Chapter Text
The sun peeked through the windows of the upper floors of the most prestigious households in the country. Sunlight struck their faces. A new, fabulous day had just begun, and every noble family had marked on their calendars the date of the beginning of a very special British tradition…
Dearest reader, it is my pleasure to inform you that, to no one’s surprise, a new season of courtship has just begun. Considering what a disaster the last one proved to be, with the arranged marriage between Duke Wook and Baroness Rose, let us hope these times bring us more peace. For some, this season is the most delightful; for others, the most dreadful time of the year. I say, fret not—so long as your full name does not appear on this paper. Meanwhile, I recommend you watch your surroundings cautiously at the ball to be held at the home of Marquess Parrot Featherington.
Always yours,
Lady Whistledown.
The ateliers of the city were full of ladies seeking to dazzle a man of fortune at that night's ball, who would, of course, ask for her hand and live out a marital journey in luxury until the day of their death. In the meantime, the gentlemen were investigating each of the distinguished women who would be participating in this season of courtship and finding out if they had any rumours going around that would ruin their lineage.
On the other side of town, however, there were two boys in their twenties: one, with blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, considerably taller and paler than his peer. The other was a boy with brown hair, olive skin and big purple eyes in his face with more refined clothes than his friend, but still modest enough.
“And how exactly do you think this suit is going to work, Parker?” Jaron asked, looking at the suit Parker had handed him: a dark blue tailcoat and white trousers. “Because even with this stupid suit on, I'm still the same working class idiot.”
“Well, you're right about one thing, despite everything, it's still you.” He replied and let a chuckle escape his lips. “I have an idea, but I need you to get into your room immediately and change to be able to do it.” That cultivated Jaron's vivid curiosity, which forced him to nod and accept the condition his best friend gave him.
He went to his room and closed the door, but instead of immediately undressing and putting on the suit that Rek had given him, he leaned his back against the door and slowly made his way down to the floor, sitting down. A sigh escaped his lips and he looked at the outfit for a few seconds, with his hands he explored the fabric it was made of and the quality of it; it was probably the most garments that seemed to be made with excellent care and a surprising eye for detail.
“Oh my Lord...” He closed his eyes for a moment and then returned his gaze to the clothes he was holding. He sighed again and got up from the cold floor of his place, he stood, doing nothing for about two seconds, before looking down at the buttons of his trousers. “...Save me.”
About fifteen minutes passed and Jaron was tempted to open the door, but decided to wait a few more minutes just to contemplate his current situation. He was sure that as soon as he left his room, Parker would grab him by the shoulders and ask him a thousand questions just because he took longer than he should have.
He saw himself in the mirror multiple times with this suit on, but this time, he decided to explore it more carefully. One thing was for sure about his appearance, he felt naked without the hat he always wore, not to mention the possibility that the tailcoat might not be enough to keep him warm in this young winter, just like all those fancy clothes that rich people wore just to look nicer in front of others.
He rarely enjoyed playing with his hair, though he liked to touch it very gently, but none of those times were really serious, so he didn't dare to try to have hair more commonly associated with fortune just to infiltrate the ball at the Featherington house. He sat on his bed for about two minutes, and bored, was when he decided to go out once and for all.