welcome to chimera!

[Adrian Nott]

Naturally, the relationship between the group that had oriented themselves around Tom Riddle was filled with secrets, lies, and false friendships. That was the nature of Slytherins in general, let alone the people that he actually surrounded himself. But Adrian had always figured that at least some of them were truly his friends. He and Sinclair were quite chummy, weren't they? Both filthy rich and they liked their lives how they liked them, and they'd gone to each other's ridiculously enormous houses often enough. And no matter whether their friendship was based on what could only be considered a half-truth, at most, on Adrian's part-- they did have things in common besides a supposed disdain for all things muggle and muggleborn.

But one person that Adrian did not really have things in common with was Mulciber, who was a hulking beast if he'd ever seen one, somebody that, had they been on opposite sides, Adrian would have gone running from the first time he'd ever seen him. In fact, he practically felt like running from him right now, and they were in a room full of a ton of witnesses. They were in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, and while they had been sitting with a few others of their group just a few moments ago, one had excused himself to finish an essay he'd neglected, another went to go to supper early, and another had slunk off with only a mumble.

So it was that Adrian was sitting next to Mulciber, and Mulciber sitting next to Adrian, and they were in a stony silence until Adrian broke the silence, because otherwise he felt he might crack under the pressure.

"Er... can't help but notice you--" What could be complimentary about Mulciber, anyway? "Can't help but notice your robes. Are those new? Very tasteful."

That sounded stupid. He didn't know what was wrong with him; he was always so intuitive with flattery.

[Decimus Mulciber]

While Decimus may not have necessarily liked many of the people he closely associated with by way of their similar gravitation towards Riddle, he at least begrudged them some respect. Most of them. He did not extend even that begrudging respect to Nott, who he had grown to harbor a serious resentment towards. Silver-tongued, and having managed to worm his way into their little group through a thoroughly undeserving (in Decimus' opinion) means, his behaviour was abhorrent. Though admittedly he was one to take advantage of an opportunity to get ahead while exerting as little effort as possible he was also, quite hypocritically, against others doing the same. It managed to get under his skin in a way few things did.

As their companions departed one by one it only became apparent to him when they were gone the company he was being left in. Feeling no urge to break the silence he instead allowed it to stretch between them, silently considering the ways that he would like to 'get' Nott and lamenting that none of them were at all possible in the forseeable future. It almost surprised him, then, when the other Slytherin felt the urge to break a perfectly comfortable silence. Taken aback by his flattery of his robes Decimus' eyebrows rose a fraction, incredulous. Without glancing down he answered with a tone as flat as his expression, hinting at no sign of amusement.

"No, they're not," and making no attempt to further the conversation he let the statement hang between them, maintaining eye-contact with the boy across from him.

[Adrian Nott]

"Oh."

Nott wanted to slam his head against something sharp so that the next time he was conscious, hopefully it would be far away from Mulciber and he wouldn't feel the strain of the silence that had stretched between them. It was one thing to be silent when, say, one and one's friends were all working on separate homework assignments, because that sort of task begged for more attention. But the two were just... sitting there. Staring. And didn't Mulciber find that terribly awkward? How could he not feel the same strain to fill that silence with even the most inane babbling.

He briefly considered making some excuse, or at least trying to find a novel or text book that he could focus on, rather than Mulciber's unnerving stare.

"Well, they're keeping rather well."

[Decimus Mulciber]

The stinted conversation was, he felt, in no way an improvement on the silence that had previously stretched between them. He wondered briefly what Nott was getting at, immediately suspicious of him by the simple virtue of who he was. The commentary on his robes seemed unnecessary tripe, and as a young man who did not tend to use an excess of words unless the situation called for it (and even he was still unlikely to use them too sparingly) he was not so much at a loss for an appropriate response, as he was irritated by the need to give one. This did not read on his face, of course, which was still quite expressionless as he glanced at his robes and back to Nott. Though perhaps not necessarily 'new' they were of a high quality, and certainly could not be called 'old' either. As was to be expected.

"As they should," still he did no favours to the continuation of the conversation and instead waited patiently for Nott to reveal any agenda, which he assumed he must have for them to be discussing the quality of his robes.

[Adrian Nott]

Oh, Adrian did not like this, not at all. It was bad enough when he was around people with whom social graces required that conversation be stilted, but to be with someone near enough his own age and his social standing that he should be able to have an actual conversation with, and still have this oppressive awkwardness, was almost too much for him to bear. And although it was not that Adrian had a bubbly, friendly personality, he was certainly outgoing. There was no way to flatter people silently, at least not in a way that thoroughly got his point across-- and so he had worked on his speaking skills, learning how to flatter people of higher standing than himself, and even people slightly lower, who were still influential purebloods. And he had learned to attempt flattery on even those who were undeserving if he had something to gain from the interaction and had no dirt on them to speak of.

So it was so unexpected to be here, with nothing to say and a boy of few words sitting there and staring at him. He didn't look suspicious, which Adrian figured was good, but then again he didn't look particularly agreeable either. But-- when did he?

"Yes," he said, again sounding less than intelligent. "I can't imagine you, er, wearing anything less than quality materials. Much like myself."

[Decimus Mulciber]

Were they really still discussing robes? Although it could not be said that Decimus had much of a sense of humour, very few people being privy to the dry (and very slight) sense of humour that he did posess, their conversation almost amused him. Having witnessed Nott's ability to flatter others with apparent ease first hand in the past it was a change, and a favourable one at that. Briefly he wondered how long Nott would be able to continue to talk about robes, the conversation having already gone on longer than he would have thought possible.

Not seeing any reason to encourage it, his contribution was a non-committal that could have been disagreeable about as easily as it could have been agreeable.

[Adrian Nott]

Adrian snapped his mouth shut as soon as he heard the grunt, not knowing whether it was intended to be affirmative or to indicate that he had about three minutes to shut up before being flayed. He chose to believe that it was the latter, if only to save himself from further embarrassment. It wasn't that he wanted to return to the stony silence before he had begun talking, but he could be sure that it was more awkward to ramble on about robes with no response than it was to sit there and stare at one another, even as uninterested as they both were in seeing one another's faces.

Instead, he tried for a new topic in the hopes that it could possibly provide something, anything for them to have common ground on.

"Are you finding that sixth year is appreciably more difficult than fifth was? Or is there less pressure because of the lack of OWLs?"