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[center][img]https://r2.fivemanage.com/pub/doubdm0v7ugm.png[/img][/center]
[color=slateblue]Time:[/color] 10am 
[color=F0E399]Location:[/color] Drakes Birthday Party
[color=slateblue]Mention:[/color] 
[color=F0E399]Interactions:[/color][@Rodiak]Mathias
[color=F0E399]Appearance[/color]: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella huffed away from her brother, her mother’s words stinging like nettles as she stormed off. Another servant, fully aware of her rising irritation, smirked and glided over with a tray, offering her a cocktail like it was a peace treaty in a glass.

Stopping mid-rant, Ariella eyed the drink, took in a deep, calming breath, and snatched it up with surprising enthusiasm. The servant wisely backed away, clearly not wanting to witness the aftermath of a woman on the verge of a meltdown. Cocktail in hand, Ariella resumed her dramatic exit, muttering to herself about how she *really* wasn’t cut out for these events. 

She couldn’t fathom how she shared DNA with her mother—surely some mistake had been made at birth? And poor Drake—his birthday bash had gone from “respectable” to “downright awkward” thanks to their mother’s insufferable lack of decorum. At least her father was the eye of the hurricane, calm and collected amidst the family chaos.

Taking a sip of her cocktail Ariella scanned the crowd. A few guests were rolling around in the grass which she envied, others were clustered around tables sharing drinks, while a giggly mob gossiped louder than the string quartet playing in the corner.

Her gaze zeroed in on someone new—a young man looking distinctly uncomfortable as an elderly woman bore down on him like a hawk on a mouse. Ariella’s eyes widened at the sight of the man’s [i]mustache.[/i] It wasn’t just bad it was [i]terrible.[/i]

[i]That poor man,[/i] she thought, amused. The fear on his face wasn’t exactly subtle. Smirking, Ariella decided to rescue him. Cocktail in hand, she practically skipped toward them, eager to intervene just as the elderly woman came dangerously close to spilling her drink on the unfortunate gentleman’s pristine suit.

[color=slateblue]“Good evening!”[/color] Ariella chirped [I]even though it was still morning[/i], throwing a curveball into the awkward situation, and adding another layer of possible discomfort.[color=slateblue] “I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Ari—uh—Lady Ariella Edwards.” [/color] She winced internally at the title but soldiered on. [color=slateblue]“Have you tried these drinks? They’re amazing!” [/color] She held up her glass before realizing it was, yet again, empty.

Mid-rant, she stumbled to the left, narrowly avoiding a full-body collision with Lord Wimsley. Grabbing onto his arm for dear life, she erupted in laughter. [color=slateblue]“Oh my, I think I tripped over my shoes!” [/color] she said, wobbling but somehow still standing. Peering down at her feet she laughed again [color=slateblue]“Oh wait, I'm not wearing any…” [/color] as she attempted to straighten herself back up. [color=slateblue] “Dreadful things they are… Don’t you agree?” [/color] she said looking at the two of them her eyes darting between them as her cheeks flushed pink from all the alcohol she had consumed. 

Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as she leaned in, cupping her hand around her mouth like she was about to spill the kingdom's juiciest secret. "[color=slateblue]My mother wears them—some truly uncomfortable ones, too... I think that's why she's so mean.[/color]" She gave a solemn nod as if this revelation explained everything.

Leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, Ariella beamed as if she'd just solved world hunger. She even gave a little nod, as though waiting for the crowd to break into applause for her sheer brilliance. [/color]