Waiting to tip the Scales

[Oione Mireault]

There was something undeniably strange about hanging with Cecil Marzel. The day before had been a literal nightmare and so was the night, almost getting themselves into Azkaban or worse expelled, landing in the Hospital Wing and everything because she was to proud to admit certain things to herself.

However around Cecil it didn't really matter anymore and bitterness and sulking had to be postponed. It wasn't a hopeless infatuation, a twisted game was more of a phrase for this, but the boy's presence could make Oione take her mind off of things that were ailing her, like a breath of fresh air. He could bring her good old self, bold and always in for a dare within a blink of an eye, that was why she valued Marzel's friendship so much.

"Well, it might be too much for a girl like yourself to handle."
Indeed, coming out from anyone else and without the slight hint of playfulness she would have really become indignant.
"Oh dear" Oione mock-gasped, her hand theatrically landing on her heart. "I'm sure glad to have a courageous Gryffindor by my side!"
With that she stood up briskly, her robes sweeping the chair.
"Ready to go, Mr Marzel?" she said, looking down at him and grinning madly as her eyes shone with mischief.

[Cecil Marzel]

<sup>Cecil's faced re-gained his calm and subtle smirk at his comapnion's faux swoon. 'A courageous Gryffindor', she boasted. Funny, wasn't it though, how very often he was told he should have been a snakie. 'Or at least a Ravenclaw'. It wasn't so much courage that he worked off of. Cecil ran his life more on the power of illusion and secrecy.

Nonetheless, he wasn't as stupid as to protest to praise. There was, after all, some ego to be had in any young man.

He'd play this game. In all fact, Cecil liked their back-and-forth mockery games. They kept him occupied, on days like this.




"But of course, M'lady." The dark-haired youth stood and smoothed his hands over the front of his shirt, leaving a rather generous tip on the table for Rosmerta. Slipping into the light coat he'd rather unwisely selected for the day, Cecil offered his arm to Oione, his own amusement of the irony over his action clear as crystal on his face.</sup>

[Oione Mireault]

Speaking of Gryffindors, this always left Oione wondering how on Earth had Cecil Marzel landed in this particular House, he was practically a denial to all those traits that were obvious when you thought of Gryffindors as a group. Hell, Seth with his recklessness and bravery that only a madman like himself could muster would make a better Gryffindor than thoughtful and deceiving Cecil Marzel. Some time ago Oione decided that it was probably that the Hat simply had no idea where to put the boy and therefore put him somewhere, where he completely didn't belong...or, perhaps...perhaps he did. You could never be sure about anything when around Cecil, he was a walking secret and Oione knew that she would never actually know as much as an inch of his true personality, however this did not discourage her at all.

"But of course, M'lady."
She gave a short, mirthful laugh as he offered her his arm. Ever so charming, even when they were simply leading a meaningless play of courtesy. Nevertheless, she took it, beaming up at him, clouds occupying her thoughts vanishing.
"Let's visit our ghosts, then"

((oh, such crap))

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