welcome to chimera!

[Druella Rosier]

It was well after dinner by the time that Druella made her way back towards the common room. Her friends had stayed at the table for some time, talking with varied animation about their upcoming Transfiguration paper and an embarrassing mistake made by an over-eager Hufflepuff in Potions earlier. Druella had been rather unproductive to the conversation, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes darting from Ada to Antonin to Cygnus and then away. She had ended up in the small group of Slytherin friends without ever quite connecting to them. She existed both within the group and at its borders. Something about Druella read as forgettable, although her manner and decorum were undeniably exceptional. The other six had headed to the grounds, and when Druella remarked that she couldn’t without her cloak, had let her separate without apparent deep concern.

This did not deeply trouble Druella, who did not expect more from friendships than what already existed. Druella rarely questioned her position: it was too established and too proud. She even might have thought she was happy, if she were to give it some thought; her introspection was rather limited in complexity.

She made her way down to the dungeons of the school, her long blond hair falling to her waist, soft and straight, her round chin tilted up a little, and the weight of her situation written in her smallest movements. Druella embodied what she had been raised for. It was her singular talent and principle. She seemed almost unconcerned with her surroundings – taking the route she had so often in her four years at school without seeming to notice it at all.

Which was why Catriona McCormack was able to surprise her so entirely. It had been some weeks now that the mudblood red head had troubled Druella, tailing her after class and hassling her with her dry laugh. Druella, who had never been teased before, let alone instructed on how to handle teasing, found the situation increasingly trying and rather stressful. She was not used to being belittled, and it struck her as so uncomfortable, she was sure it was humiliating. Which was why she hadn’t thought to tell anyone. Unable to properly conduct herself around her yearmate – because she had no concept of what “proper” conduct would be in the situation – Druella, as usual, tensed, her heels digging into the stone floor as Cat stumbled out of the tapestry and made her way into bothering her immediately.

Druella clasped her hands tightly in front of herself as Cat began her routine for some minutes. Perhaps she would have paled, if she were not so pale already. Each time she encountered Cat, it was more difficult. And the whole thing so shameful and unbecoming. Druella pressed her lips together and then opened them, her grey eyes darting down the hallway; the common room was only a corridor away. “Please leave me,” she said. The assertion was somewhat remarkable for Druella, by its existence at all, but not, under the circumstances, assured enough sounding. She flushed just slightly at what she perceived as her own forwardness, but looked no less in her conviction.

[Catriona McCormack]

For reasons that didn’t really matter she had decided to bypass the Great Hall for dinner; instead finding herself hovering at the edge of the kitchens, a house elf plying her with enough food to feed more than one of her in both a genuine attempt to please her and have her out of their hair, so to speak, at such a busy hour. Not voicing any complaints at this treatment she took the liberty of eating as much as she could manage, leaving what was left of the plate behind while she stumbled out of the kitchens and into the basement corridor.

After the warmth of the kitchens the sublevels of the castle were quite cold and unforgiving. Taking a moment to rub her hands furiously together, creating enough friction to warm them somewhat, she then dug them into the depth of her pockets to keep them shielded. Though in glancing around the corridor she was not actually searching for anyone her eyes found the approaching figure of Druella Rosier, and rather than continue her direction to the Hufflepuff common room as had been her intention she stalled where she was, putting herself directly in Druella’s path.

She was not inclined to believe that she had made any genuine effort to bother the other girl in the past few weeks. Rather, since their encounter in the owlery she had become distinctly more aware of Druella’s quiet presence both inside and outside of their shared classes. Being more aware of the youngest Rosier child had lent her towards behaviour that could easily be described as bothersome and was, in all likelihood, less than welcome. Little thought went into her acts of nuisance, the behaviour of which was within the normal capacity of the Hufflepuff girl’s behaviour towards people who were not her immediate friends.

She did not seem remotely put out by her own bothersome behaviour, rather, she took to it like a fish to water. It was Druella’s request that had her pausing for a moment, being the first to date wherein she had actually verbalised her want for Catriona to leave her be. Though it did not have much tone of assurance. In itself the words merited a chuckle from the Hufflepuff, who regarded her questioningly, displaying no inclination to do as she was requested, “Leave you? Why would I do that?”

[Druella Rosier]

There was a slight pause as – for once – Druella took Cat, if even only briefly, by surprise. In the slight pause, Druella allowed herself a quiet but shallow breath, her slim shoulders rising and falling. It did very little to calm her, over all, though it helped restore the essential collectedness of her expression. If she had been an expressive girl, Druella would have looked uncomfortable, frightened and indignant. As it was, she looked almost the same as ever. She always did. Despite the discomfort of her situation, Druella, looked as if she had been transported from the Great Hall earlier, or her Potions lesson or a sitting room in the Manor. Druella was listless in her same-ness. This was the first time that it failed to be of assistance to her.

Already feeling overwhelmed and far more troubled than her expression revealed, Druella leant her weight back on her heels slightly so that she was on the vaguest angle backwards. Cat’s aggressive questioning (whether or not it was intentional) felt coarse to her blonde classmate, and her methods of combating it were limited to almost nothing. Her earlier slight assertion had not seemed to go quite as she meant it to. Druella clutched her hands tightly in front of her – a prim posture, as always, though her grip on her fingers was tighter than usual now, and tried her best to continue the sentiment , “You should not speak to me.”

Though, again, she meant to express herself, the statement sounded as if she might be repeating it by rote, like a lesson she had memorized. Which was not so far from the truth. Again, her tone was lighter than it should have been, however, her sentiment was sound. Catriona over-stepped her place by not only addressing but accosting her: more than once, more than twice. It shouldn’t have been happening, but even as she made her first, very quiet, attempt to properly stop it, she felt further out of her depth. If Druella’s private reaction was slightly over-dramatic, perhaps she could be slightly excused, so unaccustomed as she was to everything occurring around her.

[Catriona McCormack]

“I should not speak to you,” she echoed her classmates words, but they lacked any of the same sentiment that they had held when spoken by Druella. Instead she shook her head as she spoke, the corners of her lips still pulled into a smile, and it was clear that she was not deterred by the simple statement. Amused, perhaps – but deterred, no.

Catriona was not entirely daft. She knew enough to know that the Rosier name held some weight amongst purebloods – and she knew enough to know that amongst those same purebloods that placed her infinitely above a muggleborn like herself. She knew this, but she did not care. She found Druella’s assertion that she should not speak to her to be rather entertaining – especially in contrast to the blonde’s usual meek reactions to her presence.

Still she gave no sign that she had any inclination to abandon her. Instead she chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow as she stopped shaking her head. “Why would that be then, eh?” Though her chuckle was short-lived her amusement was evident in her tone. Quite unaware of the extent of Druella’s distress the impression that she gave remained distinctly the same as it always did in the other girl’s presence.

[Druella Rosier]

Hearing her own words parroted back at her, Druella took a small step backwards and immediately felt the action made her look exceptionally weak. Of course, in she was rather weak in character, next to Catriona, who was riveting in her ability to command apparently every situation she entered (by whatever means, no matter how common), but she was not weak in situation, and that – in Druella’s teachings – mean more. Or it should have. She was flustered to find that the arguments she was taught for dismissing the situation were making no dent in Catriona’s persistence. What that meant was beyond her interest in analysis, but she was not stupid enough not to notice.

The “why”, she thought, was answered very sufficiently from the “should”. Then again, she thought, she was likely to be far better educated than the other girl. Which brought her to the central concept that was being disregarded her, and then, to the very frank answer that answered the whole situation: “You’re a mudblood.” Not meant even in spite, but in truth, and not spoken with enough assertion to sound like an insult - and Druella never stepped out of place to insult. She did not even mean it as a defense, so much as an explanation. For her, it was obvious, hardly worth explaining, and would never consider it not to matter, although she rarely discussed such things with anyone. It showed that she was thrown off by Catriona that she opened enough to say it.

[Catriona McCormack]

She was not introspective enough to recognise that her reaction to Druella's words might set her apart in any way from those of her peers who were also of similar parentage. Rather than meeting the word 'mudblood' with shock or offense she smirked. In all honesty she was rather surprised that it had taken the other girl so long to bring up her inferior blood status. Her experiences with the likes who rubbed elbows with the likes of the Rosiers was that they genuinely believed the nonsense they toted.

She was smirking, and then she was chuckling, but at what might not have been clear. There was no thought put into her response, and it lacked any note of subtlety. Rather than retorting sarcastically she raised her eyebrows, her tone challenging, and suggesting that being a 'mudblood' meant very little, if anything, to her. "Yeah? So?"

[Sinclair Avery]

As a rule, Sinclair did not associate on particularly friendly terms with the Rosiers. He did have a lot of contact with the older boy, being in the same circle as he was, but he did not particularly enjoy (or fit in with) their type. As an older family, they took to the Averys' recent wealthiness with something almost like distaste -- he was a lower tier within an upper tier, to be scoffed at behind closed doors but not to be derided or publicly put down. The bloodline was not a long, antiquated one -- the only thing fresher about them was their money, and quite honestly, that showed a bit in how their two youngest members presented themselves. Though not uncouth, there was a certain wildness to the both of them; they were far enough from the discipline of the Rosiers or the Yaxleys to be noticeable. If anything, they had an attitude alike to the Black family -- but little of the sway to their names to make up for it.

So, upon seeing Druella in the corridor, he did not get the immediate urge to go and greet her or strike up a conversation. Aside from old money and old blood, she was a fourth year; he only knew as much about her as was obvious within the Pureblood circle, and that was very little. It was only seeing McCormack there was well that started him moving at all, and even that came after considerable thought. However, the Hufflepuff's reputation and a strange pull to help a girl in need (which had been instilled in him from a young age, new money and new blood or not) had him stepping forward anyway. He could hardly believe himself as his shoes clicked quietly and quickly across the stone floor; he was behind Druella soon enough, hand at her shoulder more in a show of solidarity than any inclination toward her. She wasn't bad -- she was just a Rosier.

"So," Sinclair explained for her, smoothly entering the conversation, using his height to his advantage and looking down at Cat in a manner that must have been at least a little intentional. "You have no business at all addressing her." His own sharp chin held high as he finished speaking, as though that was the end of it, he gave the blonde's shoulder a nearly imperceivable squeeze before dropping his hand altogether; it was a familiar gesture that he didn't feel comfortable holding for long, but he did not show it -- particularly not in the presence of what he so obviously considered filth. "Ladies," he said in such a way that it was clear he was 'using the term loosely'. "If that's all you had to say to one another, I think it would be wise to part ways -- before anyone ends up embarrassed." He raised his eyebrows, eyes moving from Druella and settling right on the other girl, perhaps meaningfully.

[Druella Rosier]

Druella was saved having to construct a reply by the arrival of the older boy. She turned her head when Sinclair inserted himself both at her side and into the conversation, with considerable surprise but no objection. She knew Sinclair as well as she knew the other of her peers in Slytherin, although his family's rather newly acquired fortune and openly entitled attitudes did not reconcile entirely with her opinion of what constituted a greatly admirable character. It would not, however, have occured to Druella to demonstrate this in the slightest, and she was consistently polite to Avery, though rarely associated with him for long periods of time.

Though it was somewhat surprising of him, then, to actively take her part, it struck her as even more strange when he laid his hand on her shoulder briefly, an action more familiar even than she might have expected from her own brother - then again, Sinclair's conduct had never been quite like Foras'. She was not sure how to respond to the gesture, but was oddly comforted by it, as she was by his presence, and could not object.

Until he was finished, she stood quietly, watching Catriona's feet rather than the other girl face on; it was evident that she was far more comfortable being spoken for than having to address her classmate herself. "Yes, I am finished."

[Catriona McCormack]

The imposition of Sinclair's presence did not deter her like it probably ought to have. In fact, quite the opposite. As the older male stepped in on Druella's behalf the chance of Catriona losing interest and simply leaving the other girl dropped significantly. She did not take kindly to being told what to do -- directly or indirectly -- and made a point of refusing to do so even in circumstances incomparable to this.

It had not taken her long after her arrival at Hogwarts to realise that the Rosier's and Avery's of the world put a lot in stock by the supposed purity of someones blood. It had taken her even less time to realise that she didn't care. She did not generally make a big deal of her muggle heritage - the exception being, of course, when she was having it held against her.In reaction to Sinclair's words she found her eyebrows rising -- in what would have been an incredulous fashion had she not expected the meaning he was making the moment he had stepped onto the scene -- and did not bother to mask her complete lack of respect, letting out a derisive snort.

"That so is it? You do all her talkin' for her?" for all she knew Sinclair could have been Druella's betrothed - she certainly did not take a keen interest in the in's and out's of their inbreeding, "Maybe I'm not done talkin'. Didja think about that?"

[Sinclair Avery]

Only noticing Druella in a loose sense by now, more focused on the Hufflepuff by now, Sinclair's expression did not change much. Though there was a smirk wanting to push through, he did not allow it -- rather, he remained unimpressed as he watched her. It was clear that she was only being difficult now, and frankly, Sinclair didn't have the time to waste in protecting Rosier's little sister. Honestly, he should be doing it himself -- where was he? He made a mental note to tell him all about this little encounter; this was not so that he could bask in the other's gratitude, as some might imagine, but more to make him feel inadequate for his lack of attention. Sinclair never let his younger sibling get into trouble like this, and Louis wasn't half so helpless (or useless) as the girl directly before him.

As tall as he could make himself, looking almost as aristocratic in build as anyone else when his shoulders squared with feigned formality, he tilted his head as he addressed her. "I hope you'll forgive me for being so direct," he told her very falsely. "But I couldn't care less. I'm sure you have nothing left to say of consequence, and so I think this conversation is over." With that, his hand was back on Druella's shoulder, if only to steer her away. Though he had not been offended in the slightest, his free hand twitched on the handle of his wand -- he'd have liked nothing better than firing off a jinx or two at Catriona before they were through.

[Druella Rosier]

The situation, though saved by Sinclair's presence, felt, to Druella, all the more humiliating for the presence of a witness. She had her hands clasped tightly in front of her and, though she stole a glance at the contrary girl in front of them, her gaze remained, for the most part, locked on the hallway floor. She was more than ready for Catriona to be finished, and more than struck by the other girl's lack of manners, refusing to be dismissed so pointedly.

She felt she had become somewhat surplus to the situation, which she would not minded except that she disliked having to stand in the centre of it. She felt Sinclair's hand on her shoulder again, and found it less strange as a gesture the second time. She spoke up only quite softly and only because she assumed the boy's words to be final. "Good afternoon," she addressed it to Catriona, although she didn't raise her eyes to look at her or Avery, following the older away from Cat and the confrontation.

[Catriona McCormack]

Cat had not forgotten Druella’s presence – quite the opposite, actually. As her eyes flickered between the two Slytherins a bemused expression settled on her face, and the corners of her lips raised in a smirk. She showed no signs of being the slightest bit intimidated by the older boy, and quite frankly she wasn’t. After all, she had never been one for understanding when it might be best to keep her mouth shut. She did not bother to stifle her short burst of laughter, that was more of a snort, and although it was Sinclair who her words were directed towards her eyes settled on the other girl instead, only flicking toward him occasionally.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” Slumping backward against the wall behind her she crossed her arms over her chest, her poor posture only more obvious for that of her companions. “I mean, if we’re done, aint like I’m keeping ya,” her smirk persisted, and although she made no move to stop their exit nor did she show any signs of doing the same. Having forgotten what it had been she was doing before running into Druella, or perhaps simply not caring, she was in no rush to leave the scene. Entirely unneccessary – like all of her actions this evening had been, really – she could not refrain from calling out, still slouched against the wall, and apparently quite amused by herself, "See you later, yeah!"

[Sinclair Avery]

Easily offended as anything, there were several things he might have said to her, each gradually less clever and more cruel. True to his word though, Sinclair was quite finished the the conversation by the time she let out a laugh, personally offended or not. An ugly, burning flare of temper made its way up his chest, but he found a way to contain it as he steered Druella away, slightly splotchy around the neck and clenching his jaw around a self-satisfied smirk that was nothing if not forced. "I hope not," was all he could snap in return, not quite mature but also a great deal more tame than he had felt.

Following their departure, he did not really want to speak to the girl whose shoulder he still had a loose grip on. It almost took him a moment to realize that she was even still walking with him, annoyed as he was, and he only dropped his hand from her when he did. There was no apologetic look in his eye as he did so, and instead a slight roll of the eyes as his frustrations shifted. After all, this wasn't even really his problem - his intervention had been practically charity. "Does your brother know about how that mudblood speaks to you?" he asked, and it was clear which Rosier he was referring to without any need of clarification.

[Druella Rosier]

Druella had no desire to see Catriona later- or ever - if she could have helped it, but she happily allowed their interaction to end with that sentiment, following Sinclair down the hall away from the confrontation, now thankfully backed down from on all sides. She let him guide her some distance, not making any effort to push him into conversation as he did not attempt it himself. Druella in some ways strived to be forgotten, or to be so conformed so as not to stand out in any way that might have been objectionable. This came easily, and was therefore expected. She didn't want to be forgotten, but she had been taught to want to be composed to the extent that the side effect came without bidding. She was not discontent to be accompanied quietly, though she turned her attention to the older boy as soon as he took up the conversation.

"I had not thought to trouble him by it," she responded, also making the connection to Foras without any difficulty. Of course, she was aware that Foras was likely to object to McCormack's behaviour - it would have been difficult not to - but she was not used to making a fuss, or having to make one, and the idea of riling her brother seemed to her intrusive and rather inappropriate. Besides, perhaps, there was a certain secretive shame to the encounter - in allowing herself so far flustered. She did not think of it as secretive in any scheming way, but she wasn't eager to draw more of that sort of attention to herself, of her own accord.

[Sinclair Avery]

Almost double-taking at this, if only because he could not imagine himself feeling anything but infuriated if his own (completely hypothetical) little sister had kept something like that from him, Sinclair stared for a rather unsettling moment. Wondering absently at that, it took him some time to recall that, all considered, Foras was a strange case. However obviously different they were though, he couldn't (perhaps in a stroke of self-centeredness) imagine anyone being so strikingly different that he'd not be upset by this.

"I'll tell him," he responded decisively, after a barely substantial pause to think it over. Perhaps it was the fact that she was so mild and almost vague, but he felt even more controlling and, quite honestly, forceful than usual. He might have walked away just then, but a combination of his late-remembered manners and a lack of eagerness to get to class slowed him. "What class are you going to?" he asked, still a little sharp.