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 Disaster or Success?, Demetria & Rabastan
RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Jul 14 2016, 02:04 AM
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Merel is Offline

Junior Journalist
23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts



Take my hand?
This Ride Is A Wild One
Today was a scary day. Rabastan had no idea what he was doing. The situation in prospect was scary, and he had dreaded it for a while. He was going on a date. Shudder. He had never been on one before, he had zero clue as to what he should say or do. He had been much too stubborn to ask Rodolphus for advice, besides he didn't have a functional relationship, he doubted his brother could give him constructive advice. All day the nerves were there, tingling throughout his body, making him numb. Every second closer to the date felt like a year. He hated it.

But. He was doing this for his family, for his honour. There was a purpose to this arranged date. The moment he had heard about this arrangement, well he had scoffed loudly, which had earned him a very long lecture about honour from his father. He knew his father could not joke, and yet it had felt like one. Still did. He understood of course why this had to be. They had to have an heir after all, and if Rodolphus and Bellatrix weren't going to have children... Well. Rabastan was next in line, and they had to find him a suitable wife to bear his children. He felt he was too young, but he was 23 after all.

The girl, Demetria Greengrass, was a girl he had only known from what he has heard about her family. He may have seen here around Hogwarts a few times, but he didn't know anything about the girl. Which almost terrified him. Almost meaning definitely. He didn't know anything about her, and he didn't know anything about dating, or women in general. It was that uneasiness and unknown that made him terrified. This was going to be the worst few hours of his life, he had decided. Worse even than listening to his parents giving him 'the talk', and by 'the talk' he meant their lectures on the pureblood family legacy, and all that it entails. And ok, maybe the sex talk as well.

He had gotten ready hours before he truly needed to, but he was just so damn nervous and fidgety he had nothing better to do. He tried to do some writing, but that failed, so instead he had sat listening to music and not moving from his seat all day. He should've been more productive, continuing his dark arts studies, or something involving torture, but no such luck. This Saturday was a truly lazy day. About an hour before he was to leave, he had started to pace, and didn't stop for that whole hour, talking to himself. If anybody had been watching, they would have thought him crazy. And maybe he was, just a little. What was he, Rabastan Lestrange, the quiet, reserved, background ridden man, doing on a date?

Finally he had arrived at the restaurant. Somewhere he had never been before. It was very prestigious. Just like his parents had made it out to be. His parents and her parents had chosen the place and time, not to be argued. Rabastan wasn't about to argue, he hadn't want to have another lecture. Besides it wasn't like he had any other plans. He stood in the foyer, waiting for his date. He knew vaguely what she looked like, but wouldn't have a clue what she was wearing. So he took in his surroundings instead, hoping she would pick him out from the crowd.

The place was truly gorgeous. All dark colours, blues, blacks, and deep red's. Curtains hung everywhere, draped around the room to give everything a more private and romantic feel. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, glistening softly above. Rabastan was sat at one of the high tables, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. A small golden lamp stood on the table. The table itself was a dark and sleek black marble tabletop. From here the rest of the restaurant couldn't be seen, but he had a feeling it would look like this foyer but worse (or better depending on your opinion). More romantic, darker, sleeker; everything he was not.

Because of his creative mind his mind wouldn't shut up, trying to figure out who this girl was before she could come. He imagined all sorts of personalities, and all of them were terrible. There was the bitchy one, the pretentious one, the excitable one, and the worst, the 'Queen Bee' one. He hoped she was none of these. Because he wasn't sure if he could cope with that. And while he waited he continued to imagine who this girl might be, but knew he would never be able to understand until he met her, saw her, talked to her. Only time would tell. Not long to go.

And so he sat, with sweaty palms, tapping his foot, and swirling his drink; waiting.

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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Jul 15 2016, 10:19 PM
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Ice Cream Parlor Worker
22 years old
Dating Rabastan Lestrange
Neutral
31 posts



I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
The letter addressed to her from the Greengrass household had arrived that afternoon- Yes, the afternoon of the arrangement was the first time she had even known it was going to happen. It was something she wasn’t expecting, or wanting seeing as it was her day off. To make means worse, the Muggle record player sitting in the corner of the living room had been blaring at top volume, so when the letter fluttered into the room through the open window, via the family owl, had gone unnoticed until the date’s beginning was an hour away. It wasn’t her fault, or even Richard Wright’s keyboarding contributions to the her favorite album. She had been absolutely addicted; nothing else had been on the black, painted floral cased record player since her brother had brought home the best album from Pink Floyd to date: Wish You Were Here.

Demetria had had an amazing day off. Nothing made her day more than soothing, abstract rock music and painting all alone in the flat. By the time her therapy session was over, she had accidentally broken one of her paint brushes, and her clothes and parts of exposed skin were splattered with multiple colors of paint- Mostly shades of a golden yellow and a vibrant lilac. Days like this were always wished for and over too soon, and as the small clock on her brother’s mahogany desk struck five, she realized once more a day like today had slipped away. Oh how she longed for some sort of device- Magical or Muggle- to allow her the ability to stretch out time so that she could just paint and listen to music.

Growing hungry as her artistic habits had consumed her since her early rising, which for the brunette meant eleven thirty, she took a break from her frantic painting to make her way to the kitchen for at least a snack. The window was open, as were most of them around the large, cozy flat, and it was the one most accessible due to its position in relation to the owl’s flying patterns. The letter was found on the counter that wrapped around the window, and when she finally opened and read through it, because once she saw who was in the return address she pushed it away, the date was only fifteen minutes from then.

She instantly scrambled to her room, changing from her pajamas to the first things she could get her hands on. Unbeknownst to her, and not thought of in her rush, the paint that still stained her skin and hands got onto the clothes she tugged on recklessly. Running back and forth around the apartment from the room, to her room to the living room to her bathroom and back, she frantically searched for her wand so she could quickly do something with her tied up bedhead from when she woke up. Settling on some sort of braid maneuver, she quickly threw everything she would need into a purse before scrambling to apparate to the address given.

Yet, the whole time, not a single time did she think about the fact that she hadn’t ever been on a date, or that she had no clue who this man was because it was arranged, without her approval of any of it. Demetria was too consumed by the fact that she was not only going to be late, but she was entirely messy and, upon arriving, she realized just how dressed down she was. Maybe it was better if she didn’t go. It was something that was running through her head constantly as she paced outside for a few moments, trying to sort out her nerves.

Was it sad that her first date was going to have been arranged by her parents? And simply for political and social gain? She knew she was always a screw-up and a disappointment, and some small, insignificant part of her really wanted to make her father proud. The Greengrasses hadn’t provided the most loving and supportive relationship when she had been growing up, their cruel ways ripping at her and her innocence for a long time. Maybe this was just another way for him, her father, to manipulate her. Just another way for him to craft her in the direction he had always been determined she’d go in.

The one thing that made her not walk away was who it was with. Her father had at least been kind enough to tell her the name of the boy she would be seeing, probably only so she would know who to look for when she walked in. Rabastan Lestrange was someone she had only met a few times, and she truly did know nothing about him. Perhaps this was going to actually be worthwhile. If she just forgot the fact that it was arranged and was her very first one ever, Demetria would actually be able to have a good night and a good time.

As she walked into the restaurant, she looked around, taking in the atmosphere. Instantly she shrunk, her once confident shoulders slacking. Suddenly the reality of it all hit her, and the brunette felt her stomach do somersaults, flips, and a whole gymnastic routine. This place was so formal, and here she was in a jean jacket. The whole restaurant gave off a romantic vibe, and all it did is remind her that she had never, ever been on a date before. People talked all the time about ice breakers and ridiculous nonsense that came along with a date, but it didn’t seem ridiculous anymore; it seemed like something she needed to know how to do.

The foyer was something she hadn’t been expecting. All restaurants were different, but the waiting situation wasn’t something she had been expecting her. Running a hand in an attempt for her to gather all of the flyaways that stuck up like some sort of crooked brown halo, her caramel glazed gaze skipping around until she caught the boy in his navy suit. He was waiting, looking just as nervous as her, if not more.

Slowly she walked over, her boots making muffled noises in comparison to her female counterparts’ heels. “Rabastan?” she would ask as she walked up, giving him a nervous, but still gentle smile as her lips stretched, bunching up her freckled cheeks. She must have looked absolutely horrible, and she could only imagine what he thought of her. Doing her best not to seem as embarrassed about her appearance or display her worry, she pointed to the bar where he must have gotten the drink he was nursing.

“I think I should make a stop first, yes?” Raising her eyebrows, she glanced back over to him, her speckled finger still in the air as she directed the question to him. The ambience was slightly awkward, as only could expect between two people who didn’t know each other. She took a small breath in before exhaling and shrinking her smile to not show her teeth. She was so nervous she could implode.

OUTFIT | WORDS: 1,178 | Rabastan/Awk Date Buddies
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Jul 15 2016, 11:15 PM
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Merel is Offline

Junior Journalist
23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts



Drink Up, Sweets
Are you, are you Coming to the tree? They strung up a man, they say who murdered three.
When was she going to arrive? Was the one question that was a constant noise in his mind. That and all the ways he could totally mess this up. He had to get his shit together. But he couldn’t. He usually could, but why not now? Because he didn’t know her? Or what was going to happen? That was the only explanation. The situation was an odd one. Arranged dates were common among Purebloods, and yet Rab had never thought he would be in that position. Never. To be fair he had never thought much about love or relationships. To him they weren’t important. The cause was, and his writing. Love was a hindrance. Plus the fact he didn’t know what real love looked like, not in the romantic sense. He never saw much love from his parents, and his brother and his wife. Well. There was no real love there either. What even was love?

Some time passed, he didn’t know how long, he finally heard a voice. It was unexpected. He had started to believe she wasn’t going to show up. But here she was. ”Rabastan?” The voice belonging to his date asked. He glanced up, his eyes slowly taking her in like he did everybody. It was one curious thing about his personality, the way he looked at people, and took in everything he could. He observed and didn’t speculate. There was no point. You could never really know everything about a person. Even the front they put on for you isn’t always their own, raw self. So who was he to decide what kind of person they were just by looking.

The girl, who if he had to be honest, was indeed beautiful, gave him a nervous smile. Good, he thought to himself, he wasn’t the only one nervous about this whole thing. But that only added to his own nervousness. So, he tried to calm himself down by looking at her, as quickly as he could without making things awkward. Usually he gazed at people when they weren’t looking at him. This was quite new for him, getting a close look up at someone new. Her outfit was the first thing he noticed, very casual, a jean jacket, boots. She looked comfortable, unlike him. Suits were not his forte after all. He wished for a moment he could just wear something normal. Unfortunately he couldn’t. This would have to do.

Next he noticed the paint. That intrigued him. Paint. Was she a painter? Could she possibly be interesting? Just her outfit practically screamed the answer. Her hair was next, a little unkempt, looking like it had been haphazardly been placed in that braid without much thought. Lastly he noticed her eyes. Those caramel eyes held something in them, some emotion he couldn’t decipher. They were nice to look at, he finally decided. But these were just first impressions. He would have to fully take her in at a later date time.

Quickly she pointed towards the bar, directing a question to him. ”I think I should make a stop first, yes?” Right, he glanced away, towards the bar.
He nodded, clearing his throat for a moment, he felt like he forgot how to speak he was that nervous. It was stupid, he told himself, you’re being ridiculous. Get your shit together. “Sure, if you’d like.” He tried a smile, which to him felt super awkward. He just hoped it didn’t look as such. This was already a great start of the date, the atmosphere was awkward and filled with enough nerves to carry a hot air balloon high in the sky. Rabastan had no idea where these nerves came from, but he soon hoped they disappeared. All he wanted was for this date to be a success, so he had something good to tell his family. If this was a disaster, he would have no idea what to do. And he dreaded that. A lot.

663. notes: Let the Awkward Games begin
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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Jul 17 2016, 07:03 PM
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Ice Cream Parlor Worker
22 years old
Dating Rabastan Lestrange
Neutral
31 posts



I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
The boy’s eyes on her was something she instantly picked up. He was using the dark gaze he possessed to look at her as if she as some piece of meat. Was that what you were suppose to do on a first date? It made her uncomfortable, her confidence levels dipping lower and lower by the minute. Did he at least like what he saw? Rabastan didn’t seem utterly disgusted with her, her plastered skin, her inappropriate outfit, or her messy hair. That had to mean something, right?

All she wanted to do was for this to go well. The very fact her father was choosing her to do this meant more than she cared to realize. He was entrusting her for this to go well; he was counting on her. Never had she felt this way in her whole life, and never had she had this much responsibility. The connection that he sent her instead of her elder sister, and the inference that he believed in her to get this done right made her feel important. For the first time in her life, Demetria Greengrass actually felt like she belonged in her family.

With this realization hitting her as she finally got a free minute to think and not stress, she felt the confidence kick back into place. Her smile eased into a more relaxed one, and as he smiled and responded, she gave a small nod. Sure, he seemed just as nervous as her, but in a way that made her feel more comfortable. Since both of them were in uncharted waters, they could rely on one another to get to the shore safe and sound-

And if not the shore, then at least learn how to swim in the ocean that was dating.

“I would like to. You need a refill or anything?” She would nod to his glass as an offer to get it for him, seeing as it was a polite thing to do. If he took her offer, her dotted fingers would wrap around his glass, either from him handing it to her or her picking it off of the gorgeous black marble tables; if not, she would nod softly before walking over to the bar tender.

Here she would make a deep breath, reminding herself such a thing was necessary. She really wished she would have been able to talk to her brother before this whole date thing. Derio always had the ability to soothe her and help boost her confidence, from things on a day to day level, like waking up or dealing with the people at her work, to things on a monumental level, like speaking out for her feelings, or hiding them if need be. He would have been able to somehow prepare her for the night this would have been, bolster her ego and give her a good pep talk about how things should go, topics to avoid, and gesticulations to do to make her look cute or hot.

Man. Desiderio not being there really left her rather empty handed and unprepared for this date; it felt like she was back in school and going into a class without doing her assignment or paper. Luckily, the alcohol she ordered was perfectly legal for her to consume now, and she planned on at least one or two more. Well, it was more like she was relying on the relaxation and looseness that came with the intoxicating substance to get her through this.

So far, everything seemed to be fine. He had been repulsed by her lack of effort due to how rushed she had been, and he was actually trying to be polite and kind to her. She hadn’t ever been on a date before this, but all of what had happened up to this point didn’t seem to make the cut for a “bad date”. As she waited for her order to be filled, she gave herself her own little pep talk, and even though it wasn’t her amazing and articulate brother, Demetria was eloquent enough in her mumblings to reinforce her confidence level to a point of almost cemented.

Once her glass, and his if he had taken her up on her offer, were set down on the bar’s service, she flashed the bar tender a pearly smile before making her way back over to him. Demetria sucked in a deep breath, the oxygen gained in her through such an action bringing her a sort of high that couldn’t be compared to what she did recreationally with her brother, but could be considered one all the same, bridged the confidence that she had built up while away to the table they sat at while waiting. Yes. She was perfectly fine and confident that she could give this man a good evening.

Yet, when she spoke, it didn’t exactly turn out that way.

“So, do you think the table will be ready soon? The reservation was for seven thirty, and this place seems like the type where they’re really big pushers- You know the type. The ones where if you aren’t there exactly on time they send you away or to the bottom of the list. Not that I, like, want to get back there and busy myself with a menu so we don’t have to talk or anything.” She instantly regretted it the second she said those words, because now it sounded like that was exactly what she was trying to do. Hitting a hand against her forehead, she shook her head profusely in an attempt to ease him to believe her next set of horribly awkward words. “I know it sounds like that was what I was trying to do, but I swear to you it isn’t.”

OUTFIT | WORDS: 960 | At Least It Could Get Worse?
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Jul 18 2016, 03:55 AM
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Junior Journalist
23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts



If it pleases you
She says she's no good with words but I'm worse
The silence was awkward. The atmosphere was awkward. Everything about this was awkward, and yet… It felt somewhat normal. Maybe it was the fact everything about this felt awkward that it was just the norm. Which it shouldn’t have. The young man was very confused by all this. Why would he feel normal about this awkward situation? It didn’t make sense. He made a mental note to try and figure himself out, pouring out his mind onto the pages of his diary.

She offered to refill his glass and he quickly accepted, glancing down at his own glass. It was empty. And he hadn’t even realised it, which could potentially be dangerous. But he didn’t care. He needed it. Badly. And sadly he was taking his brother’s advice. To drink beforehand. This was as close to it as he was going to get. “Sure, thank you.” He handed her the glass. She wouldn’t know it, but his hands were shaking like a leaf in the wind. He could only just manage to stop them when handing her the glass. This was getting ridiculous, he had never been this nervous in his whole life. Never had his hands shook so bad, never had his heart raced this much. He hated it.

Rabastan watched the retreating figure of Demetria and he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his perfectly sculpted hair. It was a terrible idea, but he felt the need to do something with his hands. Fidget. He wasn’t much of a fidgeter. Right now the situation seemed to warrant it. His mind was reeling. He had gotten his first impression of her, which was good, enough. He hadn’t really known what to expect, but he knew this wasn’t it. It was a surprise, a nice surprise. She was something else, something interesting. He was glad. Glad that she wasn’t like those girls he had known back at Hogwarts. The ones he couldn’t stand, with that awful attitude, who stabbed each other behind their backs. They had been interesting people to study, listening to all the gossip that surrounded those girls like a poisonous cloud. But he would never want to date one of those.

The young Lestrange had a moment to compose himself. And not like his brother had told him ‘look really good and act bored’, which frankly was the worst advice. Why would he want to act bored. What was the point in that? Even if he was truly bored, which in his mind he doubted would happen. She didn’t seem like a boring person. He hoped. Fingers crossed.

Rab felt like he had manage to compose himself when she came back from the bar with their drinks. Looking at her eyes (when she wasn’t looking directly at him) made him feel slightly calm, there was something soothing about them. A dark pit that reminded him of something that he felt within himself. But he may have just imagined that. His imagination was out of this world, if that was even possible. He liked to make links between things. It would seem stupid if one girl’s eyes can remind him of his own soul. Stupid.

The next words that came out of her mouth were a surprise. She blabbed. Hard. And she started to make an excuse for her words, putting words into his mouth. It was kind of amusing. He didn’t trust himself to say anything that could remotely be better. But he had to try and defuse the tension. This was getting ridiculous. They were just two adults, on a date, set up by their parents. Nothing weird about that, right? It happened all the time. She was just a girl woman. There was nothing that weird about woman…. Of course there was, something in the back of his mind told him. They were something else. Human, yet not. Woman were a mystery to him. He had only ever written fiction about woman who were not the main characters. He never got inside their heads. The experience just wasn’t there. But maybe… Maybe Demetria could change that, maybe he would be able to write from a woman’s perspective. That was just wishful thinking. He would never be able to understand how the female mind worked from just one awkward date.

”Oh. I’m sure if you had wanted to leave you would have already run out the door the second you saw me.” He chuckled softly, a low gruff sound, so unlike his soft voice. He cringed internally. Man thought he sounded like such an idiot. “And we’ll be fine. This place eats out of the hands of my father. They would never kick us out. Besides, look-“ He gestured at the waiter who was walking towards them. It was a boy Rab recognised. A boy who had worked here for many years. This place was one of his parent’s favourite places to eat. They loved it here. Rab didn’t understand. He never could understand anything his parents did anyhow. This was just one of the many things on the list.

The late teen composed himself with poise, his hair slicked back, his arm rested across the small of his back. He put on a million watt smile, something Rab’s mother adored. “Sir Rabastan. Your table is ready whenever you and your-“ The boy looked over at Demetria. “Date, are at that stage.” Anybody with eyes could tell the boy was judging Demetria’s outfit, the way she had composed herself. Almost the opposite of him. It was unlike anything the boy had ever seen, it seemed, the way his eyes hovered over her.

”Thank you, Pietro.” Rab said, with an almost forced smile. He had never liked the boy. “Show us the way.” Standing up, Rab turned to his date and held out an arm to her. A very gentlemanly gesture. Something he never would have thought to do, and yet did anyway. Sure, he thought to himself, impress the girl. Good. He was starting to gain some confidence (from a place within him he hadn’t thought was there). He just hoped that his gesture was enough. “I don’t bite.” He added as a stupid afterthought. He could practically see and hear his brother cringe. This was going to be one long date.

1050. notes: Awkward level increasing also #PietroNO
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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Jul 19 2016, 10:02 PM
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Ice Cream Parlor Worker
22 years old
Dating Rabastan Lestrange
Neutral
31 posts



I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
After her last comment, Demetria didn’t think there was going to be any sort of salvation. Why on earth had she said that whole monologue of just utter nerves? If she was alone, or able to move away and not be seen, the girl may have legitimately hit herself. Sure, she hadn’t ever been on a date before, but she had at least been outside before and in a place where she had socialized. God, she seemed like the type of person who talked to herself while twitching in the corner with a million cats circling. All she wanted to do was take it back; all she wanted to do was get another chance at a first impression.

The sad thing was, is that this was her. She was the paint splattered, denim jacket wearing, messy braided hair kind of girl. It wasn’t what purebloods liked to see in a future candidate for their son’s future wife. Luckily for her, she was only here alone with Rabastan. It wasn’t some horrible, bi-family event. This was simply one-on-one, yet Demetria seemed to be tripping up at every bump. Maybe if her brother was here things would be better, but her father and the Lestranges wouldn’t have made the atmosphere any better. If anything, that would more likely than not make her feel worse. All of the judging eyes meant more nerves, and that was a something she already had plenty of.

However, his response to her blabbering fest somehow managed to not reflect just how horrible she had been. A small weight was pulled off of her chest, leaving behind many that had yet to do the same. Once his words hit her ears, her lips tugged into a smile, and she felt something kick in that soothed her to be comfortable. “This is true. You really must forgive me about being late. It wasn’t any attempt to make me seem hard to get or anything; I promise. I was cleaning my flat and the letter slipped in quietly.”

He directed her gaze to land upon a boy younger than the two of them dressed in a garb that made him look as if he were feigning to be fifty instead. He held himself in a way she had only seen incredibly headstrong people do, and once he reached the pair and spoke, she instantly felt inferior. It was ridiculous what someone’s voice could do to her due to extraneous situations involving her past and childhood; it was ridiculous that she felt the need to go hide in the bathroom instead of face the stupid late teen. The look the kid casted her didn’t make her feel any better, and she squirmed in her seat without realizing it.

The host eyed her like trash that had been forgotten to be taken out, or as if she had spoken to him and insulted his dead great-grandmother and sullied her good name. She hadn’t ridiculed him in anyway- Well, it sure seemed like her bare existence was doing a good enough job to earn her the look he, Pietro, tossed her. What a stupid stuck up name. Tearing him down in her mind made it easier to deal with, but her painted lips remained pressed together, the smile they had been in a few moments before the toxic male’s presence arrived so unwanted in her life no longer fully shape. Instead, it was melting like ice cream in the sun: Slowly losing structure and sinking downward.

Demetria wished she could sink like her smile; she wished she could slouch at an odd angle until she slid off of the hightop chair and to the floor under the table, then further into the ground and out of existence. Her confidence levels were rising and falling faster than a preteen going through moodswings. At this rate? She was going to be making a stop at the parlour and spending half of her paycheck on ice cream to drown her sorrows away.

Yet, despite it all, Rabastan failed to treat her any differently. His response to the host was almost strained, as if he was angry or outraged at him treating her in such a belittling way. Well, after all, she was his date and company for the evening, and he was a paying customer, a regular with his family, and someone who earned and demanded respect. She shouldn’t take it as some sort of sign for him sticking up for her single-handedly. He was doing it also, and more for his and his family’s reputation- And it was understandable, seeing they came from similar backgrounds.

Rabastan raised from his chair and so she did the same, smoothing out her black pants before an arm was offered to her. She turned her head and looked up to him, feeling like a princess in one of those fairy tale books she and Desiderio and been obsessed with as children. Her heart skipped a few beats as she slid her arm into her date’s so that their elbows were hooked. Being so close allowed her to take in the sharp scent of his cologne, something that flitted up to her head and sat well with her. It was an alluring scent, and as she glanced up to him after his gentleman gesture- Mostly because he was speaking to her- Demetria couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

”I don’t bite,” he assured her, and slowly the smile reappeared on her lips, and a soft laugh would be emitted from the brown eyed girl before she would respond. “This is good information; I don’t either because my parents raised me telling me that biting people wasn’t something 'civilized purebloods did’.” Had it been to early to play the mocking parents card? The brunette didn’t know.

It led her to lose eye contact and begin to analyze everything she was saying and the situation’s outcome because of it. Normally she had a bit more wit and ability to judge what she was saying before she said it, but the nerves she had acted like a catalyst and made her brain skip over the thinking things through part and go straight to saying them aloud. As she grew more and more wanting to smack herself, she followed the outrageously rude worker with the guidance of her date.

She still couldn’t believe it; she was on a date.

OUTFIT | WORDS: 1066 | #PietroMustGo
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Jul 20 2016, 03:45 AM
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Junior Journalist
23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts




Romance, Love
Barely stuttered out a joke of a romantic stuck to my tongue weighed down with words too over-dramatic
Rabastan saw it. The uncomfortable uncertainty in the girl’s demeanour. The slight sharpness to her smile, no longer genuine. That look. He had hardly seen it, but he knew what it was. Self-doubt. And there was something inside him that stirred uncomfortably. He didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t describe it. It just… Pinched at him. It was no mistake though, they were feelings of… A human sort of nature. Empathy? No. He knew the word, but he couldn’t have empathy for anyone. Surely? It wasn’t in his nature. So… he just tried to write it off as something stupid. But he was a writer, and that thought was going to stick with him a while.

Demetria gladly took his arm, hooking their two arms together. And it felt nice, he was surprised to find. It was a rarity to be so close to someone and not be hurting them, or for some joke. In truth, he had never been this close to a girl before. Which was truly ridiculous. But it was the truth, and the truth didn’t lie. Again he just tried to write it off, but of course he couldn’t. Being be in such close contact with anybody was just nice. And it calmed him down just a tad. And a tad was all he needed. His confidence grew again, swelling up in his chest like a balloon. Right, you can do this, you son of a bitch, his brother’s voice popped into his head. Somehow that helped. What an idiot.

“This is good information; I don’t either because my parents raised me telling me that biting people wasn’t something 'civilized purebloods did’.” she said, a soft laugh escaping her, causing his own smile to widen slightly.
He also appreciated it in a way, that she also didn’t seem to like her parents much. It was something they had in common. Or maybe it was just a common trait in pureblood families. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt like it. Pureblood parents didn’t seem to care that much about their children, at least not from what he has seen thus far in his life. Two examples right here, going on a date together. “Ah, a good value to have. Being bitten is not nice.” He leaned in close to her and whispered loudly, “I speak from experience.”

Pietro brought them through to the dining area of the restaurant, walking them through a big, blood red curtain. The place was amazing. As usual. It was an even nicer version of the foyer. To Rab this was normal, he had been here plenty of times, he just wondered how Demetria would react to the sight. There weren’t that many tables, and they were all spread out for more privacy. Around each table there was a see through black curtain, so that you could still see the silhouettes of the people within. Their own private bubble. It gave a very hauntingly beautiful feel to the atmosphere. It was dark and dangerous in here. Just like the Death Eater way.

Every once in a while when Pietro would turn his head slightly, trying to be subtle, but obviously not working. He wanted to look at his date, to give her that look he wouldn’t wipe of his face. It was stupid. Pietro was being a dick, and Rab did not like that. He tried his hardest to ignore it and hope Pietro wouldn’t make things worse. Or else he would have to step in. He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t get angry often, and certainly didn’t want Demetria to see him like that. Not a good impression, he though.

”Here you are.” Pietro held aside a curtain around a table made for two. Rab nodded his fake thanks, and stepped through the curtain, he unlinked his arm from his date’s and pulled the chair away from the table for her. “I will be back with the menu.” He didn’t say none to nicely.
Rab was glad that the boy was leaving. Though he would be back, at least he couldn’t judge Rab too much for actually being gentlemanly. He didn’t know where it came from, he had never witnessed anybody being gentlemanly, had he? Not that he remembered. He doubted his own brother would do this for a girl. But how was he to know.

The table was set up so nicely, the table cloth the same blood red as the curtains at the front. A candle in a beautiful gold and very intricate candelabra sat to the left side of the table. Wine glasses accompanied the very expensive china and silver utensils. Even the napkins were folded intricately. How that happened, that was beyond him. It didn’t seem possible, even though he lived in a world full of magic. It was strange, the mundane things that seemed impossible. Once the curtain had shut them away from the rest of the world it felt like they were in another time, another place. They had been transported somewhere else it felt. Like nothing could touch them (of course Pietro could). It gave them the peace and quiet, and the privacy that they so desperately needed. To try and relax and not have so much pressure on them from everyone else. The young man just hoped he was able to have a good time, and that things weren’t too awkward. He didn’t want to walk away from this regretting this whole thing (not that this was his choice, but nonetheless). All he could do was relax as best as he could, and try not to say anything stupid. Or let Pietro get into his head, or Demetria’s head. Only time could tell.

953. notes: #DabVsPietro
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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Jul 27 2016, 11:56 AM
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22 years old
Dating Rabastan Lestrange
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I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
There was something about being this close to a guy that made Demetria internally panic. Maybe it was the fact she hadn’t ever been this close to anyone before, excluding the rare embrace from a family member or friend; maybe it was she was so nervous to make sure everything went perfectly that sent her into a worried state; or maybe it was the waiter they had and his nasty looks that made her grow more self-conscious and worried about pleasing her father in the form of a full and decent date.

When she had spoken, her gaze had moved from glancing around the restaurant to his face, and as the features lit up with a smile, she found herself doing the same, her nervous one melting away into a more genuine return. She got some feeling of accomplishment when she made him smile; it made her feel proud that she was able to. Most of the people in her life were serious, always in the mood of business or grumpy from life problems.

Even the customers she had worked with during all of her different jobs never seemed to be happy, whether she was serving them ice cream or bagging up their groceries. Demetria also liked just seeing his smile; he was a lot more attractive when he was- Not that he wasn’t in general. He was striking, but something about when he smiled put her at ease and made her feel comfortable, like she was for once good enough.

Rabastan spoke to her, and whenever he did, she tore her eyes from looking around the intricately decorated space to him, mostly focusing on his eyes, but once in awhile stealing a glance at his cheekbones and hair. He truly was something handsome, something entirely out of her league had this not been set up. Here she was, at a restaurant where women wore thousand galleon dresses, in a jean jacket with paint all over her clothes and the parts of her skin that was showing- Including her face. It wasn’t that she regretted how she had spent her day, because a full day of painting and listening to amazing music was no thing to regret, but she wished she had maybe shaved an hour down from painting time to have had the time to get ready and be more confident. Stupid family owl should have been louder when depositing the letter.

“I think we can all say we don’t like being bit, but from experience? You’ll have to fill me in on that story.” Her smile shrunk to a polite one as she spoke a little boldly. Asking him to tell about himself wasn’t something she was used to asking. Her contact with strangers was on a daily basis with her job, but something like this wasn’t. Why? Because this was a date, something Demetria had never been on before. It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but if it came up in conversation, she would confess with an awkward laugh.

The fact he had leaned in closer to talk with her hadn’t been noted until he moved back. Her heart sped up some once her eye caught it, and she once more went into a mini internal panic before straightening herself out. The smell of his cologne was still rather prominent, even more so than just standing next to him. It did smell nice, and she wished she had thought of wearing her own so she wouldn’t smell like the house and lead paint all day. At this point, she was really wishing she had some sort of undo button and was able to travel back and get ready with more time under her belt.

As they made it to the table, the curtain was drawn back. The fact that there was a curtain at all made her feel rather uncomfortable, but she was doing her absolute best to calm down and not seem nervous or uneasy. It meant talking one on one, something her years in a large manor with hardly anyone to talk to hadn’t prepared her for. It was often ridiculous how much pureblood families expected, especially with how little they actually participated in with the upbringing, mostly pertaining to certain qualities. How was one suppose to be romantic with another? Not just in the end goal, but with a first step, first date scenario? Was this suppose to end up with something at the end? Or was this just suppose to awkwardly end? Things like this would have been helpful to know; if only she had been able to talk with Derio some about this.

Pietro was someone Demetria was doing her best to block out, so she seemed to completely ignore the boy as she followed the male she was with into the curtain. A smile played on her lips as he pulled out her chair for her, having not expected such a gesture, and found it both kind and appreciated. Slipping into the chair with all of the grace she could muster, Demetria sat and pulled her chair up to the table, trying to remember all of the things she had stored away in her brain under a ‘Not Needed’ file for table ettiequte, something that had been taught long ago.

The table’s decorations were all very nice, as were the room’s. Interior design was something she had began to dabble with a few weeks ago, but it was something that was a heck of a lot more expensive, and difficult to do with the amount of space one had in a single flat. She stuck to painting mostly, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the layout. It was all rather flattering to the eye, and gave off a more mysterious and on edge vibe. The dark colors made her feel a little overwhelmed and in the spot light, but this curtain helped to make her only be seen by him.

He hadn’t judged her at all. Sure, he had looked her up and down, but he had yet to say a single negative thing to her, or show any disgust or dislike just because of what she was wearing. It was truly nice to not feel judged, especially as she had one hundred percent not dressed up nicely enough for this occasion. Deciding to start the conversation first, she smiled pleasantly to him and leaned in slightly, just to show she was truly engaged in speaking with him. “Have you been here before? I always have the hardest time picking what to eat and drink if I haven’t been somewhere, so if you have any recommendations, please send them my way."

OUTFIT | WORDS: 1112 | #$$OnDab
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Jul 29 2016, 04:46 AM
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Junior Journalist
23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts



Table pour deux,
What if we said goodbye to safe and sound
“I think we can all say we don’t like being bit, but from experience? You’ll have to fill me in on that story.” Demetria said, a small smile playing on her lips. He liked it, that small smile, it helped for him to see her. There was something comfortable about the way she smiled like that, although quite a polite one, a smile was nice nonetheless. It helped reduce his nerves slightly. But this date wasn’t over, for a long time. He hoped it wouldn’t drag on forever and that things got even more awkward when they sat down at the table. He was almost dreading it. How could anybody find this ‘dating’ appealing? Sitting in front of one another and… talking? The concept was weird.

”Well. I will just have to tell you at the table.” He told her, leaving the air of mystery hanging in the air. It wasn’t a very exciting story, actually it was rather lame. But he couldn’t admit that to his date, he wasn’t stupid. The story itself was just one incident among the many stories of brotherly fighting. Biting wasn’t very common, but it used to happen sometimes. Now it was just biting words, and the occasional punch. They didn’t fight as often, which was a positive.

After Demetria seated herself he walked to the other side and sat in his own seat. He glanced over at her, wondering what he should do now. Pietro was to come back soon with the menu’s. But what should he say instead? Man… he was not cut out for this, at all. Sure, he was a Lestrange, he should be able to get any girl he wanted, he should be confident. And yet here he was, anxious on a date with a girl he barely knew. This was not the Lestrange way; but truthfully he didn’t always feel like a Lestrange. He was the literally meaning of Lestrange, he was the black sheep, the odd one out. It may not always be so obvious, but to him it was. He wasn’t his brother, and right now he wanted to be him. To be confident and comfortable, and charming.

Before the young man could utter a word, the girl already took over. A nervous babble. She had leaned forward slightly, engaging with him and smiled. This one nicer than before. It made her cheeks puff a little, but it looked nice on her. She was nice looking, he had to admit that; anybody could admit that. Despite what she was wearing, she was beautiful. And yet it didn’t matter that much to him; that was just the surface, the cover of a book. He wanted, or at least he should try to, read what was inside. He had to get to know her, right? That was the point of a date, right? But these circumstances were different than most. This was out of his depths, but he just had to stay calm. “Oh, I’ve been here many times. This is my mother’s favourite place to eat.” He leaned in forward slightly, his arms resting on the table. He glanced at her intently, a sly smile on his face. “I reckon she has a thing for Pietro. Only reason she comes back here.” He gave her a wink, and immediately regretted it. He wanted to cringe so hard and just leave. What a great start. He leaned away again so he wasn’t invading personal space. “Plus the French food is divine. The menu will be quite extensive, so if you don’t know what something is, I’ll be able to tell you. I swear I’ve eaten every single thing on this menu.”

He realised he was talking too much about himself already. He didn’t want to come across as a douchebag. Not that he was, of course. People in the past have called him a douchebag before, which he didn’t understand, but didn’t take personally. People were idiots sometimes. People could think what they liked. Humans are weird creatures, they judged too easily. It was just built into the network that was their brains. It didn’t do them any good to judge. But no one could help it, no matter how hard they tried. The influences of judgement was a powerful tool. “I would recommend…-“ He started before Pietro appeared again, making Rab frown lightly.

The younger boy seemed to notice the frown and placed the menus, quite harshly, on the table in front of them. Rab had a feeling the boy didn’t like him either. The two looked at each other for a long moment, just looking. Pietro was not happy. “Mr Lestrange, we’re happy to have you back. Tonight’s dinner special is the Coq au vin. The wine special is a 1974 Chateau Lafite Rothschild. Would you like to order a drink now?” The smile on Pietro’s face was rather fake, and he refused to look at Demetria at all, focusing only on the thing he seemed to hate.

Rab put on a smile, “We’ll order a bottle of your finest Muscadet.” He immediately turned back towards Demetria, with a slightly more pleasant smile on his face. “So, about that story. Do you want to hear it? Because essentially it’s the fact my brother used to bite sometimes when we fought.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Too late now. He had just ruined the story. There was a scoff that came out of Pietro’s mouth, and Rab’s hands tightened slightly into a fist, but he dared not to look at the boy. He already felt like an idiot, there was no need to make things any worse than they already were. Why did they have to have Pietro of all people? Or had his mother requested him specifically? It wasn’t beyond her talents to do something like that. He hoped not. If Pietro was spying was on them for his mother, he would flip his shit.

997 . notes: Shut up Pietro Nobody Wants You Here
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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Aug 2 2016, 07:35 PM
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22 years old
Dating Rabastan Lestrange
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I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
A story was promised to the girl, and it made her actually rather excited. She wished to know more about the boy courting her on the date. Surely he had to have more to him than just pureblood parents and a handsome face. From an artist’s perspective, he was a piece of art that she had yet to understand. All she saw in the moment was the big picture: A pressed suit, good posture, a jawline harsh enough to cut cheese on. Everyone had more to them than that, this she knew, and she wished to experience all the sides he was willing to offer up on a first date- As in conversations; by no means was Demetria planning on anything else than this dinner.

He had elements to him that she could already pick up on. Rabastan had seemed to ease when she had spoke of her parents- Or parent, rather- in not the best light. There seemed to be some sort of standard among pureblood children, one that lacked a positive relationship with those who made them, or any relationship for that matter. Her sharing in such seemed to calm him, as if he was relieved to hear he wasn’t the only one who lacked a pleasant home situation. For his sake, she prayed their familial circumstances were no where near similar; she hoped he never had to undergo what she had. Her skin prickled in tissue memory of the bruises, and she swallowed some awkwardly, rubbing at her arm to make the area ease and go away. It wasn’t something to think about now.

Other things were smaller. With his awkward nature, she could assume he was homologous in his experience with the opposite sex: Lacking. She wasn’t about to go as far as to generalize he was entirely like her and had never been with anyone, but it was obvious with how nervous he was that they were in the same pool of insufficient previous encounters. Demetria was positive she was the same way. She knew she had little mannerisms that displayed such (i.e.: Awkward smiling, lots of blabbering and rambling, not always making eye contact, and fiddling with her clothes or her hair) and it was impossible not to fall into the trap of showing them. It was the vulnerability she was difficult with, but she was trying her absolute best to really put herself out there. Maybe something good could actually come from this.

His offer to recommend things and help her figure out what she wished to eat was indeed appreciated. It seemed that everything was going to be in French- A language she had never had the time to learn- and his help was going to be a requirement to make it through the ordering process. With him speaking about his mother, she grew a small heartache, for she missed her own, but she smiled through it. It meant this was a prestigious place, for to be a favorite of a pureblood female head of house, it had be both expensive and actually taste good. This made some hope flutter into her, because with all of the painting she had done, she had had no time to eat, and her stomach was beginning to voice its complaints to this particular situation quite audibly.

She watched him the whole time, up until the point Pietro returned. Upon the waiter’s reappearance, her gaze dropped to the menu she held in hand after it was so aggressively placed in front of her. Demetria wasn’t being spoken to anyway, so it didn’t really matter that she wasn’t looking at him or the boy across the way. The two would talk amongst themselves as she read over the truly extensive list of items they served, her caramel eyes growing larger and larger the further they went down. How on earth was she to chose one dish?

Rabastan began to speak to her again, and she perked up and her glance once more returned to him, her smile returning to match his. He ruined his story a bit, and she leaned back in her chair slightly, allowing a soft laughter to escape her lips, one she covered with her hand. Pietro scoffing, however, made some small part of her snap, and she looked back up to him and narrowed her bright gaze on him. “Why are you still here?” she would ask him, her tone so nasty she expected it to be her sister speaking rather than her. This was their private time together, and she hadn’t been all that let down. Why did he feel the need to scoff?

Allowing a calming sigh to escape, she turned back to the brunette mala across the table and offered a pleasant, but soft, smile. She was a little embarrassed about her outburst, but she had grown so sick of the boy talking down to not only her, but her date. “He used to bite you, huh? Well, I’m certainly glad you used the past form of bite, rather than some present tense. My own brother and I never bit each other when we fought, but I suppose there’s a difference in relationships between brother and brother, and brother and sister- Especially since he’s my twin.”

People always seemed to find the fact that she was a twin interesting, so she thought she should bring it up. She hadn’t realized him talking about himself at all in a bad light; rather, it seemed he was opening up some and feeling comfortable around her. At least, that was the reason she was doing it. Demetria could only hope the feeling was mutual, because the awkwardness was something she didn’t wish to dabble with much more.

OUTFIT | WORDS: 954 | Stop Being The Worst, Pietro. God.
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Aug 5 2016, 03:45 AM
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23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts




Family shit,
We break away, we live with expectations.
The atmosphere was… interesting. Sitting down made all this feel real. It really made it more intimate, and that was just a little scary. Okay. Not even a little. It was scary. Not that women were scary, but just the prospect of her becoming his wife. If all this went well. To think that this could be the woman that he would spend the rest of his life with…. What the fuck was he doing? So far she hadn’t made him hate her, so that was a bonus. He didn’t want to end up in a relationship like his brother was. But maybe that was why his parents were being more careful about their pick this time. He knew they already had a girl lined up, in case something bad happened, like Rab would throw food at her or something (A real concern his mother had once pointed out to him). Why did the responsibility of producing an heir have to fall to him? He hated it. It meant his parents were keeping an extra eye on him.

The moment she opened her mouth to tell Pietro off he wanted to laugh so hard. He couldn’t of course. That would be rude. He wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek right then and there. The tone of her voice, incredible. Rab couldn’t help but look quickly at the boy, who’s mouth opened like a fish, before quickly shutting it, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles stood out, his eyes narrowed. With a final glare at Rab, the younger man turned on his heel and left them at peace. Before Rab could even comment of her words she had already continued talking. They were making real conversation. Good. This was good.

This whole date thing was getting to him, and his mind started to work, trying to take notice of everything, to screenshot it in his mind. When he got home he definitely was going to lie awake that night, thinking and making sense of this date, even though nothing had really happened thus far, except the nerves and that super awkward half story he ruined. And Pietro. That idiot of a kid was going to be the death of him. Truly. He didn’t understand why this boy hated him. But then again he did seem to like his mother, and his mother hated him. Rab didn’t think he actually had done anything to the boy. Not that he remembered. Pietro was about 19 years old. He couldn’t have been working here more than 5 years. If Rab had done something to offend the boy it probably was something petty. Maybe he stared at him too long. Something ridiculous probably.

He smiled at the mention of her twin brother. “Yeah. Derio. I knew him back at Hogwarts. How I didn’t know you, is beyond me.” He still couldn’t believe it either. He had known Derio had a sister, but never had the chance to meet her. Until here. This date. How weird. The world was a place that was wonderfully curious. “Though I think you are right. Brother and brother relationships are pretty rough. But I love him to pieces.” Thinking about sibling relationships he just realised something. “Does-,” he paused, “Does Derio know about this date?” He was almost afraid to ask, the nerves creeped washed back into his bloodstream. It travelled through his body quicker than he could have thought. What would his old friend say about this? He was literally on a date with his twin sister. He almost didn’t want to think about it.

Once people found out, this was going to be big news. The youngest members of the Lestrange and Greengrass families out together, having dinner. At this specific restaurant. He hoped this wouldn’t make it to the Prophet, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle that. He didn’t not want to be news. Not when his brother was trying to get him the job of Editor. This was going to be the next big gossip among the Pureblood circles. Purebloods were notorious for judging each other, for wanting to know who was marrying whom, who was sleeping with whom, ridiculous things. Rab seemed to know everything, his mother swallowed gossip like a shark swallowed its prey. She wanted to know everything that was going on, everywhere. She wanted to be on top. It was why she cared so much about what Rab was doing.

”Sorry, that’s a weird question. Ignore me.” He shook his head, realising how stupid that question was. He wanted to mentally slap himself. He was fine with social interactions, but the pressure of this was different than hanging out with ministry members or with his colleagues at the prophet, or other purebloods that were friendly with his family. Yes, this was also meant to help him with his social status, to help keep his family on top. This meant something more. This wasn’t just about building rapport with people who could help in the future, no this was to build rapport for a relationship that was publically meant to last until the both of them were dead.

861 . notes: Awkkkkward.
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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Aug 7 2016, 03:23 PM
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Dating Rabastan Lestrange
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I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
This was arranged, yes, but the fact that this could possibly lead to forever hadn’t hit Demetria yet. If it had, she probably would’ve grown a little freaked out. Commitment was something the girl had trouble with; her job was always rotating, her support fluctuated and disappointed her father and sister, and she had repainted a singular canvass seven times once. Art was something she could mold anyway she wanted. It didn’t require commitment, because you could just paint over and start again, or erase it. It allowed her to have a sort of control over multiple different mediums, and she often indulged in the power she felt from it.

Since she wasn’t thinking about or fretting over anything, she was able to just talk. It seemed like for the first time that night at the restaurant she was easing up to being able to open some. There were loads of walls he had to knock down, whole labyrinths of them, but in the current moment, the doors to the first one opened just a crack. “Right? I think it is just crazy that we hardly interacted. Derio and I were and are practically sewn together at the hip, even if we do have disagreements.” The realization that she didn’t hardly know this man literally at all hit her as he spoke. They had gone to the same school, and he had interacted with her brother. It was so odd.

His next question, though, was even odder. It took her completely off guard, and yet, her answer was even stranger: No. He didn’t know. It was her father’s fault for only sending her the letter today, which had been quite inconvenient and part of the reason she had been so late upon arrival. The lateness of it had left her no time to tell Derio about, or to have him give her some tips for, this date. He might not even make it home before her, and so she would be able to hide this if she didn’t feel like it went that well.

How was she supposed to answer? It left her mind reeling with a way to not make it sound like he was below her or not worth her time. Maybe this was the chance to explain why she was so poorly dressed for this event, or covered in paint. The pureblood circles would surely talk, but then again, those circles would always talk. She wasn’t used to being the center of their attention, however, especially not with someone else for an occasion like this. In the future, when it got to them, it would have made her feel both important and utterly embarrassed.

She decided the truth would be good. Besides, she didn’t want this relationship to start out on a lie. That is, if it progressed to that. They weren’t in a relationship yet. She was getting a little panicky, so she took a deep breath and smiled to him. Before she had felt comfortable, but now she felt vulnerable once more. “No, no. It’s okay! He doesn’t actually.” It felt a little hypocritical, because not three minutes ago, she had been telling him they were sewn at the hip, which surely alluded to that they told each other everything.

“I didn’t even know about this date until about five minutes before hand, actually. That’s why I look so.. Well, like this.” She laughed awkwardly in an attempt to diffuse the vulnerability she was feeling, then fiddled with the flyways that she could feel peeling away from her scalp to be rebellious. “I love my brother too. He’s taken care of me and helped me out when I didn’t think I’d be able to get out of the hole I was in. Usually I do tell him everything, but the letter announcing this date came when he was already at work.” Her hand ran down the braid, though it felt like she was petting a stegosaurs’ back. Something hit her as she sat there, and she glanced over at him from having awkwardly glanced away.

“Do you want me to not tell him?” It meant something, perhaps more than Rabastan could possibly understand. She was willing to pretend like this date hadn’t ever existed if it appeased him. This could be just between Demetria, Rabastan and their individual set of parents. He seemed to be a little worried about it, and she wished to see him smiling like he had before. The man who sat across from her possessed such a handsome smile, and she wished to see it again. “I don’t have to if, you know, you don’t want me to.”

It almost was completely out of her usual dialogue. She loved her brother, and honored and venerated him with the utmost respect, but lately things had been a bit tense. His work seemed to have been bothering him, and so he was smoking more- Demetria knew he did whenever the house smelled of a certain floral scent. If he kept things from her, then certainly she could keep things from him. Besides, this could amount to nothing at all, and she had a right to privacy.

Wishing to move on from her stomach of emotions, she would quickly nod at his answer before glancing back to the extensive menu. Wishing to employ the aide he had offered what seemed to be and felt like a fortnight ago, Demetria cleared her throat and attempted to change the topic. “So, you were going to give me some recommendations, yes? I do like pasta and cheese, but I’m not the biggest fan of fish- Unless it’s shrimp or salmon.” It was back to just mild conversation, or so she hoped. This seemed to be a good way at doing such. She’d get to see his tastes and see what they had in common when it came to food.

OUTFIT | WORDS: 982 | Demi Needs To Quit Overthinking; cue the wine.
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Aug 13 2016, 01:07 AM
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23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
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Fondue For Two,
Everybody's waiting Everybody's watching Even when you're sleeping Keep your eyes open
At the mention of his relations with Derio she voiced what he had been thinking too. It was odd, how they had never interacted before. And Rab wanted to know why, but he doubted either of the two would have an answer for that. The universe was a weird. But the fact they hadn’t met before may actually be a positive in this situation, the fact that they did not know anything about the other could be beneficial for their future relationship. There was no previous judgement, it was a clean slate, not something everybody got in their position. It was also a slight downfall, what the hell could they talk about? Family was just so generic.

She told him she hadn’t told Derio. And there was a moment of panic that electrified through his body before disappearing out his fingertips. What would her brother think of the fact he, Rabastan Lestrange, an old friend of his, being on a date with his sister. Being set up with her. He didn’t like his own odds, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Not really. Rab was a Lestrange, he was in a better position than the Greengrass’, this shouldn’t be much of a problem. Right…?

And then she rambled, like a speeding car. Her whole demeanour had changed. She laughed awkwardly, she ran a hand over her braid, and she looked away from him. Shit. What had he done? He didn’t want her to be awkward. This was terrible. They had just gotten to a stage where the nerves had left, and it was comfortable. Then he had to go and open his gob and ask a bullshit question, leaving Demi fending for herself. Social interaction wasn’t his strong suit. Mostly he would hide behind Rod or his parents in those situations. He was always pushed to the back, nobody wanted to talk to him. He was fine with that.

“Do you want me to not tell him? I don’t have to if, you know, you don’t want me to.” The question threw him off. The way she said those words. Made it sound like she saw herself as below him, that he was going to force her to do things she didn’t actually want to do. Like a prisoner asking a guard whether or not they were allowed to talk. He definitely did not see her like that. She was his equal, no matter that she was a woman. She was a person, someone he didn’t know. She was a Pureblood, and that was what really sealed the deal. He saw anybody that was a Pureblood as equal.

”I…-“ he paused, his face squished up into confusion for a moment. He looked to the side and then back at her. “You can do what you like. He’s your brother, this date involves you. My own brother knows, yours is allowed to know, if you want to.” He shrugged, desperately wanting something to drink already. Where the fuck was Pietro when you really needed him? “It’s truly up to you. I mean he’ll probably find out sooner or later. Purebloods do love to gossip about who went out with who. I mean…-“ He looked around, and then realised he was enclosed in his own space, it was hard to make out anybody outside. He wouldn’t be able to point out anybody. “There are plenty of Purebloods here that would have seen us.”

After that awkwardness his date cleared her throat, a gesture that meant they were moving on to another topic. She asked him about the recommendation and he smiled lightly. He didn’t even need to look at the menu anymore, but he did anyway. What could he recommend to her. “Okay. So no fish, except Salmon and Shrimp. Pasta and cheese are good.” He nodded and scanned the menu, getting rid of the whole fish section. The French certainly did love their fish.

Before Rab could even suggest something Pietro was back, he hadn’t even noticed the younger boy return, until the harsh clearing of a throat shocked him out of his own world. “Your wine, sir, ma’am.” He poured the wine, glaring right at Rab. For a moment he thought the boy was going to spill his wine (which would have been a good excuse to yell at him), but he didn’t. He expertly stopped where he needed to before moving on to pour Demetria’s glass, not looking at her, but only at the glass itself. “Would you like to order an entrée?” The boy asked, a tight smile forming on his face as he placed the wine bottle on the table between the two.
”We’ll have the fondue, and some garlic bread.” Rab smiled back at him. He was annoyed at the fact he had been interrupted, but this was a restaurant, and it happened all the time.
Once Pietro nodded and escaped Rab looked back at Demi with a smile. “Right.” He held up his glass. “Cheers to a first blind date. Let’s hope we have a good time so that Pietro can get increasingly more annoyed.” He nodded, trying not to laugh. Making Pietro’s life a living hell sounded like a fun way to break the ice for this date. No more nerves were needed. And with this wine he didn’t think it was going to be a problem (he hoped).

899 . notes: #RevengeOnPietro
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DEMETRIA GREENGRASS
 Posted: Aug 14 2016, 03:35 PM
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Ani is Offline

Ice Cream Parlor Worker
22 years old
Dating Rabastan Lestrange
Neutral
31 posts



I'll Wait Here And See
Which Way The Wind Will Blow; I'm Taking My Time.
Her question had truly been far out there, but his answer made her feel almost ashamed- And yet, at the same time, she was filled with some sort of relief. He was leaving it up to her, as if he respected her opinion and trusted her to fulfill the proper choice. It made her heart flutter for a singular moment in her chest. Did he see her as an equal? The awkwardness had come back to the two, and she used the small silence to think out her options. Telling Desiderio may lead to some rather unpleasant arguments between her twin and her date, but not telling him could leave some tension in the air at home.

Coming to a decision, the girl decided to only bother to tell her brother if the topic came up. The words he had added on made her feel even more uneasy: They were going to become the topic of gossip circles. Yes, she had indeed been there before, but back when she was a young girl, and again when her mother had passed. There had always been rumors of abuse, but never did anyone comment on it; it wasn’t their business to know what went down in their home, especially when it came to something that was individually preformed. This, however, courting and dating, was always something different. Relationships were the core of these elderly ladies’ banter, the scones that went along with their tea. “I suppose they have,” she mumbled softly, keeping her eyes lowered and searching for something to change the topic about.

Luckily, she did, and he followed her lead. Rabastan repeated her likings, and she glanced over to him to nod to show him he had repeated her to find he was instead reading the menu over. Tinting some, she decided to steal a glance at him now that they had chatted and the time seemed right. Again she saw him as handsome, with stunning cheekbones and striking eyes. The way he moved his dark gaze so purposefully across the parchment-like paper, and to aide her, made her grow fonder of him. He was aiding her and looking rather appealing to the eye while doing it; how could she not?

Pietro returning, however, did indeed come close to ruining the little something. Had the waiter caught her staring at him? Oh god. The idea made her only blush more in embarrassment, and as he poured her glass, her gaze fell to become cemented on the place in front of her. She was a little put off still by his answer to her question, and with the stolen glance, she felt like she was out of place. It was a constant, reoccurring theme of the night it seemed, her feeling out of place. Her clothing, her lack of knowledge about this place and its French cuisine, her paint splattered skin, and her looming questions.

The little flame that had been her hopes and expectations for the night was slowly but surely get blown out, especially when some people were puffing extremely large amounts of air at it (i.e.: Stupid Pietro). The boy across the table ordered an appetizer, but the girl was too much in her own train of thought to really notice. When he spoke to her again, however, her gaze removed itself with great tugs mentally from the table and its deep colored cloth to look out across the way- And she was met instantly with a smile, and the flame grew slightly in intensity. He didn’t seem to have been putt off by her question; he seemed to have forgotten it entirely.

Smiling, she reached out an took her glass so that she could partake in the toast. “If good times can not be appreciated enough by the people of their origins, then allow it to spite someone else.” Her words were rather elaborate, a little too much so, but nevertheless her smile didn’t cease, and her glass clinked with his. “Cheers,” she added, then took a dainty sip before her features twisted and contorted themselves so that she was making a sort of face. Goodness was this stuff strong; good, but strong.

“So, back to the recommendation.” She laughed as if it were some sort of inside joke between the two now, bringing her long umber braid around her shoulder so that she could fiddle with her hair to relieve some nervous tension while her eyes flitted across the menu. She had sat down her glass as soon as she had taken just a few more subtle sips, the intoxicating substance almost too tasty to put down but she controlled herself. Demetria could get rather giggly after a few rounds, and she didn’t wish to go at a faster pace than him and allow him to possibly allude to some nasty habit. Alcohol, after all, wasn’t her nasty habit; something else entirely was.

OUTFIT | WORDS: 817 | #PietroDeservesIt
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RABASTAN LESTRANGE
 Posted: Aug 18 2016, 02:44 AM
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Merel is Offline

Junior Journalist
23 years old
Dating Demetria Greengrass
Death Eater
41 posts



The Book Of Life,
Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright
He smiled brightly at her use of intricate language. “You have put it wonderfully.” He said, almost proudly. This girl was getting more intriguing by the minute. And not in a bad way at all. It was nice to have someone who seemed to have substance, and not just a pretty look. Because… Holy hell. She was pretty. There was no denying it. Not one little bit. Their glasses clinked together and he took a slow sip from his. The delicious wine ran down his throat, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her. The reaction she had made his smile just that little bit brighter. But she seemed to enjoy it as she took a few extra sips. He could tell she was holding back. He was too. The wanted to chug the whole glass to make his stomach not feel so awkward, like it was constrained. For no reason other than nerves, which should have disappeared by now. They briefly had. And even now they were dwindling.

”Recommendations… Let’s see.” He scanned the menu quickly, “The Ratatouille is simply divine. It’s simple but marvellous.” He stated, and continued to look. He felt good, useful, like he wasn’t so lost at all. He had a purpose for once instead of scrambling around awkward conversation. But he wondered, what would happen if when she chose, when Pietro came back for their main menu order. What then? He had ordered the fondue, a dish that was known for its romantic endeavours. Why would he order that?! Pietro was definitely going to judge him on that. Did he think that Rab was going to bed Demetria because of the fondue. Shit. He hadn’t thought that through…

But then he realised. Screw Pietro. He could order whatever he wanted. Demetria stated she liked cheese, it was literally a whole dish of cheese. Okay so it may have been a bit of an overkill, but by golly it was fantastic. And if his date had never had fondue, well then this would be a bonus. “I would also recommend Daube Provencal. It’s like a stew.” He rambled off some more recommendations, but not a lot. It was pointless to give somehow a huge list, especially if they have never eaten any of those dishes anyway.

He placed his menu down, and took a drink, before glancing back at her. “So. Let me ask the rather lame and generic questions.” He started off, sounding rather awkward. But what else could he talk about; the weather? No. That was too much small talk. “What do you do?” He asked her. It would be polite to let her answer the question first before talking about his own job, which he loved a lot. He hoped she had a job she loved.

The question made him realise again how much he didn’t know about her. Why couldn’t his parents have given him a better understanding of the woman sitting in front of him? They just didn’t understand. This had to happen, whether he had gotten any information beforehand or not. But there was always something very intriguing about meeting somebody new. That unknown was a welcome, a chance for Rab to create an image on a blank piece of paper. The image becoming clearer with each action, each word spoken. It was a beautiful thing to slowly build up the information. It was exactly like creating a story. The more words there were, the more actions written in the words, the better the story. It was something he could understand. Each person was their own story, with their own history, their own plot. He just had to slowly pick up those details, just as if he was reading a book. Each minute that ticked by was like turning over a new page, the words materialising right in front of him. And he realised he really and honestly wanted to read the book that was Demetria Greengrass.

660 . notes: He wants to read her book. Wink wink nudge nudge.
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