Coralline walked down the street of London. Her ball gown swaying back, and forth her maid a few paces behind serving as her chaperone for the evening. The gala had been exceedingly dull, offering very little in the way of diversion. She had no idea why she was forced to go to such a boring ball with nothing, but her prude of a maid for company. her mother Genevieve had elected to stay home complaining of a weak constitution, her usual excuse. Coralline was feeling very put out indeed. She was starting to show the rebelliousness she had inherited from her late father.
" Rotten blood." her mother would often mutter when Coralline was being particularly difficult.
She could help it really. There was very little to stimulate a young woman with advance intelligence. She would rather be tinkering in her fathers old work shop than gallivanting around the city attending balls full of leering old men, and sneering old women. She was so engrossed in her mental complaining that she did not notice the figure approaching her.