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Post by anastasiya on Jun 22, 2011 0:01:45 GMT -5
It was late now, and the clock ticked as the time drew closer to midnight. Not many were in the common room now, but it was perfect in her eyes. She never much cared for the company of others. Like her cousin d'Antoine, she was known for being a loner, but unlike him, she did not carry the attitude with her. She suspected it could have been the veela in him or the fact that he was incredibly spoiled. And Indica wasn't much better. She was a nature-loving dingbat; Stasiya had her own suspicions that the girl was more fond of muggles and mudbloods than was safe, but none of that really mattered. Stasiya never showed any outward contempt for those of less status than she.
She could see others alienating those in their surroundings simply by taking offense to another's body language or choice of words. And then what? Useless violence and a fight that could have been easily avoided. Stasiya was tactical- she chose to think everyone was beneath her to the degree that their opinions of her didn't matter. She would not give them a reason to hate her, but she would not give them a reason to like her, either. Remaining on neutral grounds was key to surviving. It was key to becoming the best.
To choose an allegiance or alliance was a fool decision. Who was to say that a muggle born or halfblood wouldn't work their way up to becoming the most powerful wizard or witch of all time? And then what? If you had made enemies with them, it would be you to die. But keeping your thoughts to yourself... that was power. To watch and keenly observe, to learn of one's weakness and exploit it without them knowing- that was true skill. Face to face confrontation was very overrated. Only those who prized their honor and pride above themselves would choose it over using their brain. She suspected this was the reason she never quite liked people to begin with. Too much pride.
It seemed that no matter which house you were in, you would run into those who valued it above all else. She couldn't imagine being humiliated- how could you be humiliated if you placed very little value in your vanity?
She stared intensely at the fire, her red eyes glinting in the light. Perhaps she would retire to bed soon, but her thoughts were racing, and she was not quite tired yet. So a little bit longer she would stay, contemplating just why she hadn't given up... and how she was going to face the man her parents had chosen for her to marry before their untimely disappearances. His name was Gaspard Montague-- a pureblood, she had been informed-- one she should know as they were in the same house and year. But Stasiya never paid attention to anyone else. She couldn't put a face to the name. It wasn't surprising, but it was unsettling. She knew nothing about him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.
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Post by gaspard on Jun 22, 2011 1:00:01 GMT -5
An arranged marriage!? Gaspard wanted to rebel. How ridiculous and old fashioned. But what else could one expect from a long line of purebloods? He placed the pile of the books she was checking out on the librarian's desk...with a little more force than was necessary. Gaspard would refuse to go through with the engagement if he wasn't afraid of losing the power and wealth he was owed from the family. Damn! Cold eyes watched the librarian with concealed malice, and he comforted himself in the thought of strangling the effeminate male with that long hair he had to be so proud of. Gaspard then wondered if the librarian was pureblood. If he was half or mudblood it wouldn't be much of a loss. Gaspard said thank you once the books were handed back to him, always polite and composed, just as a Montague should be.
This brought his mind back to his family and he sighed as he stepped out into the corridor. The boy thought of his aunt and the muggle she'd dared to marry. Together they'd had a son, Riley, who had been at the school with Gaspard for four years now. Gods, what a nuisance his halfblood cousin could be!
And so time flew rather quickly as he thought of the many ways in which his family was shameful. The boy entered the common room, ignored everyone around him, and went straight to the boys' dormitories. There he set the pile of books on his nightstand, and plucked up the one at the top. Seated on his bed, he dove right into reading about a number of advanced spells. Oh what Gaspard would give to get some books from the restricted section. It would make learning the Dark Arts so much easier. He couldn't rely on his family for information on the Dark Arts like some of the other Slytherins could. It was quite frustrating. How was it that he belonged with his family?! If his father didn't look like an older version of himself, he would have thought that they'd been handed the wrong baby while at St. Mungos...or wherever it'd been that he'd been given birth to.
When he'd checked out his books it'd been near to curfew, therefore it wasn't long before the clock struck twelve, and he found himself the only one awake in the bedroom. Gaspard's concentration was shattered by a rather large snore nearby, and his eyes narrowed as he wished for a spell that would cut off someone's air supply. With a sour expression he marked his page in the book, put out his light and headed down to the common room. Perceptive eyes caught the head of one person within the emptiness of the room. One person...he could deal with. Then he noted the paleness of her hair and his brows drew together. It was lighter than the hair of that Malfoy...how had he not noticed her before? She couldn't be first year, could she?
The Slytherin made sure to make some noise as he approached, not wanting to be accused of sneaking. He found himself thinking of how he should have kept better track of everyone in Slytherin, not just those who might get in his way. Then he would know the name of this stunning young woman. He was now approaching from the front, able to not only see her hair, but her facial features and her body as well. If he knew more about all the Slytherins, he'd also know who the hell Anastasiya Volkova was!
"Evening." the boy took a seat across from her, his body somewhat relaxed as he sank into the chair. Dark brown eyes stayed on her, waiting to be told off, or greeted in return....or whichever reaction she would reward him with.
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Post by anastasiya on Jun 22, 2011 22:15:57 GMT -5
A voice of a male drew her out of her thoughts. Her red eyes fell upon the boy that had joined her on this quiet night. She was mildly surprised by his boldness- she was much more used to Slytherins ignoring each other. Sometimes, they had their own little groups, and when they did interact with "outsiders" it was to belittle one another. Therefore, she wasn't quite sure what to expect of entering a conversation with this boy, but she was willing to give it a go and see where it would lead.
"Good Evening," she responded in a curious tone. Her voice was soft but her voice was somewhat raspy- she rarely spoke, and when she did, it wasn't for long. She never wanted to be one of those people who wasted their breath on meaningless words. You didn't need to give a person your entire history in order to make a point. Sadly, there were many at Hogwarts who seemed to have the need to.
She inclined her head at this boy, drinking in his appearance. He was very well put-together, even for so late at night. She was dressed in some fine silk robes she had brought from Paris. Although she mainly resided in Russia, she frequented the homes of her cousins, and the silk material was most favorable to her in the warm common rooms. In the winter air, not so much- but that was what school robes were for.
"What is your purpose here?" she knew she spoke strangely. It was another reason that she rarely spoke. No, she wasn't scared of being made fun of. If someone was so juvenile as to tease her over her accent or way of talking, then she had no use for them anyways, and when all was said and done, they would be one of the first to succumb to death.
She crossed her legs, seating herself into a more comfortable position. For only just meeting him, she was staring at him intensely, trying to read into his posture- his body language. He was confident no doubt, but whether his brains were as good as his looks remained to be seen. "Or did you speak to me simply because I am the only one here?"
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Post by gaspard on Jun 23, 2011 22:58:53 GMT -5
Her voice wasn’t something he was accustomed to; not only was it raspy and soft in tone, but there was also her accent. While others might have laughed, Gaspard found that it only made her that much more interesting; as if the pallid hair and crimson eyes weren’t enough! He’d heard and read about albinism before, but never had he been faced with a real live person possessing the condition.
He’d set the bookmarked book upon his lap, resting his arms on the rests of the armchair he’d claimed. The fire nearby, along with some of the heat that still lingered in the season…before Winter was to stick her icy knife into the heart of Summer…well it made the common room a little warmer than he’d expected. Without regret or embarrassment, the boy reached up and undid his tie, before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his uniform shirt.
It would have likely been best if he’d changed out of his uniform before heading to the common room, but he’d been in too great a rush to get away from that obnoxious snoring. Amazingly enough, this girl had captured enough of his attention for him to nearly forget of the unpleasant incident that had brought him here.
Seeing her from the front, Gaspard allowed himself more of a look at her. Everything seemed to sit just right, her hair cascaded elegantly over her shoulders, her facial features were studding and perfectly aligned, and her attractive figure was sheathed in silk. The boy was nearly baffled; how had he not noticed her before? She seemed very suitable as a mate, in appearance…and if she had a brain that she put to good use inside that pretty head of hers, she’d be perfect.
What was his purpose? Gaspard easily picked up the book from his lap and brandished it before setting it back down, “The bedroom had gotten a little noisy.” To act tactfully or reply with blunt honesty? Gaspard took a moment or two to consider, before parting his lips to speak again, “My intent was simply to continue my reading here…but you seem to have caught my interest.” He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted from her, therefore he’d kept his answer vague.
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