[cork] don't get your tinsel in a tangle [evie]

brunch
december 2003

Rowen had managed to make it through another holiday Christmas party unscathed (and without the announcement of an unfavorable betrothal), and the young witch was quite proud. She had spent the evening frolicking between her friends, her family, and the numerous amounts of influential party-goers lined up to impress their host, Genevieve. Rowen's dress had been perfect, her makeup immaculate, and her attitude spot on, which of course, only served to open the door for the teenage witch to judge everyone else in attendance. And now that the party was over, and the brunch the following day (reserved for close family only) had started.

Rowen had stifled her giggles when her grandfather entered the room and sat at the long table. The witch followed Evie and the others to take their seats, the Ravenclaw on Genevieve's side, closer to her grandfather, rather than at the far end of the table with her mother and father. Like it was supposed to be. The actual meal was uneventful, lavish, and delicious, naturally, but it was the after-brunch gossip that Rowen was looking forward to. And almost the second her grandfather was out of earshot; Rowen was setting in on unleashing her opinions about everything.

"Uncle James wore brown trousers with a black cloak," Rowen informed Genevieve, who surely already knew, but that didn't stop the teenager from giving her uncle a dirty look over the rim of her dainty teacup. After a few more scathing reviews about the wardrobe and behavior of the attendants of the party, she set in on the classmates she hadn't invited. "Horus used the dessert fork for his dinner; by the way, the small thing looked so silly in his ogre's hands," She whispered.

@Genevieve Reinhardt

Normally, Genevieve opted to pretend that the protocol of brunch after a long night of dancing had escaped her, it was often her excuse the morning after one event or another when she was struggling to keep up with her newly acquired relatives so late into her pregnancy. No one had ever really pushed her to do anything but the witch had convinced herself that there had been looks and whispers, both of which looked upon her with disdain whenever made a complaint.

But things were decidedly different now, and when she walked into the dining room that had been set up in the greenhouse for better lighting and therefore a better look at what everyone had gotten up to during Christmas celebrations (or how much of it), she acted as if she had not been indisposed the last nine months. In fact, she felt better than ever. Not only did she have new relatives but the ultimate accessory that would win her their favor for years to come her very own baby boy.

She was not sure what Effie had done with him and though Genevieve gave him cursory glances one in a while, it was safe to assume that she was better leaving the child-rearing to someone else for now, at least until Niklaus could say enough to impress her.

Genevieve took another piece of toast, lightly spreading a warmed piece of butter along with it as she turned to Rowen and smiled, her eyes inadvertently glancing in his direction before looking away. “He did look awful but at least he didn’t consume half the night’s supply of fire whiskey like he did last time,” she reasoned, tittering at her comment on Horus. The poor boy had done a terrible job of trying to impress his possible future bride and though Genevieve had been honest when she said she would do her best to make sure that such a match was avoided, she couldn’t help but enjoy herself in the meantime.

“Your cousin Klaus didn’t do any better, though I heard he was too worried people would hear about his latest scandal, I heard she’s in the family way his new girlfriend,” she raised her eyebrows just a little 

Rowen did not share the same passion for adorable baby Niklaus that so many of her aunts and cousins seemed to. The teenager had complimented Genevieve and Wolfgang, of course, but had not taken much interest in the baby since. It still looked more like a creature in her textbooks than a human child, and it was so fragile that it made Rowen uncomfortable to get too close. However, the witch had missed how much attention and praise Genevieve received for bringing a healthy baby into this world.

Leaning closer to whisper another smearing comment, Rowen covered her mouth with her napkin daintily, "That's because he spent half the night trying to ply a witch half his age with said whiskey," The teenager may have been young. Still, she wasn't young enough to not understand what had been happening there, though, all things considered, she very much wished she understood a bit less. Dabbing at the corners of her mouth respectfully before returning the silky cloth napkin to her lap Rowen shook her head. "He did not," She commented, her dark eyes trailing over to where cousin Klaus was sitting, a witch she didn't remember noticing until just now sitting quietly next to him, and then giggled. "What an idiot,"

"She won the jackpot, though, huh," Naturally, the spoiled little witch assumed anyone who trapped a Reinhardt in such a way was only in it for the money. They weren't married, but they surely would be soon enough now. "What did you think of my friends?" Rowen asked quietly, returning her gaze to her favorite person in the world with a hopeful smile.

“Why are the men in your family so…” she wrinkled her nose, not sure the best way to convey what she had already conveyed with her tone of voice and gestures, “…crass,” she decided though it was not a question no matter how she had formulated it. Genevieve had opinions and once they were started, they were not to be questioned. “The ones at the table, of course, my darling Wolfie would not fit into said category had he been here,” she continued, making sure to remind Rowen for what might have been the hundredth time that her husband was several notches above the rest and therefore her scathing reviews of the Reinhardt’s did not apply to him. Genevieve was not pleased that she had been sent to the event without her husband who, for whatever reason had yet another meeting to attend to, but she was perfectly content sitting next to Rowen who, as always, was proving to be great company on her own.

“I should hope not but if he has, he might very well have to kiss that inheritance of his goodbye unless of course, he takes care of it,” Genevieve alluded to several things, wherever Rowen’s mind went to would surely be better than whatever the older witch had in mind. There were certain things that the teenage witch needed to know but there were just as many that the older witch did not want to divulge yet. There was a time and place for everything after all.

“Is Klaus really the trophy anyone wants to take home?” she wondered, looking as the boy laughed so loudly that he snorted and grabbed the attention of everyone in the room, turning immediately red with embarrassment he apologized just as quickly. “Idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought your friends were…suitable,” she shrugged lightly, taking a piece of her toast as she chewed thoughtfully before she continued, knowing the anticipation would probably keep her on the edge of her seat, “Barbara is a little plain, but I suppose vintage is in lately, Billie a little silent, and Hyacinth well…I suppose spirited is one way to put it,” she continued. “Which one do you prefer the most? Barbara, perhaps?”

"Dreadful, really," Rowen added, and the way she lifted her nose at the thought of her male relatives proved that the word "crass" just wasn't insulting enough for some of them. The young witch counted herself lucky to be on this side of the Reinhardt table, away from the lackluster cousins and odd uncles and especially the aunts who lacked anything resembling a backbone despite how tight their corsets were. "Oh," Rowen said softly, her mouth lingering on the o shape as the wheels in her mind began to turn. Take Care of It, she repeated the words, letting the dark corners of her mind fill in the blanks and smirking.

"As if he has the stones," She giggled, it was a crass thing to say, but she must have been feeling especially airy from the bubbly orange juice she was sipping with brunch. Klaus would lose his inheritance or the girl, and there was something strangely comforting to Rowen about that balance. That not everything was just given to the stupid wizards in her family simply because they had the luck to inherit the right last name. Rowen had to work for it, but she was a witch, it was expected, so it felt good to know they had to earn it too. Or, at the very least, not screw up and lose it.

Suitable.

Suitable. Rowen turned the word over and over, trying to pick it apart and puzzle out what Genevieve must have meant by it, and the pause was torturous. Rowen ached at how Genevieve reduced her closest friends to mere adjectives, and while she disagreed, she nodded anyway. "Barbara is quite vintage; simplicity is elegant," Rowen added; she had always admired the way Barbara took up very little space in a room but made it seem like it was on purpose; like she had the whole 'being a teenager' thing figured out already. And Billie was indeed quiet, but Rowen never had minded; she could talk enough for the three of them, honestly. Hyacinth was sugary sweet, spirited indeed, and Rowen always trusted her to see the bright side of things, even just so that Rowen could darken them again.

Shifting in her seat, Rowen was careful with her gestures, facial expressions, and next words. While Genevieve was verbally judging her friends, Rowen knew she was in every way actually judging her. Rowen's choice of who to invite was always going to speak volumes about her character. She knew it was a test, and of course, she wouldn't accept "suitable" as a grade. She needed perfection. "Each one of them is a perfect complement to me," She finally admitted, placing her hand delicately on her chest, as if they were accessories she held dearly. "They elevate me, without overshadowing, which is what friends are meant to do, am I correct?"

“I suppose it all depends on what one wants in life,” she reasoned in response to Rowen’s comment on the courage said cousin might possess if any. “Not all of us can be at the top, you know, no amount of wealth can overcome the realities of hierarchy. Some of them,” she started, pausing as she took a small, measured sip from her sparkling wine and smiled. This had been one of the many habits she had been happy to indulge in after Niklaus had been born.

She had no intention of feeding him herself therefore had no reason to not delve back into the things that had tempted her terribly throughout her pregnancy. “They simply cannot handle the pressure,” she suggested. Genevieve had experienced firsthand, the weight of the responsibility that accompanied her status and how many so easily collapsed under the burden never to recover again.

“Simplicity is common,” she said in response, her tone not particularly mean-spirited but it was cold as if to imply that her opinion was a matter of fact. Then again, Genevieve had managed to convince herself that everything that proceeded forth from her lips in this matter was indeed a fact. “And quite frankly, it’s rather rude to attempt to blend in with commoners when you’ve the means not to, it confuses people and I am all about being honest, you ought to tell her that,” she added, leaning in to take another bite from her toast.

“Perfect complement to you?” Genevieve laughed lightly, reaching instead for a piece of fruit, spearing a couple of bites of a strawberry onto her fork before dipping it into the honey arranged next to it. “Now, now, don’t be so modest it doesn’t suit you, Rowen,” she said, “I wouldn’t know what friends do, I haven’t any,” she shrugged lightly. It was an insult to those who had considered themselves her friends, but she could not have cared less. Genevieve knew that a friend was someone she trusted and apart from one person, she trusted no one. “I suppose you could have done much worse and friends at Hogwarts that are suitably raised are hard to come by, “bring them over for tea before you return to Hogwarts, I’d like to speak to them personally,” she suggested.
“And what shall we do about Horus?”

Rowen had always thought that simplicity, in particular situations, was elegant. It was refined and classical. But if Genevieve said it was common, then she must have been right. Nodding her head slowly, Rowen busied herself by sipping on her non-alcoholic juice and then dabbing at the corners of her mouth. The young witch couldn't help herself when Genevieve managed to both compliment herself and insult everyone around her with one simple statement, and she smiled impishly. Rowen hoped to one day have the sort of cruel grace that Genevieve embodied so perfectly, so elegantly. Each of these conversations was like a lesson, Rowen was patient, and she soaked up the information, even when she did not entirely agree with it.

Not that she would ever do such a thing. Rowen took Genevieve's advice as gospel and followed her lead to the letter. "I will invite them at once," She agreed, skipping past the rest and moving straight to the thing she knew she could do. Rowen was grateful that Genevieve understood what a struggle it was to find good company at the hollow shell of a school known as Hogwarts. "They let it, everyone, now, it is perfectly unpleasant." And completely unacceptable, the little witch thought to herself. "What a wonder it must have been when the magical schools did not accept muggles." It was a time long ago, longer than either of them would have known, but Rowen could imagine. And it was almost achieved again in their lifetime before everything fell apart. What a shame it was.

When Genvieve brought up Horus, Rowen carefully placed her napkin on the table in disgust. Folding her hands in her lap to avoid any excess dramatics in front of her cousins, the little witch stuck up her nose. "A lovely incendio, perhaps?" She offered, that devilish twinkle in her eyes. Rowen sat up straight and proper as if she wasn't proposing they set her classmate on fire.

“You send word, and I will vacate my schedule,” she added, her way of showing how fond she was of her husband’s cousin, a girl who had quickly become like the little sister she had never thought she would ever want. It was an unexpected but much-appreciated connection and it made it easier for her to put her skills to good use—Genevieve had always considered herself full of unexplored potential when it came to mentorship and left to her own devices, she was certain that she would be able to provide Rowen with the appropriate tools necessary to be a fabulous member of society in her own right.

Genevieve smiled smugly at herself, rather proud of how distinguished the young woman had become in such a short time. Surely there was much to do with Rowen’s own personality, but Genevieve was not above taking credit here.

“Accepting muggles is not the only problem, dear, it is the acceptance of everyone who believes they ought to be awarded the same rights as us,” she added. It came down to the philosophy, Genevieve decided; the idea that everyone ought to be equal when magic and other aspects of the magical community were not a one size fits all, sort of idea. “Equity, that’s what it called,” she added. “We all have different needs but like usual the government finds it fitting to help everyone else, but anyway, no one wants politics over brunch, how absolutely dreadful,” she said with a smile, raising her glass just a little and glaring at one of the maids to signal that she was ready for a refill. It was splendid to be able to drink after such a long time and Genevieve was taking advantage of it.

Genevieve tittered in agreement with Rowen’s words, finding her fieriness enchanting. “You are an absolute delight when you’re set on a warpath, has anyone ever told you as much?” she complimented, taking a sip from her drink as soon as it had been refilled. “But let’s not write him off completely,” she noted, “his family does have an incredible archive of collections and artifacts that I would so love to get my hands on,” she added, “How do you feel about marrying someone older, then? A proper adult."

Hearing that Genevieve would stop what she was doing for her made Rowen positively beam with pride. She felt like the two were kindred spirits, or at the very least, Rowen intended to follow in the luxurious witch’s footsteps. Well… up until the baby part. She wasn’t’ quite fond of Niklaus and what the life of a mother must be, but Rowen decided not to bring that up now. It was expected of her, and it was also a lifetime away, and she had far more recent things to plot against.

Rowen felt like she understood where Genevieve was coming from, and she agreed with it. Up to not talking about politics at the brunch table. The little witch felt like she was constantly being attacked at school for her beliefs, and it was a relief to be among like-minded people again, but she was also ready to not worry about such things for a little while. A part of her was always going to worry about it because it greatly impacted her life. Muggleborn and mediocre classmates kept her from being able to learn more advanced magic. Everyone had to slow down because of the few at the back, it was unfair, but Rowen had never let it stop her. She studied hard, excelled in her classes, and followed her passions in her own time.

“Thank you,” she said politely, grinning at Genevieve as they spoke of setting Horus Heyward the Fourth on fire. And while Genevieve may have been playing around, Rowen had seriously considered it. If all of her machinations failed, she would absolutely resort to physical violence to get her way. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last. “Yes, but he is such a bore,” Rowen said quietly; her tone was far from argumentative, but the look on her face said something else. Rowen would likely marry someone because of what they could do for her family, but she wouldn’t marry just anyone. There were plenty of intelligent, charismatic, rich, Purebloods for her to choose from. And she would be the one who made a choice; she was adamant on that, even if she wasn’t supposed to be.

“How old?” She asked, backing slightly away from Genevieve and pulling the disgusted look from her features as it rose. She patted her lips with her napkin to hide her dismay and looked away. “A young adult, perhaps, but I will not marry an old wizard.”