y o u r next m o v e - cissabby!

[tanith]

Tanith did not understand people who moaned about how awful Care of Magical Creatures was (like Cissa Black, who slept in the bed next to Tanith in the girls' dorms and wailed about the class constantly). Had they never experienced a Herbology class?! Didn't they know how awful it was to trudge through dirt, identifying fungis that looked and felt exactly the same, write full scrolls of essays on the properties of venomous tentacular? Tanith did. It was a Wednesday and she had double Herbology last thing. It ruined her Wednesday, she detested it so much and worse, she was bloody awful at it. Invariably she trudged back to the dorms on Wednesday afternoons amid muffled giggles to scrub mud, fungi and Merlin knows what else off her school robes before dinner. Today was no exception. They had been 'experimenting' of sorts with Fanged Geraniums, which were apparently 'nessescary to passing Herbology OWL'. Not only were they nessescary, they were also nasty little buggers. During 'caring' for her own, Tanith had incurred no less than seven bites to her fore-arms. She had never been so happy to see the class end.

She must have looked a sight for sore eyes as she trudged grumpily back to the Slytherin dungeons to clean herself up. It was drizzling, and by the time she reached the fifth year girls' dormitories and taken off her soaking wet winter cloak, Tanith's white blonde hair was hanging wet and limp around her shoulders, and there were smatterings of mud, blue ink and blood over her best school shirt. Scowling, she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and rummaged in her bedside cabinet to find the dittany she kept to fix her various cuts and bruises from being so accident prone. First dittany, then a shower Tanith told herself as she dabbed the potion on her bitemarks, wincing with each movement. She always felt horribly dirty after Herbology - she supposed it was her inner snob. Much as Tanith hated to admit that she had inherited anything from her parents, it didn't make sense that she had grown up in their staunch upper-class Malfoy Estate and not retained any of their stiff-upper-lip-snobbery.

After the shower Tanith felt better. She had got the stink of rotting fungi out of her hair and nails at least and the warm water got rid of the January chill from the greenhouses. Tanith stepped reluctantly out of the shower and frowned down at herself. The bloody bite marks would probably leave another few (albeit tiny) scars, and she was already beginning to look like a patchwork quilt with her various new and old scars. Wrinkling her nose with slight disgust at her body, Tanith wrapped herself in a fluffy white robe and padded barefoot back into the dormitory. It was early evening now and the castle with beginning to buzz with students leaving classes and going to dinner. Tanith usually went to dinner late, when it was quieter, so she could take her time. She began drying her stubborn blonde hair with the tip of her wand (a tip she'd seen some fourth year girls discussing in the common room) and again couldn't help but wrinkle her nose slightly at her reflection. She didn't care much for hair and make-up as a rule, but sometimes, secretly, Tanith did feel slightly envious of her room-mates, the likes of Cissy who it seemed woke up looking like a vision from the front cover of Witch Weekly.

She was disturbed from her ponderings by the door opening and Tanith jumped slightly, embarrassed to have been caught closely scrutinising her reflection like a vain preteen girl. Drawing her robe tightly around her Tanith retreated to her own bed to pick up some clothes, barely glancing at the girl she had just been thinking about, Cissa, standing in the door. "I'll be gone in a moment, I just have toget dressed" Tanith told her without looking back. Normally, Tanith and her dorm-mates did not get on particularly well, especially Cissa in recent years, and so she tended tokeep out of their way and hang out in other places instead. Obviously Cissa wanted to beautify herself in peace, Tan thought, pulling out her favourite (rather holey) jumper. After all, what could Tan possibly know about that Cissa would want to hear?

[/blockquote]

[narcissablack]

Narcissa was a terrible student. She was the first to admit it, too. She’d been a wonderful student in the Black family’s nursery; the most apt out of the three daughters in her studies. She could pour tea before either of her elder sisters and had mastered a waltz (though her mother was furious that she’d been allowed to even study the dance before turning seventeen. Narcissa had made it a practice to only dance a waltz far out of eyeshot of her mother and eldest sister; it was too vulgar a dance for a young girl, but Narcissa was far from considering herself a young girl any longer) by age fifteen. She could paint landscapes, recite poems, needle point, talk, walk, sit, stand, curtsey, sing, and tap away at a harpsichord. She was a proper student for her governess. Unfortunately it seemed those types of lessons needed to be augmented with proper schooling. It was this proper schooling that Narcissa nearly tried hard to not succeed in.

She found most of her classes boring and too dull to stay awake through. The rest were dreadful and wore at other parts of being (Care of Magical Creatures being the best example; she was never bored in that class, but it made her want to pull her eyes out and toss them into the great lake). There were very few classes she found interesting, two actually; potions and charms. Her father was pleased that she took after him in her slightly-above average ability in potions, but her real quality lay in charms. Transfiguration puzzled her and Defense Against the Dark Arts made her eyes roll backwards in frustration (the Blacks could not have worry less about having to defend against Dark Arts). It was charms that made sense, especially healing charms. She had a natural ability to close wounds, remove puss, and to fix sores. It was almost unfortunately that she, a girl of good breeding, would never put that skill into a major resource for her others.

Nay. Narcissa would graduate, marry a suitable man, produce an heir, and then be a hostess and wife to her husband. It was not in her stars to be a healer or mediwitch. Her nursery lessons had all been focused on giving her and then perfecting the skills needed to capture the eye of a proper, wealthy, aristocratic, and pureblooded husband. Every movement, every step was coordinated now to just being successful- by grabbing the attention of proper males. Proper males wanted proper women- just like their mothers. It wasn’t a myth that men searched for their mothers in possible mates. If men grew up with an adulterous whore, they then would seek out terrible whores for wives. If men grew up with a lady, only a lady would do. Narcissa was intending to marry into a whole family of ladies and lords, so a lady she would be.

It’s what came naturally anyways.

But she was really a terrible student. It was a rare occasion indeed when she would do her class work, or even go to class. She was probably on the verge of being expelled for her lack of participation, or at the very least her terrible grades. She hadn’t been at her last class, because she hated going to her last classes before dinner. They were the worst right after the first classes of the day. She’d instead spent the entire period hiding in her nook in the library, searching through heavy catalogues for a dress for the masquerade. Several pages had been ear marked, some dresses circled several times. She just hadn’t found the perfect one.

A lot was riding on this dance. The dress, the shoes, the hair, the makeup, the jewelry, the mannerisms, the everything needed to be as perfect as possible. Her date was the very gentleman she’d had her eye on since she grew confidant enough to think that she even had the smallest chance with him. He’d consumed her thoughts. They would be the perfect match. And then he’d asked her out, noticing her well and truly as someone to accompany him as a partner. She’d danced on clouds for the rest of that night, her heart racing.

Nothing short of perfection would due that night. But what would Lucius think of as perfection? She did not know, for sure, how Malfoys were raised. What did they think as appropriate? Were they more conservative, horrified by the idea of a hardly sixteen year old waltzing? Were they more liberal with their actions, using their name to save them? Would he think her cold, distant, and far too proper an conservative? Her head ached from the possibilities. She needed to get inside his head.

Narcissa was just thinking this when she slipped into her dorm room, the magazines tucked under her arm. And that’s when it hit her- as she spotted Tanith. She had a Malfoy so close she could literally dig her fingernails into the girl. A smile crept up her face.

“Oh, no bother Tanith dear. In fact, please stay. I’d much rather had you as a conversational partner instead of this dreadful silence.” She flopped down on her bed, opening the catalogue again.

“Are you attending the ball?”



Notes: :)
Outfit: click!
Words: 887
Muse: Cissa's playlist
Peers: The other Malfoy

[tanith]

Tanith hadn't expected Narcissa to reply, and in fact she didn't even want her to. They had been friends when they were younger, in that jeuvenile way that you cling to people you know in a new place. But since their first few years in the school the two girls had grown in completely opposite directions. Every time Tan ran into Cissa these days it seems that the youngest Black was more affected and pompous each time. She never seemed to have anything particular nice to say to Tan, it was as though she couldn't resist making a snarky comment about her romantic life or appearance, and Tanith on the other hand had no time for Narcissa's endless chattering about school gossip or which cut of robes looked best for her figure. She had no interest in the things Narcissa was interested in, and similarly Cissa didn't have time for Tan who was usually hidden under a pile of schoolbooks and didn't have anything 'interesting' to say. Nowadays therefore, Tanith didn't even bother to turn around when Narcissa entered a room. She thought Cissa was a bit of an airhead all things considered, but just hid it well behind a veil of upper-class decorum.

So after giving Ms. Black a brief glance, and a faint eye roll at the pile of magazines Narcissa was clutching tightly as though they held all the answers for their upcoming OWL's, Tanith pulled the curtains on her four poster bed to hurriedly change. She had just chucked off her robe and was hopping around in her underwear trying to pull on a pair of jeans when she heard Cissa's tinkling voice through the green velvet drapes. Tanith inwardly groaned. She didn't want to be a 'conversational partner' to a bored Narcissa Black, and she wondered what on earth Cissa wanted from her. She'd never expressed any interest in her conversational skills before. "Actually I think I'd prefer the silence" Tan grumbled under her breath, before calling out through the curtains "What do you want to talk to me about Narcissa?" She hoped that the other girl had at least the ability to sense the cynicism in her voice as Tanith frowned behind the curtain. She was particularly annoyed at Cissa's flouncing into the dormitory as she was in a bad mood about the state of her awkward teenage body post-shower. She doubted that Narcissa ever worried about her own body, or face - it seemed as though she was practically born a vision of loveliness.

Frowning, Tanith pulled her favourite jumper over her head with a grumpy 'hmph' at the rather generous stretch of material over her chest (her mother was always optimistic when she sent Tan clothes) and wrenched open the curtains. She coloured slightly as she spied Narcissa lounging on the bed, who asked her about, typically, the Valentines Ball. "I don't know yet" Tan shrugged, mumbling the sentence as casually as possible and getting to her knees to scramble under the bed to find her shoes. "I don't care very much, although I suppose it's your new most important upcoming social event" She called from under the bed with a slightly derisive tone. She'd spotted the magazines naturally, and it had occured to her that even if she did take Caradoc up on his offer to go 'as friends' she hadn't a clue what to wear anyway. A sudden thought occured to Tan and she came out from rummaging under her bed and sat near the pillows, pulling on her shoes and blowing some dust from her white-blonde hair. "Oh. You're going with Lucius? I heard someone mentioning it" She didn't know why it was even scandal, Tanith hadn't failed to notice Narcissa's lingering gazes at the back of Lucius' head in the Great Hall. She knew why Narcissa wanted to talk to her now. Bloody Lucius, he wasn't even that interesting, she thought grumpily.

[/blockquote]

[narcissablack]

Who would want silence? The idea made inner Narcissa scoff at the thought. Silence was dull, silence was boring, and best of all silence almost never happened when you were a lady like she. From the moment she woke up in the morning (afternoon when she was home, a lady never woke up before she wished) there was a constant buzz around her. House elves taking her order for breakfast, her personal maid doing her hair and trying to make small talk, her parents informing her of what she would be doing, her father dictating owls to his underlings while she wrote her own letters in his office, fighting with her sisters, and then the house was constantly making noises only old family homes could- groans and moans and whispers of the estate’s past. It didn’t change much when Narcissa was at school either; there was always the chatter of the girls in her entourage, the boys she sought for company (usually, cough, Lucius, cough) talking of Quidditch and boy things, the click of various heals against the stone floor, sipping of tea and pumpkin juice, and the groans and moans of the castle. She wondered vaguely if the mudbloods and lesser-borns that went to school with her were bothered by the noises the school made. They weren’t used to age in a home, more than likely, and they certainly weren’t used to the magic that coursed through the walls of the castle much like the water in the pipes. Not that she was concerned for them in any shape or form, she just wondered.

The idea of not wanting noise was something, Narcissa was sure, that Tanith was pleading for as a joke. Surely the girl, as unlike Narcissa as she was, didn’t want her moments in their shared room to be sound tracked by the dull roar of water in the walls, the faint tap of water on the air window panes, the rush of air past her ears, and her own heavy breathing. That was so dull! Especially for someone with such an opulent family as the Malfoys. The other blonde girl should want harpsichords and lyres and tinkles of laughter from girls of good breeding. She should want, Narcissa decided with scorn, to talk of the illustrious cousin Narcissa pined over. A small frown formed in the corners of Miss Black’s lips, deepening when she spotted the other girl’s apparel. It would not do for anyone the infamous blonde associated herself with to wear ill-fitting garb. It would not do for a Malfoy to wear it either (the idea briefly crossed her mind, being one of her favorite day dreams, of when she would wed Lucius that such clothing would be a slander on her own family name).

Narcissa slipped behind the girl, humming softly. She pushed a strand of lightly curled golden hair from her eyesight and pulled at Tanith’s jumper, pulling her wand out. Her face flushed with pleasure when the other girl mentioned Lucius’ name. “Why yes I am. He asked me just last evening. Of course I was expecting it with how wonderfully we get along. And Merlin knows I’m the only one with good enough taste to be on his arm at this event. It’s going to be full of girls in slutty, gaudy dresses because there aren’t any Mama’s to dress them. And then the mudbloods! It’s going to be a fiasco of the worst kind when it comes to fashion. I wonder if any will have to nerve to show up in muggle fashions; it will be a laugh, will it not?” Narcissa chattered away happily to the other girl, the smile never leaving her face even as she spat the word ‘mudblood’. All while she’d been giving her opinion on the Valentine’s ball, she’d been prodding at the girl’s jumper with the skilful eye only a fashion-obsessed girl of good standing could posses. She’d been tightening certain threads, loosening others, fitting the smooth material more aptly to her friend’s body.

“There! Isn’t that much better?” She pushed the girl to turn around for Narcissa’s inspection. The youngest Black didn’t wait for an answer as she began to remove that last remnants of dust from Tanith’s head and gently pulling the locks back into a tight French twist. “Have you gotten your dress robes yet? I purchased five of them, but I think I’m going to go with the Black silk number. Though….what’s your cousin’s favorite color? And how tall is he? I suppose I could wear one of the others if he would prefer something along the lines of blue silk….and I’d have to change what I’m wearing if I can’t wear the heals I picked out. How embarrassing would it be if I was taller than in him in my pumps?” She made a ‘tch’ noise in her throat and brought some magazines over to Tanith, splaying herself out on the other girl’s bed. “I don’t wear flats though, ever. Not even in school.” She added her legs moving up and down, stilling to show the other girl her current footwear.

“This is all very important you know. You should be paying better attention to the details.”

Notes: Sorry for the wait! Narcissa’s pushyyy.
Outfit: click!
Words: 872
Muse: Cissa's playlist
Peers: The other Malfoy
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[tanith]

Once Tanith had wondered aloud about Lucius and Cissa's upcoming date to the Masquerade Ball she regretted it immediately. Narcissa reminded her on occasion strongly of their other dorm-mate, Rita Skeeter. Like Rita, Cissa needed only a small push in the right direction and she could immediately create and steer an elborate conversation, even if the other person involved in that conversation hadn't a whit of interest in what she was saying. And Tanith didn't care very much at all for playing cupid, particularly when it involved her cousin and Cissa Black. Not that this was going to deter Cissa, even if Tanith was making it clear that she didn't want to talk. Freshly changed Tanith arranged herself cross-legged on her bed, strategically placed so that her back was facing Cissa ever so slightly, and pulled out a book from under her pillow. She had already finished this particularly novel the night before, but if it meant Cissa would give up quizzing her on Lucius (because that was evidently her intentions) Tanith would gladly go over the story again. But still the other blonde chattered on about what a perfect match she was for Lucius, as though they were married already instead of preparing for their first date. Tan contented herself to reply with enough 'Ahuh' and 'Mmmhms' to assure Cissa she was indeed listening, but personally she cared even less for 'sluts in muggle fashions' than she did for discussing Lucius' love-life.

Nethertheless she couldn't help but admire Cissa's diligence in pursuing the conversation, and wondered if she applied the same diligence to achieving the date to the Masquerade Ball with Lucius. She supposed it must have been part of Narcissa's perfect lady routine. She mimicked so well the well-bred but stupid blonde, able to walk in four-inch heels but failing most of her classes. Tanith was more proud of her 'O' in Astronomy than the fact that she fell over in heels, but sometimes, rarely, she did envy the fact that Cissa embodied an 'O' in their childhood ediquette lessons whereas Tanith embodied a capital 'T' for troll. Rarely though, and she'd never have admitted it.

Tanith frowned across to the other girl's bed as Cissa rustled about, pulling out fashion magazines, and suppressed a groan. She wasn't going to make Tanith pick out dresses with her, surely? Tan was so pre-occupied in fact, with making up an excuse for a quick exit that she didn't realise Cissa's intention was to groom her instead, until it was too late. Feeling the other girl's nimble fingers pulling at her jumper, Tanith stiffened and straightened herself, frowning in distaste and a little panic. She didn't like to be in such close contact to other people, not only because she wasn't used to it [being more awkward and less affectionate than most] but because she had just been lamenting over body insecurities and here was Cissa Black of all people mucking about with her jumper. "What are you - don't do that" Tanith grumbled, attempting to pull away from Narcissa and forgetting her own politeness and ediquette in her haste. She didn't want her jumper tight and fitted, she liked things baggy, they made her feel more comfortable and hidden. And she disliked having her hair scraped back from her face for the same reason. She felt altogether too exposed otherwise. But Tan's protestations went unheard as Cissa chattered on, and instead she decided to submit to her imprompt makeover, with every intention of fixing herself back to normal once Cissa had buggered off.

She was still peering at herself grumpily when Narcissa finally pulled back looking pleasantly at her handiwork. Tanith blinked at the unfamiliar figure in the mirror, with again grudging respect for her roommate. Somehow in the space of a few minutes she had managed to create the illusion of non-existent curves by stretching the material of Tan's jumper, and had managed to tame the rats nest of white blonde hair temporarily. "I - oh. Wow" Tanith mumbled at her reflection, looking bemused. Admittedly she looked nicer than usual, but she looked, Tan found with horror 'Cissa-like'. All polished and exposed. It felt alien and she didn't like it. Reluctant to be even ruder and hurt Cissa's feelings Tanith fiddled with the French twist and shook out her hair. "Maybe for the ball, if I go." She offered evasively, with every intention to loosen her jumper later too. She was happier than she thought to have Cissa return to quizzing her about Lucius in fact, it was the lesser of two evils considering the other option was being groomed. "Oh I er.. I don't really know his favourite colour.. green? Blue? I think he's about six foot.. six one, something like that" She was clutching at straws really. Yes, Tanith and Lucius had been close growing up, with neither having any siblings, but whilst Tanith felt she knew her cousin pretty well, that had never entailed memorising his vital statistics.

"I'm sure you'll be fine whatever you're wearing, heels and all" Tan offered again, not bothering to feign interest in the magazines and instead looking at her own flat shoes vaguely as Narcissa showed off her own [admittedly prettier] footwear. She couldn't help but make a small disparging noise at Cissa's gentle chiding though, pulling her own feet underneath her again. "We're in school Cissa. I think there are more 'very important' things than picking out your matching bloody robes for Lucius." Making a grumpy 'hmph' noise, Tanith pulled at the tightened and now uncomfortable collar of her jumper, rolling her eyes at Narcissa.

[narcissablack]

Narcissa clucked her tongue at the other girl. She clearly did not have her priorities straight, it was blatantly obvious that someone had been drilling the wrong things into Tanith’s head. It certainly wasn’t her parents for all it seemed to her that they were good, upstanding members of society with their priorities straighter than a luxury broom. It was probably the insufferable teachers who played daily tormenters to dear Cissa’s soul. They were always going on and on about how important it was to put all her effort into her class work. How homework should be her priority at night and not her social life. They were always blathering on about giving one-hundred and ten percent. They had it all wrong. “School is, to a young lady,” The blonde began to quote. She’d nearly memorized Miss Dalloway’s Book of Etiquette for the Young Witch by the time she hit her teens. She could recite the entire book now. “The basis to introduce herself to her peers. It is a vital, critical, and essential common ground for her to gain alliances, pursue acquaintances of good blood and standing, and most importantly- develop a basis for admirers, suitors, and young men wishing to court her.”

Narcissa offered one of those smiles. She was very gifted at that specific sort of smile. It was a combination of a smirk, a sneer, and a smile all at once. It was condescending in a not-so-obvious way. She disliked, very strongly, being told she was spending her life time incorrectly. It was the same look she gave her teachers and ‘modern and forward’ people that took pleasure commenting on how ‘old fashioned’ she and her family were; how ‘incorrect and backwards’ all these pureblood traditions were. They made her sick. Usually it came from blood traitors and mudbloods, the very worst of the lot. They had no right to spew such slander. And Pureblood traditions were far less vulgar and ‘backwards’ than they used to be. Young witches spend their ‘wedding night’ on the dining hall’s slab of a table at one point, in view of everyone. Of course, it proved her virginal status, but it also demeaned her and showed her exactly where a young witch’s place was. Now, that was safely tucked away in some bedchamber.

Narcissa’s heart fluttered. It always did when she thought about carnal acts. She was quite innocent when it came to that area. She had been sheltered as a girl and tried to remain so for the most part as she’d left the embrace of her family. Real pureblood wives were not the whores that seemed to populate the entity of Hogwarts. Real Pureblood wives-to-be thought nothing more important than her future as a wife, hostess, mother, and continuer of the Pure Wizarding race. She wondered if Tanith hadn’t had the same lessons that she had been given as a growing child. She had heard rumors that the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black were far more thorough and strict with child rearing, but surely this sort of thing was put into every proper young girl’s head. Her smile faltered into a small scowl.

“If I do not match my robes with my date’s, we will both look absolutely ridiculous. I can’t even imagine being that embarrassed. It is so very important I make the right impression in your dear cousin’s mind as well. That is…terribly, terribly important.” She let out the afterthought in a breathy, dreaming sort of voice. If she’d been with a true bosom friend, she’d have gone on about how it was important for Lucius to find her as perfectly agreeable as she found him because she wished for he to be her Wizard-of-Dreams. His charming personality, his dashing good looks, and his wonderful lineage made her heart swell with longing. He was the perfect companion and mate to a prime Pureblood heiress like herself. It was all very, very important.

“Your mother really would be ashamed of you being so indifferent about this occasion. And anyways, it’s a marvelous time to practice a waltz without annoying mothers’ watching us with steady eyes and ice-cold glares.” Oh yes, the rebel! Narcissa wanted to waltz unchaperoned without her parent’s knowledge! She was always the most wild of the Black children.

Notes: Sorry for the wait!
Words: 716
Peers: The other Malfoy
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[tanith]

[OMG. i completely didn't notice you had replied to this! sorreeee]

Tanith couldn't help but gape at Cissa as the other blonde recited some clearly learned to heart nonsense about how school wasn't important for 'Young Ladies'. Tan recognised the speech of course, it was from Mrs. Dalloway's Ediquette books or something to that effect. She'd had more than enough of Mrs. Dalloway's tips on looking fresh and fabulous and thinking only of boys and make-up from her own mother and nannies when she was growing up, as she expected most pureblood daughters had. But whilst Cissa had clearly adopted the teachings of Mrs. Dalloway as he own personal bible, Tanith had always treated it even as a child with boredom and disdain. Yes, she was obedient and learned off various passages to recite back to her mother and her friends, but as soon as it left her mouth it was out of the young girl's head, which Tanith was thankful for now. She'd much rather have had rotten hair and fashion sense than a head full of fairy dust. Tanith couldn't help but cock an eyebrow skeptically at Cissa, resisting the urge to roll her eyes with some difficulty. "Yes, and courting should be undertaken with grace, style and - yadda yadda yadda" She had forgotten the rest of the passage. What does a seven year old need to learn passages about courting by heart for anyway?

Tanith supposed that Mrs. Black must have applied the teachings of Mrs. Dalloway and the other Pureblood backward model housewives with much more vigour and diligence than her own mother. After all, the Blacks had three daughters, no heir, and they obviously had to make the best out of what they had, which meant turning each of them into model wives. They had clearly been successful with indoctrinating Cissa anyway, although Bellatrix and Andromeda seemed much less ladylike in comparison.

Tanith's own parents, on the other hand, had only had one rather lacklustre daughter, and had never quite been able to mask their disappointment enough to mold her into the Perfect Mrs. Pureblood. Tanith couldn't say she was very sorry that she'd missed out on much.Besides, growing up, Tanith had realised at a young age that the Pureblood wives backstabbed each other incessantly. Even though her own mother would have got along swimmingly with Cissa as they shared they same values and rather ditzy disposition, Tanith had heard the other Mrs. Purebloods whispering daggers about 'Camille Malfoy and her loose values'. She supposed it was because her mother wasn't English, but Mrs. Malfoy was in Tanith's experience as far from the bohemian French girl as there could be.

But Tanith wasn't filled with complete contempt for Cissa and her backwards feminism. Yes, Cissa was, in Tanith's opinion, and airhead, and quite frankly quite the bitch when she wanted to be, but she couldn' help but feel a bit sorry for her. Tanith ambled through each day without putting more thought into social decorum and her appearance than what would make her look normal and blend in. But Cissa cared desperately about every small detail of her appearance, her demeanor. It must have been so exhausting, and took up so much time. And it was easy not to feel so bad about her small moment of pitying Cissa, after all Narcissa was treating Tan's own ineptitude with a mixture of pity and contempt. Tanith's tone was gentler this time when she replied to Cissa's breathless worries about matching robes. "You could just ask him? I mean, he must like you aready somewhat. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked you to go." She shrugged, offering Cissa a placatory half-smile. Although she was being professional and coy about it Tanith had an inkling that Cissa liked Lucius much more than she was letting on. Poor sod.

Her expression closed over again quickl though, and she lost the smile as Cissa told her her mother 'really would be ashamed'. Tanith disliked being told by anyone that her parents would be disappointed or ashamed of her behaviour in any way. And she heard it so often now that the sound grated on her. Groaning, this time Tanith did roll her eyes in annoyance and fell back onto her sheets, squashing half of Cissa's precious magazine editorials. "Oh give it a rest will you." She mumbled through gritted teeth and the arm thrown across her eyes. "You should act like your fiteen and not thirty-five for fiveminutes".