the annual summer pureblood ball

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Balls like these, large and eagerly anticipated, were always expected to have plenty small talk, lots of dancing, and carefully crafted food that looked promising but always kept people wanting more. The dove constantly shifted her weight between her two feet while her parents introduced her family, offering smiles that didn't quite fit their faces.

Endless exaggerated compliments filled her ears, whether it was directed at her family or someone else, Andrea couldn't wait to get home as if she hadn't just arrived. She had discreetly attempted to loosen her shoulders, but one look from her mother got her straightened up once more.

A single thought lingered in the back of Andrea's mind: Just a few more hours.

Truthfully, a small part of the girl actually looked forward to these grand occasions—the music, the subtle elegance—even if she was fully aware that most of it was an illusion solely to uplift their names. It was exhausting. Her parents, slightly leaning more towards her mother, specifically dolled her up to play the role of the picture-perfect pureblood daughter to make other families envious. They were incredibly competitive.

After an agonizing period of uninterrupted greetings, the older Woodsburns had finally given Andrea permission to wander around the parlour.

Eagerly so, the dove made her way towards a series of paintings delicately organized along the wall. She quietly observed the other families and their children—some being the exact replicas of their own parents, while others wore faint expressions of discomfort, clearly bearing the desire to defy orders similar to what she felt inside.

Arriving at the paintings, Andrea paused. She took her time admiring how each and every artwork were painted with deliberate strokes, crafted with intentionality so rare in a community full of theatrical behavior.

A light, curt tap on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. Andrea turned with a calculated grace and found herself face-to-face with Angel Dayes. The memory of their brief encounter during Hogwarts Field Day flashed in her mind—relying on how Angel seemed slightly different from other high-status children.

The pale girl laughed and greeted the dove, who instantly composed herself. She offered Angel a polite, practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hello, Angel. It's nice to see you again."

There she was, finally having her first, real conversation of the evening. "We didn't talk much at school, how are you?"

As taught by their parents, the girls didn’t remain in the same place for more than two minutes. They didn’t want to seem caught up in the inertia that was pureblood balls, so they moved. At least, that’s why Eugenia chose to. Eyes of mint and chocolate looked around, scanning for possible openings. However, it seemed that everyone was stuck in their own frenzy of talking, either their parents having started the conversation, or the polite and proper introduction becoming a matter of critique. What on earth was wrong with people not scrutinising the other the moment they lay eyes on each other? Eugenia certainly didn’t know. The two girl headed towards a table, the younger politely refusing a drink by a house elf, which seemed to be Clover. Eugenia, however, accepted one with a polite smile. The two sat near each other, whispering, observing in silence.

Eugenia noticed a few groups of kids. Ms. Cadell was there, the ice Queen wanting to lead the pure bloods into rethinking their principles, it seemed, for from her brief interactions with the newly-graduated first year, she was overly critical and had a severe yet frosty attitude. Around her were the Orlov heiress, seeming much more polite from that distance only by the smile gracing her features, and ms. Dayes, a Slytherin of whose parents’ restaurant she had heard of vaguely. A slight glance at ms. Woodsburn near them gave her the impression of a quartet.

At the other side of the room was the hosting family, they themselves seeming to attract the attention of arriving families and potential business partners. Eugenia however didn’t yet understand the business of pure bloods with old money to such a degree to even attempt to guess each family’s ulterior motive. The business trip to Greece, or rather, the week long vacation which mainly consisted of business, was helpful, albeit not a catalyst to a full understanding of the bigoted politics surrounding the world they lived in.

No, it wasn’t only the world that was bigoted, it was her as well. She had chosen to follow their expectations, and she had done above and beyond to accomplish it. Had she become such a purist that she didn’t even accept her own heritage? Her own family? Did she see only a filthy half blood in her father? In truth, she had never seen her father that way. Behind the politeness and his calm demeanour, even in anger and venomous words, was a heart she could rely on. But she rarely got moments of pure family bliss with her parents anymore. What did she consider bliss anyway, in a world where everyone was a threat, every situation is a tool, or your potential downfall, and you are so paranoid, you are not you anymore? When had she crossed the line? When did the mask she started to wear become more real than her heart itself?-

Her train of thoughts was cut by a soft squeeze to her arm. She looked over to her sister, who was looking at her with concern. Ah, she had spiralled again. “Ευγενία! Μοιάζεις λες και τους κοιτάς επίμονα. Ηρέμησε, αφού είμαστε μαζί δε θα πάει κάτι στραβά. Δεν γνωρίζουν.”¹ The heiress sighed dejectedly and looked at her sister in a way she hoped betrayed her internal turmoil, and the younger girl softened her expression. She hoped it was because she genuinely understood, not that she looked so terrified. God, help her. “Το ξέρω.. δεν κοιτάνε καν εμένα! Να σου φτιάξω το κολιέ.”²

The necklace, which had gone slightly sideways, was adjusted easily, and the two girls fell into a practiced quiet, Eugenia squeezing her sister’s shoulder discreetly in return.

Until something barrelled into them. And that something seemed to have the form of a person. A girl whom Eugenia recognised as the Astor heiress, Skylar. The girl seemed awfully scared as she looked up, and Eugenia surgically recognised such a misstep as a serious one in the eyes of pure society. Had she hit her a little harder, they could have fallen. That would have been disastrous for both. She wouldn’t voluntarily cause one, however. Her eyes would be cold for a moment, then slightly warmer as the girl got up with stiff shoulders. “Apology accepted. Just be more careful next time. Another person could have escalated it.” She spoke quite matter-of-factly, politely yet not warmly. It wasn’t something she could afford right now. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing, getting bumped into.

“Eugenia Smyrnidi, pleased to meet you. And thank you for the compliment, your dress similarly fits you beautifully.” Her sister spoke next, her composure having faltered for a split second from the impact. A slip only Eugenia could understand, for it was so minuscule. “Smyrnidi Ifigenia. We won’t punish you for it.”

Eugenia couldn’t copy her sister’s calming smile, but she tried, and it felt good. “You’re attending Hogwarts, right?” She had seen in the hallways, to be honest, but she curious as to what the girl thought of the old castle. Danger death school.

¹: translation: Eugenia! You seem as if you are looking at them intensely. Calm down, nothing will go wrong as we are together. They don’t know.
²: translation: I know.. they aren’t even looking at me! I’m fixing your necklace.

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@Skylar Astor date: 08/07/2026 place: Van Elst manor phantom returned

interacting: @chatt auclair
mentioning: N/A

lily: #651a1a;
thread partner name: chatt #2a4a7e

wordcount: 272/200
date: N/A

Goodness, this had to be quite a peculiar interaction. If Eugenia was internally brimming with feelings of turmoil and unease, then the other girl must have been insanely awkward. Her stance was quite stiff, eyes darting around slightly as if she were a prisoner evading persecution.

It was then that the heiress tried to decipher the girl’s mannerisms. Were they genuine ignorance to the rules of pureblood conversation, or was she simply dragged to a ball already insanely tired? It seemed that not all families enforced strict social manners and lessons in etiquette, or the visage of the girl would have been closer to her sister’s, although arguably much more fake and practiced. Even before her introduction, Eugenia knew her name. With the people attending this evening, she had been forced to remember about all of the participant’s name and looks. Hopefully where they came from too.

Knowing very well that the girl was if the British Astor lineage, it was a relief that her assumption of the girl’s schooling was not entirely wrong. It solidified her knowledge and gave her a slight boost of confidence. It seemed, after all, that the girl was a Slytherin soon to begin her second year at school. For pure blood students of the snake house, expectations were often very high. It was quite understandable that her parents would probably be watching, perhaps explaining the stiffness in her demeanour. It was much easier to let the words spill elegantly from your mouth when you do not feel watched.

When the Slytherin looked up, both sisters followed her gave to an ornate crystal chandelier. Eugenia looked at it calculatingly, trying to understand just how expensive that fixture was and how many crystals it had. To her, those were among several interesting details about the space she could use to gauge the impact of the host family’s wealth; it was quite fun trying to spot things most others would miss. She hadn’t really looked up at the ceiling since her arrival at the ball. A sight quite striking picture stared back at her. Softly, she agreed with Skylar’s comment. “I’d say so myself. The Van Elst have quite the public image.” Back at her own house, they didn’t own such expensive furniture. It might have been classy and quite gorgeous, but they were from a rich family, not a family with generational wealth that competes with the royals.

Even if they were well off, they knew stuff had limits. They were told to stay humble. Maybe that was what made them so pliable in the pursuit of a fake identity-

She was snapped out of her thoughts by her sister’s voice. It wasn’t directed at her, thankfully, meaning she hadn’t just let herself get consumed by memories for too long. “It is a meticulously planned ball, it seems. Surely, a lot of pressure to perform.” Laughably, she thought that sometimes, it was a reason to be lauded for, and hopefully today wasn’t one of those days, or her mask had almost slipped. But as her sister had not alerted her, Eugenia was not worried. Her eyes, a shade darker from the dimming lights, darted across the Astor heiress’ face for any signs of distrust. She couldn’t afford it now.

The chocking sound, although short, almost made her break into a dash. Danger was engraved in her soul, it seemed, and she would never know calm. Such simple, mundane things such as a slightly forced cough made her worry. Was this how paranoia affected people? Was this what she was meant to become? Looking at Skylar, she realised that the girl had been given an alcoholic beverage. She herself had been offered something to drink, but it was a mocktail at worse. Something was really wrong. “Goodness, these house elves must be really incompetent. Are you alright?” In her eyes, it wasn’t the girl’s fault. She had been as discreet as she could have been, which, even though if it weren’t a lot, she had tried. Ifigenia tutted quietly and shook her head at her sister’s comment.

What really took both by surprise was the question about their sisterhood. A question she had rehearsed an answer for many times over, but still had trouble answering. Was it odd they were so close? Circumstances had changed them, yes, but their bond was even in their early childhoods one that held no bounds. Eugenia missed a beat before answering, what she should and shouldn’t refer to being weighted in her mind. “No, it is just us. I suppose we are quite closer than what most siblings would say.” She looked forward, the memory of her sister crying at the foot of her bed and begging her to understand she didn’t mean her words. Her hug after because she had forgiven her before she said the first word. Because her sister sometimes deserved better. Eyes focused on miss Astor but mind momentarily in space.

Mask never falls, her sister squeezed her hand lightly. Did she know today was a bad night, for she was so anxious and tired? The previous adrenaline rush left her. Ifigenia spoke after the Astor’s next comment. “Do you fight? There is no harm in that. Are you lonely, at your house?” Soft voice, curling around the words, Ifigenia’s eyes seemed to calculate. If that was true, but even if it wasn’t, Eugenia would be so proud of her.

¹: translation:

english - #194935 russian -#9F263E greek - #3E4FA5 french - #B25F5C

@Skylar Astor date: 08/07/2026 place: Van Elst manor phantom returned