Post by Carlin Lennox S7 on Dec 15, 2009 15:29:35 GMT
Sometimes Carlin felt like she and Damien were never apart. Other times, they never seemed to ever be in the same room for longer than a few seconds before one was distracted by the concept of a new conquest. Damien tended to bound after new conquests like an overeager puppy. Carlin preferred to believe that she herself held more grace and poise than to act so recklessly and with such a startling lack of dignity. She was also the more honest of the two, not that anyone ever recognised that trait in her. Most people were inclined to prefer Damien’s company; he had that almost sweet, boyish charm to him that drew both girls and boys in like a moth to a flame that burnt brighter than any other source of heat and light. In contrast, Carlin was the harsh glimmer of freezing cold ice that refused to melt. She would not give anything to anyone, she would not bend or break or compromise. She would not. She could not. Daddy’s little princess had not been raised to accept anything but getting her own way all of the time. Some boys liked that, the ones that were attracted to strength but also enjoyed the purely feminine ease with which Carlin could softly sigh and pretend to give in gracefully, all the while smirking inwardly because Carlin never did anything that she did not wish to. She was manipulative, as Damien so graciously complimented her often. Of course she was manipulative. Could she ever be otherwise, had she ever been given the chance or the choice?
At least she was truthful, if only to herself. Though, truly, did she need to be honest with anyone else? She was the most important person in her life; what did anyone else matter? Cyn was too young for the harsh truth of reality. Damien simply closed his eyes and ignored it. Everyone always said that the two of them were so very similar: Damien and Carlin or Carlin and Damien, with barely a pause for breath between the two names because surely the two of them were so very nearly the same person anyway. It wasn’t true, not even slightly, but anyone important shouldn’t have to even be told about that. They should just know. Many differences separated Carlin and Damien; neither would have been able to tolerate someone who was too much like them. They were both too selfish, too self-centred. Carlin was just the honest one. Damien was forever too tempted to lie to himself, to fix on his smirk and tell himself that he really did care for his latest conquest. He couldn’t fake affection like she did but the faint ring of sincerity in his actions served him well; girls especially flocked to him immediately after a break-up, when they were still firmly entrenched within the vengeance and misery of being alone. Carlin didn’t understand those girls; who needed a boy to validate themselves as girls? Boys, men, the entire male gender were just tools to be used and disposed of as was appropriate. Damien was the exception, the only exception. Because he was, underneath it all, just like Carlin. He was just a blurred, twisted reflection that she couldn’t exist without.
“You’re maudlin today, darling.”
Carlin arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow – she never settled for anything less than perfect after all – and slowly turned her head to glance at the boy who had settled next to her. Joseph, James, John, Jacques, Morris. Something like that. Or perhaps not. His name was of no concern to her though, of course, Carlin thought sourly, Damien would have known. Damien, with his odd attachment to everyone he had ever slept with. Damien, who was never called impolite names because everyone liked Damien. Damien, who was her cousin and her best friend and the only person in Hogwarts that she loved. “You were dumped,” Carlin drawled lazily, widening her eyes with mocking curiousity. “I’m sure that I sent that little fourth year to tell you. Oh, and if you cursed her or insulted her in any way, I’ll ensure that you end up in the tender care of an irate Madam Pomfrey. I don’t take kindly to my most useful little helpers being treated badly, no matter how annoying they can be.” Whatever his name actually was, he didn’t look bothered by her mildly delivered threat so Carlin surmised that no harm had come to the little fourteen year old who had so willingly delivered the message for her. That, too, was Damien’s doing. He had a way of charming the younger students when he was in the mood to tease some younger hearts and minds. Carlin simply didn’t have the same patience for any young child who wasn’t Cyn.
She had finished with that sort of business now though, and Carlin was rather vindictively pleased to see the small frown that hinted at troubled emotions on her nameless conquest’s face, so she peacefully strutted through the corridors, single-mindedly seeking her private little spot in the gardens. She needed time to reflect on her personal triumph over yet another mindless male in the blurred faces of Hogwarts’ students. Heedless of the white skirt that would doubtlessly hitch up inconveniently while she wasn’t paying attention, Carlin flicked her wand to cast a warming charm over herself and stretched out on one of the stone benches next to a cheerfully bubbling water fountain, retrieving the letter and package from Cyn out of her bag before she forgot about them and had to endure Damien’s patronising smirk as he reminded her about everything she had neglected to do over the course of the day. The letter was the usual merry and childish ramblings of a seven year old but the package, once unwrapped, proved to be significantly more troubling. Chocolate. A whole box, double-tiered and full of delicious artisan handmade chocolates that made her want to whimper in distress. Cyn was honestly living up to the sound of her name, trying to tempt her older sister into the sin of indulging in a treat that would spoil the figure she worked so very hard to maintain. Tempted, so very, very tempted, Carlin nipped at her lower lip thoughtfully, reasoning that surely just one chocolate wouldn’t do too much harm. A girl had to treat herself every once in a while, right? Wrong! The sound of footsteps brought her back to her right mindset – the mindset in which everything but restraint and perfection was wrong – and Carlin, still tempted and desperate to rid herself of the source, rolled off the bench and onto her feet in one almost smooth motion. “Have a chocolate,” Carlin purred, her enticing smile strained as she inwardly swore that she could nearly taste the chocolate on her tongue. “Or more than one, if you find that you enjoy the taste. I would hate for anyone to say that I don’t share well.”
At least she was truthful, if only to herself. Though, truly, did she need to be honest with anyone else? She was the most important person in her life; what did anyone else matter? Cyn was too young for the harsh truth of reality. Damien simply closed his eyes and ignored it. Everyone always said that the two of them were so very similar: Damien and Carlin or Carlin and Damien, with barely a pause for breath between the two names because surely the two of them were so very nearly the same person anyway. It wasn’t true, not even slightly, but anyone important shouldn’t have to even be told about that. They should just know. Many differences separated Carlin and Damien; neither would have been able to tolerate someone who was too much like them. They were both too selfish, too self-centred. Carlin was just the honest one. Damien was forever too tempted to lie to himself, to fix on his smirk and tell himself that he really did care for his latest conquest. He couldn’t fake affection like she did but the faint ring of sincerity in his actions served him well; girls especially flocked to him immediately after a break-up, when they were still firmly entrenched within the vengeance and misery of being alone. Carlin didn’t understand those girls; who needed a boy to validate themselves as girls? Boys, men, the entire male gender were just tools to be used and disposed of as was appropriate. Damien was the exception, the only exception. Because he was, underneath it all, just like Carlin. He was just a blurred, twisted reflection that she couldn’t exist without.
“You’re maudlin today, darling.”
Carlin arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow – she never settled for anything less than perfect after all – and slowly turned her head to glance at the boy who had settled next to her. Joseph, James, John, Jacques, Morris. Something like that. Or perhaps not. His name was of no concern to her though, of course, Carlin thought sourly, Damien would have known. Damien, with his odd attachment to everyone he had ever slept with. Damien, who was never called impolite names because everyone liked Damien. Damien, who was her cousin and her best friend and the only person in Hogwarts that she loved. “You were dumped,” Carlin drawled lazily, widening her eyes with mocking curiousity. “I’m sure that I sent that little fourth year to tell you. Oh, and if you cursed her or insulted her in any way, I’ll ensure that you end up in the tender care of an irate Madam Pomfrey. I don’t take kindly to my most useful little helpers being treated badly, no matter how annoying they can be.” Whatever his name actually was, he didn’t look bothered by her mildly delivered threat so Carlin surmised that no harm had come to the little fourteen year old who had so willingly delivered the message for her. That, too, was Damien’s doing. He had a way of charming the younger students when he was in the mood to tease some younger hearts and minds. Carlin simply didn’t have the same patience for any young child who wasn’t Cyn.
She had finished with that sort of business now though, and Carlin was rather vindictively pleased to see the small frown that hinted at troubled emotions on her nameless conquest’s face, so she peacefully strutted through the corridors, single-mindedly seeking her private little spot in the gardens. She needed time to reflect on her personal triumph over yet another mindless male in the blurred faces of Hogwarts’ students. Heedless of the white skirt that would doubtlessly hitch up inconveniently while she wasn’t paying attention, Carlin flicked her wand to cast a warming charm over herself and stretched out on one of the stone benches next to a cheerfully bubbling water fountain, retrieving the letter and package from Cyn out of her bag before she forgot about them and had to endure Damien’s patronising smirk as he reminded her about everything she had neglected to do over the course of the day. The letter was the usual merry and childish ramblings of a seven year old but the package, once unwrapped, proved to be significantly more troubling. Chocolate. A whole box, double-tiered and full of delicious artisan handmade chocolates that made her want to whimper in distress. Cyn was honestly living up to the sound of her name, trying to tempt her older sister into the sin of indulging in a treat that would spoil the figure she worked so very hard to maintain. Tempted, so very, very tempted, Carlin nipped at her lower lip thoughtfully, reasoning that surely just one chocolate wouldn’t do too much harm. A girl had to treat herself every once in a while, right? Wrong! The sound of footsteps brought her back to her right mindset – the mindset in which everything but restraint and perfection was wrong – and Carlin, still tempted and desperate to rid herself of the source, rolled off the bench and onto her feet in one almost smooth motion. “Have a chocolate,” Carlin purred, her enticing smile strained as she inwardly swore that she could nearly taste the chocolate on her tongue. “Or more than one, if you find that you enjoy the taste. I would hate for anyone to say that I don’t share well.”
