Where the towers grow, gone to be faraway (Evie)

With a snap Farren arrived in a large empty fireplace, a cloud of sparkling green dust encapsulating her. Ducking her head she stepped out of the fireplace into a large receiving room at the Grosvenor family estate. The room was extremely opulent with gilded furniture and lush coverings she observed while withdrawing her wand from a concealed pocket at her hip and flicking it to shake off any dust that had landed on her gown. The heiress was dressed in her typical style, a sleek cape dress in her signature color with elegant embroidery over the lined bodice. Together with her angular structure and towering height in heels the lithe witch was an imposing, enigmatic figure.

As she tucked her wand back in it’s pocket a servant entered the room. “Miss Abercrombie, welcome to Dorfold Hall, do let me show you to the morning room where Miss Grosvenor is waiting,” he offered. She thanked him and agreed to be led away from the parlor and followed the man out of the room down a corridor.

It wasn’t abnormal to be invited to other ladies’ homes for tea. She was quite used to the social circus she had to live in, as an heiress and a pureblood. The fact that someone so young, four years her junior, was reaching out to her was what was surprising. Receiving the owl from Miss Grosvenor had been a most pleasant surprise. There were so few young women that were truly peers to the Abercrombie heiress, they were a dying breed of woman.

Though she was sure at some point she’d been in the home before for some party or another she hadn’t recalled anything about it. It was airy and rather bright compared to her lakefront home in Cumbria, a couple dozen miles from Scotland. The style of the home was what she would consider opulent, rather over the top, akin to the palaces of France or Austria. While she had grown up surrounded by wealth and had since spent much time in lavish estate homes of Britain’s wealthy wizards she never quite got used to it. By comparison her own home was austere and cold. It oozed of wealth but in what she considered a more dignified manner. Dalemain didn’t scream obscene wealth, it let it’s history prove it. Despite being a dignified and stately home the Abercrombie family estate was at it’s heart, a country home for country people. The Abercrombies were that and always had been since the days of their Scottish ancestors. For a moment she was bemused at how so often people thought her arrogant, lavish, and entitled by her wealth. The fact that at no point had an Abercrombie called for gold to be plastered to large portions of the furniture certainly made her feel the ire was misdirected. Why was she dragged in the press when this family was living in a Tsarina’s jewelry box? Smirking a little at the thought of it all she and the servant reached their destination, an equally opulent door.

Tapping once the servant opened it and stepped just inside, “Miss Farren Victoria Abercrombie as expected ma’am,” he said before scuttling side ways to allow Farren to enter the room. Again she was taken by the opulence of the room that was so detailed and so covered in gold leafing she felt as if she’d stepped into an indulgent European palace. The pretty brunette was waiting for her as expected.

There was quite a lot of detail about the girl she was not aware of that was of interest. Despite being a rather austere and cool Ren was still eager to partake in gossip or a juicy story. The Grovsenor family seemed to traffic heavily in both. When the girl was sorted into Slytherin during Farren’s 5th year rumors had naturally circulated about the new addition. She knew that the girl was second fiddle to her cousin Augustus whom Farren also knew by circumstance, both being heirs and what not. Genevieve came from a broken home, her parents had divorced, something quite abnormal for their kind. More salacious yet, her mother had famously attacked and killed a witch in London for saying something Mrs. Grosvenor didn’t agree with. Even more strange was that in 1998 her father was imprisoned for life as well under very murky conditions. It was very odd, the circumstances around this girl, but the hardship and dubious conditions she lived under had not stopped her from becoming a respectable adult. Farren had of course met her in school but it wasn’t until she completed her schooling and began making her rounds at their kind of society events that Farren had truly gotten to speak with her on a deeper level.  They were comfortable and familiar acquaintances now. Undoubtedly their difficult childhoods laced with familial trauma of varying degrees played a role in their friendly connection.

“Genevieve,” she said warmly, “I’m so delighted to see you, thank you for inviting me to your home.” As was customary amongst peers Farren lightly touched her arm and leaned forward nearly brushing her right cheek against Genevieve’s in greeting. “Your home is so beautiful,” she commented smiling brightly and keeping any derision about the decor out of the statement.

@Genevieve Grosvenor @Mel

“Miss Genevieve,” the melodious sound of Effie’s soft voice pulled the young woman from her deep slumber, and when she opened her blue-grey eyes it was then that she noticed she had fallen asleep on her made bed, her journal resting right by her side as her fingers delicately held the page she had been reading open. The young woman frowned, a sharp headache settling at her temples as she forced herself to sit up.

Genevieve had barely slept last night; caught in a sort of nostalgia to when things were a little different, she had taken to reading through some of the journals she had meticulously kept for years. Each leather-bound volume of the occurrences in her day to day life were kept under a lock and key of sorts, a protective charm that only allowed the contents of the book to be visible at the touch of her wand and the sound of her voice, in chronological order in her personal library. It was an interesting hobby of hers, to reflect on what had come to be and how her perspective on things had changed ever since she started. The short half a page, enormously lettered sentences she wrote at seven had transformed into diary entries that were several pages in length, full of deeply personal feelings that she never dared share with anyone else. Her journal held all of her secrets; a look at some of her latest entries could arm any wandering eye with enough knowledge to unceremoniously pull her from her very high horse.

“Miss Abercrombie is expected shortly,” Effie continued and just like that, Genevieve was brought back to the real world. Nodding and stifling a yawn, she stood to allow her maid to change her and rearrange her hair that had become a knotted mess while she had been taking her nap. Evidence of all of the tossing in turning was enough for Genevieve to realize that the situation needed to be remedied by a distraction. Today, it came in the form of a woman she had longed to meet for some time, @Farren Abercrombie .

Genevieve did not know too much of the Abercrombie family apart from what she assumed was general knowledge, things she had read in the papers, had heard in conversation with other pureblood socialites, and most importantly things she had been told by the woman herself. Several years ago, Farren had been the topic of conversation when she had once been engaged to an O’Dywer, a man several years her senior. It was the ultimate act of rebellion in the eyes of her young friends, but at that age, Genevieve could not stand the idea of ever getting married. Her perspective on that topic had changed, too, much to her chagrin.  The two women had naturally met at school and on several occasions through social events and were well acquainted now. Genevieve respected what she was doing and how she represented her family, something that she could not say of most of the women in their circles whose social obligation ended after donating a little galleons here and there for causes they could not care less about. Farren was one of the few witches that wanted to change the society they lived in and if anything, those were the type of people that the young witch wanted to create close friendships with. 

Smiling at herself in the mirror and straightening her posture, she took another look at herself in the mirror, admiring how beautiful she looked in such a simple getup. They were at her home after all, there was no need to overdress. She exuded the air of confidence she wore like her favorite perfume, following closely as one of the staff members led her to the morning room where she sat waiting. It was only polite to arrive a few moments earlier, particularly as this was no party; it was the sort of meeting that should be taken as seriously as any business gathering.

Genevieve stood when Farren was presented and entered the room shortly after, “Farren,” she said in return, a smile on her face as she leaned in to greet the woman before her. “Thank you for coming,” she responded, “Please take a seat,” she added, leading her over to the table lightly and moving to sit down when the chair was moved out for her.

As soon as the women were seated, maids came over to set out some freshly brewed tea and a silver tea tray filled with a small number of delectable cakes and other pastries. “I was almost certain that it'd be some time before you could make time to come visit, assuming you’d be away for the summer. Tell me, how have you and your family been?” she wondered politely, hoping that her question did not soon too intrusive as she brought the teacup up to her lips. She had several things to talk to the woman about but had not forgotten her manners.