Minerva & Aurora Find someone to talk to. It seemed a distinctly pervasive problem in Aurora’s life, not knowing who to talk to during social gatherings, and one that took a great deal of effort for her to sort out and overcome. There were so many rules to these things, and there was no way to keep track of them all. Lingering beside Severus, while undoubtedly the most comfortable thing to do, was likely not the wisest. The venue was absolutely crawling with people, the corners and quieter areas already occupied by small groups murmuring about the exhibit (or trying to look like they were, anyway). It left few safe havens, and by the time the young woman had managed to pluck up a drink and take a sip (there just hadn’t been enough wine at dinner, after-all) it seemed most people were engaged in one conversation or another.
She felt very much like the only duck on the pond. Without thinking about it her free hand had found its way to the hem of her dress, where black lace grazed the nylon tights that covered her knees. The capped sleeves on the thing were beginning to drive her mad with the way they were rubbing against her cheeks every time she turned her head, and then she noticed Minerva across the room speaking with Narcissa. It was clear from the body language of both women that whatever was being said was causing some level of…well nothing good. By the time she had decided watching longer would be rude Mrs. Malfoy was already excusing herself, and while graciously thanking the hostess was on her list of things to do, Aurora gathered that just now may not have been the most opportune of moments.
The slideshow behind her colleague had passed to a copy of an old etching: Morgana herself, amongst the ruins of what looked like some sort of home. Her brow knitted together slightly, “The mood of the party is certainly fitting,” she murmured, coming to be still beside the other woman, “Care for an excuse not to talk to anyone else? I couldn't help but notice..." she trailed off, only inclining her head in the direction that Narcissa had gone.