Tyen Manor
Early Evening
Parlor/Salon

Tyen Manor didn't open its arms so freely to just about anyone these days. The home was extremely fickle with its' affections, especially since so few beyond Melanthe came passing through its' doors.

And with all the security measures in place, visitors rarely came without Melanthe. So whenever she left, the manor took on a bleak, saddened state. When she returned, Tyen glowed with the feeling that she had brought others with her only to be disappointed when she arrived alone.

But not lately. Melanthe was becoming very giving with her offerings to the Manor. Not only was she bringing visitors, but she was bringing visitors who fed into Tyen's darkness.

Tyen doted on them and even shined for them, feeding off their energy. This symbiotic relationship was  often unnoticed by most visitors and those who tended to be weakwilled could easily be drained or sucked dry by such a selfish and unfeeling home. Tyen could be darker and more cold hearted than any living, breathing person. Tyen had no heart. Tyen lacked empathy. Tyen simply was a place left with shadows and unable to provide much nurturing to anyone.

Melanthe's decision to offer Kingstreet a place to stay had no bearing on her decision to host future guests. Ever since the holiday break where Dazmond had brought the young Mairead to visit, Melanthe had planned to have her back for a longer stay. It had simply been a matter of time and circumstance. As circumstance would have it, the girl had leave from school for the spring break holiday.

Melanthe had paid a visit to the girl in her land of squalor and surprisingly had little problem getting her to come away. Bribing her with the chance to see her pet and others like it certainly helped.

Side along aparition was their method of travel this time, seeing as there was no one else to cater to but the girl. Even though the travel had been less than a tick of time, Melanthe had shown Mairead to her guest rooms (yes, there was an entire suite of rooms for her use), which at one point had belonged to Melanthe in her younger years. It was still equipped with children's playthings and clothing that Melathe hoped the girl would take a shine to (particularly the latter given Mairead's rather limited and unrefined clothing selection.

After allowing sufficient time for Mairead to get settled (and hopefully change), Melanthe instructed one of the house elves to go and fetch the girl for tea. But Melanthe was hardly planning to engage the child in niceties.

There was work to be done.

The last hour or so had reminded Mairead quite a bit of that movie she and the boys had watched at Danny's flat the last time they'd visited Dublin.  Televisions and DVD players seemed to be one of the common advantages of the settled life and those of them still on the road looked forward to spending time in front of those flat screens when they had the opportunity.  But, the movie had been about this lady who worked on the street and got hired by this rich guy to live with him.  The movie had been one of those movies that made the boys giggle a lot and Jarlath's mum's head nearly exploded when she'd found them watching it.  It had been an R-movie. 

But, that movie had been a lot like this.  At least from what Mairead had remembered and understood of that movie.  Mairead gathered her handful of belongings from her little cupboard of a room[1] in her family's vardo and followed Melanthe to her very large and very fancy home.  Their worlds, literally, were as different from each other as worlds could get. 

Hogwarts had seemed unbelievably magnificent when Mairead had first arrived.  She'd had her own bed there and meals were not only regular but plentiful.  But, even Hogwarts was nothing compared to this.  Her suite alone was, easily, three times the size of her whole family's home.  It felt very open, very ... exposed.  Mairead was used to sleeping in very small, confined spaces.  The curtains around her bed at Hogwarts had been a blessing - Mairead wasn't sure she could have been able to sleep without them. 

The house elf was starting to get impatient.  Mairead tried to ignore its anxious shuffling as she stared at the (very frilly) selection of dresses.  None of them would do.  How on earth was she expected to scramble on rocks in them?  Or ride or horse?  Or climb a tree?  How was she supposed to do anything in those things?  At least she'd figured out how to turn the water on in that magic faucet thingy.  Melanthe would just have to be happy that she'd managed to wash her hands. 

"None of them fit," Mairead announced, preemptively, as the elf left her in the woman's company.  Should she have washed her face, too?  Well, it was too late for that.  "And, I don't wear lace.  It's ... dumb." 

1.	Vardo's interior - the visible bed is usually where the parents sleep.  There's another bed in the compartment behind the two cupboard doors you see under the bed which is where children sleep if they can't sleep outside.

Melanthe was becoming impatient when the young girl did not come down promptly. She was beginning to wonder if she had gotten lost or worse, was homesick. That would be unfortunately. Melanthe knew that Tyen could be intimidating, but she had hoped the young thing had a stronger disposition, especially if she was to be dark.

Alas, not everyone can be like me, Melanthe thought.

Melanthe looked up as the house elf and Mairead entered the room and her brow immediately furrowed at the realization that she had not changed. Hadn't anything appealed to her more than the drab old thing she had on? Melanthe bit her lower lip at the child's response.

“Didn't fit? I see,” she murmured as she looked the girl over, as if sizing up her up. “Well, in that case, we shall have to find a time during your stay to go shopping for something that does. Preferably sooner than later. This--” She pointed to what Mairead was wearing. “--Simply will not do. You are a guest in my home. You should look the part.” The dark witch paused and was thoughtful for a moment. “Although I do agree that lace can be rather....useless,” Melanthe conceeded. She thought back to her own youth and wondered what purpose it had ever served her in becoming a better socialite or skilled dark artist. No, hankered down in lace had done nothing for her at all. She supposed she could grant the girl some reprieve from that torture. Still, she pointed out, “There are plenty of clothing options that do not have lace as a main feature. Surely we can find something that suits you....better.”

Mairead shook her head.  "They looked too baggy up top."  Mairead said with just a hint of defiance in her voice.  "I don't need those kind of dresses, yet."  Or, she hoped, ever.  Nope - she was perfectly content with baggy, non-form fitting shirts. 

Mairead glanced down at her own attire and shrugged.  She didn't see what was wrong with what she was wearing and her shoes - well, those had almost been brand new when her mum had bought them.  But, she certainly wasn't going to turn down someone's offer to buy her things.  As long as it didn't have lace.  Or pink.  Or animal prints.  Or anything that could be described as cute.

"Alright," she agreed, looking up.  "They've got stores here?"  Wherever here was.  Apart from 'Siberia' which Mairead already knew.  She couldn't have found the place on a map but she assumed, like many places in the wizarding world, it couldn't be found on a map. 

"Yer not trying to make me into a girlie girl, are ye?  Cuz it's not gonna work.  Me mum's been trying for eleven years and she's given up.  Tito don't care none, either.  I got some dresses but I only wear them for mass.  They just get in the way when yer doing anything important.  And, if I show up at school again wearin' some fancy get up they're all gonna think I suddenly became some snobby pureblood wannabe.  That'd do bad things to me reputation, ye know?  Most of the time, they leave me alone because they know I'll punch them.  It's our system."  And, as far as Mairead was concerned, it worked.  No need to fix it.

Melanthe's lips formed a grim line as Mairead spoke in obvious distaste of the dresses. On the one hand, Melanthe did sympathize with the girl. It was hard to be dark with all that frill in the way. But at the same time, Melanthe did believe that little girls should be little girls, even if just a little bit. Perhaps that was because that was how she was raised.

She decided to pick her battle and waved the whole discussion off. “We'll find you something suitable,” she assured the young thing. For us both, she reserved to herself. She wouldn't go into an explanation that at some point a person had to be taken seriously and might wish to be respected when doing business with others. Not to mention it just felt better to have more than others. Melanthe didn't imagine the girl had that kind of complex considering the kind of conditions she came from. But that could be changed in no time.

“Of course we have stores here,” Melanthe said. She didn't mention that Russian fashion – magical or otherwise – was an acquired taste and that she herself rarely shopped the establishments in her own country. “But we could patronize stores anywhere in the world....Paris, Milan, New York...” She overlooked the fact that what she was saying could very well be gibberish to Mairead.

Mairead's mention of her mother gave Melanthe pause. The woman had probably done the best that she could, both providing for the girl and in trying to get her to be less of a tomboy. Maybe it would have worked had she had more resources at her disposal. Hopefully the woman wouldn't mind Melanthe doing a bit to help in that regard.

“We can find you something that will make you look nice but hopefully won't ruin your reputation,” Melanthe conceded. She patted the seat on the couch next to her and decided they could continue their talk of clothing at a later date. “We'll go shopping before you return home. And since your little Macha has been producing, we figure out some other fun things to get you as means of payment for your goods. Does that sound good?”

Melanthe smiled, seamlessly transitioning into the real reason why Mairead was there: business. Dazmond had mentioned that the girl was a parselmouth and Melanthe wanted to know the depth of her talents in that regard and her overall understanding of what it might be good for.

Tentatively, she hedged, “Do you know a lot about how special your little friend is, Mairead?”

Mairead was doubtful this woman had any idea what 'suitable' meant and the look she gave the woman conveyed as much.  She had yet to determine what Melanthe's priorities were which would, invariably, effect the woman's perspective on 'suitable.'  "Suitable for what?  Tea parties?"  The later was spoken with enough of an edge to make it clear that was not her top priority.  Or, even on her list of priorities. 

Those cities were hardly gibberish to Mairead.  At least, not all of them.  Perhaps, Milan was slightly gibberish but she knew of Paris.  And, what self-respecting Irishman or woman wouldn't have heard of New York?  It was practically their Plymouth rock.  "New York?  Really?"  The idea had piqued her curiosity.  Appeased by the assurance that Melanthe would take her reputation into account, Mairead conveniently forgot that the purpose of the trip was fashion and not ... well, just New York.  She crossed the room and dropped onto the couch, bouncing several times on the thick cushion. 

"Macha has babies?"  That news was enough to draw Mairead's attention away from the bouncy couch and towards the woman.  "Can I see them?  Do ye think Macha will recognize me?  I saved her life - I know dogs remember those kind of things but I don't know about snakes.  I'd never seen one before I found her in that alley.  And, I only found her because she was whimpering.  In a snake-y way.  I'm still surprised no one else heard her, ye know?" 

A grin flickered across her features as the woman mentioned payments and nodded.  Mairead understood fully the concept of bartering and it didn't take a genius to realize Melanthe had quite a lot to be bartering with.  But the grin twisted into a confused scowl. 

"Macha?  I mean - I assumed she's special.  She's got two heads."  That, in itself, seemed reason enough to consider the serpent special.  "And, she talks.  Which is weird, though.  I mean.  I've only ever heard one voice.  And, she's got two heads.  So, two mouths.  I know Dazmond got really excited about her so I guess they're valuable."

Suitable for serious social interaction, Melanthe wanted to say. Suitable for being taken seriously in society. And suitable for saying, without words, that you were better than everyone else.

All of those thoughts went through Melanthe’s mind just then and they were every bit a reflection of how she operated. But even Melanthe knew that not everyone was capable of operating like her. Perhaps this young girl was not cut out for this, no matter how much Dazmond raved about her.

Still, Melanthe endeavored to be patient. The girl had interests and she simply had to figure out what they were and exploit them to get what she wanted. Traveling to the right places might be one of those tools. “Yes. New York. We can go there whenever you want. And I promise that we can do more than just shop,” Melanthe assured her.

It was clear the discussion was heading towards business and Melanthe was fine by that. Talk of Macha and just the runespoors in general was not something she got to do very often, given the nature of the work she did. Even Melanthe had to admit that being able to share her passion with someone would be enjoyable.

“Yes, she has babies. And we can go and see them in a bit.” Melanthe paused and peered at Mairead curiously as she continued. “Macha has grown since you last saw her. And when creatures like her get bigger, they change quite a bit. She might not even recognize you, Mairead. Or care on the most basic level. Runespoors aren’t like other pets, my dear. But special people can talk to them and take better care of them than ordinary people. People like you and me. We can sooth them. Because we can hear what they’re saying and understand what they need. Few others can do that because they’re not listening the way that we do.”

Melanthe stood and held her hand out to the young girl. “She is indeed special. And very, very valuable to the right people. I can teach you a lot about just how much...”