Vlimia had heard that the portraits were located here. Her family had portraits in their home, but they were all encouraging Vlimia to stand up straighter and tuck her shirt in and pointless tips like that. So she had decided to come and talk to a few of the portraits here. There was one of a lady in a victorian-looking dress, with a petticoat and ruffles and everything. The golden nameplate under the painting stated that her name was Almyra Charity Zebulon."Err... hello Madam Zebulon." She said.
Almyra sniffed pitifully. "Oh, hello. I suppose you have come to hear my tale of woe." She moaned. "Well, not exactly, I just wanted -" "I may be able to tell you, though the drama is sometimes too much to bear." Almyra moaned again, for effect. "It was the night before my wedding. I was in my best pink ruffled dress, you know, for the rehearsal dinner. Then I found that the man I was marrying was one that I had only met twice - Papa told me it was the nice man who courted me last quarter. In a panic, I left the rehearsal dinner. I tore into the woods and found a big log cabin. It was of a painter, and he wished to paint my portrait. And... here we are today." Madam Zebulon sighed dramatically.
"That is a very sad story. Um, I'm sorry, I have to get to my next class." She said, hurrying off.