Post by Carlin Lennox S7 on Apr 10, 2010 13:32:53 GMT
With her usual single-minded determination, Carlin strutted into the Slytherin Common Room without sparing a dark-eyed glance for anyone but her target, spindly white heels clicking out the rhythm that her hips swayed to with every step. That was normal, the most common of occurrences except that Carlin would quite cheerfully destroy anyone who dared to even think of her as common. The Lennox family was something special, especially the two of them currently residing in Hogwarts. They had to be. She and Damien had impeccably pure blood, with not even so much as a dalliance with a Mudblood or Half-blood as a dirty secret hidden away in their ancestry. There were a few illegitimate children running around, of course; that was the same for any family. Marriages of convenience didn’t always bring happiness, but that wasn’t the point of them. The entire goal was to produce children and children they had produced in excess. The Lennox family knew their duty and no one could ever say otherwise. Except Jared. Carlin’s older brother was the only shame to mar their bloodline; she would never forgive him for that. Still, a disowned son and brother was of equal importance to an illegitimate one: none at all. She had loved him once, oh yes. Her elder brother had been the sun, the moon and the stars at one time. The adoration that Cyn held for Carlin was of no comparison to the adulation Carlin had had for her beloved brother. He didn’t matter now though. She barely remembered him and Damien was a more than adequate replacement for the brother that had walked out her life without a backward glance or a letter. If she ever saw him again, Carlin would flick her eyes past Jared with the same cool derision that curved her mouth when she recognised one of the illegitimate children of her father, uncle or even, at one time, her grandfathers. Whether they were older, younger or of an age, those unacknowledged relations were lesser than her and thoroughly unworthy of her attention.
“Out.” Carlin snapped the haughty demand to the Ravenclaw lying across Damien’s bed impatiently. Her mood wasn’t improved by how long it took the boy to gather up his clothes, scramble into them and disappear but Damien’s look of affront when he emerged from the shower, damp brown hair sticking up wildly as if he had dragged his hands through it just to annoy her though he was fully dressed already. It would be an insult to her to appear in front of her otherwise. Whatever her reputation and their reality, Carlin was still the hot-headed little girl who had forced her rules and ideas onto Damien until he respected her enough to follow them. High-maintenance, one of her favoured conquests has called her until she had tired of his constant overstepping of her boundaries. He was right and she had never denied that. She hadn’t even been bothered by him pointing it out cat every opportunity. She had, however, taken offence at the idea that he thought he could choose other girls besides her. The only sharing in the Lennox game was that the conquests shared her with other conquests.
Stretching her patience to its limit, Carlin endured Damien’s light-hearted muttered complaints about her interrupting his fun in an attempt to sabotage his chances in their game until they reached a bench near one of the water fountains that Carlin deemed acceptable to sit at. There was no sincerity to his words, and Carlin didn’t need him to tell her that to know it. For one thing, Damien wouldn’t have been taking a shower if he hadn’t already had his fun. He was simply too considerate to kick a conquest out of his bed straight away, even in the middle of a reasonably sunny Saturday afternoon. Really, what would her cousin do without her? He needed someone to look after him, but no one would ever be good enough for Damien. He was too likely to get hurt too easily and, more than anyone, Carlin knew just how untrustworthy men could be. Women, from personal experience, Carlin knew weren’t much better.
“Out.” Carlin snapped the haughty demand to the Ravenclaw lying across Damien’s bed impatiently. Her mood wasn’t improved by how long it took the boy to gather up his clothes, scramble into them and disappear but Damien’s look of affront when he emerged from the shower, damp brown hair sticking up wildly as if he had dragged his hands through it just to annoy her though he was fully dressed already. It would be an insult to her to appear in front of her otherwise. Whatever her reputation and their reality, Carlin was still the hot-headed little girl who had forced her rules and ideas onto Damien until he respected her enough to follow them. High-maintenance, one of her favoured conquests has called her until she had tired of his constant overstepping of her boundaries. He was right and she had never denied that. She hadn’t even been bothered by him pointing it out cat every opportunity. She had, however, taken offence at the idea that he thought he could choose other girls besides her. The only sharing in the Lennox game was that the conquests shared her with other conquests.
Stretching her patience to its limit, Carlin endured Damien’s light-hearted muttered complaints about her interrupting his fun in an attempt to sabotage his chances in their game until they reached a bench near one of the water fountains that Carlin deemed acceptable to sit at. There was no sincerity to his words, and Carlin didn’t need him to tell her that to know it. For one thing, Damien wouldn’t have been taking a shower if he hadn’t already had his fun. He was simply too considerate to kick a conquest out of his bed straight away, even in the middle of a reasonably sunny Saturday afternoon. Really, what would her cousin do without her? He needed someone to look after him, but no one would ever be good enough for Damien. He was too likely to get hurt too easily and, more than anyone, Carlin knew just how untrustworthy men could be. Women, from personal experience, Carlin knew weren’t much better.
