I dont ever have to make sense cause im cute
"It would have been rather embarrassing for you." Serra giggled, her superiority complex obvious. Annoyed that Alara didn't ask she provided the information herself. "I'm here with Antonin."
Alara rolled her eyes at her cousin and glanced around for Evan to come save her from this monster. "Do you think I would have attended if he wasn't with me?" She wouldn't have. This was the world they grew up in, didn't mean she had to be here. Emir and Mira would have been enough for the family appearance.
status: open for everyone location: anywhere
"I assure you, I am not back in London by my own free will." Serra pouted, clearly annoyed that she couldn't have stayed in Paris. She'd liked it there, even going so far as attending that fashion design course recommended to her by Leta. Her parents had wanted her to return to England in January after the whole embarrassment that was Alara running away and being blown off the family tree. The compromise that had been reached meant that as soon as her course was completed she'd return. They were adamant about being back before her birthday, while she had no idea why that was so important. "It is all Alara's fault. Obviously. Couldn't help but turn out a traitor."
"What's that supposed to mean?" She raised an eyebrow, haughty look on her face. As always, she wasn't too thrilled when she got to see her cousin. Alara was annoying and would no doubt hold it over her head that it was Leta attending this wedding at Antonin's side. "Parisians have much better taste. I cannot wait to leave the greyness of london behind."
There was rumours from her family when it came to her cousin and she was curious if they were true. She would not be sad to see Serra leave. "And here I thought you could do better." Alara smiled sweetly at the other. "I don't think Paris is ready for you."
A little slow on the uptake, Serra needed some time to process what was actually going on, stuck in the deluded fantasy that this couldn't possibly be happening right now. It couldn't be some bad joke as no one had that terrible of a sense of humor, but that left one option: Malcolm actually cheating on her. Why he would ever do that made no sense to her, she knew he liked her, showing her off proudly and showering her with attention. "It's complicated? It's complicated?!" Her voice grew louder, anger and frustration obvious. He didn't deny it. He called Charity crazy, yes, but he didn't call her a liar. That distinction was important to her. Her world turned upside down again, stuck in a nightmare version of the present. Her boyfriend cheated on her and then submitted her to public humiliation. "You were gonna tell me? When? After you slept with me too?" Tears built up in her eyes again. This was truly the worst day of her whole fifteen years of life. "We're done. I'm breaking up with you." Turning to Charity she didn't bother hiding the hatred in her eyes rolling her eyes when she talked about them deserving each other. She deserved better than this and she wasn't going to let him keep playing her for a fool. "Yeah I don't want him anymore. Have fun with my leftovers. I know that's why you wanted him in the first place. Can't be like me so you try taking what's mine. Well you got him. Congratulations."
Malcolm was drowning in a self-made hell. He focused on Serra, her nose clearly destroyed, while desperately trying to extricate himself from the chaos he'd ignited. Charity, a ghost from his disastrous final year, stood opposite. The engagement contract, a desperate, callus-forming grasp at a solution, had trapped him. He needed Serra to leave him, to buy time to dismantle that contract—time and resources he didn't have within these cursed castle walls. His solution, a twisted logic, had been to engineer a breakup, something more dramatic than a simple "it's over." He'd known Serra wouldn't accept the truth. So, he'd manipulated, leading him to a hidden alcove with Charity. He hadn't intended to sleep with her, that intimacy reserved for Serra. But things spiraled, and now, here he was.
He struggled to rein in his panic, to find some semblance of sense, but a blinding pain erupted in his jaw. "You're fucking crazy,-" he said, too distracted now by his own pain that his hand clutched at that he didn't even hear her at first. Shit. Malcolm was glaring over Serra at Charity, and the raw ache in Serra's tone softened his own anger. "It's-it's complicated-I was going to tell you-"
"I do not like dancing with someone who does not how to do so. A man is expected to lead during the dance, but I will not be dancing with someone that has no rhythm or two left feet. It makes me look bad." Serra explained, figuring he would understand as he was a capable dancer himself. "Perhaps another time when I am wearing a shorter dress where I can move my legs more freely." The prospect of dancing with him again was exciting, she always enjoyed dancing with someone skilled. It was the only way it was fun.
"I love talking about myself. I'm amazing." Serra grinned. "I do not trust people who act demure and shy. If you do not recognise your qualities how do you expect someone else to do so? I think insecurity is quite embarrassing." She didn't realise how harsh her words sounded, her tone matter of fact. She'd never been insecure. "I am sure Leta will have no problem creating matching outfits for us."
At his question she paused, thinking for a moment. "I like transfiguration. And potions, depending on the ingredients. What about you?"
"Thank you. dancing with you proves my taste beyond a doubt already, but I’m glad you approve. I like to surround myself with capable people, yourself included. Knowing your background I almost want to try for a lift, but I’m not sure if your dress was made with that in mind and I don’t want to scandalize you when everything seems to be going so well.” He squeezed her hand trying to make up for it by keeping her as the center of attention, it wasn’t a hard thing she was bubbly, but in a fun way. “I’m glad that you can keep a secret, and don’t mind talking about yourself. False modesty and insecurity are unbecoming. Yes it’s a date, we’ll have to arrange the shopping. I’m curious what kind of dress you will help me pick out, perhaps I’ll let you pick out a matching outfit for me, could be fun.” It was easy to just float there discussing wardrobe and possible encounters listening, it felt easy, the nicer side of these kinds of things when everything fell into place. “What about magic, do you have any specialties, I’m sure a woman of your many talents must have a favorite?”
Alecto Carrow had always intimidated her, there was just something about her presence, you could not miss her when she entered a room. Especially now that she had snagged one of the most eligible bachelors. She had heard he'd been betrothed to her cousin Mira for a brief stint and she did wonder what happened there for things to end up the way they did. She would be looking forward to the next issue of Rita Skeeter's column. "I agree. Evelyn looked wonderful. Do you know who made her dress? It is gorgeous."
where: fulham palace who: open
This was their first event since their own wedding, and she could feel the eyes on her, not that it mattered. She was quite content with how things had turned out and wouldn't have it any other way, slowly accepting what would be of her life. Rabastan was always there to put her at ease and turning her thoughts into a more logical one.
The witch walked around with a glass of champagne, not having taking a sip, not wanting to draw more attention since she was able to conceal her pregnancy still. "I will say, I'm impressed with how this turned out. Evelyn looked beautiful in her dress." Her head turning to the person beside her.
Serra sits down all poise and elegance, the diamond tennis bracelet Antonin had gotten her for her birthday teamed with necklace Malcolm had sent her for her birthday a couple of years ago. "It is truly a shame, but I do understand, Paris is lovely this time of year. You missed a lot, I came into the party single and ended it engaged. To Malcolm." Her parents had done it that way on purpose, she could not cause a scene in public after all.
"Well when you put it that way, I don't mind the company," Davina replied, gesturing to the open seat. She glanced at Serra from across the table. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday. I was in Paris," Davina lied. She hadn't attended because it was gauche to attend a party without a gift. "I hope that it was everything that you could have wanted. I would love to hear all the gossip, though, so sit and tell me everything."