Outfit

Melanthe Grumman lived for the weekends. For as long as she could remember, it had been common place to party more days out of the week than not. Generally, she partied as if she hadn't a care in the world, which had also become fairly common place in recent years, seeing as all of her personal "loose ends" had essentially been tied up. I'm now free to enjoy my youth, she thought with a deep curling of her rouged lips.

She dragged her perfectly polished fingernails through her shining dark hair and ruffled it a bit. Then, even though she knew that her reflection would be perfect, she dug out a small hand mirror from the clutch bag that she carried and carefully inspected every inch of her face. Satisfied, she returned the mirror to its rightful place and proceeded to enter Signature.

It had quickly become one of her favorite places to visit when in the area and it was helped immensely when she met up with the likes of Charlotte St. James. Deciding that she was sticking around in the UK for an indefinite length of time, Melanthe had made a point of letting Charlotte know so that they could paint the town red...or pink...or any number of vibrant colors imaginable.

Gliding down the stairs to the entrance hall, she discarded her jacket and then made a beeline in the direction of the bar. She could find it blindfolded, but she was glad that her eyes were wide open because she never tired of the overall ambiance that it exuded. Upon hearing the club style music blaring, she began to get the urge to dance.

Calm yourself, she chided. All in due time. Find Char and a drink first and then make a beeline for the dance floor.

She stepped up to the bar with her attention in two places: looking around for the glorious vision of her friend and gaining the attention of one of the bartenders for a drink order.

Whichever comes first...

Outfit

A vision in blue. Charlotte spotted her friend immediately, even among the swanky decor, dusky lighting, and growing crowd of expertly tailored bar-goers and dancers. The St. James woman’s eyes were keen when it came to picking out a kindred spirit, and Melanthe was certainly that. Seated at the bar, the thoroughbred witch was already garnering the attention of drooling bartenders.

Charlotte smiled, it was almost a vicious smile, as she approached and leaned over the bar just beside Melanthe. “Nice crowd,” she said to one of the bow-tied men concocting drinks. “I hope you’re treating my friend here well?” She tossed her head to the side, gesturing toward Melanthe. After plucking the custom cherry from a jar hidden just beyond the average drinker’s reach, she held it by its stem on one hand, and laced the other arm around Melanthe’s neck. “Hello, love,” she greeted, offering a kiss to the young woman’s cheek.

Charlotte settled into the stool beside her, so that the pair of brunettes seemed magically spotlighted among the other patrons. The cherry disappeared beyond her lips and her blue gaze moved back to her friend. “What’ll we be drinking tonight?”

Melanthe didn't have to wait long before her little riddle of which would come first was solved, although her gaining the attention of one of the bartenders wasn't far ahead of Charlotte's arrival. And despite the man's good looks, she clearly preferred feasting her eyes on her friend as at least she knew for certain the extent of her blood purity.

Melanthe could not help but mirror Charlotte's borderline vicious smile and the comment she made to the eye candy drink maker. She watched with interest to see if the man had any reaction to it before turning her attention fully to Charlotte, drinking in her outfit and nodding with approval. She then leaned into the woman's affectionate greeting and returned in kind, "Ah, it's good to see you too, Dorogaya Moya (my dear). It's been too long for sure."

With a soft chuckle, Melanthe allowed her friend to slip into her seat and though a drink had been placed in front of her, she allowed her chocolate colored orbs to meet the crystalline blue ones of her friends. She leaned closer and quietly said, "I'll drink pretty much anything, as you well know. This here--" she pointed a slender digit down to the glowing blue liquid in the clear glass in front of her, "Is apparently a house special." With a slight raise of a sculpted brow, Melanthe mischievously scooted the tumbler closer to her friend. "Perhaps you should drink first, da? I was just thinking how blue really brings out the evil in your eyes..."

Charlotte had often longed, in her teenage years, to disappear for a semester to the wintry, alluringly dark institution that was Durmstrang. But Hogwarts offered no such program, and Charlotte had never been one to bother with things like the Triwizard Tournament. As far as she was concerned, she perfectly victorious on her own. She needn’t lift a paw and compete, not in less it would garner some prize she really wanted-- a boy, usually.

But having Melanthe around was an even better treat than those silly childhood daydreams. The pair of them together, in the flesh, were a rather lethal combination. Which meant they always a devilishly wonderful time.

With a laugh, Charlotte splayed her fingers over her chest and raised a brow, before reaching for the tumbler. “I think Finn gave me a sip once,” she mused, pouring herself a glass. Melanthe made the word evil sound like diamonds. “Mmm. It’s perfect,” she announced, after taking a deep sip and letting the glass linger near her lips. “But we both know evil pales in comparison to you. So you’ll have to join me.”

Charlotte turned a bit in her bar seat, which swiveled smoothly at the slightest encouragement. “Have you seen anyone you want to dance with tonight? I barely got a look at the crowd before I saw you. But I suppose I’m trying to behave myself on the male front lately...”

As she often did, Melanthe marveled at what her trips to the UK would be like without her frequent social engagements in Charlotte's company. Dullsville for sure, she mused. Then, when she caught the errant eye of one male patron rove over her friend's figure as he passed by, she smirked and nodded approvingly at Charlotte's ensemble.  

Melanthe finally turned her attention to the drink and finally brought a glass of the blue liquid to her lips. Her thoughts momentarily lingered on Charlotte's comment about evil. If only Charlotte knew how true her statement was, Melanthe wondered if she would be so willing to share her company. Not that she thought Miss St. James was a perfect angel (although she certainly looked the part), but Melanthe hardly thought the woman concerned herself with such things like obliterating any and all who had wronged her.

Or maybe she does, Melthante considered inwardly. Just in a very different way. Surely there were oodles of men who had been left with their hearts stomped on for not coming close to being good enough for Charlotte St. James. Melanthe nearly laughed at the delicious thought of her companion as the perfect little heartbreaker.

Melanthe rarely ever dabbled too deeply in endeavors of the heart. And even then, she very rarely threw the full weight of her powers behind them. It was much easier for her to keep everyone at a distance. Which was why when Charlotte asked if she saw anyone she wanted to dance with, she waved her off. "So far, only you, dahling. And who could blame me?" After another sip of her drink, she drolly added, "Besides, you know me...I can't possibly engage in extracurriculars with someone until I have played my little game with them." Melanthe didn't think Charlotte had forgotten it, but she decided to say it anyway because she just loved the way that it sounded. "101 Ways to Measure Blood Purity."

Melanthe's face significantly darkened as she had emphasized the last words, her cold and discriminating eyes narrowing as she peered over the rim of her glass to survey the scene once more. She only returned them to Charlotte's face and flashed her friend a playful smile when there was mention of behaving oneself on the male front. "Oh? Do tell....who has Charlotte St. James set her sights on as her copain du jour?"

Charlotte simply nodded, offering a near-silent laugh over the top of her drink when Melanthe pronounced her criteria for potential man candy. Pure blood. It wasn’t something she hadn’t heard before-- in fact, most of Charlotte’s friends had lingering prejudices, and many of her family were pressured to find Pureblood mates. But for Charlotte, a superiority complex was born of being the baby of the family, Daddy’s only little girl, and the princess almost-bride of a dead aristocrat. (Oh, and her mirror told her she was easy on the eyes.)

So it was with some difficulty that the young woman swallowed the strain that might have plagued her voice. She rubbed her throat, widened her blue eyes. “Well, this is strong, isn’t it? I’ve forgotten...”

How did one go about this? But then, it wasn’t her dear friend’s job to keep her dates in check, was it? (Granted, Charlotte and closest lady friends spent a great deal of their time talking about the Ideal Man).

“He’s an old schoolmate,” she admitted, setting down her glass, and turning more properly toward Melanthe. A sincere smile graced her lips. “I mean, I did have this thing with another Hogwarts graduate, Woolfolk, you know...” It was easy to wave off without explanation; Quidditch players and the women on their arms were always in the papers. “But I...” She raised her brows innocently, lashes fluttering downward, studying the backs of her hands. She reached for her drink. “I ran into my old friend on a train, and fell into his lap when we had a bumpy stop.” She took a sip, winking. “We’ve been flirting for ages, he used to reprimand me in school, and now I think it’s time I properly sunk my teeth into him.” Her smile returned and Charlotte wondered whether she’d played her cards right. Why give the softer details? Entertain the thoughts that had been swimming in her head, that she might have a thing for Felix. Beyond the other thing she’d had on the train. “He’s a Ministry Astronomer. Felix Marren.

Melanthe hadn't noticed the strength of the drink, as she was too busy watching Charlotte's perfectly painted face, waiting for the information that she knew would be exquisitely juicy. And the details did indeed start out sounding quite lovely about an old friend and how Charlotte had convieniently ended up in his lap. A likely story, Melanthe mused with a smirk. A million O's for outstanding efforts....

But then, as Charlotte became more hesitant about the finer details, a feeling of gloom began to rise in the pit of Melanthe's stomach. It was as if she knew what was coming and yet it still hit her like a ton of bricks. Charlotte's details quickly became the unsavory kind and it was all she could do to prevent her face from distorting into a scowl from the moment Charlotte uttered Felix's name. But she reminded herself that to do so was unbecoming and bad for her well being. Scowling and excessive worry in general made her and every other woman look haggered. She hardly needed that for her appearance.

Melanthe was well aware that some people were of the belief that blood purity was a lost cause these days. And if she actually cared about love and all that, she might be inclined to join that bandwagon. Marry for love and blah, blah, blah. It really was sickening for her to hear anyone spew such fantastically idealistic dreams. When was love ever so wonderful?

Other family members, particularly on her mother's side and also her Aunt Eloise's in-laws, were beginning to make the shift to acceptance that upholding blood purity was just not practial. If she had to sit through another family function and listen to the likes of Nathaniel Whitman spew that garbage, she would go mad. All those arguments held little weight with her. They seemed to be the easy way out and a sign of weakness. Spineless nothings who tossed away principals for that elusive something else--love. She was most concerned with continuity. There was no doubt that she would maintain the line. She would rather die alone and heirless than to marry anyone less than pure. If she found no one pure to "love" and marry, she was fully prepared to not do it at all.

Instead of scowling, Melanthe sighed dramatically (in and of itself a clear indication of her disapproval) and amused herself by lightly running her finger around the rim of her glass, pleased with the faint ring that it produced, indicating that it was the best of crystal.

"Are there no other men worth your time?" she inquired with a bit of hopefulness. She was well aware of Charlotte was being courted by the Quidditch star, Jax Woolfolk, and he certainly had Melanthe's approval given his bloodlines. So it was slightly surprising that her friend's affections had shifted so quickly. And why shouldn't a woman's heart be so fickle? She could tell that Charlotte cared a great deal more about her heart than her blood. There was not much Melanthe could do about that but hope some other man caught her fancy.

With that thought, already her mind did a frantic search for how she might help that along. If her brother was slightly older, Melanthe would've had no shame in attempting to throw the two together. But it was unlikely the two would hit it off.

With a faint smile, Melanthe simply said of Charlotte's present choice. "So? What do you two talk about? The stars?"

Charlotte noted Melanthe’s cool composure, but knew the moment she uttered Felix’s name, she was making a huge mistake. The change was subtle, not visible to the average human eye. But Melanthe was a dear friend, and Charlotte could read her a bit more accurately than most of the evening’s patrons... or at least she believed so.

And so, the St. James girl decided to play it cool, too. She smiled, her ears blocking out the sigh and concentrating on the almost-musical chime issuing from the glass rim of her friend’s expensive drink. A perfect trick for a skilled and pretty witch on the hunt.

“Of course there are,” she countered casually, leaning back in her seat a little, and reaching up to touch her own hair with her free hand. “But this is... unfinished business, you know.” And, considering the sudden turn of events, it likely wouldn’t finish anytime in the foreseeable future.

But Charlotte couldn’t help but almost wince. Instead, she rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a sap, Melanthe. I’m sensible, and I know exactly what I’m doing. Just let have fun with this one, alright? He’s perfectly intelligent and we have plenty to discuss... and I’m a capable woman. If anyone’s calling the shots, it’s me.” And given Felix’s long-standing infatuation, that wasn’t entirely untrue. But then, a part of Charlotte’s cold wall had melted in recent days. “We’re young, aren’t we? We’re entitled to a bit of... exploration.” She raised a brow and stared knowingly at her friend, challenging Melanthe to tell her she was wrong. Though, knowing Melanthe, she would do just that. Ambition brought friends together.

Melanthe cooly raised her brows as Charlotte first assured her that there were other men she could spend her time with and then as she characterized what she was doing as being unfinished business. Is that what they're calling it now? she thought to herself incredulously. I really need to update my definition of such things...

Melanthe could sense that Charlotte wasn't entirely convinced with what she was saying, and that did give the dark flower some hope. Charlotte wasn't a complete lost cause...yet. Melanthe was pleased when Charlotte rolled her eyes and protested the unspoken doubts, both internal and external.

Melanthe's mouth twisted into an amused smirk at the use of words "sap", "sensible" and "fun". She brought her drink to her lips and sipped, trying to decide if she believed her friend when she emphatically declared that she was calling the shots. Then she held up one of her hands with her slender fingers splayed and conceded, "Okay, okay. I believe you, hon."

Then, at Charlotte's silent challenge, Melanthe pursed her lips and returned a pointed look in her direction. "And yes, you're certainly entitled to some healthy exploration. But--" She paused dramatically and icily murmured, "Let's hope that is all this is, hmmm? The last thing I want to do is scrape you off the bottom rung of the social ladder...."

Whether Melanthe believed her or not wasn’t the point; the point was that her friend had given Charlotte permission to change the subject. After a bit of confirmation, at least.

“The rungs would have quite the time letting me fall down and hit them. I’m secured, don’t worry, love.” Charlotte winked, attempting to assure her friend that she needn’t look after her social interest. Charlotte had money, a good name, and a pretty face. She’d survived many a boy toys.

“So tell me about your most recent ventures,” she said, grinning and turning the tables. “Melting any ice lately?” She picked up her drink, giving it a stir. “I haven’t picked up a paper in several days, but I’m sure I’d find your name and face and something grand.”

Not wishing to interrogate her friend too much about "The Felix Situation", Melanthe allowed Charlotte to steer the conversation in a new direction without objection. Truth be told, Felix Marren seemed like a decent enough fellow, save his blood purity. Most people would contend that there were worse things a person could be than muggle born or halfblooded. It was just unfortunate that Melanthe fell into the category that didn't include most people.

As the conversation turned to her own life and what she had been up to, Melanthe wondered if Charlotte wanted all the details or just the squeaky clean ones. Then it might be Charlotte's turn to reprimand her for the company that she kept. Downing her drink in practically one gulp, she turned to her friend with a bright smile. "Well, my life has been rather boring of late. Although I have been toying with hosting a charity function of some sort." Even as she said the words, Melanthe resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Oh what I do to keep up appearances, she wryly mused. To Charlotte, she continued with, "My aunt and uncle suggested that I use their house in Cardiff to host, seeing as Tyen tends to be so....visitor un-friendly." That seemed to be putting it midly, but Melanthe didn't feel the need to elaborate. Instead, she turned to addressing the other part of Charlotte's inqiry--her own romantical endeavors. With a soft laugh, she said, "Ahh...no. No ice melting of late. But I have spotted  one Sergei Morozov out on the town  quite a bit lately. Apparently he has decided to come out of mourning and is blessing high society with his glorious presence more often. This should make Liadan happy,” she remarked with amusement.

The man Melanthe had given lip service too was a young, handsome and distinguished Russian wizard that had caught the eye and favor of both Melanthe and Liadan long ago. Unfortunately, he had married and had been written off. That was, until the news came that he had lost his wife in a tragic accident. Naturally, both Liadan and Melanthe had felt horrible for the man. And also quite naturally, they had both taken up an interest again in his new single (albeit grieving widower) status.

With a casual shrug of her shoulders, Melanthe told Charlotte, “He is beautiful to look at….and my father knew his family.” With a smirk, she added, “And he’s pure.”