“Ah, yes come in…” The butler shut the door behind them, the loud sound making Logan startle a bit. “Hello, we’re the Van Dort's, here for the wedding rehearsal.” His mother said shakily. Logan’s father rang the doorbell and a snooty looking man dressed in a fine three-piece suit opened the door, head raised to the air as he peered down his nose at the commonfolk. This horrid place was to be Logan’s new home. No smoke rose from the chimneys despite the chill in the air. Velvet drapes were hung over nearly window, as if the Everglots didn’t want any light to shine into their rooms. The estate seemed to rise up for eternity, capped with black shingled rooftops that blotted out the weak sun. The carriage ride felt short, far too short, and the imposing stone walls of the Everglot Manor loomed over Logan before he knew it. Her voluminous skirts took up most of the interior and Logan found he had to sit with his knees uncomfortably tucked into him just to fit inside the tiny space. She was quick to follow, although her large bustle made it difficult to fit through the carriage’s small door. Logan’s mother ushered him into the carriage, silks rustling as she practically shoved him inside. “Come, come, there’s no time for talk, we must get to the Everglot Manor at once!” Today, however, his simple olive-green waistcoat made him feel inadequate, the sleeves a bit too short on his lanky arms. Logan had always found his parent's taste a bit garish, a farcical imitation of the wealth they aspired to. His mother’s coiffed hair was stiffly held in place, not moving an inch despite the small breeze she was creating, although the feathers on her little hat bobbed up and down. Logan’s parents were dressed to the nines, in coat tails and bustles. The furious waving of her lacy black fan did little to disguise the sweat on the woman’s broad face, despite the cool weather. His mother huffed in annoyance, “We’re going to be late.” “It’s a quarter past,” His father said, staring nervously down at his pocket watch.
It was only half on when he met his parents at the front gate, their disapproving glares only deepening at his state of disarray. He fumbled with his jacket, struggling to slip his arm into the left sleeve in his haste. He jumped up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and nearly knocking it over in the process as he sprinted down the stairs. Logan’s heart leapt into his throat as he saw the time on the wall. But how could he form a connection with a complete stranger, let alone marry them? It was unfair to him and unfair to his betrothed. He’d never met the young lord Everglot, there was no reason to assume he was malicious in any way. He felt his soul fly with it, away from this dreadful place and his cruel fate. Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and watched as the butterfly flew up, up, into the cloudy gray sky, wings a brilliant speck of color in the sea of monotony. There was no point in keeping the poor creature now that he had finished observing it. He sighed, lifting the lid off the butterfly and releasing it from its fragile prison.
He glanced up at the butterfly before him, frantically beating its wings against the glass lid he had trapped it under. “Abdomen, 13 millimeters…the fur on its thorax has the appearance of spikes-perhaps an evolutionary trait to dissuade predators…?” Logan’s lips pursed as he muttered over his work, mind completely focused on the unfinished sketch before him.