Not such a perfect childhood.

(( This is just a little story when Prissy was just a little girl, back at her old mansion.
It kinda explains why Prissy is such a brat, and treats everyone the way she does. =) ))

It was in the morning. The dull morning. Pristina Ashley Vanderbilt woke up to argueing. As usual. It was her parents, Elise, and Raphael, her mother and father who always bickered. Pristina and her parents and servants lived in a huge mansion up on a hill in Elwynn. Pristina was only seven years old, and felt quite independent. Miss Prissy jumped out of bed, wearing a pink night-gown, her blonde golden hair up in a neat bun, her bangs falling across her forhead. She scrunched up her nose, bundling up the soft freckles around it. She walked out her door, and bumped into her favorite Maid, Gurtrude. 'Oh! ...Sorry Gurtrude.. I'm still kinda groggily'. The Heiress said, looking up to the old woman. 'Why, that's no problem dear.' She smiled, her wrinkles folding up around the woman's face. This always made Prissy smile. 'Do you want any breakfast, dear?... Pancakes? Mm.. Sausage--'
'..No thanks, Gertrude.' The maid looked on to the small child, watching her walk down the long hall to the main staircase. 'I swear it.. something's wrong that that little girl..' Prissy crouched down on the staircase, watching her parents quarrel.
She tried not to listen, but heard small portions of their loud.. 'conversation'.
'Why don't you ever stick around for your daughter!!? Always off on your 'buisness'!
Don't you care how she feels? How -I- feel??!' Her mother roared, her face starting to turn red. 'Of course I do!! How the hell am I going to keep our fortune in life if I don't ever work! There's auction houses that need to be auctioning, and I AM a merchant, Elise! My god, why are you so air-headed, woman!?' Her father yelled back. 'Ugh! Why did I ever marry you?! Your so selfish! Men! IDIOTS! All of them!'
This triggered her father's nerves, and with a swift swipe of his hand, he smacked the woman's face, and she fell to the ground. Prissy squealed out in terror, and ran to her father, kicking him in the legs, biting at his arm. 'Leave Mommy alone! Stupid man! Stop it!!!' Her father looked down at her in embarrasment, and shook her off, and she tumbled over on the ground backwards. He grumbles angrily as he walks up the staircase, pushing past some servants and maids. Prissy stares off at him, tears falling down her freckled cheeks. Her mother grabbed Prissy close, kissing her head, holding her cheek. 'Honey.. it's fine.. Mommy is okay.' Prissy shook her off, and ran to her room, only to fall onto her bed, crying in the pillow, hugging her kitten, Mr. Fluffykins close to her chest. Days passed, and this pattern of domestic violence and fighting never changed. Even the maids and butlers and servants noticed.. a dark aura about the mansion. And to think everything used to be so.. serine, and 'perfect'. A week later, Pristina's parents decided to throw a banquiet ball, inviting many nobles, and other rich people. Prissy was gussied up in a little sparkling rich dress, her hair falling neatly to her shoulders, a big pink matching bow, completing her outfit. She stared into the mirror, and attempted to smile.
Her door opened, and a random Butler nodded to her. 'Miss Vanderbilt.. your parents need you in the ballroom.' 'Alright.. I'll be there in a second.' With one last look at the mirror, she left her room, and skipped to the ballroom, finding all the guest standing around, talking, drinking wine, and nibbling onto the bread. She caught parts of their conversations, all their noses stuck into the air. 'Did you see the hostess's face? Bruise. Obviously..' Or, 'I've been hearing things about the Vanderbilts...' and such. Prissy glared at them, trying to ignore their ignorance.
She looked over to her mother, and father, sitting in two high seats behind a table. Her father looked frustrated, trying to hide it, while her mother stared at the ground, the bruise visible on her cheek. Prissy sat near them, thinking this whole party was pointless. If her parents wouldn't enjoy it, she wouldn't either. Pristina stared at the wall, watching the guests dance. Could she run away? But.. how would she survive? She twirled her blonde hair between two fingers. She looked over to her mom, and smiled slightly. Her mother coughed into a handkerchief, and some blood came up. Pristina bit her lip, and looked away. Nothing went on, and eventually her mother left the ballroom. Curious, Prissy followed. Her mother went into the gardens, and bent over, retching and coughing into the grass. Prissy watched, very concerned. Mostly blood came up, a vicious crimson color. 'Mommy?.. what is wrong?' Her mother looked to her with surpsie, and immediately stood up. 'Oh!! N-Nothing dear. Go back to the ballroom ..come on..' Prissy nodded with understanding, but knew something was wrong. After the party over was over, Prissy lied in bed, staring at the wall. No.. she wouldn't believe anything was wrong. No! She wouldn't.. no matter what happened, she wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt her, or her family.


Weeks later, her mother was gone. Her father recived a letter, saying she had the plague, and was sent to a sanatorium. Her father looked over the letter with guilt, and eventually broke out in tears. Prissy didn't understand it all, but knew something was wrong. Prissy looked down, closing her eyes. Nothing good came out of any of this! Days and days passed, and she never heard of her mother.. ever again.

(( Yay! Poor little spoiled brat.. For those who don't know what a, 'Sanatorium' is.. it's a large hospital like building, where many are sent for like, epidemic diseases. INRL, they were used for mostly Tubercluosis.. (sp?) I thought it fit, as like the plague is like most of these epidemic diseases that weren't curable back then. So most people who went to Sanatoriums didn't survive. ))

Vishlid doesn't care if you're a spoiled brat, he's still your friend.