own as a disgruntled look perplexed the length of my downturned lips and probed the edges of my eyes until they narrowed into a displeased frown. Luckily I didn’t give myself long to dwell on the negativity of my displeasure and instead light, phantom footsteps carried me elegantly down the staircase, the grace fluent as pouted lips flattened into a sneer. “I bet these are his friends.”There was a moment of silence during the accusation and a disheartening pause as my mother’s hand abruptly stopped in its reach for the door. “Enough of your nonsense Estella, don’t you dare embarrass me.” Choking back sour laughter I’d give a simple shake of my head, disregarding the protest of my finely placed curls. “You embarrassed this family the moment you married him.””

That was it. The look of serpent willing to strike bore straight into the core of my eyes, narrowing in on the corrupt vacancy where my soul might have once been harbored. After that I dipped into silence with nothing more than a feigned, polite smile. It wasn’t worth the hassle not now. Not when I’d been left to witness this travesty while everyone else had managed to escape in some way, shape or form. The door opening caused a faint, prominent shiver to brush the exposed length of flesh left to the mercy of nature, the chill of the wind seeping inwards encouraged my arms to cross defensively while smoldering pits of ignited brown peered outwards assessing the guests that my mother greeted most enthusiastically. No doubt they were some lower crust scoundrels that had been acquaintances of my new, poor-blooded step-father, for I’d never seen them before as far as I could recall.

After a few moments I’d retract my steps, edging into the living area where bountiful space was offered for more comfortable conversation. I hadn’t bothered speaking, or even listened to the conversations being exchanged until my mother’s voice squawked into the depths of my ears like nails to a chalk board and drew my gaze to her dictating features. “Estella this is Mark, Mark Estella. You two should talk, I’m going to take these two ladies into the dining room for drinks.” That irritating smile of hers gnawed ruthlessly at my nerves as I bit back the urge to make some degrading comment and instead executed a convincing, nothing would please me more, sort of look, I watched her saunter proudly from the room until I had nothing else to direct my attention to other than the man stood upon the plush cream carpet my mother had come to favour so possessively. “Do you know why we’re playing happy dinner dates? Because I’d love to know. Quirking an inquisitive brow I’d wait somewhat patiently for an answer, my weight shifting onto the strength of an individual leg while a pale, marble hand floated south to cup the curve of my hip in a stance of displeasure. Nothing agitated me more than being ill-informed, especially when it involved guests. Since clearly my siblings and even those step-brats had been given the information and taken the time to gather excuses and be otherwise occupied for this little surprise.

Estella Arabella Antoinette


Impatience wasn’t practical but it was in fact nature. Barring pretty teeth and faking tender smiles had become part of perfected theatrics and it lasted for as long as an observant party lingered, the moment they vanished behind closed doors and the timbre of his vulgar, intolerable voice broke into the air things just had to change. Chewing thoughtfully on the core of my tongue I’d simply listen for a moment or two, unable to contain the predatory sneer breaking across provoked lips and scoffing a dry, patronizing puff of laughter. “Oh darling you’ve got it all wrong.”


Silken vocals broke sweetly, caressing the air with elegance and toxic hypnosis while tainted lips twisted domineeringly to reflect the flare now burning behind thick, dark lashes. There was nothing worse than men with anti-social issues, except perhaps egotistical pipsqueaks with biceps for brains and balls the size of raisins. “Now you listen here. You’re in my house, on my side of town. Just because this demented creature my mother married mixes with ill-mannered, rude cretins doesn’t mean I’m going to take your shit.” Keeping complete composure the tone almost sounded cheery, as not to alarm anyone in the next room, the quietness conducted with expertise as attired feet remained perfectly still, holding their stance in the centre of the room. “We’re going to do whatever I say we’re going to do or I’m going to scream and accuse you of one; stealing and believe me within the space of half a second I could make it convincing or two; I’ll throw myself on top of you and claim you tried to kiss me and I might even make up some elaborate story about where you were trying to put your hands, then we’ll see if you leave here alive.”

After a brief pause a soft cough would clear the tension brimming in the back of my throat as long, delicate limbs dismissed the space and brought the arch of my seemingly fragile frame to perch on the opposite arm of the sofa, smiling quaintly. “Now that we’ve got an understanding, why don’t you tell me who you are? It’s rude not to answer questions you know.”

Estella Arabella Antoinette

Relaxing somewhat an otherwise unengaged leg would raise to cross idly over the other whilst a clenched fist would provide the perfect pedestal for her chin as she’d make herself perfectly comfortable and listen to the response with satisfaction. Estella had grown accustomed to getting her own way and it had never been through whining or having things handed to her upon a silver platter. They were earned through intelligence, maliciousness, deviousness and all things corrupt but effective. “I know.” Acknowledging the compliment she’d give a simple, dismissive shrug before pursing her lips and lavishing the lower with a brief, simple sweet from her ripe, rosy tongue. “I’m a fantastic actor, I’m sure I can manage that.”

Leaning back into the sofa’s embrace a moment of thoughtfulness would wash effortlessly across her complex features as she’d chew the sincerity in her words and contemplate her own opinion on the matter. “A sword weighs more than me, I have no interest in them. When I fight I use a whip, but It’s not a passion of mine, the games aren’t something I obsessive over. I wouldn’t volunteer, I have no reason to.” Giving a productive shrug she’d simply throw a glance towards her newest acquaintance before remembering the manners she often lacked, “Estella Antoinette, by the way.”