29 Apr 2019, 21:34
✵A Hostile Encounter✵
Guinevere woke at the crack of dawn, just as she had every morning before. Only this wasn't like every morning before. Today she awoke not to the screeching voice of her personal trainer, but the soft cooing of a tawny owl at the dorm window. She shifted groggily, noting a slight ache in her lower back. Her eyes fluttered open and a blurry light filled her vision, accented red by he various trappings of the Gryffindor dorm room. It was no surprise that she was experiencing some adjustment pains. The dorms were beautiful and luxurious to be sure, but it was still a step down from the celebrity's usual quarters. The bed was too firm, the pillows not firm enough, and as for these bed sheets... well, the thread count was lower than her usual standard. In time these things would become less significant, but for now they brought with them all sorts of mixed feelings. There was the discomfort of course, then the guilt at feeling uncomfortable. Gwen felt stuck-up for thinking such things about her generous accommodations. Yet at the same time there was a certain longing for home that came with moving so far away. She would much rather be here slowly rising from slumber than going through her usual morning exercises and routine, but it was starting to set in that she would not see her trainer for a very long time. Nor would she see her security team, her managers, or her family.
Naturally, the mixture of feelings made the girl a bit unsteady as she walked up to the window. Yet one feeling overpowered them all. As she gazed at the sunrise from her new home, she felt an undeniable excitement. Her first day at Hogwarts! Today she would meet her teachers and learn her first knowledge of magic. She hoped she would do a few other things too - cast a spell, make some friends, and perhaps even earn some points for her new house. She had only been here a night, but the festivities and touting of house pride had gotten to her. Whether such segregation of students was effective for teaching and development, she could not possibly tell. But she did know that after only a night, she was quite dedicated to the house of the lion.
The excited new student piled her books on the bed before heading over to the mirror. She looked like a raccoon. Dark circles lined her eyes, and a few random marks appeared on her face. Her dyed red hair swooped and stuck out in every which direction. In short- she was an absolute mess. Last night had been so frantic and exciting, she had drifted off the second she returned to the dorms. She'd had no time for her pre-bed routine, and was now left with a face full of half-worn makeup and a rat's nest on her head. Thankfully her star-gilt childhood had done nothing if not prepare her for such an occasion. It was her first day, and first impressions were everything. Gwen internally thanked her trainers for making her an early riser.
An hour later, she looked like a completely different person. Her hair was shining and perfectly styled, and her face was immaculately done up. She looked as though she were preparing to go to a formal dinner or some other important outing. This was how the young starlet always dressed, but today it felt somehow different. She wasn't dressing to impress because that was what the world expected of her. For the first time, she was doing this whole routine for herself. Just in time too, for her fellow Gryffindors were beginning to rise and prepare for breakfast.
After a quick meal she headed off toward her first ever magical lesson. Her stride was brisk and a bit jumpy, and her spirit was elated. "Transfiguration" was the name of the class she was looking for. Such an odd and wonderful word. Eleven-year-old Gwen did not know exactly what was meant by it, but she had some idea from reading over the syllabus and a few pre-study passages. Changing something into something else. Surely she'd be good at that! She had just changed the monster in the mirror into a perfectly presentable girl, after all. And changing things into other things was what she had done her whole career! Of course, she knew it would be more complex than that. There was going to be magic involved, something with which she was entirely unfamiliar. But the girl was nervous, and clung onto any tie she could find to the material she was soon to study.
Gwen wanted desperately to be good at magic. So desperately it hurt. Though the world new her for her talents, she had always attributed them to her genetics and training. Fame was inevitable if you were born into a famous family, right? But magic was different. This was something she could only master on her own, something hers. She was going to be the greatest mage the world had ever seen - famous again, but this time for her own merits. Just the thought of it put an extra spring in her step.
Wrapped up in her visions of grandeur, she did not notice the third-year pacing down the hall in the opposite direction. The two collided and Gwen, significantly smaller than the older girl, was forced to take a step back.
"Oh, I'm sorry-" she began, but was cut off as the third-year suddenly thrust out her hands. Gwen felt a rough impact against her shoulders and collapsed to the ground.
"Gwen Warren..." the girl said, a disgusted look crossing her face. "You think you the crowds will part for you just because you're famous, don't you?"
"What? No, I -" Gwen wanted to point out that there was no crowd, as the two of them were the only ones in the hallway, but there were far more pressing issues with the third-year's statement.
"Don't give me that! I know you think you're better than me!"
Where was all of this coming from? Guinevere had neither said nor thought anything of the sort. Though she had to admit her current opinion of the upperclassman was not very high. This girl had less than attractive facial features, though that may have been simply because they were twisted by anger and resentment. Her fists were clenched, her face red. Than an eerie grin crossed her face- a cross between a sneer and a victorious smile.
"You're just a firstie now, you know. You're nobody special here."
Gwen stammered, trying to respond, but the hostile teenager stormed past her. As she moved, she knocked the few books Gwen had already managed to pick up back out of her hands. How awful... Was this how people thought of her here? That she had some kind of superiority complex? The little celebrity was unused to such vehemence. She looked hopelessly down at her various schoolbooks. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake after all. How many people here hated her like this? She imagined her entourage back home, and suddenly the constant swarm of adoring fans didn't seem quite as annoying as it had before. It was better to be loved than hated, right?
Her shoulders slumped, and she buried her face in her hands. Tears began to stream down her face. It seemed the hour she had spent on makeup this morning had been for naught... and she would probably be late to Transfiguration.
Naturally, the mixture of feelings made the girl a bit unsteady as she walked up to the window. Yet one feeling overpowered them all. As she gazed at the sunrise from her new home, she felt an undeniable excitement. Her first day at Hogwarts! Today she would meet her teachers and learn her first knowledge of magic. She hoped she would do a few other things too - cast a spell, make some friends, and perhaps even earn some points for her new house. She had only been here a night, but the festivities and touting of house pride had gotten to her. Whether such segregation of students was effective for teaching and development, she could not possibly tell. But she did know that after only a night, she was quite dedicated to the house of the lion.
The excited new student piled her books on the bed before heading over to the mirror. She looked like a raccoon. Dark circles lined her eyes, and a few random marks appeared on her face. Her dyed red hair swooped and stuck out in every which direction. In short- she was an absolute mess. Last night had been so frantic and exciting, she had drifted off the second she returned to the dorms. She'd had no time for her pre-bed routine, and was now left with a face full of half-worn makeup and a rat's nest on her head. Thankfully her star-gilt childhood had done nothing if not prepare her for such an occasion. It was her first day, and first impressions were everything. Gwen internally thanked her trainers for making her an early riser.
An hour later, she looked like a completely different person. Her hair was shining and perfectly styled, and her face was immaculately done up. She looked as though she were preparing to go to a formal dinner or some other important outing. This was how the young starlet always dressed, but today it felt somehow different. She wasn't dressing to impress because that was what the world expected of her. For the first time, she was doing this whole routine for herself. Just in time too, for her fellow Gryffindors were beginning to rise and prepare for breakfast.
After a quick meal she headed off toward her first ever magical lesson. Her stride was brisk and a bit jumpy, and her spirit was elated. "Transfiguration" was the name of the class she was looking for. Such an odd and wonderful word. Eleven-year-old Gwen did not know exactly what was meant by it, but she had some idea from reading over the syllabus and a few pre-study passages. Changing something into something else. Surely she'd be good at that! She had just changed the monster in the mirror into a perfectly presentable girl, after all. And changing things into other things was what she had done her whole career! Of course, she knew it would be more complex than that. There was going to be magic involved, something with which she was entirely unfamiliar. But the girl was nervous, and clung onto any tie she could find to the material she was soon to study.
Gwen wanted desperately to be good at magic. So desperately it hurt. Though the world new her for her talents, she had always attributed them to her genetics and training. Fame was inevitable if you were born into a famous family, right? But magic was different. This was something she could only master on her own, something hers. She was going to be the greatest mage the world had ever seen - famous again, but this time for her own merits. Just the thought of it put an extra spring in her step.
Wrapped up in her visions of grandeur, she did not notice the third-year pacing down the hall in the opposite direction. The two collided and Gwen, significantly smaller than the older girl, was forced to take a step back.
"Oh, I'm sorry-" she began, but was cut off as the third-year suddenly thrust out her hands. Gwen felt a rough impact against her shoulders and collapsed to the ground.
"Gwen Warren..." the girl said, a disgusted look crossing her face. "You think you the crowds will part for you just because you're famous, don't you?"
"What? No, I -" Gwen wanted to point out that there was no crowd, as the two of them were the only ones in the hallway, but there were far more pressing issues with the third-year's statement.
"Don't give me that! I know you think you're better than me!"
Where was all of this coming from? Guinevere had neither said nor thought anything of the sort. Though she had to admit her current opinion of the upperclassman was not very high. This girl had less than attractive facial features, though that may have been simply because they were twisted by anger and resentment. Her fists were clenched, her face red. Than an eerie grin crossed her face- a cross between a sneer and a victorious smile.
"You're just a firstie now, you know. You're nobody special here."
Gwen stammered, trying to respond, but the hostile teenager stormed past her. As she moved, she knocked the few books Gwen had already managed to pick up back out of her hands. How awful... Was this how people thought of her here? That she had some kind of superiority complex? The little celebrity was unused to such vehemence. She looked hopelessly down at her various schoolbooks. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake after all. How many people here hated her like this? She imagined her entourage back home, and suddenly the constant swarm of adoring fans didn't seem quite as annoying as it had before. It was better to be loved than hated, right?
Her shoulders slumped, and she buried her face in her hands. Tears began to stream down her face. It seemed the hour she had spent on makeup this morning had been for naught... and she would probably be late to Transfiguration.
29 Apr 2019, 22:40
✵A Hostile Encounter✵
This morning was to be the start of many firsts. First classes, first spells, first failures and many more. The was possibly the only thing the young Slytherin had in common with her fellow first years. Excited to start learning so she could become the best, just as everyone else in the school felt; but especially Illowy. All she'd ever dreamed about in her young life was Hogwarts and now she was here. These next few years were to be the time she needed to figure out her new dream.
She, too, was an early riser. But not so much to gawk at herself in the mirror and doll herself. Her day always began with waking bright and early to work on her sketching, gathering all her materials for the day and making sure she knew her own schedule before starting to get herself ready. The Slytherin girl brushed out long, dark locks, which while they were usually confused if they wanted to be curly or wavy, her hair seemed to make its mind up today to be simultaneously wavy. She then washed her face, dressed herself in her uniform trimmed in her house's signature hue, and left the dorms to begin her day.
Illowy made her way down the hall, walking easily, light feet hardly making a sound as she searched for her first class, Transfiguration. As she came down the corridor, she slowed her steps, listening hard. Just around the corner, she could hear a squabble happening and she hardly wanted to be in the middle of it. The Slytherin continued to take her time until she saw the cross looking third year come around the corner. While Illowy wouldn't call herself a wimp, she still wasn't about to get in the girl's way when she was that big and looked that mad.
Coming around the corner, she found another first year, a Gryffindor, on the floor with her textbooks scattered on the floor and crying. For the love of all things decent, why me? She thought to herself, begrudgingly approaching the girl, "Get up before you make a scene." she ordered in a low voice. Illowy wasn't one to be known for her gentility or her tactful way of speaking. She was blunt and she said exactly what she thought about something, not caring if her honesty hurt someone.
"You shouldn't let upperclassmen get to you. It makes you look weak and weakness makes you a target." she spoke plainly, readjusting her own things in her arms and starting to pick up a couple of the girl's books for her.
Managing to catch a peak of the girl's face, "For everything decent..." she muttered, "Why do you have your weight worth of make up on? Better yet, why did you ruin it, you look like a badger and I'm pretty sure you weren't going for a Hufflepuff look. Get up, lets clean you up and get to class before we're both late."
She, too, was an early riser. But not so much to gawk at herself in the mirror and doll herself. Her day always began with waking bright and early to work on her sketching, gathering all her materials for the day and making sure she knew her own schedule before starting to get herself ready. The Slytherin girl brushed out long, dark locks, which while they were usually confused if they wanted to be curly or wavy, her hair seemed to make its mind up today to be simultaneously wavy. She then washed her face, dressed herself in her uniform trimmed in her house's signature hue, and left the dorms to begin her day.
Illowy made her way down the hall, walking easily, light feet hardly making a sound as she searched for her first class, Transfiguration. As she came down the corridor, she slowed her steps, listening hard. Just around the corner, she could hear a squabble happening and she hardly wanted to be in the middle of it. The Slytherin continued to take her time until she saw the cross looking third year come around the corner. While Illowy wouldn't call herself a wimp, she still wasn't about to get in the girl's way when she was that big and looked that mad.
Coming around the corner, she found another first year, a Gryffindor, on the floor with her textbooks scattered on the floor and crying. For the love of all things decent, why me? She thought to herself, begrudgingly approaching the girl, "Get up before you make a scene." she ordered in a low voice. Illowy wasn't one to be known for her gentility or her tactful way of speaking. She was blunt and she said exactly what she thought about something, not caring if her honesty hurt someone.
"You shouldn't let upperclassmen get to you. It makes you look weak and weakness makes you a target." she spoke plainly, readjusting her own things in her arms and starting to pick up a couple of the girl's books for her.
Managing to catch a peak of the girl's face, "For everything decent..." she muttered, "Why do you have your weight worth of make up on? Better yet, why did you ruin it, you look like a badger and I'm pretty sure you weren't going for a Hufflepuff look. Get up, lets clean you up and get to class before we're both late."
I was told I was dangerous. When I asked why, they said, "Because you don't need anyone." That's when I smiled.
30 Apr 2019, 00:19
✵A Hostile Encounter✵
Gwen heard a low voice, causing her to look up from the miserable hall floor. The words that echoed between her sniffling were stern, but held none of the venom of the previous encounter. The redhead looked up slowly, her eyesight still blurred. She half-expected to see her old trainer shaking her finger, demanding that the young starlet get her act together. But the blurry blob in front of her wasn't trainer-sized. It was a girl her own age, who upon blinking the tears away for a better view, appeared quite confident and attractive. The girl had dark, way hair, and an extremely annoyed look about her. Guinevere worried fr a moment that this one was here just to rub salt in her wounds, but she extended a hand to help the newbie to her feet.
Gwen couldn't help but grimace at the makeup comment. Could that have something to do with her none-too-positive reception here? It was true that most eleven-year-olds did not spend their mornings perfecting their own appearance, but it wasn't as if she'd had much of a choice. Back in the Muggle world she couldn't afford to be caught off-guard (or rather, her family could not afford such a blunder.) More than that, sticking to her old routine had given her a small sense of familiarity within the new environment. It was difficult not to take offense at the girl's blunt words. She talked as though Gwen were some kind of idiot. And for what? For wearing makeup? For crying after being shoved to the ground and ridiculed. Yeah, sorry for having feelings...
Gwen stopped herself. She was being too quick to judge her fellow student After all, this girl didn't really sound like she was mocking her. She was just... speaking her mind. And confidence certainly wasn't an indicator of anything bad. Guinevere herself generally walked with an unrivaled confidence, though hers had been drilled into her over time as opposed to being a reflection of her own self-assuredness. Whoever this person was, she had gone out of her way to assist the crying girl, despite her apparent frustration with the situation. That had to count for something.
She straightened up and ceased her sniffling. Her face went from red to white in almost an instant, her shoulders fell back and her stride increased to match the new arrival's. There had been many a performance wherein, from nerves or discomfort, she had been in tears shortly before appearing in front of a crowd. The young performer had long ago learned to bury her feelings when necessary. She smiled, and spoke in a perfectly pleasant voice. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that she had makeup streaks running across her face, it would be difficult to tell if she was crying at all.
"You're right." She said calmly. "I'm not weak. Or rather, I don't want to be."
She wondered what exactly made this girl so blunt, and why she spoke of group dynamics as though she was familiar with the ways of the world. they were only eleven after all, and to be speaking of weakness in such a manner was a bit scary. Then again, it as a bit of a relief to realize that this girl cared about appearances just as Gwen herself did.
"As for the makeup, it's a part of my craft. You wanna see too much makeup, I've got some pictures from a few years back that'd make anyone cringe."
She looked at the girl with a grateful smile. There was no way of telling if she had been recognized. If this girl was from the Muggle world, that was a distinct possibility. Even those who paid no attention to the world of celebrities had likely heard her name in one context or another. Or perhaps like the boy she'd met yesterday, this raven-haired woman had grown up in the wizarding world with no knowledge of the young celebrity. Either way, it would be rude not to introduce herself.
"Gwen Warren," she stated. "Sorry for making a scene. I... would appreciate that. Can't be late on our first day!"
Gwen couldn't help but grimace at the makeup comment. Could that have something to do with her none-too-positive reception here? It was true that most eleven-year-olds did not spend their mornings perfecting their own appearance, but it wasn't as if she'd had much of a choice. Back in the Muggle world she couldn't afford to be caught off-guard (or rather, her family could not afford such a blunder.) More than that, sticking to her old routine had given her a small sense of familiarity within the new environment. It was difficult not to take offense at the girl's blunt words. She talked as though Gwen were some kind of idiot. And for what? For wearing makeup? For crying after being shoved to the ground and ridiculed. Yeah, sorry for having feelings...
Gwen stopped herself. She was being too quick to judge her fellow student After all, this girl didn't really sound like she was mocking her. She was just... speaking her mind. And confidence certainly wasn't an indicator of anything bad. Guinevere herself generally walked with an unrivaled confidence, though hers had been drilled into her over time as opposed to being a reflection of her own self-assuredness. Whoever this person was, she had gone out of her way to assist the crying girl, despite her apparent frustration with the situation. That had to count for something.
She straightened up and ceased her sniffling. Her face went from red to white in almost an instant, her shoulders fell back and her stride increased to match the new arrival's. There had been many a performance wherein, from nerves or discomfort, she had been in tears shortly before appearing in front of a crowd. The young performer had long ago learned to bury her feelings when necessary. She smiled, and spoke in a perfectly pleasant voice. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that she had makeup streaks running across her face, it would be difficult to tell if she was crying at all.
"You're right." She said calmly. "I'm not weak. Or rather, I don't want to be."
She wondered what exactly made this girl so blunt, and why she spoke of group dynamics as though she was familiar with the ways of the world. they were only eleven after all, and to be speaking of weakness in such a manner was a bit scary. Then again, it as a bit of a relief to realize that this girl cared about appearances just as Gwen herself did.
"As for the makeup, it's a part of my craft. You wanna see too much makeup, I've got some pictures from a few years back that'd make anyone cringe."
She looked at the girl with a grateful smile. There was no way of telling if she had been recognized. If this girl was from the Muggle world, that was a distinct possibility. Even those who paid no attention to the world of celebrities had likely heard her name in one context or another. Or perhaps like the boy she'd met yesterday, this raven-haired woman had grown up in the wizarding world with no knowledge of the young celebrity. Either way, it would be rude not to introduce herself.
"Gwen Warren," she stated. "Sorry for making a scene. I... would appreciate that. Can't be late on our first day!"
30 Apr 2019, 04:19
✵A Hostile Encounter✵
As the girl strode, expecting the other to follow, she threw a glance back at the redhead. Penetrative, icy hued looked her up and down. In moments, the girl had gone from a puddle on the floor, so behaving as though nothing had happened, chatting and babbling on like normal. That was certainly a strange sight, at least to Illowy.
The Slytherin only half listened to the girl, unable to make much sense of what she was going on about. When she spoke her name, it rang a small bell. Only a small one though; like the type you put on a cat's collar. Though Illowy had grown up in a wizarding community, the city was Muggle at its heart, so she wasn't totally oblivious to the pop culture, "I'm familiar. Though I don't know what you're apologizing to me for. You'd've only embarrassed yourself, not me." the brunette figured she'd be caught doing a thousand other things before she'd ever be caught crying in public.
"You know, you're not in the muggle world anymore. They don't know this place exists and no one but us are going to see you. And anyone who doesn't pay attention to Muggle culture doesn't know or care who you are. So why are you made up like that? And odds are you're gonna wind up dying your face purple in a puff of smoke in potions anyway." she commented, "Seems like a bloody waste of time." the brunette turned to look straight ahead once more, looking for the girl's bathroom.
Illowy had never been one to consider herself very pretty, much less be vain about her looks. Aside from trying to at least look presentable, she had very low standards compared to the other. As long as her hair didn't resemble a bird's nest, her face was clean and her clothes were nice, that's all she felt was important. Gwen, on the other hand, was two specks of glitter and a ball gown away from being Cinderella at the ball.
"Besides, you're, what, eleven? Why go strutting around like you're some sixth year?" it truly was a failing of her's to be able to understand such things like makeup and dying one's hair; and possibly it might always be a failing of her's to understand, but especially now, "My mother says its no place for a child to look like a common tart." those had been her mother's honest to god words the first time Illowy ever even asked about makeup on herself. Anyone who ever met her mother had no trouble understanding where the girl got her crass, blunt attitude from.
The Slytherin only half listened to the girl, unable to make much sense of what she was going on about. When she spoke her name, it rang a small bell. Only a small one though; like the type you put on a cat's collar. Though Illowy had grown up in a wizarding community, the city was Muggle at its heart, so she wasn't totally oblivious to the pop culture, "I'm familiar. Though I don't know what you're apologizing to me for. You'd've only embarrassed yourself, not me." the brunette figured she'd be caught doing a thousand other things before she'd ever be caught crying in public.
"You know, you're not in the muggle world anymore. They don't know this place exists and no one but us are going to see you. And anyone who doesn't pay attention to Muggle culture doesn't know or care who you are. So why are you made up like that? And odds are you're gonna wind up dying your face purple in a puff of smoke in potions anyway." she commented, "Seems like a bloody waste of time." the brunette turned to look straight ahead once more, looking for the girl's bathroom.
Illowy had never been one to consider herself very pretty, much less be vain about her looks. Aside from trying to at least look presentable, she had very low standards compared to the other. As long as her hair didn't resemble a bird's nest, her face was clean and her clothes were nice, that's all she felt was important. Gwen, on the other hand, was two specks of glitter and a ball gown away from being Cinderella at the ball.
"Besides, you're, what, eleven? Why go strutting around like you're some sixth year?" it truly was a failing of her's to be able to understand such things like makeup and dying one's hair; and possibly it might always be a failing of her's to understand, but especially now, "My mother says its no place for a child to look like a common tart." those had been her mother's honest to god words the first time Illowy ever even asked about makeup on herself. Anyone who ever met her mother had no trouble understanding where the girl got her crass, blunt attitude from.
I was told I was dangerous. When I asked why, they said, "Because you don't need anyone." That's when I smiled.
30 Apr 2019, 22:30
✵A Hostile Encounter✵
It was difficult to tell if the dark-haired student was being passive aggressive or just stating her mind. At first listen it may have seemed like this girl didn't give a flying hippogriff what others thought of her, but that wasn't exactly true, was it? No, Gwen thought. She wants to look strong. Of course, there was no reason to believe this girl was not in fact strong. She was certainly confident. Unlike the blue-eyed girl though, the young starlet found no shame in her current situation. There was nothing wrong with her face (aside from the crying marks of course), or her hair for that matter. Her new acquaintance seemed to harbor some sort of deep resentment for beauty products... or perhaps for the people who felt the need to wear them? It wasn't exactly an uncommon attitude. Heck, that bully earlier was probably thinking along the same lines. She probably thought that Gwen was vain or shallow or something, and certainly wouldn't be the first to have made such an assumption. Then again, maybe she was reading too far into things.
Gwen shrugged off what seemed like the hundredth comment about her makeup. "I like it." She stated simply. And indeed she did. Although her morning routine had certainly never been the most exciting part of her day, it was mostly the exercises she disliked. From the way the Slytherin spoke, one would have thought she was in full-on stage makeup or something. Her face may have been done-up, but it certainly hadn't been distasteful in anyway. At least she hadn't thought it was. Perhaps she had gotten a pit overexcited... it was her first tie doing any of this unmonitored after all. She'd gotten to be creative and play around with it this morning, so maybe it did look just the slightest bit unnatural. She made a mental note to not go quite so crazy in the future.
"Well, I haven't embarrassed myself, have I? I mean, perhaps if this had all gone down in the Great Hall or something I may have been embarrassed, but the only person who saw me was you. And you don't strike me as the type to start spreading around rumors, so..." She shrugged, flashing the girl her signature smile. "And as you've said, I'm nothing special here. Not yet anyway." This girl was blunt and perhaps a bit rude, but she had offered to help. Besides, Gwen didn't actually know where the bathroom was. Best to stay on her good side, assuming she had one.
"That's easy for you to say," the redhead joked. "You're pretty without it!" The girl was pretty, though Gwen's implication that the starlet herself needed makeup to look good was more a bout of self-deprecating humor than an expression of genuine insecurities. Being eleven, her ideas of who as beautiful and who was not were largely limited.
She couldn't help but chuckle a bit, when the girl brought up her mother. "Sounds like my mom." She commented. "Not the makeup thing of course, she's the one who hires all of my artists. But 'don't go around looking like a common tart' sounds exactly like something she'd say. She'd be furious if she saw me with - oh what did you call it- badger face?" The girl stifled another laugh. "It's a good thing you came along."
For all of the bluntness she had endured in the last several minutes, Gwen was indeed grateful that this girl had shown up. They seemed to have very different ideals, especially when it came to appearances, but in a way this new arrival had saved Gwen's first impression. How bad would it have been to show up late and crying on the first day! For that at the very least she owed her gratitude.
"So you know my name... I don't believe you've mentioned yours."
Gwen shrugged off what seemed like the hundredth comment about her makeup. "I like it." She stated simply. And indeed she did. Although her morning routine had certainly never been the most exciting part of her day, it was mostly the exercises she disliked. From the way the Slytherin spoke, one would have thought she was in full-on stage makeup or something. Her face may have been done-up, but it certainly hadn't been distasteful in anyway. At least she hadn't thought it was. Perhaps she had gotten a pit overexcited... it was her first tie doing any of this unmonitored after all. She'd gotten to be creative and play around with it this morning, so maybe it did look just the slightest bit unnatural. She made a mental note to not go quite so crazy in the future.
"Well, I haven't embarrassed myself, have I? I mean, perhaps if this had all gone down in the Great Hall or something I may have been embarrassed, but the only person who saw me was you. And you don't strike me as the type to start spreading around rumors, so..." She shrugged, flashing the girl her signature smile. "And as you've said, I'm nothing special here. Not yet anyway." This girl was blunt and perhaps a bit rude, but she had offered to help. Besides, Gwen didn't actually know where the bathroom was. Best to stay on her good side, assuming she had one.
"That's easy for you to say," the redhead joked. "You're pretty without it!" The girl was pretty, though Gwen's implication that the starlet herself needed makeup to look good was more a bout of self-deprecating humor than an expression of genuine insecurities. Being eleven, her ideas of who as beautiful and who was not were largely limited.
She couldn't help but chuckle a bit, when the girl brought up her mother. "Sounds like my mom." She commented. "Not the makeup thing of course, she's the one who hires all of my artists. But 'don't go around looking like a common tart' sounds exactly like something she'd say. She'd be furious if she saw me with - oh what did you call it- badger face?" The girl stifled another laugh. "It's a good thing you came along."
For all of the bluntness she had endured in the last several minutes, Gwen was indeed grateful that this girl had shown up. They seemed to have very different ideals, especially when it came to appearances, but in a way this new arrival had saved Gwen's first impression. How bad would it have been to show up late and crying on the first day! For that at the very least she owed her gratitude.
"So you know my name... I don't believe you've mentioned yours."