date: 30^th december 2025
time: evening
location: cavendish* family manor. cheltenham, england.


Although the Hestridge family's gala had been only days prior, the winter holidays were proving to be a perfect time for what seemed like every pure-blooded family in Britain to host galas galore. This had resulted in a large amount of whining from Livia's younger brother, Julian, who did not enjoy travelling. Livia's mother, Natela, had taken to placating him, leaving Livia and her father, Séamus, a bit flabbergasted and altogether unsure how to react. They took the few days of rest between events to relax, with Séamus excitedly telling his attentive daughter about one of his new work projects, which analysed the use of ancient runes in ancient places of worship in Rome.

For Livia's own part, although she continued to pursue academic prowess in the form of studying and practising spells under her father's tutelage, she also imbued herself with the potential for more girlish hobbies. With some of her allowance, she acquired a catalogue of women's outfits, and although none but the smallest would fit her now, she obtained a great deal of pleasure from observing the various fashions, fabrics and colours à la mode. She also continued to work on some of the carvings she had left at home before leaving for school; her favourite project was certainly a sculpture-in-progress of a granite rosebush, thorns and all.

In preparation for the Cavendish gala, Livia had indeed turned to woodcarving for the purpose of accessorising. Her mother thought this incredibly useless, but the young heir had to admit she was quite pleased with the way she had managed to create delicate flowers out of thin sheets of bendable wood. The inky purple paint had only barely dried by the time she wove the flowers through her braided hair. This was paired with a similarly-coloured dress and a modest pair of black heels. As her mother had wished, she was dressed to the nines in a manner that most matched with Julian's clothing; he, too, was clad in a set of purple dress robes that, to Livia alone, he had confessed itched like nothing before.

They arrived by carriage once again, all clad in dark colours to promote their staunch semblance of sophistication. Upon entering, the parents found their way to the Cavendishes and presented them with gifts; meanwhile, Livia hooked her arm through Julian's and was horrified to find herself at a table with only children. While, at the Hestridge gala, she had been seated near others her age, it seemed that the this table was meant for children closer to Julian's age. He, of course, was not fussed by this, and Livia decided that she would not be too bothered, either, at least externally.

Nonetheless, when it was finally time for dinner to be served, Livia could not help but sigh to herself as she sat in her designated seat. She requested a glass of sparkling water to quench her thirst, and when the hors-d'œuvre of the first course was served, she did not even have to think about how to eat the canapés, and although she took her time, she was able to finish sooner than some of the other youths at the table, who had, contrary to etiquette, taken more than one bite to eat their appetiser. Livia stifled a smirk and instead took the opportunity to glance about her, her attention landing on the familiar girl to her left. She dabbed at the corner of her lips with her napkin before folding it back in her lap, and then she turned her chin so that she could better face the other girl. 'Hello – Rosaline, no? Pardon me, but I do forget your surname. Would you care to remind me?' She assumed Rosaline would recall her name, but for the other girl's benefit, she added, 'I am Livia, by the way, of the Machavariani ilk. This is my brother, Julian.' She angled her head towards her brother, who was staring at his empty plate with sad brown eyes. A soft smile accosted her lips. 'What did you think of the canapés?'

The girl she had turned to sported vestments that truly appeared most lovely on her frame. The lavender of her dress brought out the intriguing blue of her eyes, which was not unlike the reflection of the sky in the ocean during a storm. Livia gazed into the girl's eyes for a moment before surveying the rest of her demeanour: off-white gloves, a glimmering silver necklace and star-shaped adornments in her dark hair accentuated her features.

However, it had not escaped Livia that Rosaline, though beautiful, lacked knowledge of the proper way of something as simple as consuming bread. She did not outwardly portray her concern (nor her disdain), instead pointedly handling the roll that was her own as Rosaline spoke. She did not intend to eat much of it – after all, a lady did not gorge herself – but tore off a bite-sized piece. Then, her spindly fingers daintily retrieved her butter knife, with which she acquired a pad of butter and began neatly smoothing it across the bread. Finally, she placed it in her mouth, chewing slowly while nodding in acknowledgement of Rosaline's words. The exquisite flavour of the bread seeped through her mouth, but she withstood the temptation of taking another bite.

Everhart was not a name Livia knew much of. She could not place it in the preparatory lessons she and her brother had received before accompanying their parents to this gala. However, Wrenford made recognition glint within her green gaze. 'Yes, it is truly lovely,' she replied, as etiquette required; Julenka, never the most adept at anything, simply grinned and nodded while ripping off a piece of his bread. At that, Livia's lips did set themselves in a disappointed line. For all the etiquette lessons they both received, it appeared that only she had reaped the benefits.

'The Wrenfords – they have numerous aurors, yes? Such a reputable profession.' Livia's own mother had uttered intentions of Livia becoming an auror. She was not yet certain what to make of that expectation. 'I should certainly wish to learn more about the work, as it is a consideration for my future career.' The words were chosen carefully – a consideration for her future career, yes, but not necessarily a consideration of her own, as if her own wishes (of which there were none) were irrelevant. 'But, of course, there are many reputable careers in this world. Have you any such aspirations?'

The practised smile, meant to assuage and placate adults, easily rested upon Livia's lips. She had not yet discovered how to make it reflect within her eyes; in social gatherings, she tended to forget that emotion tended to be viewed most strongly within one's gaze. 'Ah, yes, I understand that sentiment,' she stated in response to Rosaline's words.

Her brother, having finally swallowed a disgustingly large chunk of bread, grinned. 'Me too,' he said warmly. 'I'm starving.'

Livia, half tempted to inform little Julenka that, no, he was not starving, instead glanced down at her unfinished roll and said nothing. Her attention traced the elegant silver on the plates; a sense of appreciation overcame her at the delicacy of the Cavendish family's belongings.

She glanced up once again upon hearing Rosaline's question. It stalled her breathing. She stared at the Everhart girl's face, searching for any indicator of malice. Unfortunately, Livia had never been skilled in the art of reading people. She did not wish for the truth to be misconstrued, but, at least in this instance, she considered she might spin it to benefit her. 'Ah, but thank you.' Her attempt at a smile returned. 'I have been training in the arts of sculpture and woodcarving since I was very young. I crafted the flowers myself – the petals, stems and paint. Though it was laborious, I quite enjoy my craft. There is a sense of accomplishment in crafting something that can be utilised in clothing.' Such a feat made her feel worthy of the friendship of Harvey Barrows, which was, of course, pleasant.

The next course that was served entailed some sort of fish drizzled with a sauce involving saffron. Truly, its aroma wafted like a heavenly perfume into her nose. Julenka immediately began sawing at his fish, and Livia could not help but emit a small sigh. She lifted her fish knife and fork and cut a very small piece, then gently raising the piece with the fork in her left hand, taking a bite, chewing and swallowing before turning back to make conversation with Rosaline. She would ignore the ludicrous behaviour of her brother.

'I am curious – do you like stars? The articles in your hair suit you well.'

@Rosaline Everhart
(fancy coding coming soon)