"And Once We Find Her We Will Have The Best Night Ever." She Had Missed Her Friends While In Paris, She

Knowing how to handle herself in a public setting was something she had been taught at a young age, never losing her cool and keeping a mask of passive indifference even if her enotions were going haywire. She hadn't expected to run into Malcolm, they'd successfully managed to avoid each other for years and now here was right in front of her, thinking he could talk to her like nothing happened. How dare he? Sure the presents were nice and she was currently wearing a bracelet he'd sent to her a couple of months ago, but that didn't mean she'd forgiven him, it was not the jewellery's fault that he was a cheater. "I look good everywhere." She dismissed his compliment. "No one liked her anyways, so they're all over it by now." Serra crossed her arms, having to look up to keep eye contact, but not wavering. "What do you want?"

At first, Malcolm thought that he saw a ghost and when he realized it was really Serra, he opted for a ghost instead. It had been years since he saw her, doing his best to keep his distance and not cross paths. It was a moment of relief when he was told that she went to Paris. Malcolm would have done the same thing if he had a family member who dismantled the family name. He was glad to not have any siblings any only a few well-behaved cousins. Malcolm also thought that the Loire Valley would've been his choice if he were fleeing from domestic disputes. But it was because of Serra being in Paris that he was forced to readdress the first gift there and after that, he sent messages to French boutiques to send her locally designed jewelry and clothes. "Well, you look much better in London than in Paris," he commented, not shying from offering a compliment. It was only an innate reaction. "You're still saying her name? I can't help but feel sorry for the rest of the family. I hope they're well."

This wedding was a good one to take as an example, on what to do and what not to do. For example she would not have gone for blue bridesmaids dresses, at least for a late spring wedding. Serra looked upwards, trying to ground herself and appear calm. "No, I'm not talking about Nick. I do not care about him." She forced a smile onto her face in case people were looking over at them, so at least from a distance it seemed like they were having a pleasant conversation. So he was going with deflection, making a little joke to hide what was actually going on. Not the best idea. It was clear that he didn't know that she knew what was actually going on. "I'm talking about your little charity case." Disgust came over her features for a moment before she hid it. "I know everything. So don't bother denying it." She didn't actually, but if he thought she did he'd confess quicker.

There were probably other people in the room who were also planning their wedding and taking notes, other people who were betrothed. Malcolm felt sorry for them as he had both a traditionally arranged marriage with his former betrothed and in his eyes, it was also a love match. He couldn't say the same for the others who were begrudgingly matched with boring partners. Malcolm nodded, subtly taking her words as an invitation to plan their wedding while at one already. Malcolm smiled at Serra, his eyes softening and maybe he would blame the alcohol later as Emir and Agatha must've paid handsomely for it to taste this good. "Well, I don't have as much family as you, besides Estelle, so that should be ea-" he began with a shrug then stopped. Maybe he didn't hear her right, his eyes squinting in confusion and his brow dipped in response. "My mistress? I don't...oh," he said with a humble chuckle. "You mean Nick. I know he's not everyone's favorite, but he will be in attendance of course, hopefully standing right next to me as well."

"Oh I don't work here." Serra looked over at Barty, almost offended that he has mistaken her for someone that works. What about her outfit gave working class? She looked down at herself, deciding that it must be the shoes and she should get rid of them as soon as she got home. "You'd have much better luck at Borgin's & Burke's, where again I don't work, but my name is on the door so it's automatically superior."

𝐖𝐇𝐎: open to all. 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the junk shop.

the store was dimly lit and cramped, with shelves overflowing with oddments and dust. barty steps inside, his gaze sharp as he navigates through the clutter, nose upturned, he really would prefer not to be here.

barty’s footsteps are soft on the dust-covered floor as he moves past ancient artifacts and peculiar gadgets. he pauses and glances around, eyes landing on a figure in one of the labyrinthine aisles, finally a shopkeeper to assist. “i’m looking for something… particular. something a bit out of the ordinary. ideas?”

"Oh I would love to meet her! You think you could introduce us?" Her eyes widened in excitement, a gasp leaving her lips. Serra had seen the witch around before but she had never been formally introduced. It'd be amazing to hear gossip straight from the source. "Oh I know a ton." It would be a perfect moment to dish on Alara too. "I think I've got a few minutes. He said something about going to speak to my cousin Emir."

"Would you like an introduction? I'm sure she wouldn't mind getting to ask some questions to someone so interesting. You must have heard some things. Yes it's better to show up with a date to these kinds of things isn't it, gives you someone to get back to suddenly when approached by less than desirable company." He looked around for her escort. "I hope you don't have to wander off too soon?"

"I would be less disappointed if she got anything." Serra grimaced, a pitying expression on her face and not bothering to hide it. Of course she thought she was better than that one, she thought she was better than most people in attendance. "Feathers were more of a 60s thing. And even then you can be tasteful about it. Oh you're absolutely right, they reek of cheap imitation, least she could have done was charm them to lay flat."

Sipping on her Gin Astra took a careful glance to the women that Serra had eyes over, her eyebrows raised in utter dismay before tutting her lips.

"Well, not everyone can have it all I'm afraid. I guess whoever she got the dress isn't a very knowledgeable in the world of fashion, if so they would have told her the feather tread died a long time ago."

She glance over once more before finishing her statement. "Then again, from this angle those feathers look awfully cheap. No doubt fake. At least, in my opinion."

"I am very beautiful, that's true, but you should not sell yourself short. Of course I am the better looking one out of the two of us as I am a woman and naturally more beautiful but you are handsome as well. I would not show interest in you if I found you undeserving of my attention." Serra was very particular with who she paid attention to and who she didn't. She liked to pick and choose who she believed was worthy of her time. "Why not?" What reason would he be giving her, she wondered.

"I would never settle. If I choose the person I want to be with it is because I decide that is who I want. I deserve to have the best of the best, one that will shower me in gifts and in compliments. Just me. Not anyone else." Her voice turned sugary sweet as she focused her attention back on him. "If you want to continue seeing me, you will not be seeing other women. The choice is yours. If you are unsure and are interested in others, then your answer is made and this is where we say goodbye. I deserve undivided attention and focus. I am the best, but I will not compete with other women for your affection. While I do not want to get betrothed or married yet, I know my worth."

“Hmm.”  He moved a hand to stroke her cheek. “You are beautiful, effortless, beyond reproach, but I am, not.  I feel undeserving when I’m around you, you say you’re inexperienced, and I enjoy experiencing you, but I feel that as I am I can’t give you what you deserve even if I would like to.”  He stopped as if struggling with the words or how they might land.  “I worry that you will be done with me as you grow, become the perfect thing that I know you are, and regret settling. You shouldn’t be forced to settle, and I’m not in a position to be as serious with you as I would like to.”  He looked at her, deciding he should be as straightforward as she had been.  “I’m seeing other women.  I’m worried you might have heard something or gossip, or will and this is something you should hear from me.  I feel like it’s something I need to do before I get serious about anyone.  At least to the level everyone is rushing into betrothals and bringing other people into them.” He moved closer looking into her eyes and squeezing her shoulders.  “Breaking a betrothal or getting into a marriage that was a failure is not something I will do.  I couldn’t leave someone I cared about that much or betray them after making that kind of promise.”

Alecto Carrow had always intimidated her, there was just something about her presence, you could not miss her when she entered a room. Especially now that she had snagged one of the most eligible bachelors. She had heard he'd been betrothed to her cousin Mira for a brief stint and she did wonder what happened there for things to end up the way they did. She would be looking forward to the next issue of Rita Skeeter's column. "I agree. Evelyn looked wonderful. Do you know who made her dress? It is gorgeous."

where: fulham palace who: open

This was their first event since their own wedding, and she could feel the eyes on her, not that it mattered. She was quite content with how things had turned out and wouldn't have it any other way, slowly accepting what would be of her life. Rabastan was always there to put her at ease and turning her thoughts into a more logical one.

The witch walked around with a glass of champagne, not having taking a sip, not wanting to draw more attention since she was able to conceal her pregnancy still. "I will say, I'm impressed with how this turned out. Evelyn looked beautiful in her dress." Her head turning to the person beside her.

"Yes." She grimaced, her tone petulant and angry and not nearly as blasé as she wanted to be. Normally no one got to her, she believed herself to sit pretty on her throne, a pedestal from where she looked down on others and now it seemed like her whole kingdom was crumbling. "I'm not as cheap and desperate and easy as you are." The insults kept flowing easily out of her lips but that didn't make her feel any better. Wandless magic was something she was quite good at when it came to beauty spells, needing to know she could do her hair in any situation. It wasn't even planned, her emotions getting the better of her as she turned Charity's hair into a hideously short bob with uneven bangs. A laugh left her lips as she started at the other, feeling like she won she made her way into the hallway. She needed to find Malcolm so he'd tell her this was all a bad joke.

She stared in bewilderment, surprised to see the toll her boyfriend's shenanigan had taken on her. It was hilarious to see the tormentor become the tormented one, all too annoyed to feel someone she saw as lesser get a small triumph. "Plenty, huh?" She repeated the witch's words, simply to spite her, a sly grin pulling at the corners of her lips. "The way he had fun with me, though, makes me think you two didn't have any." Charity stated, turning to washing her hands, pretending not to care for this conversation at all. She did, though, more so for the pure satistfaction of getting to pull one over someone as awful as Serra. "You don't have to, what do I care if you believe it or not?" She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "All I care is that I'm most certain I'll ride him again."

Serra didn't make a habit of helping out at her dad's shop, but when Raf asked her for a favor and promised it would only be a couple of minutes, she relented begrudgingly. The man had asked her all kinds of questions she didn't know and she told him she didn't work there and yet he kept talking to her, insisting that she must know when his delivery would come in. As if she ever spent a minute looking over at the books. Ridiculous. Serra sighed in relief when Raffaella came back and answered his question.

"You know it is. You should tell Jeff to clean the place up a bit. Perhaps roll his sleeves up a bit. I'd like to watch."

“Love, that makes two of us,” Raffaella chuckled as her lifelong friend and stand-in coworker pouted behind the counter. The customer she’d left Serra with was a loyal one who’d been coming there for years; she and her father knew him well, so there was no real harm done. Frankly, she’d only sent her to the front of the shop for her own amusement. “Corvus,” she called to the confused elderly man standing by the cursed silverware. “Your delivery will be in tomorrow,” she reassured him as he lowered his head and took his leave.

At the magical ding signaling the door closing, Raff turned to Serra, her mirth failing not to peek through. “Are you trying to say it’s dusty in here? In our shop?”

"Well my parents insisted and who am I to say no to celebrating me?" She smiled, happy with all the attention she's been getting. In her mind, every day should be just like this. Her being the center of attention and being showered with gifts. "Are you flirting with me Mr. Rosier?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge, taking his offered arm. Patience had never been her strong suit. "Not at the moment. It's my birthday, tonight is about me."

A nod of his head, he agreed with her statement, raising his glass of brandy to prove the point before taking a large sip and savouring the drink in his mouth. "It is a wonderful party, fitting to the star of the show." Evan conceded as a smart grin settled on his lips, letting his eyes take in the witch before him. "I'd say it's best you open it later and when alone, I might have been bold with my gift to you." The wizard allowed with a suggestive look, offering his arm for her to take so they could have a chat without being bothered by those trying to congratulate her. "No wizard by your side tonight, love?"