December 25th, 1891 — Valenduris House, Wellingtonshire
In sundry ways it was a fairytale Christmas. Snow fluttered down from the navy evening sky on barely any breeze at all, settling on handsome lampposts and skeletal tree branches with a gossamer touch. And in that navy sky, a smattering of bright stars almost as cheery as the warm golden glow emanating from the houses of Wellingtonshire. Silhouettes of graceful figures, gay laughter, the clinking of glasses. Merriness abounds.
The pristine white Valenduris house stood stately but homey, quite in its element as the enormous family gathered within. Richard Everly was one of the younger ones, and he'd decided to take a moment's break from the obligatory familial revelry. A break from everyone asking him if he intended to be a Healer like his magnificent parents. A break from aunts asking him if he was interested in any young ladies, and uncles wondering why he hadn't joined the Quidditch team like that strapping friend of his.
The garden was cold, cold, cold, but pleasantly so -- such had been the heat and noise of the indoors. Richard was dressed for the occasion in sleek black, making his skin and hair seem all the paler. He remained beneath the cover of the roof so the snow didn't fall on him, but leaned his thin hands lightly on the balcony and looked out over the shadowy gardens. He should return indoors and charm his betters. But for now the solitude felt like a cool drink in a hot desert.
Meserimus Valenduris