Party for the Purist
Not far from Falentra’s home lived her fathers grandparents. A home which felt more like a hotel. Not a feeling one would normally have when visiting their grandparents. Unlike Falentra’s mothers parents, her fathers were very much like him. Cold, judgmental, somewhat snobby and sly. And little did Falentra know, she was following right in their footsteps.
The only good thing this particular family had going for them was money, and power. If you was into that kind of thing that is— which the Blacks were. Their line of work within the ministry, and having a large variety of friends made them well-known, be it for better or worse. Everyone had enemies, it just happened that the Black family had more. But with that type of bad, came the good.
It was tradition that the Black family held numerous of events and parties through the years. They were never your average held parties. No, the Blacks liked to make a name for themselves, to leave people speaking of their events even days after. There were few held for more private matters, which weren’t spoken openly about for obvious reasons, but the others were purely to enjoy a good drink, a catch up on work and shares in money, and even the odd outspoken views on those who were anything less than a purebloods.
It was horribly really. One of the main reasons Falentra never bonded much with them, or attended these.. parties. Fal was known for being blunt; never nice to your face for the sake of it, or the type to bond off the bat with people, but she had never agreed to the idea of looking down on someone because of their class or status. Maybe it was something to do with dating a half-breed in the past, and even befriending one who she was initially enemies with. They really weren’t as bad as people made out, but it also made her realise how much power could be held through the gossip of someone with such a high status. They were all quite literally snakes here, all of them. None to be trusted, family or not.
Falentra was stood beside a bar that held an impressive amount of alcoholic beverages to choose from. She chose a glass of fire-whiskey, naturally, and swirled it around in the glass as she eyed up the crowd before her. “Snobby arseholes..” She mumbled beneath her breath. Before she had the chance to use her famous eye-roll, a firm pat on her shoulder made her tense. A gentle squeeze was given, enough for her head to turn to the side and her eyes to flicker back to her father. He was dressed clean and smart.
“Falentra. I’d like you to meet Lord Atticus Duncan, and his son, Archer Duncan.” His voice was smooth like silk, a perfect representation of how slimy he really was beneath his facade.
The corner of her lips would lift and a small smile would spread by force. Her body soon turned swiftly so she now faced the three. For a moment her eyes would linger on this.. Lord, before they lowered down to the smaller of the males. She recognised him from Hogwarts, but only by face.
Seeing as Falentra was yet to speak and give her hellos, her father would speak up, or rather give off a nervous laugh to fill in the silence. “You must know Archer, from your time at Hogwarts.” he stated, but Falentra left little room for him to even finish his sentence before she responded.
“-No.” She replied. Her eyes narrowed at Archer before they lifted to her father. She knew that sounded harsh. A look that he would not approve of, and likely respond to with much harsher words once the party was over. “I mean- yes. I suppose I’ve seen him around.” She corrected herself, and now extended her hand out to the boy.
“Hello, Archer.” Her voice was softer when speaking to him but her eyes were anything of the sort. They were cold looking, unintentionally so, but how could she smile right now and act so calm. She hated her father, how fake he was. How much of a good parent he was trying to come across as. He hadn’t spoken a word to her whilst she had attended Hogwarts, so how on earth was he to know whether she knew this Archer or not?? It made her blood boil, but she knew she had to keep it together and not make a scene. For her family’s sake.
However Archer was to respond to Falentra’s attempt of a greeting, Arlo would edge Falentra on, to show the younger boy to the mounts of unnecessary pile of foods that weren’t far from the section of alcohol in which she stood beside. He pushed her on into the direction, a sign which she knew well enough meant he wanted to speak to Lord Duncan in private.
She took a large swig of her whiskey before her lanky frame tiredly carried itself over to the table of foods. She didn’t look back to see if Archer had followed. If it meant getting away from her father, and watching over Archer for awhile, it was good enough for her.
So sorry for the late starter!
| Falentra Black Fearless . Perfectionist Ⅰ & II . Healing Sage . Non-Verbal Magic . Imperio | Rain Günther |
Party for the Purist
“Archer?”
The inquisitive word of his father snapped the young Slytherin out of concentration as he slid in his bookmark. Tilting up his lowered head he slipped the book into a satchel and uttered a quiet “hm” in return. “There’s no point in coming to a gathering if you don’t socialise. Why don’t you go meet somebody?” Absent-mindedly letting Zeno, the mackerel tabby, jump down from his arms, he met Papa’s eyes as he encouraged, gesturing towards a black-clad girl in the distance, swirling a glass of whiskey, “How about Falentra Black? She happens to be the granddaughter of the organisers of this event.”
There was something unsettling about the Black heiress, from the softer edge she forced into her quiet monotone of speech to the much harsher glare in her bottomlessly dark eyes. Eyes that, narrowed as if she was examining some sort of rotten potion ingredient, scrutinised him. She had corrected herself quickly, despite being someone who Archer had, in fact, never before seen, having spent more time in the library during their only shared year at the school rather than socialise like a proper, well-bred little pure-blood. With such palpable tension in the air the two and their fathers created an ambience that was not particularly comfortable, but he supposed that was too high of an expectation for any gathering among the so-called aristocracy.
“Hello,” he said, shaking her hand with a smile that ended at politeness. “Pleased to-” Archer started, then added the adverb under the cold regard of Mister Black- “finally make your acquaintance, Falentra.” Keeping that placid smile as his gaze was guided to the mountains of food that failed to interest her, both of them were curtly dismissed as his own father was led aside, assuredly to discuss the adult matters he was never let in on. Falentra had not bothered to check if Archer was following as she strode towards the nearby tables, which, although perhaps rude of her, was not something the boy particularly minded.
What the boy particularly minded however, was that the orange blob of a tabby had drifted off. Zeno had always been a feline blessed - or cursed, if you will - with what could described as nothing but wanderlust. Having called the Winnipeg streets his home for most of his life it was not unsurprising he mastered weaving through crowds and the urban landscape that never fully charmed Archer. Yet he was also a creature full of surprises, and just when one would except he would be content with tranquility for a change Zeno was off again, scuttling off to somewhere Archer never thought he would derive enjoyment from. Fickle was what they called cats, and for his, it seemed to be a fist-in-glove description.
“Zeno!” Archer called out unaware or unafraid that the move was not exactly adhering to decorum, after a scan of the room yielded no results despite how his brightly coloured fur stood out against a sea of dull clothing. Then finding his own eyes narrowing as he saw the wag of a tail behind Miss Black, he was now quick to follow rather than indifferent or reluctant. “Zeno, come here!” Clapping his hands in hope the stubborn little cat would jump into his arms, his effort yielded no results, much to his disappointment though hardly. Headstrong was another pertly fitting adjective, he supposed, and if he was a parent he should probably concern himself with the sort of acquaintances Zeno was going to make.
In hindsight Zeno seemed compatible with what little he knew of Falentra. Both seemed to prefer their own company over the one of others, if only at first, with very little care to what anyone thought of them. Perhaps it was this comparison and how Zeno had changed from Archer’s first impression of him that convinced the Duncan child to speak to the elder girl as he caught up. “Zeno,” he beckoned, gratified that the cat finally stopped its prowl of a walk, “Oh Merlin, finally.” Then to Falentra, “Excuse him.” Supposing that there was hardly any excuse to drop the conversation now he continued, not to engage in smalltalk but rather to fuel his own growing curiosity, even if it was unrequited, “So, Miss Black, what have you been doing since you graduated?”
@Falentra Black
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Party for the Purist
@Archer Duncan
Falentra stood upright, with her back to Archer and the crowd. She was busy giving herself a top-up on some whiskey to help get her through the rest of the evening, and maybe help relax her usual uptight ways. The younger boy seemed alright, but then again, Falentra was sure to find something to dislike in him. She did with everyone- a perfect reason for her to stay away and not bother with them. She had however, always had a soft spot for children in distress, or parents that in her eyes, weren’t good enough to be called such a thing.
For a moment, her eyes drifted over to both their fathers that were huddled in the corner of the room, looking rather suspicious with their discussion. A perfect example, or her father was at least. She knew he wasn’t a good man, nor a good father. And going off the look of things, Lord Atticus was probably not far behind.
Soon enough, her attention was brought back to the table, or moreso the sound of clapping coming from Archer who was now a tad closer to her. She squinted her eyes and turned to follow his gaze and concentrated expression. A small, ginger-coloured furball close to her feet swayed around like it owned the place. Were all cats like that? Did they think they were royalty? To waited on hand and foot? If so, Falentra wanted to come back as one if she ever was to die.
"So this must be Zeno…" She paused and crouched slightly to be more at level with the feline. Her fingers stretched outright, like claws of their own from their boney, long lengths and would attempt to scratch Zeno behind the ear. "Cute."
She took her time in giving attention to the animal, if he was to let her, and linger on the time of response to Archer. It wasn’t a question she particularly wanted to discuss. Anything involving her father made her seize up in discomfort. But the boy wasn’t to know that. He was simply making small talk, so leaving him hanging for such a period was rude. Old Falentra would likely make him wait that bit longer, or maybe she wouldn’t reply at all. Walk off, shove him away, or roll her eyes and grunt at him in disgust. But she wasn’t the same angsty teenager anymore. At least, not as bad.
She smirked to herself at the varied outcomes to her responses whilst dusting off the ginger fur that clung to the dark fabric of her clothes. "I work alongside my father, at his potions shop. Well, I don’t work. I just help ‘ere and there." She picked off a few more ginger strands from her sleeves and flicked them to the floor before finally lowering her gaze to Archer, studying his features. "You wouldn’t have heard of it."
Falentra took a moment to return to the table, but this time to the sweet section rather than the drinks. She returned shortly after with a small pile of varied chocolates and sugar-coated sweets. "How is Hogwarts anyway? Are you.. enjoying your time there? Hopefully it isn’t as chaotic as I remember it to be." She scoffed. It had never been a place Falentra enjoyed, not fully. A few memories there brought her happiness but the ratio between that and despising the place were much greater. "Here.. have some.." She shoved the plate out towards him, not even bothering to take any for herself. She had gotten it for him in the first place. Maybe she was slightly concerned for his pale complexion. Dammit.. was she really taking a soft spot for a kid she just met? No. Nope! No. Doesn’t care. Not at all. He just.. looked a little malnourished.. that’s all.
"You look sickly. Eat somethin’." Her tone was more serious now, as if trying to keep up her cold exterior.
| Falentra Black Fearless . Perfectionist Ⅰ & II . Healing Sage . Non-Verbal Magic . Imperio | Rain Günther |
Party for the Purist
Watching her with observant eyes as she crouched to scratch Zeno behind the ear, the boy wondered what reaction the fickle feline would give this time. Despite his hostility to most Falentra, like Matthew, seemed to be an immediate magnet for the cat, as he purred in content at her strokes, meowing in longing when she stood despite after giving him all the world already. Rolling his eyes affectionately while wondering why the little devil always seemed to show the most fondness to all but himself, both parties turned their attention back to each other. Archer nodded as Falentra explained her career while picking off Zeno’s fur — a common nuisance for the pet owner himself, Archer could reassure. She seemed dismissive of it, even if to Archer, who had not been much exposed to alchemy before his structured education, it was a fascinating subject.
When Falentra asked of Hogwarts Archer found himself with a few things to say, mostly positives, but the negatives staggeringly so. For a majority school was a nightmare in of itself but always in pursuit of knowledge it could have been heaven for Archer if not of the threats most students had chosen to simply turn a blind eye to. First, keeping his voice light, he replied smiling, “I am. I had the honour to organise the autumn ball with five friends." Tone turning sombre he said seriously, “But just before the ball, an accident happened at Hogsmeade, though it’s not the fault of administration. It was all over the papers a month ago; have you not heard?” Accident was one way to describe the blatant terrorism, but having not been on the scene nor the guts to dive into true crime, he found no reason to give further explanation, especially not at a pristine party. Yet the scoff that was offered at his answer was fitting
Glad that Falentra had changed the topic with food he said in his defence “I’m not sickly. We just don’t get enough of sun where I’m from,” with a childish defiance and small smile despite her cold attitude, “but I suppose I will.” Eyes sweeping over the assortment of treats Falentra had picked out, chocolates and sweets with enough sugar in them to surely last a lifetime, he gently took one Ferrero Rocher from the selection, then stretched out his free hand as if to ask the older girl to have one herself. If she would not, Archer’s brows could crease softly and he would absentmindedly set the platter aside.
“I don’t think you like this, do you, all this socialisation?” He pointed out with more bluntness than intended, though it was only to match Falentra’s, while waving his hand vaguely. Archer had been blessed enough not to have attended as many gatherings as your usual pureblood heir but enough to know who were actually enjoying themselves, who were forcing decorum, and who were idling by the good tables for a reason; usually, through experience, the latter. He was rather certain that Felentra preferred her glass of whiskey over offering a boy much younger than her dessert, just as how Archer’s voracious eagerness to read of such gatherings failed to transfer into into a non-fictitious. Before Hogwarts the chance encounters with his then only friend Arianna had always brought a spark to the tasteless talk of the weather or gossip, for she often enthralled him in her knowledge of curses. Hoping to receive an equivalent from Falentra in her field he piqued up with a curious gaze, “Indeed small talk is quite pointless. Can you tell me more about potioneering?”
@Falentra Black
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Party for the Purist
Pv. @Archer Duncan
Ah. The famous Ball. Falentra remembered them well. The extravaganza, the bustling great hall, the drama and chaos that always found its way between those four walls. Yet he spoke of helping organizing it-- this small boy before her. Her brow twitched in curiosity, surprised at her poor judgement. ''You did? Are you a prefect then? Or just a goodie-two-shoes?'' She teased, a twitch now sneaking to the corner of her lip.
Only minutes after did he speak of it. That chaos. Maybe not within the school grounds this time, but still chaos. ''Ah.'' She wasn't surprised, not even after hearing of it for the first time now. 'No. I didn't. But it doesn't surprise me. Hogwarts and the surrounding area always seem to draw trouble.'' She paused, her gaze shifting away to their surrounding before returning on him. ''What happened?--'' Her tone became serious of a second, but she instantly clicked onto his shortness. Either lacking interest or not enjoying the topic, she decided not to push or make the boy uncomfortable. She would take time out of her day tomorrow to look into it herself.
The seriousness parted from her quickly when he picked up a Ferrero Rocher. She too liked them, so took one in return when he offered.
''Uh- uhmm-- no-'' she mumbled between shoving the chocolate whole in her mouth, chewing slowly and enjoying its flavour. A foodie and chocoholic if it wasn't noticeable. She quickly licked her thumb clean then cleared her throat. ''It's all for show. Nobody here are true friends. Just pawns in each others games. All for money and power.'' there was bitterness in her tone. Falentra loved power, and the thought of having it. But she wasn't fake like them. She was who she was and it seemed to be the main reason why a lot of people disliked her, or found her uncomfortable to be around.
Luckily for her, his next question would stop her from rambling on.
''Potioneering?'' her brows furrowed and her shoulders slumped. she really had no interest in the subject. Not only because her fathers business revolved around it, but even in school she strayed away from the curiosity a lot of students saw in it. ''Don't you have a professor for that?'' it was more of an answer than a question.
Falentra knew she was being short and cold towards Archer, so decided to avert the question to a topic she could become involved in. ''How about the Dark Arts. Does the subject fascinate you?'' she cared little for those in their surrounds, if they were to hear. Almost all would have dabbled in such anyway, surely. All she wanted was to learn more about this little seemingly ball of innocence before her.
| Falentra Black Fearless . Perfectionist Ⅰ & II . Healing Sage . Non-Verbal Magic . Imperio | Rain Günther |
Party for the Purist
exeat weekend | Black manor
“Neither,” Archer said quickly, slightly flustered at the tease, then admitted, biting his lip, which was now chapped from the autumn dryness, “Perhaps the latter. It was a reward for something I can’t quite remember nor care all that much about.” House points? Homework? Whatever contribution he had forgotten? It didn’t matter just as much as it should have for him, and as much pride as he held and as much effort as he put in, the entire ball didn’t quite either. Perhaps everyone had been dwelling too much on the deaths at Hogsmeade to care in the first place.
And of course Miss Black had not heard of the incident, so of course Archer had to explain it. “When the schools were arriving at Hogsmeade for the ball, explosives were dropped on their carriages. I was not there to witness it, but I believe reports said twenty-something people died. I suppose most people were simply in shock… you would never expect such a thing happened.” Throat turning dry, Archer pushed on, attempting for the same tone as his answers to an oral exam, yet he couldn’t have denied the tremor in his voice. “The journalists called it a ‘pyre’; I found that morbidly fitting.”
Thank goodness Falentra took the Ferrero Rocher. The silence would have been far worse if she had not. Archer had certain dietary preferences, but he would certainly never say no to sweets. Chocolate? Even better. And Ferrero Rochers happened to be the top of the game when it came to them. Allowing the thought of the sweet, nutty candy to distract him from the past event that, although had not directly affected him, had been such a stark reminder for the rest of the population, he was brought back to the atrocious world by Falentra’s words.
“It’s all for show. Nobody here are true friends. Just pawns in each others’ games. All for money and power.” Her brief thumb licking and candy enjoyment must have shown her lighter side, but she seemed back to how she had first presented herself. Yet all of her words… all of her words were certainly no show in their pure, blunt honestly. She wasn’t much of a pawn, or at least she refused to be one. Remove the dark, brooding picture and add in a few dashes of caring, perhaps Falentra would have reminded Archer of his mother. Archer, used to questions strictly on academia, wasn’t certain how to respond to all that.
To her next question, which seemed to have been purely sarcastic and very much rhetorical, Archer said nothing. He had never really had a penchant for potions to begin with. Yet Falentra’s next words managed to have shifted the direction of the conversation completely, and at the sound of them, Archer’s body seemed to have seized up briefly. Trying not to glance around him and keep his composure, he measured his words cautiously and managed, “Purely in theory, perhaps.” Then, as if to clarify his point, he added with the clear of his throat, “I do not condone its practice.”
@Falentra Black
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht