Morag Kenzie MacDougal (adoxyinherear) wrote in caged, @ 2013-08-24 23:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 97-08, [ log ], michael corner, morag macdougal |
WHO: Michael Corner & Morag MacDougal
WHEN: 20 August, afternoon, at Hannah and Megan's party.
WHERE: The Cloisters, by the pool.
SUMMARY: Snarking and splashing.
RATING: PG. Guess we'll have to step up the language next time.
STATUS: Complete.
Morag didn’t wear shorts. And she certainly didn’t wear bathing suits. While some might’ve considered her wardrobe choices an impediment at a pool party, Morag believed them to be insurance against embarrassment: her ghostly pale legs and soft belly would go unseen by her peers, ensuring there would be no repeat incident of what had happened during Quidditch tryouts in third year. She’d been changing with the other hopefuls and a fourth year girl had pointed out the fine, dark hair on Morag’s legs with a snicker. Cheeks blazing, she’d hurried back into her school robes and rushed upstairs to the Ravenclaw dormitory. She’d missed tryouts and had been so upset she botched the shaving spell she read in one of her dorm mate’s beauty rags. She’d gotten better at it, of course, but was better still at holding a grudge, such that even as she rolled up the ankles of her pants to stick her feet into the water, Morag thought of that idiot fourth year and wished her fat with a miserable husband. If only there were a spell for that. Michael had been milling about the party, making small talk and generally happy conversation with anyone and everyone while enjoying the drinks and the food. But mostly it was the act of distraction, to pretend that things were better than they were and that he didn’t have the serious worry of his father weighing down on him. He had a feeling it was a common theme for all of them here. Everyone had someone to worry about, whether it be friend or family, but Michael didn’t want to focus on it if he couldn’t help it. Walking over and sitting himself down next to Morag (he hadn’t had a proper chance to bother her yet), he nudged her with his shoulder before offering up a smile. “I thought about throwing you in, but decided to be nice instead. Be glad.” Glancing at Michael, Morag’s smirk was ruthless as a blade. “You wouldn’t live to regret it. Where’s your entourage?” She’d hardly seen Michael without Terry or Anthony, and failing those two, a girl. He’d seemed to her to be collecting them by house, but Morag rarely felt charitable toward Michael’s girlfriends. Or most people, really. “Anthony and Terry are about here somewhere,” Michael replied easily, knowing that was who she was talking about. Or at the very least not having a clue who else she’d be referring to. “I mean, I know. We’re attached at the hips and all, but I thought I might come over and say hi anyway.” Michael ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the water in the pool before looking back at Morag. “So, how are you?” “I wouldn’t say hips, exactly,” Morag leered, leaning back on her hands. “I think I might be suffering from an eating disorder. When I see all this,” she continued, gaze encompassing the teenage merriment that surrounded them, “I feel like I have to throw up.” She cut her eyes to Michael, lips pursed in the closest thing she’d managed to a smile all afternoon. “I don’t think general nausea and an inability to understand what fun means equates to an eating disorder, but sure,” Michael said. He could always count on Morag for a little bit of biting commentary at least. “You didn’t have to come though, so tell me. Deep down do you actually enjoy the company of others?” He was kidding and he knew it was obvious, and truly that was as expected as her biting comments were. It was nice to think that some things were grand and normal. Morag rolled her eyes, her next dripping with sarcasm. “Am I that transparent? Desperately. Adamantly. I’ve been thinking about asking the Patils to adopt me.” “Oh you should,” Michael said, reaching down and running his fingers through the water of the pool. He thought about splashing Morag but ultimately decided against it, instead just flicking droplets back at the pool. “It seems to me that that would go very well.” Showing none of Michael’s restraint, Morag stirred the water in the pool with her bare foot, splashing Michael, just a little. “I’d be out the minute Parvati scolded me for my choice of nail color. Or lack thereof.” “But Morag, don’t you know that pink is in style this season?” Michael replied with a grin, before reaching back down into the pool and flicking some water back at Morag instead. It wasn’t much, but enough to be deliberate. “Careful now. Pushing you into the pool is still on the table.” Morag knew Michael well enough not to tempt fate. She didn’t want to draw that much attention to herself. “Then why don’t you let her dress you?” Morag said pointedly. “I’m sure it would involve undressing first, which should appeal to you.” “Ouch, you wound me,” Michael replied with a roll of the eyes. He wasn’t actually wounded, of course, but there was the slightest moment of irritation, though it passed quickly enough. He wasn’t sure if that was really just because of Morag or because it was compounded with all the things in the back of his head that he was trying so hard to ignore. He wasn’t sure it really mattered. Instead he just smiled again. “Have you ever thought about trying to be nicer? It might be a refreshing change for you.” Morag snorted. “Oh, I’ve thought about it,” she mused, eyes crinkled with a rare smile. “But I decided the enormous effort required would be better spent on preparing for my N.E.W.T.s.” Michael considered her response for a moment before shrugging. “Honestly? That’s a fair point. N.E.W.T.s are bound to take a tremendous effort so might as well not exhaust yourself on fruitless pursuits.” He looked about for a moment, taking in the rest of the party before looking back at Morag. “Besides, I’ve changed my mind. If you decided to be nicer, I think I’d find it pretty disconcerting. So best to stick with the status quo and all.” “You’re as fickle as a girl,” Morag replied with a harsh laugh, but her posture relaxed, toes lazing in the pool. She followed Michael’s gaze, and her tone darkened. Even if she was assuming something about what Michael was thinking, she was thinking it, and Michael was one of the few people she trusted enough to say it out loud. “It’ll only be worse when we get to school. Hell, I don’t even like half these people and it still feels like something’s missing.” He had been thinking something along those lines. Any mention of the status quo tended to remind him that everything was off and wrong and was probably only going to be worse. But he was trying hard not to think about those things, all things considered. “Yeah, well,” Michael replied, knowing that wasn’t much of a response. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to come up with a better one and not really finding it. “Maybe somehow it’ll end up okay, though.” It wouldn’t, he was pretty sure, but saying that gave it a finality that he wasn’t quite ready for. “Your confidence is staggering,” Morag replied drily, scooting back before lifting her feet out of the water. The topic of conversation was trending too near the real dark things that plagued their world, and less the nonsense she prided herself on dreaming up. “I’m going to get a drink and savage the head off of a mermaid cookie. Want to come with?” Michael wasn’t really sorry to have the conversation veer away from the topic of anything dark and depressing and real. He didn’t want to deal with it, not now, no matter how close it forefront it was on the minds of most of them. “Sure,” he replied, slowly standing up. He thought he could certainly use a drink. |