Elizabeth sighed as she flicked through her book angrily, throwing it away. All she could hear echoing through the richly decorated - but seemingly empty hallways of her house - were the screams and shouts of her mother and father.
She felt pity for her mother, for feeling the wrath of her father´s rage. Although Julia Ricci deserved it.
Victoire Ricci was a proud man, and it was his doing that caused Elizabeth to have been brought up with the sense that, if one does not have their pride - they have nothing worth living for.
Elizabeth sighed yet again, over the raging shouts of ´Fafonapoly!´ - well that´s all she could make out, she was not exactly fluent in Italian unlike her father.
Pushing back her dark hair, Elizabeth closed her eyes and sat down in front of her dressing table. When she opened her eyes, she could barely see who on Earth the girl in the mirror was.
She had almost black hair, that curled into rinklets down her slender back, and her cheeks were gaunt, skin sporting a palish tone because of her lack of sunlight those past few days.
Maybe she was getting to old for this nonsense.