Closed Pacify Them

Amella Macksimov

Dancer // Unabashed // Beuxbatons Alum
Messages
87
OOC First Name
Cole
Blood Status
Mixed Blood
Relationship Status
Interested in Somebody
Sexual Orientation
Heterosexual
Age
01/19/2031
Set Christmas before Second Semester 2048

There was nothing more exhausting than the many Galas Aminia Macksimov was forced to attend over breaks. When she wasn't preforming, her first love, she was with her family. Since Aminia had gone off and gotten married, it seemed that Amella's mother was clinging tightly whenever she had her custody Holidays. Amella was beginning to understand the hasty escape her older sisters had made, especially after her parents divorced. It would be nice, in Mel's opinion, to be relaxing at her father's house, watching a lame comedy on cable. Regardless, the youngest of the family was respectful, able to hold grace in almost any situation. As her mother fussed over her hair, the girl's steely eyes shifted focus around the room. Her petite mother, whom was shorter than the blonde especially when she was wearing heels. It was strange how height had been distributed. Though the youngest, the veela girl always felt as if she was the adult of the bunch, taller than both her sisters and her mother.

"Mother it is just static, if I am to dance no one will notice." She assured her mother with a smile, trying to hid the annoyance with the fussing. After all, it wasn't as if the guests would notice, she was a veela, she had charm and grace beyond most of the guests at the gala and she knew it. It wasn't as if Amella was particularly conceded, she just knew her blood often meant that no one noticed her flaws - a slightly tiring effect if she were honest. Finally her mother was pulled away by the other guests requiring her attention. After all she was co-chair to whatever charity this was for. Magical animals or something like that she assumed. The blonde was finally free, and the punch table was of course first.

The best trick any of her sisters had taught Amella, was that if you had two punches in your hand you could excuse yourself politely, saying you had grabbed a drink for someone else and needed to get back. The veela of course did just that, and meandered around the crowd, listening to conversations as she passed by. Some were about the cause, other shallow and about the clothes. It didn't make much of a difference to the blonde, whom made her way to a semi-secluded blonde, who mainly wanted to crowd watch as she sipped from the peach-mango punch that had been served.
 
Casper hated the many events his family forced him to attend. When he was at school he had been able to avoid a lot of them by simply staying at Hogwarts during the holidays but now he was out in the world it was no longer an option. Casper awkwardly messed with his tie while looking in the mirrored reflection of a silver serving plate. His mother on several occasions had tried to slap his hand away to stop him but Casper couldn't help but try to adjust it, the damn thing was practically choking him. The former Gryffindor was not as comfortable at such events as his older brother Titus, he was already out in the crowd charming everyone he could see. It was always important for their family that as many of their members were noticeable in the crowd of many donors.

After finally managing to shake off his overbearing family members and lose himself in the crowd Casper found his way to the bar. The open bar had been one of things his mother had used to make sure he appeared at the event, he couldn't bear to have spend the night on some awful punch concoction. After getting himself a fire whiskey Casper turned his back to the bar and leaned against it and scanned the room. It was the same boring faces he's seen a thousand times, most were old and dull all there out of self interest rather than out of any kind of civic duty. While looking round Casper's gaze landed on a face he didn't know, or at least didn't immediately recognise. She outshone every face in the room by an immeasurable factor. Casper noticed his brother on the other side of the room, darted his eyes toward the girl as if to ask who she was. Titus simply shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the old woman he was talking to. Casper straightened his tie, again, and strutted across the room to the mysterious blonde. "You look like you're having as much fun as I am,"
 
It wasn't long, and it often wasn't, until a person approached Amella. This she was used to. If she had been born wanting to be a wallflower she would have been out of luck. The blonde glanced from her punch up to the face of the person approaching her. Though she wore heels and was by no means short, he still stood around an inch taller than her. "So you too enjoy these events as if they were your own party?" She asked, a gleam in her eyes that hinted at all the sarcasm that statement held. Mel looked at the second cup of punch and as a server made their way around with a tray she snuck the drink onto the platter. "Would have offered this to you but it seems you already have something to drink." She smiled while speaking, always one for forming good rapport with anyone at these events.

The blonde stood up a little straighter and offered her free hand to the person who she now spoke to. "I am Amella Macksimov. And you?" She asked. After all, she spent much of her time at school now and therefor didn't often go to these events. As a young child she might have known better who these people all were, but now it was just a blur of faces to her.
 
Casper was pleasantly surprised to see the girl react positively to his sudden appearance. He didn't usually mix well with the type of people who attended such events but he was happy to see she was an exception so far. "You kidding? I love this party, its the most fun I've ever had," Casper joked as he sipped his drip, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He shrugged as she said she'd have offered him the drink, Casper wouldn't have accepted the drink if she had, she was drinking punch. "I prefer something stronger," He tipped his glass to her before taking another sip. "I'm Casper Blackfyre, and honestly I hate these things, I managed to escape coming to them for the most part while I was at school but now I've graduated my attendance is practically mandatory,"
 
Amella stifled a laugh, giving her blue orbs a gentle roll at the person before her and his use of sarcasm. At least he had enough of a brain to use sarcasm - some of those attending the events barely had enough of a brain to speak intelligently. "Ah, socializing under the premise that alcohol gives you charisma I see." Amella remarked, teasing the person. Often times this was how the part-veela made friends. it was always light humor until she got to know someone, but she still gave light jests to those she met. After all, at these events who would bad mouth her? Not with her last name. "I am Amella Macksimov. Blackfyre, that is a name I recognize i think. I am not yet out of school, but if i am not competing then I am here as my mother things that presence is key to success." The blonde glanced around the room once more. "So what do you do to have your name known then?" She inquired, wondering what he did now that he was graduated.
 
Casper laughed at the girls comment about his charisma, it was true he needed a few drinks at events such as this to help him relax, but in his normal environment he could be sober as a judge and still turn on the charm. "I don't know what you're talking about, my charisma is alllll natural baby," Casper laughed and saw off his drink. "Competing...sports? dance?" He pondered wondering what it was the girl competed in. He'd guess dance, unless she surprised him and was actually a deceptively killer rugby prop. "My family dabble in a lot of different things, charity, arts, all the usual nonsense, the family owns a a handful of smaller newspapers and magazines across the US, nothing like Transfiguration today but enough that people have heard of us, but as for me? I'm still figuring out my place in the world,"
 
Amella couldn't help but find the boys lack of true charm charming in it's own way. Mel sat the spare drink to the side and sipped at her own. The punch was refreshing but all too sweet for her liking, and it showed in the not-so-pleased face she made. She sat that drink to the side as well and laughed it off. "It would not surprise me if my older sister tried to get in with your family. She is an aspiring writer." Mel shared, though she was sure Aminia would not approve. After all, if that got out her mother would have a fit. "By finding your place I assume you mean you've no clue what your passion is?" She asked, all too forward for her family's liking most of the time. However if one danced around the subject then it would become boring and fake - two things Amella did not want to be.
 
Casper watched as Amella took a sip of punch and it was clear from her face she wasn't too much of a fan. She pulled the cutest not so pleased face he'd ever seen but he wasn't going to vocalise that thought. "She's welcome to try, though our stuff isn't exactly what you'd call high quality journalism," He shrugged, tabloid rags would be more what he'd describe the publications his family owned. Casper laughed at he response to his 'hadn't found himself yet' remark. "You're not wrong, what can I say? Passion is a funny thing, you never know when you'll find it, one day it'll just hit me outta nowhere, but so far that hasn't happened, but maybe some day,"
 
Amella shrugged. "A start is a start, though my sister is a high brow writer so she claims. i think she's just embarrassed to talk about all the love poems she writes." The veela giggled. "Anyways, passion doesn't always find you." She spoke, before hearing music playing. "Come if I am not on the dance floor my mother will scold." She grabbed Casper's hand and dragged him to the floor to continue their conversation. "How well do you dance? Ballroom is my forte." She spoke, having forgotten to answer about what she competed in. "Anyways as I was saying, passion is sometimes something you seek out, rather than it seeking you out. Sitting on your rear all day won't give you the same results as practice. Spin me." The request itself was well timed, but that didn't mean the boy would understand and follow through. in fact if he did she'd be impressed, after all he was lanky and didn't much look like he was trained to dance.
 
Casper laughed, his families publications weren't somewhere a high brow writer would want to find their work, but there would be a place for love poems, of that he had no doubt. "Love poems sound more my families style," Casper chuckled. Before he could really say anything in response to her point about passion and it needing to be sought not something that came to you, he found himself being pulled out onto the dance floor. As a rule Casper avoided the dance floor for one very simple reason, he couldn't dance. "Dance? I don't," Amella on the other hand, it was clear that by compete she had meant in dance competitions. They couldn't have been a worse match. "You assume I spend my time sat on my butt hoping inspiration hits me?" He said. When she told him to spin her he awkwardly raised his arm and did his best to spin underneath his arm, though if she actually spun she would do most of the work.
 
Amella laughed, the poor boy floundered. It was obvious that wealth did not always mean someone was gifted with lessons in etiquette. She smiled as she spun under his arm, making a sound similar to agreement in his statement. “Call it a feeling. Rich, overly confident approaching me, you seem like someone who often gets what he wants without trying.” She notes. There was no malice in her tone though. Instead she offered, “if I’m wrong or come across hurtful tell me, I just love to think about what people might be like. After all you were just standing by your lonesome before. Maybe you’re shy and your confidence is just a front. Dip me.” She spoke, seeing her mother watching them, trying not to blow the cover of their not so decadent conversation.
 
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Casper studied the girl as she summed up annoyingly well. "Well you've got me all figured out haven't you," He shrugged as they continued to move together. "I guess things do come easy to me, but look around, no one in this room struggled much," They were at a charity gala among some of the richest people in the country. Her description of him could have applied to half the room. On command he dipped her and slowly pulled her back up to him. "I was stood on my own until I found you, maybe I was just waiting for the right person,"
 
Amella laughed. "Mother says I'm good at doing that. She also says it's not proper but honestly - if someone does not want to hear the truth then I don't want to be around them." She spoke, dipping back gracefully and coming up slowly to meet him again. "You are a better dancer than you let on, Mr. Blackfyre." She spoke with a chuckle. "Well, what is your definition of the right person? Someone who doesn't get glared at like my family glares." She asked, having seen her mother's discerning eyes on the pair. "Don't make her mad, she'll turn to a bird." She spoke - as if it was a joke. Though it wasn't, her mother was enough Veela to do so after all.
 
Casper laughed, "Mother doesn't always know best," He smiled at her once he pulled her up from the dip and she told him he was a better dancer than he let on."I just have a good partner," Casper looked over Amella's shoulder to where she had indicated her mother was, wondering if she could actually turn into a bird. "The right person is the one who got me on the dance floor, despite my better judgement," Casper laughed, he was as surprised as anyone that he was actually having fun at such an event.
 
"I can't agree more." She laughed, agreeing with the gentleman who swayed her to the music. The song slowly ended and changed to something a little more upbeat. "Mm, this isn't really my style for a dance. But I wouldn't mind some fresh air." She said. "Hopefully I'm the right person to sneak outside with for a moment?" She asked with a grin, before daring to exit the dance floor, regardless on if this Casper boy followed her. After all - this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
 
Casper did wonder if the chance in music would bring an end to their time on the dancefloor and he was soon proved right. Casper nodded when she said she could do with fresh air but before he could say anything she had already darted off. "You're probably the right person to get me to do anything," He said quietly to himself before he followed her off the dancefloor and outside.
 

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