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Tess had trouble keeping her eyes open, but Louisa McLoghlin's description sounded so pretty coming from Mark's mouth that she nodded along (dogs!) so that he could swipe right.
"What abo ut Miss Penelope Barnstein, 26, works at. a construction firm?" Tess said, and swiped through the woman's pictures.
"Wait-- I think she smokes? Are you into that? Nope, swiping left on her." And Tessa swiped, and wiggled her fingers at Penelope Barnstein's face as she disappeared. She took another sip of wine, but almost spat it out as the saw the next face on Mark's phone.
"mark omigosh l o o k."
And it was the face of Cladis Perses Gallion that stared back at them.
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“How interesting,” Valencia said absentmindedly, turning to stare out the window while her companion regaled the compartment about her summer retreat to one of her family’s many neglected vacation homes in Northern Ireland. Agnes Springmore was supposed to be here ages ago, not abandoning her alone with dry Juno Marbount and nervous wreck Dianna Maidwell. The sound of the compartment door sliding open had her spring up from her seat, but the head (heads) that poked in weren’t Agnes or Patti or Cecilia. Identical as the visitors were, she had never considered their differences until now. She met eyes with one, and in the split second they shared a moment together, Valencia nearly convinced herself that she was staring at, not an invention, but a Grecian sphinx; a girl who played games knowing that she was already the victor. She opened her mouth to speak until Agnes shoved herself in the room with her little sycophants trailing behind. Immediately, the pair left. “— obviously not worth our time.” Oh. Valencia didn’t hesitate to raise a finger at their backs before shutting the door with a decisive click!BEGINNING OF TERM, 48’
opening feast Cynthia Chandler left to try and seduce Victor Lund at the Ravenclaw Table, but that was fine. Valencia had other friends. (The word “friends” tasted sour on her tongue.) They floated aimlessly around her, unable to touch like she was a painting in a museum. Praising in reassuring coos and preening once she acknowledged them. What an honor. What a drag. Valencia had to find someone else. Lamia should have been around — she could go to her for anything — or perhaps she could even bug Bianca if she was feeling desperate. But they were simply too far away.On the other side of the Slytherin table, a familiar face sat a couple of seats away, effusing a sense of belonging amongst her new housemates even though, in Valencia's opinion, the bared teeth would barely help the least in the situation. The networking, though, she had to admire. With nothing better to do, Valencia bore her eyes onto her crystal cheekbone and fire-forged grin, waiting for a single ounce of attention. It didn’t come as quickly or as easily as she wanted; the girl wilted at her simple defeat. She looked away and shared a smile with the pale Phoebe Bloodworth. "How's your sister?"
3
"—wley,""Mm," she responded out of pure instinct, but her attention was on the approach of Persephone, and the promise of a fruitful report in her eyes. Andromeda, too, had news to share, of Giulia Moretti and her gullible ears and buck teeth, who looked at Andromeda like she was all the mysteries of the universe. How adorable. Vaguely, she registered a few more words in that mahogany tone, but Persephone was already speaking, and she allowed the unfamiliar tones to go unnoticed beneath her sister's pomegranate-red smile and smooth words. Their hands shaped the future like molded clay, even if this dusty old "camp" restricted the flavor of their victims; every piece of information they gathered was paramount. When she finally turned, in unison with her second half, the call was already forgotten. And in the corner of her vision, there was only a final wisp of velvety hair. SUMMER'S END, '48
hogwarts express The train was far more crowded than Andromeda had anticipated. "Don't tell me we'll have to sit with mudbloods," she grumbled under her breath, so that only Persephone could hear. A moment later, passing one such abomination, she upturned her lips in a show of benevolence. They were brushed aside, and Andromeda resisted the urge to shove back; it was only Persephone that kept her temper balanced. "Here's one," she said, and made a move for the sliding door. Within, a few girls (obviously of pure descent) sat together in an otherwise-empty compartment. One of them reminded her of a siren in the way her hair moved, and her cheekbones were soft and raised as an elf's. For a split second, their eyes crossed paths, before a shrill voice and demanding footsteps pushed through the doors in her place— a fair-skinned redhead and two brainless twigs, one of whom she recognized as Pati Twitchell. And dear lord, she was not desperate enough to condemn herself to a train ride with the most annoying laugh in Wizarding History. She made a face at Persephone, and turned away. "...Nevermind, this cabin is obviously not worth our time."
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Just testing, nothing more...
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12 Jan, 1954 2018; 16:32. Muggle AU.
Halfway through cooking dinner.
7 months post-divorce, and three months after relenting to dating sites such as this one, Ronnie still startled at each new match. It was overwhelming, and borderline frightening, to even consider dating again-- seven months wasn't enough time to recover herself. As she'd been told, she was lucky for how quickly the divorce had been finalized-- for cases such as hers, it typically took upwards of twelve months, and she'd somehow locked it down in ten. (It was all about luck to them. How lucky, that modern technology had been enough to save baby Ephraim's life. How lucky, that her ex-husband's football career was successful enough to support them.) (...How lucky, that she'd left when she did.) But that was all past, now. She took one last glance at his profile-- a glance which turned into a look, and then a stare, and then the hamburger meat began to burn, so she shoved the phone aside completely. Ronnie had never been the sort to initiate conversation, unless it was with a child or an animal, so all this this flirting business was completely out of her expertise. Jan 12, 2018, 4:56 PMHey there~ Is that your daughter in the picture? She's so precious c:
It took several more tries, but she finally spit something out. Merlin, dating was a lot more difficult than she remembered.
6
Twin #1, the girl-shaped machine, and Twin #2, the mechanical human. By dinner, Valencia Alvear finally had it memorized. Twin #1, the one with frigid metal hands. Twin #2, the one able to mimic genuine smiles. Twin #1, whose stained lips pulled unconvincingly across her teeth. Twin #2, whose breaths only got warmer when the sun rose higher into the sky. She imagined a picture: Twin #1 on her left, Twin #2 on her right, standing in the middle of the Hogwarts halls and becoming a trio of perfect symmetry. They smiled, linked elbows, and everyone threw roses onto them while they stepped onto red carpet in perfect sync. (The Crowley sisters: probably aliens.) "Crowley," Valencia said, omitting the first name and thereby saving herself, "would you like to —" "Vali!" someone called across the dining hall — Beatrix Callesin, that annoying thing, from the 1944 Menelaus Ball, with Ana Lazarus and Lucia Fresco sitting on the other side of her. She only liked one third of that table, and that was only because Ana Lazarus let her keep the one velvet teddy bear in 1942. Valencia, having already completely forgotten Andromeda Crowley, stepped toward them.
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“Really?” he giggled shrilly. “See this is why we live together, trust. I...” he put his hand on his heart once more. “solemnly swear to nEVER throw you out a window.” Her phone in hand, the screen animated to life, emitting a fluorescent glow.
“Actually wouldn’t that be so cliche? And illogical? Windows. Windows are passè. And that window —“ he gestured abstractly to the far wall of the room. “It doesn’t. even open.” he scoffed, finding his wineglass on the coffee table with a slight expression of surprise. “Let’s pry it open.”
“Her smiiiiiile...” Mark leaned over to look at the screen, practically falling onto her before righting himself. “Is quite lovely actually swipe right please and thanks. What about.... Louisa Mcglochlin. 24, does pottery, and her dog is a-dor-a-ble.
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"n O--" she said, and blinked really slowly, "I would nev e r throw you. out. a window."
She patted at Mark's hand, and then his phone, and then his hand; and her fingers danced blind to open his Tinder profile.
It took a moment for everything to focus, liquid swayed in her wineglass; she became intimately acquainted with Lola Fletcher, 25.
"omigosh, Mark," she smacked his arm a little harder than she intended, "She's. a. magic i a n!"
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“Oooooh I’m Marcus now?” he considered it for a moment for all the stresses and syllables. “I’m sophisticated.”
And I swear,” he placed one hand on his heart. “on the housemate gods themselves.” He took the phone from her outstretched hand. “May their whims be ever in our oh my god. Tess. Did you drop this. out. the window.”
10
"Ma-- euaaaagh-- rcus Lerner," Tessa paused midway the solemn enunciation of his name and propped her head into her hand, letting her eyeslids drift close. Her head dipped and rose in what could very well be construed as a nod, and she opened her palm to accept his phone, "I solemnly swear it."
"Do yo u-" And she brandished her own phone, black and beaten with spderwebbing cracks across the screen, "swear to handle my Tinder with the best of intentions as any good-" (here, she yawned again) "-housemate might do?"
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