thedressingroom | (no subject)

(no subject)

[It's snowing, but only gently - enough to have the odd flake settle in Narcissa's hair and on her scarf, but not enough to obscure her vision. The wind carries most of the icy crystals away from her, anyway, swirling in barely-there flurries over the edge of the cliff and out into the nothingness and clouds beyond. It captures the edge of her cloak, causing the sturdy wool to cling momentarily, outlining her leg before whipping away to reveal leather boots and a divided skirt. Narcissa holds a broom in her left hand, a single iridescent feather tied to the handle with a scrap of ribbon.

In a moment, she's going to step from the edge.]

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[Though not before her cousin can get a word in, surely.]

--You're not attempting a mid-air mount, are you?

[Shriek and a whirl.]

--Merlin, you scared me!

--Careful! [Please don't fall. Please.] I didn't mean to.

[She has a broom. But her footing is now sure, darling cousin.]

No, no... I know. Erm. No, I wasn't going to mount mid-air. I thought I'd be a little more sedate about it. [Lies.]

...Then I suggest you step away from the edge before you do. You never know what might happen. [Dubious, yes.]

The wind's hardly enough to push me over, Reggie, I'll be fine.

I trust you. I just can't help but worry, regardless.

You needn't. I'm only out here on a whim...

Then might I join you? I've not had a chance to fly in such a long time. [And this way he might abate his fears of anything happening.]

[She can fly, Reggie - she just doesn't do it often.]

You may. I'd welcome the company.

[Yes, but she was about to jump off a cliff a few moments ago, which isn't generally excepted as 'flying' in most schools of thought.]

--I must say, this place does wonderful tea, but doesn't quite hit the mark when it comes to brooms.

[He has not been given the racing broom he requested. Cue the disappointed pout.]

[Well, and maybe she was. But not for any depressing sort of reason.]

I wouldn't know, to be honest. A broom is a broom is a broom to me... L-- Lucius always used to tease me about it.

[Oh, so just a foolish one, then?]

Well, I don't suppose it matters to anyone who doesn't fly very often. Not all brooms are equal; I wouldn't want to play Quidditch on something like this, for example. If I recall, the handling on this Cleansweep model doesn't allow for sharp enough turns, which is a pain when you're trying not to lose track of a snitch.

[Movement in the corner of her eye--]

--hello, Leif.

...hello. What are you doing?

Contemplating flying.

[She turns so he can see the broom she's holding.]

--oh! Oh, I see.

Are you going to?

I'm not sure yet. I want to, but...

...I hope you understand that it looks a bit alarming...

[It does.]

I assure you, Quidditch is far more terrifying to the novice.

...o-of course. Ah. Could you...step back? Just a little?

[That he fears for her safety is sweet, despite the fact that she won't fall.

...she moves back from the edge of the cliff.]

There. Now you needn't look so panicked.

I wasn't. [He's just heaving a huge sigh of relief for...fun.]

Your face betrays you, darling boy.