Re: Wainright Manor: Iris M/Manning T/Misha B/Damian W
Of course with it having the description of "Manor" as part of its formal, full name, Iris was expecting the house to be large. She was unprepared, however, for the full extent of it. Her family was far from wanting, and fell well within the realm of wealthy, but even the home she'd grown up in hadn't been as expansive as the Manor that they approached. Gated but opened, lawns stretching green in the start of evening light, an attendant waiting for their vehicle. She'd worn something nice (because of course she had - it was a dinner and a first meeting), but it was simple. Nothing fancy, but of quality material (and without the "special touches" that baking and their children might otherwise add to her outfits). But in the face of the Manor, as they'd begun the journey up the long driveway, she began to wonder if something a bit more might have been called for with her outfit.
That concern settled itself into her gut, a hollow and familiar feeling, the more they progressed forward. Inside the house, through the hallways, past the opulent rooms with barely a bit of space for the eye to rest that wasn't decorated in a way that screamed wealth at the observer. She put on an old smile, one that didn't feel quite right these days, but that she was able to fall back on as her stomach and mind began to both churn. This place was even more than her childhood home, and she could feel the presence of her mother, as if the woman was lingering behind her, there to deliver opinions and comments over Iris' shoulder. Even so, she was able to smile that smile that looked natural to so many, and return Damian's greeting. A shake of his hand and an introduction: "I'm Iris. It's nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting us." Obvious as well, since she was the only woman attending their dinner. She was young as well, though not quite so much as the boys, inching ever closer to her 30s, and the very corners of her eyes were only just starting to show the smiles and laughter of the past few years with Manning and their girls. Next to him, she seemed far more petite than average, though it wasn't nearly so pronounced once they were seated at the table.
She introduced herself again once Misha arrived, hiding the fact that she was wishing it was Manning she was sitting next to. At least then, she would have been able to reach out under the cover of the table - to twine her fingers with his or even just rest her hand on his knee - something to steady herself in this unexpectedly strange and formal situation. Small talk wasn't foreign to her, having seen and practiced it from the edges of her parents' parties. "A number of years," was her reply to Misha's question, "Manning a bit longer than I." The bland words were easy enough to offer, likely as easy as it would have been for Misha to simply reach out to know. And with his current decision to "not look", there was no way to know if either of them were anything other than human. Though it likely would have been interesting if he'd tried it. Though for the moment, all he received from Iris was a polite return question, as polite conversation dictated: "What brought you here?"