Melanthe's Outfit

<----Clickie on Melanthe's bio page to view a pic of her home. I shall be frantically working on finding other pictures for the interior for those who like help in the visualization department.

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Tyen Manor, the childhood home of Melanthe Grumman, didn't get to entertain much. Over the years, the faithful inhabitants of the Siberian abode had slowly begun to drift through its once looming doors for what seemed like the last time. Following the death of its great master, the feint of heart had departed first. Annie Grumman had always been ill at ease in the grand home's drafty hallways and gloominess lurking around every turn. It had been bearable only because of her children and the husband she had grown to love over the years, despite her reservations regarding his disposition. But with Orfeo gone and her children off at school, Tyen Manor's warmth had been significantly diminished and thus she had had little desire to stay. Arturo Grumman had also freed himself from the home's cold and unwelcoming embrace, rarely returning during breaks from Durmstrang and then upon graduation, setting off for a position in the Ministry.

Even Melanthe, Tyen's new mistress, had kept her distance following her father's death, seeking comfort elsewhere for the bittersweet memories that tended to follow her wherever she went. As much as she loved the home she grew up in and the loveliness of Siberia in general, it was hard for her to reconcile the sadness that came with it.

Over the years, Tyen--Russian for shadow--had begun to take on more qualities befitting its name. It exuded a depressive, lonesome, and (sometimes) angry state. The exterior put on a good show, looking normal and almost cheerful with meticulous landscaping and architecture that was pleasing to the eye. But it all gave way to a gloomy interior full of shadows that made it feel more like a haunted house than a place to live. All this despite a staff that was kept on to make sure that it didn't completely fall by the way side.

When Melanthe did return to Tyen, the manor seemed to take note, brightening considerably with the attention and welcoming her with open arms. But given the fact that Melanthe was a true dark flower who drank in all the light and reflected very little back, the shadows could never hope to be banished completely.

When Charlotte and Liadán had first spoken of spending some quality girl time together, Melanthe had balked at the idea of inviting them to Tyen for this very reason. Entertaining two of her most favorite people in such a dark place was hardly ideal. But after some deeper consideration, Melanthe had decided that her home needed a splash of zest added to it. A breath or two of fresh air. And if their presence didn't manage to breath life into the place, then there was hardly any hope left in all the blustery depths of Siberia.

Melanthe returned to Tyen Manor the Monday following her night out with Charlotte to prepare the place for her visitors the following weekend. The main floor, which would see considerable use during their visit, was made to look a vision of perfection. The varying marble and hardwood floors glistened and every room looked fresh and new, as if it had been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom. Guest rooms on the second floor had also been prepared in case Charlotte or Liadán chose to stay over, but the thought crossed Melanthe's mind that they might very well converge in her own bedroom at some point to commence the girl talk that usually preceded falling off to sleep.

With everything finally to her liking, Melanthe slipped into the "parlor" room and poured herself a stiff drink. Then she settled into one of the velvety crimson colored chairs which sat in front of the fireplace and waited for her bosom buddies to arrive so that they could see about concocting some sort of mischief...

Outfit

It was unlike Liadán Ó Móráin to be outdone in anything, let alone in fashion or in social gatherings. Tonight, however, was all about Melanthe. The young woman had been secretly glad that her friend had decided to host their get together. Liadán was not one who entertained regularly, being the sort to visit others instead. She still had yet to discover exactly what sorts of enchantments her father might have had in place, and it was sometimes easier not to risk things. Besides all of that it was just easier on her. She would not have to arrange entertainment, food, drinks, or anything. All that was required of her was that she showed up.

Her outfit was not her usual. It was not quite so harsh and business like as she usually adorned. Liadán thought of it as being a bit more youthful. In fact, with the lack of high heels putting the woman at her true height, she did look like a young girl who had been dressed by her mother. Sometimes standing shy of five feet tall had a distinct disadvantage.

Floo powder was also not something that Liadán used frequently if she could avoid it. Being sooty was uncomfortable, and apparating was generally just more convenient. She had not, however, ever visited Tyen Manor and did not wish to risk getting splinched due to her lack of familiarity with the location. She was not happy when she stepped out of the fireplace, and coughed quietly behind her hand with an apologetic glance to her friend. "Nasty way to travel," she commented before producing her wand to clean herself up.

Liadán then dropped her bag to the floor, and gave Melanthe a quick hug. "Do you know when Charlotte will be arriving?" she asked, going to make herself a drink. (A rather weak one, of course. Liadán was not one to get drunk, regardless of the circumstances or the limited company.) Then she found her way into one of the chairs. She kicked off her shoes and sank into it, which did nothing to destroy the image of a young girl who was pretending to be grown up. "Is she coming by floo as well? I'd have apparated, but I did not feel like winding up in the wrong place or splinched. Perhaps now that I have been here, I can do so in the future. Of course, floo is better than portkey. Portkeys makes me feel so ill afterward."

It had been a week and a half since she’d... been to Felix and back, so to speak. But she knew that a mere mention of his name during a girl’s night out with Melanthe had been enough to stir the cauldron. Liadan was sure to have heard by now. Charlotte was going to have to be on her best (or naughtiest) behavior tonight-- hopefully so sugary-sweet and delectably diabolical in whatever innocent trouble they’d cooked up, that she could skip past the topic altogether while lethal trio went about their fun and gossip. Charlotte knew Lia and Melly wouldn’t approve, that they didn’t approve... but she also knew that she wasn’t done doing... whatever she was doing with Felix Marren.

"Do you know when Charlotte will be arriving?"

She could hear the voice almost before the swirl of chimneys disappeared, to be replaced by the dark decor of Melanthe’s chilly and formidable childhood home. A manor worth its weight in marble. Charlotte knew more than one wizard who would kill to own such an estate.

“Charlotte’s here,” she replied, grabbing hold of the wall beside the mantle, and straightening herself out. She set her bag down next to Lia’s, unfastened her cloak, hung it over an arm, and smoothed out her dress. Offering a smile to her two dearest friends, she floated forward and pressed smooth, graceful kisses to each of their cheeks. “And I’m guessing you can’t Apparate here. There must be a dozen charms, at least...” Her voice trailed off and she looked around more properly, her light gaze soaking up the aristocratic aesthetic with obvious approval.

“So girls, the first one to fall asleep will have her knickers banished to an ice-cave.” It was old childhood game, a vicious slumber party sport, though the added bonus of their current location made that much easier to obtain ice. Not that Charlotte would indulge such immature memories. Never.

Melanthe had just brought her glass to her lips to sip when she paused and watched as Liadán materialized. She wrinkled her nose with a tinge of regret at the unfortunate way her friends had been forced to travel. Tyen Manor was not the easiest place to get to for anyone unfamiliar with it and for the person not worried about time, travel by train was usually the preferred method. Not that arriving by train ever managed to lessen her childhood home's ability to intimidate visitors. Perhaps it was the gelid setting in which the manor was situated. Or perhaps it was the way the inside of its stony walls often mirrored what was on the outside. And more recently, maybe it was Tyen's loneliness that managed to keep anyone from wanting to be ensconced within it for very long.

Melanthe stood to greet her friend and offered her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, daragAya." After returning Liadán's hug, she helped her friend by smoothing down her lovely golden hair. Then she stepped away to allow her to help herself to a drink and get herself settled and comfortable. Melanthe was about to answer her question about the arrival of final third of their little trio, when it was answered for her.

Melanthe turned to see Charlotte standing next to the fireplace and straightening herself out as well. "Da! You are here indeed," came Melanthe's pleased response. If she was any less reserved in her excitement, she would have been tempted to clap her hands together in a girlish fashion. Instead, she returned Charlotte's kiss to the cheek and ushered her further into the room.

Then she addressed the comments about other methods of getting to Tyen. "Well, my father was meticulous about it's security," she said quietly, hiding a smirk with a sip of her drink. Indeed, her father had been that, even with its many natural deterrents, to the point of being paranoid about it. Melanthe was considerably less so, but she was keenly aware of both the advantages and disadvantages of such vigilance.

Her eyes followed Charlotte's around the room for a moment, also appreciating the lavish style with which it had been decorated. This was a testament to her mother's feminine touch that allowed for the room to have a much more homey and inviting feel to it. Though the wood accent was dark, it was complimented by rich, warm colors in the rest of the room's decor. Many of the furnishings looked too expensive to touch, much less use.

It was Melanthe's hope that her home would envelope her friends and help her to show them a wonderfully good time.

Brightening at Charlotte's playful challenge, Melanthe laughed and said, "Just her knickers? Do not forget you are in Siberia, Charlotte. One might say that you have already been banished to an ice-cave." With another small chuckle, she raised her glass and added, "But a beautiful one, da?"

Knickers banished to an ice cave? Liadán arched a curious brow at Charlotte. Such childish antics were something she had not expected out of the evening. Liadán had never taken part of them, even when she had been younger. The young woman had always considered herself above such tactics, even when she was still a student at Hogwarts. "You think there aren't charms to prevent that, either?" she asked. Liadán knew that there were jokes made behind her back about her chastity by many. "It doesn't take a chastity belt to prevent over eager wizards from finding themselves in places they are not wanted."

"My father was the same about security," she offered to Melanthe's input. "It's what got him in trouble in the end. Apparently the authorities do not take well to magical wards that legally constitute muggle baiting, or things of that nature. After I inherited the place it took absolute ages to remove them all without having them backfire. I'm afraid the mediocre security measures I have now are completely inadequate in comparison... Though, I settle for them. I do not think that imprisonment would be very good my reputation or my complexion."

She sipped quietly on her drink as she inspected the surroundings. Beautiful was not what Liadán would call Tyen, or the surrounding tundra. Melanthe was quite right that they were, already, somewhat banished to an ice cave. But it was an ice cave with all the comforts of home and the company of good friends. The idea that Liadán thought of anyone as a friend was an odd one, really. She never seemed to grow attached to people. It was more her style to have acquaintances and societal obligations rather than friends. Melanthe and Charlotte were rare exceptions to that norm.

"It is much more inviting than I expected given your hesitations to host, Melly." It was a carefully worded response, one she hoped would not offend and would go undetected. "It is not the dreary little prison you made it out to be. It is also nice to visit a land I have never been to before. I am certain there is some fascinating history. Perhaps I shall have to investigate further. Unless... you have some books that you might allow me to borrow on the subject?" She looked hopeful at the inquiry. Whether or not Tyen had a library, Liadán was unsure, but most old homes did. Certainly, if there was one, there was a volume about the history of the home and the family, or perhaps about the surroundings. "All places that I have studdied have been much more exotic and tropical. I bet the history here is twice as harsh." Her mismatched eyes glinted widly in the firelight at the thought, a small hint of the darkness that simmered beneath her well put together facade.

"Come, Charlotte, sit with us. Now that we are all together in private we have the luxury of gossiping! It has been forever since we've been able to sit, all three of us, and dish the latest dirt on all of those horrid people we are forced to brush elbows with on a regular basis. And to think! There are also so many parties coming up we have to plan for! We must coordinate dates to go and pick out dresses together. I know that both of your opinions mean the absolute world to me when I'm choosing what to wear. You two always make me come out of my tiny little shell a bit, and show off more than I would normally, and it always ends so well for me by the end of the night!"

“Of course not. It only takes a pair of teeth.” Charlotte winked, not needing to elaborate on the ancient lore. Witches and what they kept under their skirts... well, it could get a bit messy for those who sought without asking. But Charlotte wasn’t all too worried for her thumbs. If she were to steal anyone’s knickers, it would be from an overnight bag.

The brunette laughed as her friend’s exchanged tales of overprotective parents. Her own had regarded their only daughter as a particularly fragile (if untamable) creature, and had taken similar measures around the family home. Of course, four elder brothers were a security within themselves.

While they weren’t here to talk about books, Charlotte bit her tongue. It was intriguing, a history more potentially gruesome than Wizarding Britain’s infamous wars. She was interested to hear, just like Lia. Durmstrang, after all, did not shy away from certain arts, and Melanthe, in all of her feminine ferocity, was living proof.

Drink suddenly in hand, Charlotte made herself cozy with the other two. The three of them, this fatal trio, could be quite the picture of teenaged girls on a wild night in when they wanted. Girlish good looks and giggling included. “Oh, you’ll be out of your shell before we get to the appetizers, love,” she promised Lia.

Turing to Melanthe, she smirked. She looked between the pair of them like a slow pendulum. “I hope you two have costumes and dates for Halloween. And...” She give an innocent little shrug as she looked down at her drink, her finger trailing its glass rim. “If you have anything potentially... questionable... you’d like to auction off for charity, I think there’ll be a few strong-willed buyers.” It looked good to donate big galleons. The three of them were forever involving themselves in social events, causes, soirees. Why not make a good name for one’s self while dining and wining with the best of the best? Charlotte needn’t worry who was buying what at her little private auction. And the contributors could remain perfectly anonymous. Spring Cleaning. In autumn.

Melanthe smirked at Liadán's protests. "Charms? Chastity belts? Really....such extreme measures just to protect knickers, Dorogaya moyas (my dears)."She flicked her dark mane of hair over her shoulder and walked over to one of the sofas in the room and unceremoniously plopped herself down. She lounged against one of the arms, propping her elbow up and neatly resting her chin in the palm of her hand, looking over her two friends with sparkling dark eyes. She tucked her lengthy legs beneath her, not really caring that it could be construed as unladylike or bad for the sofa. They weren't in the company of men, so she was fine with letting herself do that.

"Ah, yes. The sins of our fathers," Melanthe mused in a low voice when Liadán spoke of her father's demise. Melanthe rarely ever spoke of what had caused her own father's fall from grace and it wasn't likely she would expouse any more details--even in the company of two of her friends--than the very words she had just spoken. She was well aware of the Grumman history and how for many years her family had been viewed by others. Melanthe was meticulous in maintaining the guise of her family being reputable in society. It was the best way that she could serve her interests and those of the people she was allied with. With a slight smile at Liadán, Melanthe commented, "You being imprisioned would be a tragedy and I cannot bare the thought of it. So let's not talk about it lest I become too upset to have a good time."

Melanthe did not touch further on the elephant in the room: that Tyen could, in many ways, be likened to a prision. Even with all the amenities it had been furnished with over the centuries had been unable to hide that distinct feature. And that was the root of Melanthe's reservations in inviting certain individuals to spend time there. It took quite a bit of time for those unfamiliar with the place to warm up to it. Melanthe made a broad, sweeping motion with her hand, intending to indicate more than just the room they occupied. "I shall give you all a tour later on in the evening. Show you all the best sights," she assured Lia and Charlotte. To herself, she added, And keep you from the ones that are inconsquential to you. "And indeed, there is quite a history here," Melanthe began after a lengthy sip of her drink. "My ancestors are actually German and the came here many, many, many years ago--goodness knows why--" Her lips curled into a smirk before continuing, "--And now the only one who's left is yours truly." With a slight pout, she turned looked from one to the other and asked, "Would either of you care to take up residence here with me? I promise to be your sugar mamma..."

Clearly she was joking, as she knew that both her friend had homes of their own and she was quite certain neither would give them up to be her constant companion in her lonesome home. So Melanthe let out a husky laugh and waved the notion off and instead turned to their agenda of gossiping. She quipped, "Out of her shell and out of her knickers, we hope!" She picked up a fluffy brocade pillow beside her and lightly tossed it at Lia, careful with her aim so it would not disturb the drink in her hand.

Triumphant, she then addressed Charlotte's decree about costumes and dates for halloween. "Well, I plan to  be a ring master. Yes, master, because no man would dare to rule over me," she declared with haughty confidence. So far, that had been very true to form. But Melanthe wondered if it was just a matter of time  before she truly met her match. "So to answer the second part of that, no I do not have a date. I'll likely go alone, as usual." She pursed her full lips before drawling, "Although Lia knows full well that I'm holding out for Sergei Morozov." She made a show of fanning herself with her free hand and then pressed the back of it to her forehead and pretending to swoon. "Oh what a wasted specimen of masculinity..."

Finished with her dramatic act, she heaved a sigh. "Well, since I'll be dateless, you're more than welcome to auction off a date with me, Lotte." With her best effort to maintain a straight face, she tacked on, "It's the least I can do for charity."

"I'm not certian if I like the sound of that. Peeking out of my shell is alright, but not entirely coming out of it, not in mixed company." She was still perturbed that the guest list was not as exclusive as most parties. Halloween was a big deal. Other parties she had been invited to were mostly masquerade balls, and it was nice to have something a bit different to focus on. Still, with the mixture of blood status and monetary amount, Liadán knew that flirting would be a very dangerous game indeed. The last thing she needed to do was get too cozy with a man who was practically a pauper or whose costume revealed his true identity and therefore his spotty family history.

She was surprised at Melanthe's comment about getting her out of her knickers, and as shock registered on her face, a pillow bounced casually against her chest. "You two are scandalous! I've worked hard to maintain my chastity. It's one of the few better qualities I've managed to cultivate over the years. I highly doubt either of you know a man skilled enough in the art of persuasion to weasel this lady out of even the outermost layers."

When her friend mentioned Sergei, Liadán placed a hand to her head and mocked a faint. "Sergei could get me out of those aforementioned layers," she commented. "And you and I both know, Melly darling, that I placed my claim on Sergei years ago. You and Lotte get to have all the fun, the least you could do is throw a little my way now that he is widowed. It would be a lovely arrangement. We wouldn't have to communicate. How marvelous!"

"And you and I will be dateless together. Though I'm certain you'll bring more money auctioned than I would. I'm sure I could find you someone to go with! I offered James Forrester one of my cousins for a different party. He's not interested in getting married, though. I don't know what he has on his mind, but it isn't that. No matter to us, though. I'm certain none of us would want to get involved with someone who plays professional quidditc. Disgusting sport, really. I don't understand its popularity. Perhaps I could stomach it more if there weren't ladies playing. It's just inappropriate for them to be on those brooms fighting men like that. It's not a very lady-like sport. At the very least they should have their own league instead of mixing it like that. Sometimes I think integration is a horrible thing."

Clucking her tongue, she turned to Charlotte, deciding to get the conversation back on track, and away from such dangerous waters. Liadán knew that no matter how old fashioned her friends were, she could easily offend them. "If you need donations, I could speak to Lothario. I know that he can't attend- he's going to the party in France that one of our relatives is throwing- but I'm certain he wouldn't mind owling over a few things to fetch a pretty penny. Probably rather harmless things. Paintings or scupltures of some historical significance. Would you like me to send him an owl and see if he would be interested? You know how he loves to have his name plastered all over any charity event, as though it absolves him of any guilt in his private life."

With chastity belts to giggle over, and a tour to look forward to, Charlotte was falling quickly and gracefully into devilish step beside her two dearest friends. “Being the sole heiress to all of this can’t be a bad thing,” she mused, as Melanthe proclaimed her lone hold of the estate. “I’d take your offer in a heartbeat, but I have my poor almost-hubby’s vault to look after.” Shame, that. Also, life in the limelight of London had been good to Charlotte. She was made for the city. “So instead of you being our sugar mama, why don’t you tell us all the details of your newest sugar daddy?” Grinning, the St. James woman bit her lip in anticipation.

Dodging the pillow meant for Lia, Charlotte flounced over to another sofa, leisurely flinging herself into its handsome upholstery.

“I hope you find someone to tame, then.” She raised her glass, toasting Melanthe’s brilliant costume idea. “Because I’m going as a very naughty kitty, but I’m afraid I can’t play pet that evening.”

“I bet Sergie would pay a half million galleons for you,” she murmured, already liking this charity idea. “No... a million.”

Eyes aglow, she grinned at Lia’s offer. “I would love a contribution from Lothario. And send him my love. I’ll be sure he gets his name in the papers...”

“But come, now,” she added. “You can’t both possibly be dateless. You’re at the top of the guest list. You’re practically royalty in my apartments. We have to do some serious planning.” She eyed each of them, and downed the rest of her drink. “Starting with your idea of proper attire, Lia. Melanthe, where’s your wardrobe, love?” A little bit of spice never hurt a girl's virginity.