eyes of blood;; eyes of glamor(Open to Slytherins)

[parisnowan]

Paris lie on one of the couches in the common room, her legs slightly crossed and her head resting against the back of the couch's cushion. Her head being at an elevated angle, her eyes dwindled up toward the ceiling. It was in these moments that she contemplated how exactly she'd gotten herself to this point. Questions like, "How did I get here?" and "Why am I here?" filled her head. Of course, she wasn't referring to her literal location, but her state of being; her personality, her status, her internal thought process, how she chose to react and examine things. They were questions that could only be solved by taking into consideration the concept of nature vs. nurture; what others had done to affect her and how she had affected herself in her choices.

Although generally characterized by her narcism and competitiveness, Paris was actually one to reflect a great deal on life. And perhaps, this merely was caused by her narcissism in itself, for most of the time she was reflecting about herself. But there came a point where Paris had to stop herself. There were secret wounds that Paris hid underneath her pride, and she never allowed herself to inflict her own sorrow by openly trying to analyze her pain. Most of the hurt she felt was buried away; growing in her subconscious. However, at the moment she was simply in the process of asking herself, "How did I become this?" But no real answer came. She simply let her eyes dwindle on the ceiling, portraying tiredness and internal thought.

Paris liked school; it was fun to socialize with all the other students (that she deemed worthy) and she got to play a great deal of Quidditch, which she loved. But she found herself wishing that she were back at her manor. She would still get to socialize with many others there, as she threw many parties and was constantly dwelling in her sophisticated, glamorous, pureblood society, but here she felt so restricted. A part of her wondered what it would be like to attend a school that one attended by day, only to head home afterwards and spent the evening at one’s own residence...

Getting a little irritated with her own thought process, Paris sighed and concluded to think about something else. She closed her eyes for a second, savoring the quietness around her. More of a person who liked to be around noise, others wound perhaps find it interesting that she was savoring the quiet, but when she wanted something, Paris wanted it full heartedly, even if it was just mere quiet. After a few seconds of this, she lifted her eyes up and smiled a narcisstic smile that was such a well-known characteristic of her. She then let her eyes slowly scan the room, looking for any others. She'd savored her solitude long enough and now, having caught up on her homework already, was looking for someone, anyone; a distraction of some sorts.

[annabelleadams]

Annabelle sat in the dormitory, putting the finishing touches on her Potions assignment. With a final flourish of her quill, she concluded all her work for the night. Gently she packed the assignment away and swooped up from her perch. Gliding over to the mirror, she performed the routine hair check she always made before leaving her dormitory. Annabelle's hair was naturally curled into very tight ringlet curls, which she despised. She took a great deal of care to be sure that her golden blonde hair was always perfectly straight or with just the right amount of wave. Throughout her life, she had essentially been taught to be vain. As she gazed at her reflection, she was pleased to see it was exactly how it had been when she had finished working on it that morning.

Satisfied with her appearance, Annabelle debated what she would do next. There was still a fair amount of day left and she was not one to squander it away sitting idly alone in a dormitory. As if that was the determining factor, Annabelle decided to make her way down to the main common room. She took her time descending the staircase that led from the girls' dormitories to the main Slytherin common room. Upon reaching the landing, her eyes swept the room. There were a few students huddled in a corner working on assignments but they did not hold Annabelle's interest. As her eyes fell upon her closest friend and roommate Paris, a small smile graced her features. The two girls had known each other long enough for Annabelle to see that Paris was clearly deep in one of her pensive moments.

Resolving that spending the remainder of the evening with her friend sounded pleasant, Annabelle silently made her way over to one of the armchairs near the couch Paris was resting on. She was carefully to stay out of her direct line of sight for she did not want to interrupt her roommate's thought process. As she settled herself into the large armchair, she began to think deeply as well. Gazing at the fire, her mind wandered back to the events of the summer. Her sister. Her baby sister. The sister she would never know. The thoughts panged her with sadness and she quickly turned her focus back to Paris, who was still lost in thought.

She knew of Paris's issue with her twin sister, Lydia. Now having a sister of her own and knowing the two would never truly be sisters gave her a new sense of understanding of how difficult it must be for Paris. Clearly, the two were rivals. While Annabelle wanted nothing more than to be part of her sister's life, Paris wanted no part in Lydia's. However, perhaps that was merely on the surface. Annabelle had a baby sister she hardly knew anything of, had hardly seen, and who would never remember her. Paris and Lydia were twins. Annabelle's features rearranged into an inquisitive fashion. Was it hard for her friend to be so estranged from her sister? Though she wondered, she would never dare ask. The two girls had almost come to an unspoken mutual agreement to avoid family discussions. Paris had Lydia, and Annabelle had her secret.

Her thoughts were halted, however, as she noticed Paris's trademark narcissistic smile return. Annabelle quickly returned her features to their usual state as well. She watched her friend look around the common room as she had upon entering. Annabelle waited patiently until her roommate's eye met her own. As they did, Annabelle rose from the armchair. "Hello, Paris," she greeted pleasantly. The idea to ask what she had been reflecting upon did not occur to her. While she had Paris were very close, they did not tell each other everything. Therefore, Annabelle rarely pried. If Paris wanted to tell her something, she would. "I assume all of your assignments have been completed as well."

[parisnowan]

Paris was in more or less calm delight to see her friend sitting before her. Wanting good social interaction, spending time conversing with her good friend Annabelle was ideal for Paris. Still in somewhat of a glamorized daze, Paris calmly stared back at her friend as she uttered a hello. Next came a question regarding her schoolwork, which brought out a smile from Paris.
"Yes." She replied simply, while maneuvering her back as to sit up straight, and fixing her mane of hair in the front. Paris took pride in her long, wavy, blonde hair, but even so it did require attention as so it would not get out of hand. Looking back up, Paris let out a quick sigh.

Such sigh was actually typical of Paris in situations such as this; and it was often done without Paris even realizing it. Some mistook it for boredom, or whatever a disappointing emotion typical of interpretation of a sigh. However, sometimes Paris could not be feeling any more different from bored...and her sigh was just an expression of an indescribable statement. In a way, a sigh was just her filler word.

Paris had vague memories as a child getting backlash for this; or rather, her mother picking up on it. Although her mother wasn't rude about it, she intrepretated a sigh more or less like disapproval of a situation on Paris' part. If Paris was ever being scolded, and sighed, Elizabeth would take it was silent disagreement. It took Elizabeth awhile to pick up that it was simply a characteristic of Paris, even as her mother.

But Paris did not think of her mother often; she buried such vague memories she had with the pain she held inside....However, once a month she wrote a letter to her mother, Elizabeth. She usually would only write it after writing first to her father, then to her stepmother, Valerie, and finally after her Aunt Genevieve. Her letter to her mother was always short and not very informative. It was shallow writing, but polite and elegant. If one were to read one of her letters, it would seem more like a business letter, not a causal letter to one's relative. It was true; Paris struggled with the concept of writing to Elizabeth. There was a reason she rarely wanted to think about her mom, and she often did not know what to write. However, she kept doing it, just as she had been doing so since she had left her mother's residence.

However, it was not something Paris was proud of. Her father had known that she was writing when she was younger, as she hadn't been ashamed then to send the letter in front of him when she was little...but now, things were different. Upon receiving a letter from her mother by her owl, (which were actually very detailed and affectionate letters); she would simply cast it into her bag and not bother reading it on the spot. She would only open her mother's letters late at night, when she was sure no one was around. Even then, her facial expression was usually that of a frown and someone watching would probably assume that she had received irritating news. However, one thing odd about Paris' communication with her mother, was that she never burnt the letters. Unlike her other mail, which she would normally discard or burn after reading and replying to, she kept all the letters sent by her mother hidden away in a small box she brought with her to Hogwarts. The box was hidden in a secret place, as she never wanted anyone to find out. Paris herself didn't understand her own logic in this case, but brushed her own actions off and tried not to think about it.

At first, she honestly had been afraid that Lydia knew that she was communicating with Elizabeth, their mother. It would have been embarrassing and shameful. But Paris was confident that her mother had not told Lydia. When Paris had first left her mother's house, she'd been furious, but promised to write to both of them regardless. Lydia responded by promising never to come visit Paris with her father, but making the same statement regarding letters. But Lydia's letters never came. So, Paris stopped writing to her sister all together, but kept them going in regards to her mother. The Slytherin guessed that her mother had not let this little fact on, as both the twins were at each other's throats....

But now, here she was, back in the Slytherin common room, sitting by her friend Annabelle. Paris found it oddly ironic how just seconds ago she had been wishing that she was back home where she could enjoy her luxurious comforts and parties during the summer. Yet, now, here Annabelle was, who hadn't joined in on that large part of Paris' life. Inwardly, Paris often yearned for such thing to happen but accepted that it simply wasn't going to. There was something about Annabelle's family that her friend wanted to keep under wraps, and having a shameful sister and painful family past herself, Paris respected it. So, their silent contract of avoiding family matters continued.

Paris smiled as continued speaking. "Although, it wasn't the most enjoyable experience. I don't like how our assignments always seem to get more difficult as the year goes on." Paris finished nestling with her hair, and let another sigh as she continued. "You know me...I'd rather be doing something other than..." Paris' eyes wandered over to the group of students working on their school work, smiling as her sight hit dead on, "That."

[annabelleadams]

Annabelle's assumption was, naturally, confirmed as Paris gave her brief reply. As her friend reached up to fix her hair, Annabelle's hand reflexively went up to her own. She was pleased to still feel the straight strands beneath her fingers. Paris uttered one of her typical sighs. A faint glimmer of a smile touch Annabelle's features. Previously, such sighs were quite an annoyance to Annabelle. They were also frightening during her first year. She took it as a sign that she was doing something wrong. It made her feel as if she weren't acting quite like a pure blood should. After spending much of their six years together, Annabelle had eventually come to realize that these sighs were nothing negative. Their actual purpose, however, was still unknown to her.

She nodded once in agreement as her friend brushed upon her complaints with their workload. As Paris' gaze fell upon the group of students Annabelle had previously spotted, she gave a small eye roll for effect. "Why, of course," she concurred. A number of things came to mind that both girls would rather partake in than doing assignments. It had been a while since they had attended a decent party. Annabelle had rapidly learned of the love of parties her roommate had. Paris often held lavish parties at her father's estate during the summer months and had always offered Annabelle and her family an invitation that always had to be politely refused. She had always wished she could attend and see what such a life is truly like. Upon turning seventeen, she had considered attending a gathering by herself during the upcoming summer. The thought had been cast off, however, as the potential consequences of such a foolish action slowly began occurring to her.

A small chill touched Annabelle and she slowly gravitated to the roaring fire. She gazed at the flames that jumped at her for a moment before turning to Paris once again. "Still, I'm thankful we won't have to put up with all that O.W.L.s preparation again," she noted with a grimace. "At least when we take our N.E.W.T.s next year, the subjects we'll be tested in will actually be able to hold our interest." Her head shook lightly back and forth once. "Let us discuss a different matter," she suggested. "We must suffer through enough academic talk as it is." Annabelle paused for a moment to inspect her French manicured fingernails. They would have to be redone soon. Though she had charmed them to last longer, it would be wearing off shortly and Annabelle would not allow them to be chipped. Mentally, she made a note to get her nails redone next week.

She lifted her gaze and spoke again. "Now, I wish I had some interesting tale to recount, but life around the castle has been unfortunately dreary lately." Weeks had gone by and nothing of interest had happened to her. It was quite irritating and, of course, quite dull. "And yourself? Perhaps all the intrigue has come your way as of late." Outside of the common room and mealtimes, lately the two girls had often been apart. With the school year starting to draw near an end, Annabelle had been spending much of her free time as of late searching for an apartment for the summer. She needed a place close enough but not near any homes of her classmates. It was proving to be rather difficult and she found herself wishing she had begun much earlier. As Annabelle reflected on this, she concluded she must find a better way to divide her time between her search and her friends. It would grow too suspicious if she was constantly spending her time alone and secluded.

[parisnowan]

"Still, I'm thankful we won't have to put up with all that O.W.L.s preparation again,"

To this remark, Lydia nodded, her head leaning a little to one side as she watched her friend speak. Studying for her O.W.L.'s was not an experience she wanted to relive again. The experience was more like something that would be brought up around the dinner table with one's family in the future...Paris could see herself with her future husband and child, explaining what O.W.L.'s were. She'd make a statement like, "They're not too hard, but they're not good fun, either. Just stay focused and you'll be fine," and leaving out how much she'd grown to hate the preparation in her own school years...However, when she started to think about marriage and such Paris got somewhat uncomfortable. She'd always wanted that, and she knew she'd get it, but now the thought didn't seem so far off. She was nearing the end of her sixth year...and then would come her seventh year...and after that, who knew when it would happen? Marriage could perhaps be closer than she had previously thought...the thought was somewhat terrifying, and Paris didn't like to be scared.

But as soon as the thought had entered her mind, it was also gone. Her mind was back to focusing on what Annabelle was saying, something about avoiding academic talk as they had too much as it were. Paris also nodded to this, seeing the validity in Annabelle's point. As her friend confessed that nothing interesting had happened to her, Paris' narcissistic smile faded away. She tried to maintain casualness, but she realized that it was a difficult task given that she had assumed Annabelle was doing something very demanding that required most of her time of the late. And now Annabelle was confessing nothing. Her statement had to be false, right?

They hadn't seen much of each other recently: Annabelle using lot's of her time away from Paris and their other friends. Internally, Paris had made a mental note of this and at first, was a little bothered by her friend's absence. But Paris was somewhat...cut off when it came to close relationships. In her sort of friendships, it was easy to let go of someone given their was not much trust and emotional intimacy involved. She supposed that Annabelle was the same, that of course explained why they got along so well. She had thought that perhaps Annabelle had intentions of leaving their group of friends...but some actions in the common room and during meals proved other wise. So then, Paris had thought perhaps she was keeping some sort of secret from her that was taking up her time...perhaps an embarrassing boyfriend? The thought was shot down quickly when Paris simply couldn't picture her friend dating any one not worth showing off...So Paris had come to the conclusion that she simply wanted time away from her, for whatever reason, and it was not worth her own time to think about it. It would all work out anyways, no curiosity nor investigation was needed on Paris' behalf....

But now Annabelle had confessed nothing; or perhaps, not really a confession, but had falsely professed nothing...It bothered Paris...a little, but she soon pushed through this thought as her friend inquired about her. Her smile returned, as she already knew what to say. "Quidditch." She said simply, this being another one of her tendencies. Although she didn't realize it, she often made simple statements, only to pause, and then explain them. It wasn't done so much that it got annoying or that most could identify it as her characteristic, but she did have a tendency to answer questions in such a way. "I'm preparing for our match, as it starts quite soon and we unluckily got picked to play in the season's first game. I've been practicing a lot, alone, and with my team. And from what I've seen, we've got a great team this year, better than before. Bishop's a good Seeker and I've also got some talented Chasers as well. I think we're a good team, already in line for the Quidditch House Cup."

Although very much attracted to things of glamor and sophistication, Paris also possessed a love of sports that generally was only out shined by her twin sister, Lydia. From an early age, Paris loved participating in things that required physical strength and skill, as well as competition that Paris liked to thrive on. Truly, she loved the glamorous world she lived in, but in such world, there was also room for Quidditch. Because of this, Paris wished that her friend Annabelle, would give the sport a try and apply to be on the team. Paris had already informed her that if Annabelle ever wished to join, she'd give her a private try-out and work with her to see if she could qualify. She wouldn't just automatically give a position to her, but she'd go to great lengths to see if she possessed some great potential. So far, Annabelle had politely refused her offer. But with all the time Paris spent practicing the sport, Annabelle surely had to know of Paris' love of the popular sport.

[annabelleadams]

Annabelle noted Paris' gestures of agreement to her comments. Due to her own reflections on the amount of time she'd spent isolated as of late, she did not notice the momentary falter in Paris' smile. Her attention was only drawn back from her own planning as Paris uttered the reply, "Quidditch." It did not surprise Annabelle that this was her friend's topic of choice. The two girls greatly differed when it came to the wizarding sport. Annabelle had been raised to be what was a "proper young lady" in her father's opinion. That meant she rarely did anything. Sports were not ladylike and, therefore, she'd never developed an interest in them. However, she always feigned an interest in at least watching or discussing Quidditch so as not to be on the outside. It seemed the entire school was always enthralled by the sport. Paris even more so than some.

She listened politely, smiling and nodding, as Paris mentioned the upcoming match and all the practicing she'd undergone. Annabelle's knowledge of Quidditch was not much. Naturally, she knew it involved flying on broomsticks in the pitch. Also, she had taken care to learn the different positions - their names and their enrollment in the game. Of course, she knew the members of her own house team as well. Upon Paris' mention of the Quidditch House Cup, Annabelle gave a nod of agreement. "Of course," she agreed. "Who is this game against? Ravenclaw? Their team is decent but I've no doubt that we will be the victorious ones." Her opinions were, indeed, absolutely. However, they were merely from house pride. Annabelle knew nothing of the other teams. "Naturally, it will be an easy road to the championship."

Paris had often tried encouraging Annabelle to seek involvement with the team, but she had no interest in such a thing. She could hardly stay focused on watching the games - it would be a disaster to see what would happen if she attempted to play in one. On the other hand, watching and playing were two quite different things. Nevertheless, Annabelle showed no interest in attempting to play, nor in flying itself. After spending eleven years as a muggle, she was adamant (though never aloud) that if she wanted to fly, she would simply take an airplane. Wishing to deter their conversation topic, she turned her head to gaze out the window. "I wonder where everyone has been recently," she mused. The common room was empty, save for themselves and the studious group in the corner. "Things have been awfully dull lately."

The fire had heated her quite nicely and she now moved away from it in pursuit of the window. Even the grounds were empty as well. A small sigh escaped from between her lips, however, as she turned herself back to her fellow Slytherin, she plastered a smile upon her features. Whisking herself back to the armchair she had previously occupied, she struck up the conversation once more. "Now, I know you're quite anticipating the Quidditch match, but we can discuss our brilliant victory once it's occurred," she told her friend. "Let us speak of events that have already happened. I refuse to believe that there would be nothing for us to divulge to one another." Her mind began working to fabricate a cover story for her absence as of late. "As I've mentioned," she launched into her new tale, "I have nothing of intrigue. My time lately has been spent on...personal research." She paused for emphasis before brushing off her previous statement. "Such a thing is far too dull for our conversing though." A soft smile curved her lips upward as she enticed her friend. "I am certain that you will have much more pleasant endeavors to detail for me."

Her "personal research" was not too far from the truth. She debated various topics that would be enjoyable to her. Nothing too academic, of course, but certainly nothing pointless. Fabricating tales came naturally to Annabelle. Everything about her current life revolved around her fabrications. The thought pointed Annabelle into another query entirely: What would be her family story this summer? Perhaps, now that she was of age, her parents could meet an untimely death. Such an idea was rejected, however, and pushed off to a later, undetermined date. It was simply too early for such a thing. Though it may not even be necessary after graduation. Graduation. It was drawing very near. With only one year of schooling left, Annabelle often found herself wondering where she would go from here. Getting a job was a very unappealing thought. Annabelle's mother had never worked, running away with her father straight out of high school. Gazing slightly inquisitively at her friend, Annabelle resolved she would have to ask Paris about her future plans at a later date.

[parisnowan]

Paris was pleased with Annabelle's response, noting that her friend took little interest in the sport despite Paris's near obsession. Being raised in a glamorous and sophisticated environment, Paris' love of the sport would seem somewhat of of place. However, ever since a young age Paris had loved the thrill of victory in a competition. The wonderful feeling was enough to produce a strong desire to train more; to feel the personal satisfaction that came from winning. Although typically appearing narcissistic outside of the sport, Paris did value the teamwork that came along with Quidditch. All together, Paris loved it.

Although appearing narcissistic, and sometimes merely answering questions with simple, well-thought out statements, Paris truly loved to socialize. Although she and Annabelle were very similar, Paris noted a bit of a difference between them. It seemed like on occasions such as this, Annabelle was more formal in her speech, while Paris seemed to let go a little more. Sure, Paris was very formal when it came to parties and strangers, but in her mind, she possessed a little bit more of casualness in instances such as this. She hoped Annabelle didn't mind, as she didn't mind Annabelle's formalness in words. After all, it wasn't as if Annabelle was overly formal or Paris was overly casual, either. There was just a slight difference. And they both had similar motives behind their words...or at least Paris thought.

Paris listened as Annabelle changed the subject, a vain expression written on the her own face. She briefly touched her hair with her hand once more, only quickly adjusting it. Her face was stonic as Annabelle spoke, referencing the absence of others in the common room and naming the recent action at Hogwarts dull. Although Paris could see Annabelle's point, Paris slightly disagreed. She herself had been training for Quidditch, not something of any bore to her....Paris had been actually quite busy, never really experiencing something dull of the late. But she could see how her friend thought such a thing, as she did not play a part on their team. As far as the reference to their other friends were, Paris didn't know, although, honestly did not care at the moment. She had been enjoying her alone time quite well, and as soon as a trace of boredom had shown up, she had been instantly joined by Annabelle. She hadn't even thought of any others...

Paris smiled narcistically to herself as Annabelle restruck the conversation by referencing Quidditch once more; almost as if she had read her mind. Such thought of someone actually knowing her thoughts so well that they could predict her thought process would normally be seen as a threat to Paris, but this time it was merely harmless and pleasing. At least Annabelle acknowledged Paris' thoughts in the conversation. Paris listened with intrigue as Annabelle referenced some sort of "research." So there was more to her friend's mysterious disappearances? Paris would surely get to the bottom of this....

"Research? Do explain yourself, Annabelle." She said happily, her smile sly on her face only widening by the moment. "An explanation for your long absences is particularly over due...as I have already explained mine..." Her last lines were merely in a tease, obvious and outright, although in her signature soft, cool, relaxed tone. She spoke more so in formality to accentuate her teasing tone. Her curiosity was truly intrigued....