Post by Dominique Weasley on Dec 7, 2010 21:15:51 GMT -5
Dominique sighed as she listened to Victoire and her her little preachy self. Blah, Blah, Blah, always perfect, always pristine little Victoire seemed to always be in the position to lord over Dominique and the others. Unlike them though, Dominique seemed to be the only one that bristled at the substitute authority. Was it the gentle cultured voice, always soft and feminine? Was it the beautiful blue eyes, shaded with a faux motherly concern that masked a smug inner knowledge of superiority? Who knew. Dominique wasn't exactly a big thinker/philospher type, and if anyone ever referred muggle psychological studies to her, she'd have laughed at them.
Without thinking she began speaking the rapid fire French of her early childhood giving Albus a shake with every other syllable for emphasis, "Mele-toi de tes oignons, Victoire" rude and abrupt, not the textbook perfect speech of her sister and mother, she blushed at her own rude manners. She might be a werewolf, and she might have ''sibling issues'' but even she recognized there was only so far she could go without overstepping unspoken rules of courtesy.
"I wrote to maman last night, actually. And you shouldn't speak in French when the rest of us cannot understand, you know", she said quietly, trying to emulate her mother's gentle tones whenever they were being reproved as children. It was hard not to sound smug, but somehow she managed it.
She risked a glance at Korus, surpised to see him staring at her. She was unused to the attention whenever Victoire was around, and her face grew warmer. Her grip tightened on something she had in her hand, and she looked at it surprised, as if her hand belonged to someone else. A handful of Albus' collar was still tightly gripped, and she grinned, and gave it one last good shake before releasing him. She made a face of mock distaste and rubbed her hand on her robes as if to clean them.
(Albus: You will NEVER be free of me
)
Without thinking she began speaking the rapid fire French of her early childhood giving Albus a shake with every other syllable for emphasis, "Mele-toi de tes oignons, Victoire" rude and abrupt, not the textbook perfect speech of her sister and mother, she blushed at her own rude manners. She might be a werewolf, and she might have ''sibling issues'' but even she recognized there was only so far she could go without overstepping unspoken rules of courtesy.
"I wrote to maman last night, actually. And you shouldn't speak in French when the rest of us cannot understand, you know", she said quietly, trying to emulate her mother's gentle tones whenever they were being reproved as children. It was hard not to sound smug, but somehow she managed it.
She risked a glance at Korus, surpised to see him staring at her. She was unused to the attention whenever Victoire was around, and her face grew warmer. Her grip tightened on something she had in her hand, and she looked at it surprised, as if her hand belonged to someone else. A handful of Albus' collar was still tightly gripped, and she grinned, and gave it one last good shake before releasing him. She made a face of mock distaste and rubbed her hand on her robes as if to clean them.
(Albus: You will NEVER be free of me
)