I srsly need all of the Spongebob time cards. For personal reasons.
TheLeeLee Member
I, as a general rule, have no idea what I'm doing.
STATUS: "The absurdity of working so hard to continue doing something you don't like can be overwhelming." 9 yrs ago
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- TheLeeLee 10 yrs ago
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"The absurdity of working so hard to continue doing something you don't like can be overwhelming."
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LeeLee --Also Leegaroo// Marsupial// Hermit// Actor// Horribad Human BeingMost Recent Posts
Hey, it's only taken me months, but look there's now a LeeLee on here!
And I'm always a slut for Hawkguy stuffs!
And I'm always a slut for Hawkguy stuffs!
I'm here to bump -clap- you up!
I'm really, *really* wanting a Ted for my Andromeda, so CALLING ALL TED TONKS!!
Bumping again.
I'm really kind of feeling my medieval-feel fantasy-esque characters right now. I have three well developed ones, and when I created them they were all princesses/monarchs of some kind because I was really in that feel in that moment, but they can be adapted to just about anything.
Always wanting to explore Ancient themes, but also kind of wanting modern Slice of Life.
I REALLY need to brush up on writing romance again, so I am so down for one of those lost loves, "we were together but now we're not but I still love you" kind of stories. If I'mma do a flat out casual sort of romance roleplay, I don't want to be building the relationship from the bottom. In an advanced setting, with a hella complex story, yes, building from the beginning when they meet and such, but I also really want a casual love story.
My casual is still, like, five paragraphs though.
Cissa’s batting at the scarf made her giggle, and Andromeda flopped down beside her sister rather indelicately –but next to Narcissa, every move made looked indelicate. Stretching her arms above her the darker-haired sister smiled and tried, desperately, to keep her focus on what Narcissa was blissfully chittering about. But worry started to cloud her thoughts, darkening her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling of her old bedroom. _When do I get to meet Ted?_ Those words, in her little sister’s dainty voice, kept repeating in her mind. _When do I get to meet Ted?_
Did she _really_ want to meet him?
Andromeda was terrified of the idea of Ted meeting any of her family –even Sirius, who, she knew, would certainly have no complaints against her being in a relationship with a muggleborn. Archaic and hideously inaccurate beliefs aside, her family could be a bit… overwhelming. Unyielding, aggressive in a dangerously quiet sort of way, and, above all, proud. Dear Cissa and Sirius weren’t nearly as bigoted as the rest, but still Dromeda feared introducing her Ted to them. Sirius was careless, and not above humiliating someone for his own pleasure, but Narcissa; Andromeda was so scared that if her sister finally met Ted, she’d find something about him to detest –his family, his manners, his speech, his penchant for too well-worn leather jackets; how he puts half a dozen sugars in his tea and then lets it cool too long before drinking, how he always manages to miss a spot after washing anything, how he bounded when he walked, how he seemed to always chuckle when he talked, how he was rarely ever on time. His rather odd love of ‘Glam Rock’. How he considered himself the best pie-maker in the world, and even owned a certificate (he’d made for himself) that said so. How proud of was of his damn pies. How proud he was; of his family and his jackets and his tea and his walk and his _damn pies_. He could be a bit overwhelming at times, unyielding, aggressive in a quiet sort of way, and **proud**.
Andromeda didn’t want Narcissa to find something about Ted to disapprove of. Narcissa’s support was all that she had, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it because Ted wasn’t quite what her sister wanted him to be.
It was a horrible thing for her to think; Narcissa was not nearly so vain as to turn her nose up at a man simply because he did not dress in the finest robes like her Lucius Malfoy, and Ted was strong enough to handle Cissa’s possible scrutiny. Her little sister could be a bit over-protective, sometimes, of the ones she held dear. Still, the dark-haired witch worried, and wasn’t quite sure if she’d ever be ready for them to meet.
Andromeda pulled herself away from her fretting by trying to focus on Narcissa’s tales of Hogwarts, allowing herself a smile as her little sister happily spoke of Lucius, even though Dromeda had never been too overfond of their fellow Slytherin. He was a bit too _stuffy_, for her taste. At school Lucius Malfoy seemed too wanting of attention, needy, self absorbed and arrogant, and she’d made a point of not spending very much time around him. But Cissa was happy with Lucius, and perhaps he wasn’t really as bad as he seemed. Perhaps she’d find out if he had a less stodgy side at Auntie Walburga’s party.
A fairly audible groan left her at the thought of having to attend yet another of those dreary parties at Grimmauld Place, with her aunt and her disgusting taste in taxidermy, “that is the best way to get him better acquainted with our family. I mean, they’re plenty familiar with him and all, but if he’s this serious you _know_ everyone is going to be testing him, seeing if he is truly worthy of the most precious of the Black family’s jewels! The startling piece of onyx is now bought and paid for, and no one wants the rough little piece of dark amber, but that radiant little diamond; they can’t let just anyone have her! He has to be truly perfect.”
She sighed lightly, curious and, frankly, almost amused by the thought of her mother and aunt spending their whole evening inspecting Lucius Malfoy; watching them buzz around him the entire time, picking and tutting and huffing question after question. It would certainly keep the two from bothering Andromeda any, and she rather liked the idea of spending one Yule Party free of the overbearing Black matriarchs. “If everyone else is just as fond of him as you are by the end of the night, Mummy might be planning a February wedding for you!” Andromeda smirked, nudging her sister’s shoulder lightly, “and, if they don’t, then I’m sure he’ll make a lovely addition to the soup.”
The brunette gasped, turning quickly towards her sister and failing to hide her grin, “If they off Lucius for being unworthy of you, do you think Auntie will choose to have him dismantled, or stuffed? He’s pretty enough, I’m sure he’d look lovely mounted on a wall; might make the place a little less hideous…”
Head nodding in approval, her cheek resting against her forearm, Andromeda’s legs curled instinctively behind her as she lay on her side, and finally fell into the comfort of being home. Her eyes landed on the daisy in her sister’s hair, and she smiled, “In all seriousness, though; I really do hope he’s a good enough man for you. He better make you completely, unbelievably happy. And truly understand just how special you are. Otherwise, he’s not getting past me.” Her dark eyes narrowed in a horrible imitation of Bella’s warning scowl, a look that even in attempt Andromeda could not take seriously and that caused the tone of her voice, that she was truly trying to keep severe, crack with unsuccessfully held back giggles, “And if you think Mummy and Auntie Walburga would be cruel, it’s nothing compared to what I’d do to him—”
Andromeda tried. She really did. She tried so hard to keep her voice serious, because she was serious. If Lucius ever showed any signs of being unfit for her little sister the brunette would not be above using unsavory means of getting rid of him. She had no desire to keep the blonde wizard’s head as a trophy, as her aunt would, or to use his spine as candle holders as mummy had threatened to do to so many in her day. No. She didn’t like the idea of death, but if need be she’d find a way past her aversion, for Narcissa. Atleast, she thought that she could, if the need ever arose. She was a daughter of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; of course she could. She was serious, maybe too serious. So serious, that even she could not really take herself seriously? she guessed, and before she could even finish her thought she was dissolving into giggles at her failure. It was all too silly anyways. Lucius was a bit of an uppity prat, but he certainly couldn’t be dangerous.
“And!” Andromeda continued through her giggles, “if he does show up to Auntie’s party, truly as a suitor and not as just another pureblood nob, I’d be interested to see how long he’d last without Sirius setting him on fire! If he manages to survive whatever our cousin throws at him, I’d say he’s definitely one to keep!!” She was cackling into her duvet by now, finding the idea now of Sirius waging war against the blonde’s significant other for an entire evening just as, if not more, entertaining than her mother tailing him and battering the snake with questions. Both would be nice, actually. This might turn out to be the best party Auntie Walburga’s ever thrown, “And, if you think about it, if Sirius is trying to kill him then he likely is the absolute best choice for you.”
Bumping this with a reminder that I am the worst human being ever, and sometimes life just becomes too difficult and I disappear and don't talk to anybody for months; that, even if I'm not in a horrible spot and am present in the world, I reply rather inconsistently and may reply once a day or more for every game I'm writing sometimes and then can maybe only reply to one game 5/8 of the way through every lunar cycle for half a year and then spit out fifty replies for others in a day; and that I write A LOT --Seriously, it's difficult for me to write something with LESS than 3,000 words.
Also, I pre-plan like crazy and cannot start a game without having gone over loads of details with you. I tend to build characters specific for each game. If not, I tailor old ones who'll fit. I never come into an idea with a pre-set pairing or gender or type in my mind, I prefer to find who will best fit AFTER I've started developing a story idea. That being said, I do have a ton of characters in my mind that I've already developed and would love to play, but first I gotta find the right story for them. And, at the moment, most of the ones present in my mind are female.
AND another note: I can be both the absolute best and worst friend ever, if I'm not too afraid to talk to you when I'm struggling, so if you wanna write with me you might need to prepare yourself for me apologizing all the damn time and telling you about all the horrible things around me. I am always here to talk if someone wants to, but I will always be here talking to those who will listen. So if my constant PMing you or chattiness ooc and rather self-deprecating and clingy behavior aren't something you can handle, I'm sorry. I won't turn you away, but you might not want to try with me.
In short, I may, like, never actually be here and I'm picky and stubborn and rambley and clingy, but please consider writing with me!
Can of worms OPENED!
Now, hear me tale of woe:
I still hide it from everyone. EVERYONE. Technically, I started this with my sister a decade ago, but when she started it was just chatting on a forum like a normal person, and then she dragged me in, and would try to reply to people as me —which I though was hella weird. She lost interest in it really fast, but I stuck around because, hey! I kinda had friends! It took me a long time to figure out what exactly was going on, and I made a hell of a lot of newbie mistakes, but I found something I could really enjoy and was proud of that.
(Prepare yourself for my life story)
I started out on the Harry Potter Dialogue Centre and, because I’m not the best with handling change, stayed there almost exclusively through my entire roleplaying career until it shut down a year and a half ago and to this day I still struggle writing outside of the HP Fandom because of how my attempts to branch out were received by others. People judged me for writing HP Fics, but judged me a thousand times more when I was writing anything else. People who knew me irl judged me on my writing, because I’m dyslexic, and it’s great fun for others to sift through my writing and point out every incorrect word in there. The first time I let one of my sisters read a short story of mine, and she pointed out that I’d used 'piece' instead of ‘peace’ AND that I’d switched the i and the e, I tore the notebook out of her hand, and she and everyone near her laughed about it for weeks.
I panicked, once, because I introduced myself to someone on HPDC and their reactions was "Hey, my friend's sister has that same name!"
The first person I told was my closest friend. I’d created a character inspired by her, and I’d been writing for almost a year at that point so I felt comfortable letting her know. She gave me a strange look, chuckled awkwardly, and left my birthday party —where she was the only person attending— an hour early and didn’t talk to me for a week. She played online roleplaying games, and video games, but somehow writing wasn’t the same and she didn’t approve. I didn’t let anyone outside of my online community read any of my writing for almost nine years.
My parents knew I spent all day on the internet, but once my dad was sure I wasn’t giving my phone number to pedophiles they generally didn’t care. Few questions were asked when I spent four hours straight on the family computer. Fewer questions were asked when I moved the family computer into my bedroom because no one else was using it and I was uncomfortable knowing they could read over my shoulder in the living room. They just let me be.
My parents didn’t know.
My siblings, for the most part, didn’t know.
My kind-of boyfriends didn’t know.
No one I went to school with knew.
Hell, my employer didn’t know and I wrote a lot while on the work computer because I could.
After the horrid reaction of my best friend I started writing only under my alias, an alias I still use, because I was terrified of people I knew finding me on the internet. Absolutely terrified. I was also terrified of my internet friends finding me irl, and discovering how pitiful of a human I am.
I told one friend my senior year that I “write Harry Potter Fanfiction” and he screamed blasphemy, and I didn’t write for like a month.
But I’m getting better with it. High School me would be mortified with the steps I’ve taken, just within the past year or so. She would also be extremely pissed with me, because back then I could stay up writing until 4am or later, and still be up and at school by 8 with no problems. High School me would also be infuriated by how little writing I accomplish, compared to how much time I now have. But whatevs.
In just the past year I’ve told TWO of my real life friends —technically three but one was completely plastered when I told her and doesn’t remember anything— and neither of them judged me too harshly.
When I told the first, one of my oldest friends from school, she genuinely thought I was coming out of the closet with the way I was acting. I first broke it by saying I just wrote fan fiction, and she handled that fairly well. Then I elaborated a little more to her, and her reaction was “…and?”
To her, it wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d known people who’d roleplayed when she was in college, and thought it was cool that I wrote HP stuff. The whole conversation, however, happened via text message, and this is a friend I hadn’t seen in over two years by that point. I offered her one of my games to read over, and immediately panicked after sending her the link. She never read it, and I guess that brought some relief. But, after I told her, she found an article for me, talking about the stigma of writing fics and roleplaying and it was really nice of her. It really enlightened me, because I’d always thought I was the only one in the community who was so frowned upon for this, because all of the online friends I’d made seemed hella confident and talked to all of their online friends outside of the forums, some even met up and hung out! Some let their friends and fam read our writing (which scared the piss out of me when I found out); everyone I knew who roleplayed never seemed as troubled as me.
A few (okay, like, six or seven) months ago, I was writing a post on my phone at work, and a coworker asked me about it. I just kind of giggled awkwardly and told her I was writing and she shrugged and walked away. But after a while she kept asking, so I finally just kind of let everything spill —and while she didn’t mock me, she definitely seemed judgey, but she let me ramble to her about it. Then she started to get pushy, asking if I’d write things for her and such, and I tried to explain that it didn’t really work that way for me, but one day at lunch she somehow convinced me to trust her enough to let her read a drabble I’d written for a character. Just a drabble. A drabble of a memory of one character’s childhood that really had nothing to do with the game, but was fun character development and I was proud of it.
I suffer from frequent, absolutely horendous anxiety attacks. I have them all of the time, over everything. I swear in the twenty minutes it took her to read the drabble (as you may have noticed, I write _a lot_) I swear I pretty much died, like, seven times. I was in agony. If I hadn’t been in the middle of a Starbucks, I’d have been on the floor screaming. She chuckled at some parts, and I seemed hopeful. She commented on the length of the post, and I wanted to chuck myself out of the window. When she finished she just kind of looked at me, handed me back my phone and said “Cool. I have no idea what I was reading, but it wasn’t bad.”
I shouldn’t have driven back to work after that. I was trembling so violently I couldn’t see and I honestly don’t know how I got back to work. For the next fews hours I got a lot of “dude, what’s the big deal?” and “are you actually, like, having a panic attack over this?” from her. She thought my reaction was cute. And now, the only question she has for me concerning, aside from “where’s my story?”, is
“If you’re dyslexic, how do you even write?!”
Carefully. Painstakingly. It tends to take me hours, even days, and it’s frustrating as hell most days, but even still I love it. Thanks for asking.
But that, even with how horrible it is, is progress.
My parents still don’t know.
My siblings still don’t know, for the most part.
But one person who I have to see every day knows, and I’m slowly learning to not care.
I used to rarely talk to my online friends out of character. Once I did, things got weird, but after a while I got past the weird ones and formed some pretty solid friendships, under my alias, with people who were technically complete strangers. I never, ever, spoke to any of them outside of the HPDC. I tried, once, but never got anywhere.
I moved to the Guild almost two years ago, on the request of one of my dearest online friends. We chatted a lot over PM, about our lives and the world and and cats and things normal people talk about, and the fear made me physically ill. But I worked past it, and invited another close friend to the Guild.
Where before no one I’d ever talked to online knew me, had no proof aside from words on a screen that I was even actually a human who existed, now; I have one writing buddy I talk to nearly every day. She knows just about everything about me there is to know. At first we just chatted about our game ooc, then over PM, then we moved our game over to tumblr and followed each other’s blogs. Then we created a blog specifically for us to talk to each other because we could. We’ve built extremely elaborate worlds together, we’ve talked each other through horrible moments. She’s the first friend I’ve allowed to email me.
In October I started playing Borderlands with her. The first time we played, she chatted at me over the headset, but I didn’t have a headset because I was too terrified of her hearing my voice. Of actually confirming to her that, yes, I am an actual human being. I do live. See, I have vocal chords that function somewhat properly, that’s proof, right? But after that game, I went and bought a headset. I had to spent the first hour of the next time we gamed trying to get it to work, but the excited “Yayyyy!!” I heard once I got it working made things a lot less scary.
She has my phone number. I text her every day, sometimes about character ideas, sometimes for advice. Sometimes I just text Spice Girls lyrics to her! She butt-dialed me the other day.
But she’s the only online friend who has ever, ever, been this close to knowing me irl. And she’s pretty much the absolute _best_ friend that I have. She suffers through my horrible writing, and still (sometimes literally) talks to me at the end of the day.
I’ve let one irl friend in on my hobby, and she kind of judges me for having a panic attack over it and pressures me to write for her, but she hasn’t disowned me yet.
I’ve let one online friend into my real life, and I’ve been able to let offline people read my writing. I’ve been able to be comfortable knowing that people close to her have read my writing. I’ve become comfortable letting her, and people she knows, know how pitiful of a human being I am. I’ve almost let her see of selfie of me, and I barely allow people irl to see me!! She’s heard my cat grumble at me. She’s heard me spew profanities at scavs and kraggins and Lost Legion Marines and at myself for misgauging a jump. I’ve LET HER HEAR MY VOICE! I’ve talked to an online friend, offline, more than I have any member of my family in nearly a year.
More than I have a high school friend in almost three.
I still have not told my parents.
Or my siblings.
Or any other friends or coworkers or acquaintances.
Because the first rule of Fight Club IS you do not talk about Fight Club!
And the second rule is?!
But I’ve let an online friend into my life. And, really, I could probably let others in too. I’m not as afraid of being discovered by people who live miles, states, worlds away. And that’s progress.
High School me would be so pissed right now.
CORRECTION: I forgot about the eleven year girl who was in a play with me when I was eighteen, who I geeked out over Harry Potter with the entire time of the show that I told a little bit about my stories, and encouraged her to write too. But I never let her read any of my stuff, and she was too young to understand any stigma on roleplaying, I didn't even call it roleplaying, I just said I wrote stories with other people online and she thought it was nifty, but didn't understand why I didn't write the stories by myself like everyone else does.
I STILL EXIST!!
I'm soooo sorry. I haven't abandoned you, I swear!! Work is dumb, and then I got wrangled into helping my niece with her halloween costume, and now I have a huge pile of things to catch up on. Boo.
I'll get something to you this week. I promise. Again, so sorry for disappearing and shit. I do tend to do that, and I hate it and I suck and I'm sorry.
I'm soooo sorry. I haven't abandoned you, I swear!! Work is dumb, and then I got wrangled into helping my niece with her halloween costume, and now I have a huge pile of things to catch up on. Boo.
I'll get something to you this week. I promise. Again, so sorry for disappearing and shit. I do tend to do that, and I hate it and I suck and I'm sorry.
I STILL EXIST!!
I'm soooo sorry. I haven't abandoned you, I swear!! Work is dumb, and then I got wrangled into helping my niece with her halloween costume, and now I have a huge pile of things to catch up on. Boo.
I'll get something to you this week. I promise. Again, so sorry for disappearing and shit. I do tend to do that, and I hate it and I suck and I'm sorry.
I'm soooo sorry. I haven't abandoned you, I swear!! Work is dumb, and then I got wrangled into helping my niece with her halloween costume, and now I have a huge pile of things to catch up on. Boo.
I'll get something to you this week. I promise. Again, so sorry for disappearing and shit. I do tend to do that, and I hate it and I suck and I'm sorry.
Narcissa mentioned Ted, and Andromeda’s cheeks burned again. She wasn’t embarrassed by her relationship with him. He was wonderful, really, and she was certainly proud to be in his life. But he was a muggleborn, and a Hufflepuff and in school he’d taken classes like Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies, where she’d taken far more keenly to the finer subjects of Charms and Divination. The only point they’d had in common at school was Potions, and even there they greatly contrasted in approach. Ted Tonks loved to run and laugh and rips flowers out of the ground by their roots, courteously shaking some of the dirt off before handing them to a lady; he was practically her opposite in every way, and she couldn’t be happier with him. It shocked her, however, that Narcissa was bold enough to mention him. Here. Where there was a chance that their parents could hear! Then again, the blonde Black sister had always been braver than she was, even braver than Bellatrix. Cissa was bold, and unafraid of being so; Dromeda may have envied her sister’s boldness, but also loved her dearly for it.
Luckily, her flushed face could be played off as having been caused by the exertion from running, and not the fear and embarrassment of Narcissa’s boldness reaching their mother’s ears.
Andromeda received a strange look from the little elf struggling with her bag. She didn’t recognize him, but, honestly, she’d paid very little mind to the elves in her parents’ household while she’d lived here –and, if asked, she could probably only remember the names of the select few who had been set to serving herself and her sisters personally. Lousey, Minda, Hoster –or was it Houster? This little elf looked remarkably like Hoster/Houster, as it stood staring at her, cowering near the doorframe –were young elves unable to apparate, she wondered? She decided she's ask Jink when she returned after Christmas. Dromeda gave the young elf a small smile, and the poor thing looked horrified by it, and she frowned. Maybe she’d spent a little too much time with only her house elves to talk to… her elves, Madame Bissett, and Ted. And Ted always treated her elves well, trying to engage them in conversation, constantly inquiring about their lives and the like. He treated them as though they were human –an odd but endearing feature of his—and as she watched the little terrified creature she began to wonder if his behaviour was beginning to rub off on her.
Her sister’s cool voice started to describe the Lestrange brothers, and it did not sound the least bit winded –which really should not have surprised her, Narcissa had always been one to not waste her energy on the little races, Bellatrix was the one who had to win everything. Andromeda always fell somewhere in the middle. Dromeda grinned up at Narcissa as the blonde elegantly stepped right over her, and sat up with a little more grace than she’d had when she’d fallen. Listening to her sister compare the two brothers, the brunette could not restrain the disgusted expression making its way onto her face.
“Ugh… I’m definitely not too interested in rats,” Andromeda cringed at the thought, resting against her doorframe –half inside of the room, half out—as she thought it over, “And though cunning they may be, snakes tend to be sneaky too! And quite… cold. Although I am rather fond of some snakes!” She had to be, the dark-haired witch was related to more than half of Slytherin house. The Blacks were likely related to Salazar Slytherin himself, in some way; members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had been married into just about every wizarding family in the world, and certainly every other pureblooded family in Britain. They’d married into practically every family in existence, even, in Auntie Walburga and Uncle Orion’s case, back into the Black family. Dromeda cringed again at that thought; the idea of a pureblood marriage had always made her extremely uncomfortable, knowing that every bloke of her status was her cousin, in some manner. That was largely what made Ted so appealing to her, and at the thought of her muggleborn boyfriend Andromeda smiled again, gracefully lifting herself from the floor she dusted off her gown and finally entered her old room, “I think I prefer badgers. Badgers are rather warm, and adorable. Some badgers. Or, maybe, just one badger,” she stated quietly, still afraid her mother might hear.
It felt a little odd, being back in the manor --almost as if she hadn’t been away from it for nearly half of the year. Her room looked exactly the same, felt exactly the same, it even smelled exactly the same, as it had for the entirety of Andromeda’s life; like plum and nutmeg and that distinctly ancient, but not unpleasant, scent of old parchment. Her dark eyes scanned the room around her, and she sighed, both comforted and concerned by how easy it was to feel completely at home again.
Dromeda’s eyes landed back on Narcissa, and she gave a small shrug, “I don’t necessarily want to marry anyone, dear sister,” she grimaced with a light laugh, “And I certainly do not want to marry the rat-ish likes of Rabastan Lestrange. Or that brute Dolohov. Or Amycus, or any of those others Mother has lined up for me. But it might not be about what I want, Cissa. Bella’s wants certainly did not matter.” Andromeda took the suitcase the little elf had been struggling with, and the moment the luggage was out of his hands the poor thing bolted back out of the door. It seemed terrified, and she wondered if her aunt had been spending some time around the manor recently, disciplining their elves for them. She watched it leave, and felt odd for feeling guilty for the creature. Setting the bag next to her sister, the brunette nudged her lightly with her elbow and a smirk, “Not all of us can get away with telling Mummy and Daddy what for, like you can.”
She didn’t want to dwell too long on the subject of marriage. It was just about all her mother talked to her about now, and it was certainly the only thing Bellatrix ever mentioned in her letters, although her older sister’s words had been strangely becoming less about finding a proper match and more about building strong alliances. Bellatrix’s concerns seemed oddly militaristic, especially for a recently married woman. She was treating the whole ordeal like war, and it was certainly alarming. Andromeda popped open the clasps on the suitcase she’d lifted onto the bed, knowing she had another three she needed to sort through and unpack half of which were filled with things she really did not need to bring. A neatly wrapped parcel caught her eye the moment she opened the bag, “Oh! I also have a surprise for you!” the brunette sister gasped; she’d nearly forgotten about it, and it really was the first thing she should have taken care of upon arrival. Dromeda carefully handed Narcissa the parcel, unfolding the cloth she’d wrapped it in to keep it safe from her other belongings. She grinned down at the brilliant silver gown she had made especially for her sister. Of the three sisters, Andromeda was the one who most worried about modesty; of not appearing too haughty, of not seeming too proud of her own person over others, but Dromeda could not help but to be exceedingly proud of this. The fabric moved like water, and folded as it was the gown looked almost like a pool of pure silver inside of plain cotton wrapping, but when worn draped perfectly to the frame, and moved with as much fluidity and grace as she had always associated with her little sister. The brunette was incredibly proud of her handiwork, and for a moment could not bring herself to feel guilty for it. “This isn’t even your Christmas present… no, you’ll have to wait for that one! See, this is what you get when you have a sister who is learning from one of the finest seamstresses in the world, and who literally has nothing to do for most of her day. I can sew, I can read, I can eat –obviously,” she sighed sadly, smoothing the fabric on the sides of her gown down flat. She feared the increased inactivity of being such a homebody was starting to get to her, “and I can sleep… that’s really it. Sometimes Ted drags me out to the market, even after Jink has gone for me. He seems to think I need to experience more of the world, apparently it’s a crime to stay at home so often!”
Andromeda left the gift with the blonde and continued removing items from her bag as she gabbed. She probably should have been more concerned with prattling a bit less, but it had been so long since she’d truly spoken to her sister that Dromeda found it difficult to stop speaking once she’d started. She’d just started on summoning objects from a second bag, shuffling between necessities and needless bits of cloth from her tidying, when she found the flowers Ted had given her earlier in the afternoon. The brunette went quiet for a moment, before sending the bouquet to an empty vase she kept beside her bed.
“He sends his love,” she remarked rather offhandedly, reaching over to feel the soft petals of the once pitiful looking plants. Among all of the almost obscenely bright flowers there was a single white daisy. Andromeda removed it, handing it along to the blonde. Ted had said one of them was for Narcissa. “Oh, and insists that I just must get all of the latest, juiciest Hoggywarts gossip from you. Real life is so terribly boring, you see, nothing like life back at old Hogwarts at all!” She enthusiastically sat back down next to her sister, “You’ll see! You’ll begin to miss the mess inside of those castle walls, all of the drama and activity. The real world is not quite like that, not at all” Andromeda sighed sadly for a moment, before drawing herself back from the foolish bit of nostalgia. It was silly, really, but with Bella’s marriage and her own misadventures outside of Black Manor, Dromeda was starting to miss the bit of herself she’d left at school. As was Ted, she remembered, and smiled again, returning to her unpacking, “he wants details on the House Cup and Quidditch games, and on which professor accidentally set fire to a student first; his priorities are a little… odd. I am more interested in how you are doing. Do I need to dig up my old Arithmancy notes for you? If it’s Ellipsoid teaching the class I can get you the correct answers for all of his exams, for at least the next term; the man’s used the same exact tests for the past decade, it’s a wonder anyone manages to actually fail his class.” Andromeda scoffed; she might have been missing the antics of Hogwarts, but she certainly did not miss the needlessly boring Arithmancy class. “And how is Lucius?” She asked with a smirk, raising an inquisitive brow and waving a scarf teasingly at Narcissa.
Luckily, her flushed face could be played off as having been caused by the exertion from running, and not the fear and embarrassment of Narcissa’s boldness reaching their mother’s ears.
Andromeda received a strange look from the little elf struggling with her bag. She didn’t recognize him, but, honestly, she’d paid very little mind to the elves in her parents’ household while she’d lived here –and, if asked, she could probably only remember the names of the select few who had been set to serving herself and her sisters personally. Lousey, Minda, Hoster –or was it Houster? This little elf looked remarkably like Hoster/Houster, as it stood staring at her, cowering near the doorframe –were young elves unable to apparate, she wondered? She decided she's ask Jink when she returned after Christmas. Dromeda gave the young elf a small smile, and the poor thing looked horrified by it, and she frowned. Maybe she’d spent a little too much time with only her house elves to talk to… her elves, Madame Bissett, and Ted. And Ted always treated her elves well, trying to engage them in conversation, constantly inquiring about their lives and the like. He treated them as though they were human –an odd but endearing feature of his—and as she watched the little terrified creature she began to wonder if his behaviour was beginning to rub off on her.
Her sister’s cool voice started to describe the Lestrange brothers, and it did not sound the least bit winded –which really should not have surprised her, Narcissa had always been one to not waste her energy on the little races, Bellatrix was the one who had to win everything. Andromeda always fell somewhere in the middle. Dromeda grinned up at Narcissa as the blonde elegantly stepped right over her, and sat up with a little more grace than she’d had when she’d fallen. Listening to her sister compare the two brothers, the brunette could not restrain the disgusted expression making its way onto her face.
“Ugh… I’m definitely not too interested in rats,” Andromeda cringed at the thought, resting against her doorframe –half inside of the room, half out—as she thought it over, “And though cunning they may be, snakes tend to be sneaky too! And quite… cold. Although I am rather fond of some snakes!” She had to be, the dark-haired witch was related to more than half of Slytherin house. The Blacks were likely related to Salazar Slytherin himself, in some way; members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had been married into just about every wizarding family in the world, and certainly every other pureblooded family in Britain. They’d married into practically every family in existence, even, in Auntie Walburga and Uncle Orion’s case, back into the Black family. Dromeda cringed again at that thought; the idea of a pureblood marriage had always made her extremely uncomfortable, knowing that every bloke of her status was her cousin, in some manner. That was largely what made Ted so appealing to her, and at the thought of her muggleborn boyfriend Andromeda smiled again, gracefully lifting herself from the floor she dusted off her gown and finally entered her old room, “I think I prefer badgers. Badgers are rather warm, and adorable. Some badgers. Or, maybe, just one badger,” she stated quietly, still afraid her mother might hear.
It felt a little odd, being back in the manor --almost as if she hadn’t been away from it for nearly half of the year. Her room looked exactly the same, felt exactly the same, it even smelled exactly the same, as it had for the entirety of Andromeda’s life; like plum and nutmeg and that distinctly ancient, but not unpleasant, scent of old parchment. Her dark eyes scanned the room around her, and she sighed, both comforted and concerned by how easy it was to feel completely at home again.
Dromeda’s eyes landed back on Narcissa, and she gave a small shrug, “I don’t necessarily want to marry anyone, dear sister,” she grimaced with a light laugh, “And I certainly do not want to marry the rat-ish likes of Rabastan Lestrange. Or that brute Dolohov. Or Amycus, or any of those others Mother has lined up for me. But it might not be about what I want, Cissa. Bella’s wants certainly did not matter.” Andromeda took the suitcase the little elf had been struggling with, and the moment the luggage was out of his hands the poor thing bolted back out of the door. It seemed terrified, and she wondered if her aunt had been spending some time around the manor recently, disciplining their elves for them. She watched it leave, and felt odd for feeling guilty for the creature. Setting the bag next to her sister, the brunette nudged her lightly with her elbow and a smirk, “Not all of us can get away with telling Mummy and Daddy what for, like you can.”
She didn’t want to dwell too long on the subject of marriage. It was just about all her mother talked to her about now, and it was certainly the only thing Bellatrix ever mentioned in her letters, although her older sister’s words had been strangely becoming less about finding a proper match and more about building strong alliances. Bellatrix’s concerns seemed oddly militaristic, especially for a recently married woman. She was treating the whole ordeal like war, and it was certainly alarming. Andromeda popped open the clasps on the suitcase she’d lifted onto the bed, knowing she had another three she needed to sort through and unpack half of which were filled with things she really did not need to bring. A neatly wrapped parcel caught her eye the moment she opened the bag, “Oh! I also have a surprise for you!” the brunette sister gasped; she’d nearly forgotten about it, and it really was the first thing she should have taken care of upon arrival. Dromeda carefully handed Narcissa the parcel, unfolding the cloth she’d wrapped it in to keep it safe from her other belongings. She grinned down at the brilliant silver gown she had made especially for her sister. Of the three sisters, Andromeda was the one who most worried about modesty; of not appearing too haughty, of not seeming too proud of her own person over others, but Dromeda could not help but to be exceedingly proud of this. The fabric moved like water, and folded as it was the gown looked almost like a pool of pure silver inside of plain cotton wrapping, but when worn draped perfectly to the frame, and moved with as much fluidity and grace as she had always associated with her little sister. The brunette was incredibly proud of her handiwork, and for a moment could not bring herself to feel guilty for it. “This isn’t even your Christmas present… no, you’ll have to wait for that one! See, this is what you get when you have a sister who is learning from one of the finest seamstresses in the world, and who literally has nothing to do for most of her day. I can sew, I can read, I can eat –obviously,” she sighed sadly, smoothing the fabric on the sides of her gown down flat. She feared the increased inactivity of being such a homebody was starting to get to her, “and I can sleep… that’s really it. Sometimes Ted drags me out to the market, even after Jink has gone for me. He seems to think I need to experience more of the world, apparently it’s a crime to stay at home so often!”
Andromeda left the gift with the blonde and continued removing items from her bag as she gabbed. She probably should have been more concerned with prattling a bit less, but it had been so long since she’d truly spoken to her sister that Dromeda found it difficult to stop speaking once she’d started. She’d just started on summoning objects from a second bag, shuffling between necessities and needless bits of cloth from her tidying, when she found the flowers Ted had given her earlier in the afternoon. The brunette went quiet for a moment, before sending the bouquet to an empty vase she kept beside her bed.
“He sends his love,” she remarked rather offhandedly, reaching over to feel the soft petals of the once pitiful looking plants. Among all of the almost obscenely bright flowers there was a single white daisy. Andromeda removed it, handing it along to the blonde. Ted had said one of them was for Narcissa. “Oh, and insists that I just must get all of the latest, juiciest Hoggywarts gossip from you. Real life is so terribly boring, you see, nothing like life back at old Hogwarts at all!” She enthusiastically sat back down next to her sister, “You’ll see! You’ll begin to miss the mess inside of those castle walls, all of the drama and activity. The real world is not quite like that, not at all” Andromeda sighed sadly for a moment, before drawing herself back from the foolish bit of nostalgia. It was silly, really, but with Bella’s marriage and her own misadventures outside of Black Manor, Dromeda was starting to miss the bit of herself she’d left at school. As was Ted, she remembered, and smiled again, returning to her unpacking, “he wants details on the House Cup and Quidditch games, and on which professor accidentally set fire to a student first; his priorities are a little… odd. I am more interested in how you are doing. Do I need to dig up my old Arithmancy notes for you? If it’s Ellipsoid teaching the class I can get you the correct answers for all of his exams, for at least the next term; the man’s used the same exact tests for the past decade, it’s a wonder anyone manages to actually fail his class.” Andromeda scoffed; she might have been missing the antics of Hogwarts, but she certainly did not miss the needlessly boring Arithmancy class. “And how is Lucius?” She asked with a smirk, raising an inquisitive brow and waving a scarf teasingly at Narcissa.
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