Fleur Isabelle Delacour Weasley (reve_de_moi) wrote in reduxpitch, @ 2016-06-15 20:31:00 |
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Galinda did not want to think about what was happening. If she thought too much it would start to feel more than a little unfair, which would lead to her feeling resentful and bleak. It would only lead to more negative feelings. It was an awful cyclical train of thought so she avoided it like the plague. Trying to stay positive under the circumstances, Galinda escaped to the town of Godric’s Hollow. Though she had grown up here and had spent the majority of her life living at the Hall, she hadn’t spent much time there recently. She tried to act like people weren’t looking at her knowingly, like they weren’t judging her for being a werewolf. She could not control their thoughts, Galinda reminded herself, she could only control how she responded to them. Which is why she was wandering the down. She couldn’t stay on the family estate forever. Small trips into town would be enough to desensitize her, Galinda promised herself. She would inquire about any employment vacancies. Too bad she was coming up with absolutely nil. This did not bode well. She couldn’t exactly not work. -- Fleur loved the town center. There was such a sense of community as all the people bustled around the great fountain in the center, going in and out of the shops and buildings that ringed the paved space. There was a bench facing the fountain that Fleur preferred. It had a lovely view of the church beyond the spray of water, and the quiet burble mixed well with the voices of the people, creating a nice background to whatever it was she needed to do. Today it was paperwork. Proofreading some reports that her boss was to send back to the French Ministry. It was not the most exciting work. He had spent three pages describing a meeting he’d been to with a Russian representative. Still, it was her job. It was giving her a headache and she set it aside, rubbing her temple with her fingers. She let her gaze sweep the square and it was impossible to miss the brightly-haired girl with the sour expression. She looked… Familiar. Fleur frowned and turned on the bench, draping an arm over the back, waiting for the girl to come closer. “Excuse me?” She called. “Are you all right?” -- It took a moment for Galinda to realize that someone was talking to her. It took her even longer to realize that it was the pretty blond on a bench. There was an initial and sudden tug of attraction, but that was quickly replaced with curiosity. Rarely did strangers concern themselves with others and though it was hard to be a stranger in a small town in Godric’s Hollow, that is exactly what the blonde was. “Yes,” Galinda said, although the word felt heavy and false across her tongue. There was very little that was ‘alright’ in her world at the moment, but that did not mean she had to burden another with. She would figure all of this out, even if it meant ignoring quite a few facts in the meantime. She would make a checklist and focus on the things she could accomplish. Try and think positive. Still, the blonde was still looking at her and Galinda felt pressed to offer something else. She smiled. “Thank you very much for asking.” -- Fleur did not believe the colorful woman for even a moment. It could be argued that maybe that’s just how her face was, Fleur didn’t know her, so couldn’t be sure that this girl didn’t just look grumpy all the time, but she had a hunch. Still, it wasn’t really her place to butt in, now was it? Inserting herself into someone else’s bad day was not the way to make friends. So really, she should have butted out and gone back to her work, but she felt a little bad for this clearly unhappy person. She would try once more before letting it drop. “Are you sure?” She asked gently. -- “Not at all,” Galinda revealed with a tired shake of her head. A lock of green hair fell into her face and she wondered why she bothered to charm it that morning in the first place. Continuity, she reminded herself, it was important to maintain a schedule and regimen. “Though it is lovely for you to ask. Most people would not bother.” Galinda edged closer, unsure if she should asked if she could sit. Or if she should just take a seat. It was a public bench, but the woman was there first. Come to think of it, she did not even know the kind woman’s name. “My mother would be aghast at my manners, which is usually par for the course, but my name is Galinda and I really do thank you for asking after a stranger.” -- Fleur felt she was the one with the poor manners, not offering the girl a place to sit. So, as the other approached, Fleur slid to the end and gestured to the fully vacant half of the bench. “Perhaps I ask because I am nosey,” she said with a little teasing smile, “or perhaps I do not like to see others when they are so obviously in distress.” She inclined her head briefly as the girl introduced herself, then held out her hand. “Fleur,” she said, her accent thick on the name, rolling it out, “it is a pleasure to meet you, and it was no trouble at all. I promise I care more about a stranger than these ridiculous reports.” -- Ah. So the blonde was French. Settling down on the opposite end of the bench, Galinda tried to compose herself. Suddenly she felt so very awkward and out of sorts. All of her previous confidence that she had shored up after years was gone and she hated it. “If they are so ridiculous than why do them?” It was far easier to be concerned about another person rather than herself, Galinda decided. It was just one more way to avoid her own issues and make her feel normal for a bit. Normal. She could at least pretend. “Of course, if you were not doing those reports you would not have been sitting outside on this bench to talk to me.” -- “Because I am paid quite a lot of money to do them,” Fleur replied, “and I do enjoy them, to a point. Unfortunately, I passed that point about three pages ago.” As she spoke, she gathered up the parchment and stuffed it back into her bag, which she dropped on the ground beside the bench. “There, they will trouble us no longer.” She smiled at the girl’s point. “Yes, that is true,” she said. “Would you like to talk about what is troubling you? I suppose you don’t have to, but I will be glad to be company for a little while.” -- “I am a werewolf.” Galinda saw little point in hiding it any longer. Before they had ostensibly done it to allow her some normalcy, to perhaps protect Gawain from the sort of monster his mother became. Now, however, it all seemed rather useless. Maybe they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. “Don’t worry, I’m harmless without a full moon and my nails couldn’t cut through soft butter.” She had cut her nails ridiculously short the day the magazine article at come out. “I am no harm to you, but if you are frightened, I understand. You were just trying to be kind.” -- Fleur was quite surprised by this revelation, but she did her best not to show it, for starting or cringing or even gasping in surprise would do nothing but harm. Instead, she turned a bit so that she could see the girl more full-on. She took a moment to look Galinda over and then shrugged. “I see no terrible teeth or claws,” she said simply, “therefore I have nothing to be frightened of.” She did sigh a bit, though. “That was terrible what those people did.” She couldn’t imagine that saying so would actually help anything, but she did genuinely feel bad. -- Galinda sometimes wondered if pity was worse than anger or fear. Pity was not something she could control, not that she could control the others, but she always felt like she was in such a weak position when there were those pitying her. Often times there was very little that she could say to negate those feeling sorry for her. “It is terrible, but I imagine once the Ministry discovers who leaked the information an appropriate reprimand and punishment will be found.” Maybe not through strict professional channels, but Galinda had enough faith in her brother that he would try to use his political sway for justice. Or at least because the family name had been besmirched. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he cared about her or the family’s reputation. Rather than dwell on depressing topics, Galinda smiled at the French woman. “I am glad to see that you are taking such a kind view. I had no idea that France was so progressive in their thinking.” -- “I certainly hope so!” Fleur replied. “That would be an awful thing if they did not take care of their citizens who were displaced or harmed by this event.” Fleur’s real concern involved the physical safety of those outed, but as there were currently no shouting mobs heading their direction, she didn’t feel the need to dwell aloud on that point. She inclined her head politely at Galinda’s expression of appreciation. “I do not speak for my country but for myself,” she said, then hesitated. Her own bloodline was quite irrelevant, wasn’t it? No one feared a Veela, in fact they were desired. But still, it was a tiny, tiny connection. “I am not entirely human,” she added with a shrug, “and I may not know what it is like to be perceived dangerous, but I know what it is to be different.” -- Galinda blinked, but Fleur looked human. Then again, she looked human as well and still people saw fit to discriminate against a disease. Still, the revelation was something the other woman did not have to reveal, but she did just to make Galinda feel a bit better about the situation. “I would hazard a guess, but I would assume that could end with hurt feelings.” She smiled at the blonde. Taking a longer moment to study Fleur, Galinda suddenly felt the itch to draw, to create. It had been far too long since she had done art of any sort. It felt like a sigh of relief against her skin. At least something could remain constant. “So, not to be weird or anything, but could I maybe sketch you? You don’t have to say yes. Or do anything. You could even go back to your reports if you’d like. If you don’t want to, it’s okay. There won’t be any hard feelings.” The words came out in a rush, but Galinda wanted to capture the feeling as quickly as possible in case it tried to disappear. -- One silvery eyebrow went up in curiosity. “Perhaps you should guess,” she said with a half smile. “I am curious what you think. I promise that I will not be offended.” She then brightened at the other girl’s question. “I do not mind at all! Is that what you do? Are you an artist? I have great respect for those talented in the arts, a field I have never found much success in.” Oh, she had her strengths, same as anyone. But there was something about being able to capture emotion in still form that intrigued her. -- “Well it’s certainly not troll.” Galinda flashed a smile, already digging into her bag for a pencil and sketchbook. “Or giant. I think I can rule out vampire too, considering we’re outside in the middle of the day. How am I doing so far?” Settling against the bench, Galinda propped up a knee to balance her sketchbook against, quickly flipping to a new page. “In answer to your question though, I am an artist. I stick with watercolours, mostly.” They were a bit too light and ethereal for what she was feeling these past few weeks, but that was the medium she normally gravitated to. She should go to the art supply store and see what called to her. Maybe she would find something else to fall in love with. “So what made you decide to come to England?” Galinda asked as she put pencil to paper. She wasn’t particularly invested in the answer, but usually talking helped distract individuals from the fact that they were subject of an artist’s intense focus. -- Fleur laughed brightly. “No,” she agreed, “none of those things, though, in some schools of thought, perhaps your last guess is not too off the mark.” There were slight similarities, of course, to some varieties of essence-stealers, even Fleur would admit that, but her kind did not actually feed on others in any way. But that was all very technical and had been debated by people who actually cared about that sort of thing, so it was not worth pursuing further. “That is very impressive,” she went on, watching the other girl prepare herself. “I have great respect for those who are able to create beauty from nothing.” She was quite eager to watch the artist at work, even if she should return to her own work in the meantime. But there were questions to answer and that seemed like a more enjoyable use of her time. “For work, actually,” she replied, “I was a guest of your school many years ago, for the tournament, and I have always had a fondness for your country and how welcoming your magical community was, so I was eager for the chance to try living here.” -- “The Tournament.” Galinda had left school already, but she wish she had gotten to see it in person. There was coverage on the wireless, but it wasn’t the same. “Was it as fun as it sounded? I think I would have liked to meet everyone from the different schools.” Plus Viktor Krum. Galinda did not follow quidditch closely, but she could appreciate a good looking quidditch player. Galinda started with Fleur’s eyes first, enjoying how they sparkled and then the delicate line of her nose. The interesting twist of her lips. Yes, Fleur was beautiful, but she was much more interesting in Galinda’s eyes when she moved and expressed herself. It seemed like she instantly warmed and became tangible. “It’s not from nothing if you’ve done the hard work for me,” Galinda pointed out with a grin. After all, it wasn’t like she had to compensate for mother nature. -- “Fun is not a word I would use first,” Fleur said, though she chuckled as she did so. “For those watching, perhaps, not for those of us having fire blasted at us.” Truth was, it had been fun, even the terrifying bits. Except for the lake. She still had nightmares about the lake. “But the opportunity to share culture, yes, that was certainly wonderful.” Even if, at the time, she’d thought the other cultures were a bit stupid and inconvenient. Fortunately she’d come around by the end of her stay. Fleur considered Galinda’s response. “I suppose I can see that,” she said. “The work you have put in, the practice, the time, the study, that is invisible. At least to those who appreciate the product. To me, I see beauty where had been a blank canvas before, I do not take into account the journey the artist had to travel before putting brush to pigment.” -- Galinda smiled. “That is a very lovely way to think about things.” Content to just lose herself in her art for a bit, to cling to the one bit of herself that felt so normal, she soon fell silent as she captured the blonde’s likeness on the page. She wished she had more at her disposal, but Galinda was happy enough with what she had. Though maybe she could invest in a set of watercolour pencils for times like these. She would think about it. Time lost a bit of meaning for her as she worked, for which she would feel a bit bad about later, but by Fleur’s own admission she had work of her own to complete. So maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Galinda only looked up when she felt her hand cramp and her back complain, surprised to see that the angle had changed noticeably. “I kept you too long, didn’t I?” -- Fleur waited a moment for the other girl to resume speaking, but she seemed to become quickly lost to her work, and so Fleur watched her for a little while before picking her work back up and resuming her proofing. It was dull work, but at least now she had the opportunity to glance over at her bench-companion and try for a glimpse of her work. More, though, Fleur was interested in the girl’s expression of utter focus. Fleur was a little envious of that expression, the passion for the work. She enjoyed what she did, honestly, but she would never have that level of love for it. At the question, which came suddenly out of the quiet place they had found themselves in, Fleur shook her head. “I don’t feel that you have, no.” -- Galinda was unsure, but she couldn’t exactly contradict the blonde without seeming terribly rude. And since the blonde had seen fit to see if she was okay and then proceeded have a very pleasant conversation before allowing herself to be drawn, Galinda just couldn’t repay that with unpleasantness. “Still, I think I ought to repay you.” The sketch was nearly complete and while Galinda thought it was cheating, just a bit, to use magic, she pulled out her wand. A few murmured words later and a tiny bit of color was hinted at and the pencil was fixed to the page. The last step was to sign her name. “For you,” she handed the sketch over once she ripped it out of her book. “Thank you for making the day a little more pleasant than I initially imagined.” -- Fleur actually gasped when the portrait was handed over. She was quite still, then, for several moments as she studied it, taking in the detail and the technique. When at last she looked up, she all but glowed with gratitude. “This is too kind,” she said, “you do incredible work. Though I am not so rude as to refuse such a gift, and so I take it with deep thanks for the time and care you took.” She then inclined her head and offered a dazzling smile. “You are welcome. I am glad that I could have helped, if even a little. And thank you for distracting me for a little while.” -- Seeing the woman’s reaction made Galinda smile. At least she could bring this small joy into the world. “It is nothing. A simple token for an afternoon better spent than I originally imagined.” Galinda began to put her things back in her bag, tossing the strap over her shoulder. “So thank you. I should leave you to your reports. I have to get going anyway. My family will worry.” Galinda stood and offered her hand. “Thank you again, Fleur.” -- “I understand,” Fleur replied as she turned her gaze back to the drawing to admire it a little longer. It was true that she had a considerable vain streak, she would not deny this, and so she felt no shame in admiring her own likeness, especially when it was so well crafted. She flicked her gaze up and offered a warm smile, then took the other woman’s hand, squeezing gently. “You are welcome, and thank you for your company.” |