Thread: The Art of War WHO: Natália Santos and Cheyenne WHEN: March 8, after classes WHERE: Sphinx Dorm
Natália enjoyed Cheyenne's company. Genuinely. She couldn't say that for a lot of people at the school. Some were useful allies, so she made sure to play nice. So far, the people she was associated the most with—Cheyenne, Gil, Galad, Davian, and Cascada—were the ones she had probably the closest feelings of kinship toward, though that was a strong word for it. Still, they were amusing enough and all dressed well and exuded a similar mindset to herself . . . except Davian, but that was more about shared traits that nobody realized they had. She preferred to keep it that way and had worked carefully to ensure of that.
But Cheyenne was young and pliable and amusing. A bitch in her own ways (no pun intended) and a provider of useful information when it came to casual gossip. Natália liked gossip because so much of it proved true. They were currently discussing about Pavel, who had slipped out of the public eye as much as possible.
"He is absolutely pathetic," Natália said as she painted her nails a shade of crimson that shimmered when the light hit it just right. She rolled her eyes, "You see him sulking about the place? He's yesterday's news, overshadowed by the cautionary tale of teen pregnancy. God, what a loser."
Last the two had a session like this, Natália had divulged her plan to Cheyenne. She told her about how Pavel would be called out for being a cheater in a way he couldn't avoid. Everyone would know about it, even if they had no idea who he was. She shared tidbits like the fact a very willing witch who was friends with Valentin was all too ready to help in constructing the fairy's social annihilation. She'd even plucked the term "Dirty Cheating Slut" from their conversation, which Cheyenne had used between the two of them.
"He's not the only one who broods here, but at least John's brooding makes him perfectly fuckable," she commented, though she wouldn't pursue the witch. He was nice to look at though, and her imagination filled in the details of what would probably never happen.