Florence Newell
September 09, 2018 10:05 AM
Reflection and analysis by Florence Newell
And then there were two.It was a bit of a morbid reference, Florence realized. Perhaps it was a bit unfair to compare her family situation to Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None”, given that in that context, the numbers were dwindling down due to a serial killer slowly assassinating members of the group, whereas in her life everyone was still alive and well, just a bit alienated. But it was how she felt in the moment, and her thoughts and feelings and references were valid, all things considered.
Regardless of actual context, the statement itself was accurate. There were only two now. They had begun with four, acquired and lost a fifth, and now there were two. Makenzie was living independently in - last Flo had heard - Chicago, and Dustin and Anastasia were now settled into an apartment in St. Louis that he had to work to support. That left only Flo herself and Brett. And it was strange.
She was exceptionally proud of her big brother, who had finally realized the potential Florence had always seen in him, albeit in an unexpected manner. Standing up to their father and taking custody of Ana had not been an predicted outcome, but she was proud that Dustin had finally taken steps against the world around him, a march to his own drum instead of remaining a drone. Makenzie had helped with that, had paved the way with her break out, and now Dustin was all the better for it. Flo felt no animosity - or even distaste, really - for the fanciful Pureblood society from which they came and to which they now only partially belonged, but sometimes right and wrong were right and wrong no matter where one came from, and to act and think independently was the only way to affect real change. She was proud, indeed.
The only bit that concerned her was that if Dustin was truly cut off, the status of the heir was changed. The spare son was now, potentially, going to inherit everything if no compromise or forgiveness was ever reached. There was a long time off on that, because Father had a long life ahead of him, but the concept of switching all focus from Dustin’s future to Brett’s was… Well, they had always joked how fortunate it was that Brett came second.
It had to be overwhelming for him, she was sure. The lack of attention from Father had never really bothered Brett, but now he was front and center, with no seemingly perfect older brother behind which to hide. She could see the stress pour off of him, even now that they had escaped to the temporary reprieve of Sonora. The way he tried his best to look serious, to sit up straighter. It was so stiff and unnatural, so not… Brett. For now, Florence could do nothing but hold her brother’s hand and hope that with time, in their peaceful and distant Sonora, he could once again regain himself.
That would certainly help with his relationship… type thing. Brett had taken Eden Manger to the ball, and since then the two had been spending quite some time together. But now she seemed stiffer too, a bit put off by his stuffy and uncomfortable attitude. Flo didn’t know the girl too well, but she was a Teppenpaw, so she doubted Eden would abandon Brett in this time of trouble, but it was obvious that it was affecting her as well. The Aladren did not mean to analyze so much, but… well, she was an Aladren. Analytics were simply in her nature.
So all in all, it was set to be an interesting year, Flo anticipated. She reflected upon all this as she sat in the library, her quill hand - her left - dragging an ink-stained robe sleeve along behind as she composed a letter. It was to Dustin, to check in. Mother and Father may not have been speaking to him, but Florence still cared deeply, as was obvious. Perhaps it was the warmth she felt for her brother that made her look approachable, or perhaps it was just coincidence that out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone coming nearer to her. In either case, she paused her pen and looked up at the person, giving them her full attention as she waited to hear what they wanted.
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Florence Newell
Reflection and analysis
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Florence Newell
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