That's all I want

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@remington

outfit

    On occasion, Amalthea really questioned her own sanity when she agreed to marry Lancelot. Sure, on most days he was easy enough to manage and she had absolutely no problem with his more violent streak. She could handle him on his good and bad days and the rules in their marriage were all logical and normal. They worked just fine, neither of them were asking too much from the other. Still, back in the days where she could ask her father for anything, she should really have taken more advantage of the fact that she could choose her own husband. That was to say, she could choose anyone acceptable that she might prefer. She could, therefore, have refused to marry Lance and Thorfinn would've complied and found her someone else. That was then and now her father could barely look at her. It was nothing she'd done, she was the same as -or perhaps better than- back then. What had ruined their barely existent relationship was her biological father, Leander. Really, she thought that Thorfinn had never loved her, never seen her. He loved Leander, he could only love Leander, and Amalthea as a person had never mattered. She had been Leander's child and that was the only thing Thorfinn cared about. It explained why he seemed to be so casual about Diodorus' wellbeing, caring only about his future as a lord. When Thorfinn thought all he had of Leander was Amalthea, then she was the queen of the world and could do no wrong. When Leander came back and showed how little he cared for Thorfinn and took off once more, then Amalthea was the spawn of that thankless man. Never mind the fact that she barely remembered her biological father before any of this, it didn't matter to Thorfinn. She wasn't herself, she was a fragment of Leander. Amy understood them both, it was not Thorfinn's fault that Leander had twisted him so. It was almost the way she herself behaved also, but not quite. She should've appreciated her father's attention when she had it, because if he was never going to see her for who she was then she should appreciate it when he saw her positively at least.

    She complained a bit too much when it came to her husband, really. it wasn't all bad. He was violent and he lacked control, but he would never harm her. He was very protective of her, in fact, because while there may not be love between them there was still reliance and camaraderie. He kept to the rules she set in the house, mostly, and he didn't poke his nose into her business or expect physical fidelity from her. It was what it was and she had made it work for quite sometimes. Today she was complaining because... Sebastian. Oh, Amy liked Sebastian Flint well enough. A friend of her husband's, a friend of her father's, perhaps even her own friend in a way. It was slightly strange, since he was her former headmaster, but he gave the most thoughtful gifts, really. No, her issue wasn't with their friendship, but rather with the fact that he didn't realise how worked up he got Lancelot. They went around talking about all these ideas, all these ways of violence, and it got Lance in a right state. Then Sebastian went home to wherever he lived or to have dinner with his own Carrow and left her dealing with whatever ideas her husband had in her head then. He'd been turning over these things for days now and he had about four muggles in their basement. Having so much fun the silencing charms sometimes failed and she could hear their screaming, even. She'd told him to get it fixed by the time she came back because she had absolutely no interest in hearing all that coming from the basement. 

    A day out at the spa was what she'd decided to spend her time and money on. Her nails done, her feet done, a facial, a haircut. They'd now asked her to sit down in the lounge to wait for her masseuse to come in and prepare everything. She didn't mind. She may not have brought a book or any of her notes to occupy her time with, but there were plenty of magazines to read through. Annoying articles about who slept with who and what was fashionable, musicians and artists and that sort of riffraff. Such things were useless, in her opinion, only good for distracting people from things that were none of their concern. With a sigh, she flipped the page, crossing her legs as she looked over some clothing advertisements.

i wanna take
you for all
that you got

❧

Coming back from South Africa had been a harsh slap of reality straight to Remington’s face. She’d convinced Caerus to stay another day — much to his chagrin — and she’d soaked up as much sun as possible. It had been a strange trip. While she reveled in the presence of pureblood high society, she’d felt at times like she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was the only one at the party who wasn’t technically family. And while Lester and Rosalind and told her that she was just as much family as anyone else, she still felt a bit of awkwardness.

And then there were the Mountbatten girls. Anička’s children. Remington had the most difficult time of all with them. While each one was unique, brilliant, and beautiful, they all looked at their mother like she was the brightest star in the universe. It drudged up unfamiliar and uncomfortable feelings of loss and abandonment for Remington who had lost her own mother during the fire at New Beginnings. Integra Echoes had been all she had left in connection to her old family. Her mother had been a pureblood Death Eater — she’d been the queen of her own crazy little kingdom. But Remington was not her mother. She was a halfblood. A halfblood with very little to her name. A few family heirlooms, a few distant relatives that she didn’t really talk to, and a serious complex. She deserved to be accepted in pureblood society, didn’t she? It wasn’t her fault her mother had mistaken her father for a pureblood instead of the halfblood that he was.

So she existed in a precarious limbo, stuck between two worlds. On one hand, she attended pureblood functions as if she were amongst royalty. On the other, she knew she was a tag-along….an outcast from the society she so desperately craved to be a part of. But purgatory didn’t stop her from pretending that she was something she wasn’t. After all, hadn’t her mother always told her to fake it until she made it? Her nails needed a little bit of tender, loving care, she thought, looking down. What better way to spend her afternoon than with a session of pampering? She deserved it, didn’t she?

Apperances were everything, she reminded herself. For everyone who didn’t know her and her “tragic” backstory, they might very well believe she herself was a pureblood. It was all about the illusion, in Remington’s opinion. Pushing the door open to the salon, she was welcomed by fresh-faced women asking if she would like a beverage, a mimosa, perhaps even a glass of wine. Yes, this was the reason appearances meant everything. They escorted her back to the lounge to await her usual nail technician and Remington found herself staring a familiar face on the opposite side of the room. “Amalthea!” Remington was excited to see her, after all, the girl was quite her idol when she had been at Hogwarts. Almathea was well-read, beautiful, smart, pureblood….terrifying. She was everything Remy had always wanted to be. And, while there was the slightest hint of jealousy in the way that she had always viewed her, there was also a part of her that wanted to be her. She should have been more tentative, especially given what she knew about Amy’s temperament, but she was on a high after her week in paradise. She was on a pureblood high. “Merlin’s beard, it’s been too long! How are you?”

@shi | Outfit

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 Dope and diamonds

template by punki of adoxography

@remington

same outfit as before

    Amy had always been very in control of her own appearance. Her mother had taken care of that since she was very young, of course, Leda's words being constantly cutting judgement rather than the soft conversation she knew mothers usually provided. Everything was open to criticism, everything was always a weakness, wether she perceived it as such or not. Everything had to be tightly controlled because one could never, absolutely ever, lose sights of where one stood and where one was going. What was needed for that became obvious, then. Her physical appearance wasn't the only thing she meant, really, though it was just as important as her social one. Polished, proper, youthful yet elegant, fashionable but reserved, correct to her status, but never overdressed. Hair in place, make up precise, nails sharp, smile graceful. If she appeared to be untouchable then half of the work was already done. After that came her attitude, and that had always been such a sliding scale. From her polite and correct behaviour before the take over, ensuring that she was a harmless pureblood, no matter her relations. Then to her charming and charismatic but correct nature before graduation and marriage, ensuring that while her position have her authority it didn't mean she would abuse it. Of course she would do that, but the point was that people thought she wouldn't. At least, the masses would. Now, though, she was who she was. In her circles, she spent time with correct company, and though she'd had her bouts of friendship with people she oughtn't to, she didn't once consider them her equal. They could be her friends without being equals, she knew, especially if they had been friends since they were younger. Before she got her title and position. Amy was never truly inclined to be kind or fair, however.

    It didn't matter, though, did it? Amy knew her position. Only daughter of the Rowle line. Wife of the future The Lord Carrow. Daughter of the main Selwyn line. Descendant of the Shafiq line, of the MacNair line, cousins amongst Bulstrodes and all the before named. She was not without connections through blood and beyond that, she was working in one of the largest departments in the Ministry and making a lot of headway on her own future career. Amy did not take anything lightly, and while she was not yet sure of her final goal, she thought that advancing in society at the moment was quite enough to keep her occupied. Perhaps not entertained, even with all her studies and her job and her husband and her lovers she still had several dull moments every now and again. It was always such a struggle in those times because Amy didn't have the same outlets as her husband. When he got bored, Lance just kidnapped a muggle he found somewhere around and spent several hours having fun in the basement. Amy didn't do such things, but she did like playing with people. Unfortunately, she was not at Hogwarts anymore, which meant that she couldn't just go around and find some little nobody to step on. She studied and worked and spent most of her time either amongst equals, or with some superiors in some way, or with people that she ought to learn to collaborate with. Useful, even if they were lower than her. Unfortunately, Lance and her had agreed to not have any mudbloods in the house. Otherwise she might have asked for a maid just to have someone to toy with.
    
    Someone calling her name snapped her out of her bored musings and her eyes fixed themselves on... little Remington Monroe. Huh. The Notts' little pet, how funny. It had been quite amusing when she heard that Caerus had been dating her, back at school. After all, maybe he was at liberty to date a halfblood. Maybe even to marry her. He was a second son, after all, but still. Marrying below one's status was always such a bad decision, especially with a girl like this. If he was still hung up on her then Amy would be very disappointed indeed. He'd been promising, she knew that her father had considered Ophion for her husband, though he'd not been a fan of the Notts'... lax management of their relations. This was proof, clearly. Tolerating a little halfblood ex girlfriend was one thing, harbouring her in their home and taking her along to all those places? Well, she supposed that the girl had a Death Eater mother. A dead one, but still. Though, if Remington dressed everywhere like she dressed now then it was proof that she truly wasn't pureblood material. Thigh high suede boots... and in summer, on top of it. With that neckline. Well, not quite a lady, but she wasn't exactly sure how any of the women in many families deserved their titles either. 

    "Monroe." She smiled, corner of her mouth just a bit too sharp. "I don't recall us ever being on a first name basis, do you?" Then to see if the girl remembered her manners and used her title. They were not, after all, equals.

i wanna take
you for all
that you got

❧

She was very much looking forward to a little relaxation at the hands of the aptly trained salon women. Remington was so happy when Rhea had introduced her to this place. It was the creme of the crop — the place where all the high and mighty went to get their hair done. And now, Remington was among them. After spending so much time with the Notts and assimilating into their family, she didn’t even feel like she needed to bring them along to feel like she belonged. No, Remington fully believed that she was a part of this society. It was just as much hers as it was anyone else’s. To her, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t pureblood. Her mother had been — and a Death Eater, too. Her father, bloody ass that he’d been, was where her halfblood came into play. Though, he had been aligned with the darkness, too. Still, having two Death Eaters to her parentage didn’t change the fact that she was and forever would be a halfblood.

Fortunately, most chose to ignore it. Remington could usually intimidate the masses into focusing on something else, rather than how she wasn’t a part of pureblood society. That was part of the reason she’d taken a position at The Advocate. If she could convince everyone else to look elsewhere, there would be no reason for scrutiny about her. It was a clever ploy. She hadn’t expected to like the paper so much, but as it turned out, writing and editing was par for the course. Remy had grown to love it and the power that was associated with it. She could make knees bend when she wanted to. Like Jackson, for example. Poor bloke didn’t want tales of his…escapades to hit the paper, but what would he give her in return if she held the story? So far, he’d offered nothing she wanted, so Remy was fully prepared to let loose his story (and rumors of his diseases) as soon as they got back to school.

Remington paused the hairs on the back of her neck prickling ever so slightly. Were…they? For all Remington remembered, they had been. Then again, as she tried to recall more closely, she couldn’t remember having all that many conversations with Amy over the years. She had always been more of an enigma rather than an actual person. She was the cold-hearted, pureblood bitch that everyone — including Remy — wanted to be. It was strange, though, she couldn’t ever remember the girl’s attitude being directed at her.

It seemed like Amalthea was sizing her up, based on the way her eyes moved up and down Remington’s body. But she tried to take it all in stride, raising her chin ever so slightly as she willed herself to calm down. Maybe she was reading the room wrong. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. She decided that she would play it cool, at least, until she could figure out what was going on. “I could have sworn we were,” though she didn’t use her name again. Remington decided to take a seat next to her, though she left a wide breadth of about a meter between them on the plush couch in the lobby. She had kept up with a few things over the past months, enough to make small talk with the other girl. “I take it you’re well, then? Married, too, right?”

@ amalthea

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THAT'S ALL I WANT

template by punki of adoxography

@ remington

outfit

    Amy didn't have many friends, really. That was quite alright by her, there weren't many people that she wanted to spend her time on. She didn't even spend time on her husband if she could help it, really, and that was a very telling fact about her because she didn't even dislike him. Her actual friends she could count on a single hand and even most of those were people she preferred to be outside her own social circle, that way she could relax. Anyone inside it was either an acquaintance or a cousin. Admittedly, she did get along rather well with her cousins. Jules and Loraine, Alessia and Caterina, on occasion even Aveline and Ivan. She didn't much interact with other people, though she knew everyone well enough. Did she consider them friends? No, emotional attachment or trust would be necessary for that and trusting anyone outside the circle of family was unwise. Sometimes, even trusting someone within the family was unwise. That could be because they'd stab you in the back or because they were just plain stupid. There were plenty of those, yes. 
    "Then, you were mistaken." Monroe was not someone she felt in the least bit threatened by, and she wasn't really interested in the girl either. She was trying to enter the world of purebloods and power but she was going about it all wrong. There was nothing ladylike about her, only pure greed and an air of superiority without anything to back it up. There were plenty of pureblood women that lost the qualities of a lady, her own cousin Caterina for one, and also one of the Mountbatten girls. However, they were purebloods and their families were respected. Whatever opinions polite society might have about them, they kept it to themselves because they were already part of their world. This girl, Monroe, was not. She could not afford to be... whatever this was. Too forward, dressed like that. Did she think that being presented by the Notts was in any way an entrance? Caerus had a little halfblood pet, Caerus might have a crush. They were also friends with LJ- but LJ's father was a Death Eater, even if he had been shamed, and he was alive. Caerus ought to have known better than this, but a second son could afford to make these mistakes. Ophion was the one with duty. In the same way that Lord Dorian could make mistakes. It was shameful, yes, but not a permanent stain on the family. He was a third son, after all. 
    "Quite well, yes." Her days had gotten slightly more interesting ever since she had reconnected with Kallisto. She'd quite forgotten how stimulating her presence could be, in every sense of the word. Most pureblood marriages entertained lovers. She herself had a few and so did Lancelot. That helped them keep whatever they had as stable as possible. "Yes, to Lord Lancelot Carrow." He had been in her same year, Monroe ought to recognise the name. Son of Amycus Carrow, heir to the entire family. Well, she wished that old worm would die already. Him and his mother. However, she supposed her current position was... acceptable. "I hear you've been spending a lot of time with the Notts. How surprising that Caerus would manage to convince Lord Lester to take you in. The Notts aren't known for doing things out of the kindness of their hearts."