Who: Michal Conway Lynch & Larkin Whitby
What: omg
Where: Jordan!
When: tonight!
Michal Conway had somehow uncharacteristically managed to corner Larkin at her own birthday party, which, if one truly thought about it, wouldn’t have been that difficult to achieve since the surprise appearance of her very magical and British friends in her very muggle and Jordanian life had thrown the birthday girl right off kelter from the very beginning of the night.
Don’t get her
wrong, it had been wonderful to embrace her sorely missed mouse of a companion Wendy again, alarmingly unsurprising to hear that Seth was still outside the palace walls because he had refused to hand over his wand, gleefully fulfilling to witness Michal’s disapproving mug grump of face, and easing to finally have
someone to squeal with about all the wonder and glamour that they were surrounded by with Psyke, but that didn’t change the fact that their materializations were very much an ice cold shower of an experience.
Thankfully, though, her charming wit hadn’t quite been lost with her breaking of reality, so she still had that. And all the presents, the presents really helped keeping her from fleeing out another window again.
"You’ve gotten madder since the last time I saw you in Istanbul,” Larkin spoke sweetly to Michal, commenting on his rather volatile mannerisms as he ‘gently’ crowded her off into a quieter side corridor from the main room. His futile attempts at trapping her alone all night had finally resulted in a successful capture, which she was only a bit disappointed about, for it had been distractingly fun to slip from his grasp
just at the right time and watch him get angry over it from afar. But, casually jetting around in a dress and heavy jewelry did have its drawbacks.
“Oh I’m mad?!” Michal finally responded, his eyes bulging as he echoed her words with absolute astonishment. Larkin crossed her arms over her chest forcefully, looking at him expectantly. He let out a huff, and finally stopped to pull her around to face him.
“What is all this?” As he spoke he picked at her outfit, going as far as flicking a couple of the dangling beads on her headpiece and bunching the rich fabric together in his hand. With his other hand, he gestured vaguely to their surroundings.
“Clothing,” Larkin responded, pulling the folds of her dress out of his grabby clutch. “And a palace. Both of which are not yours.” Larkin finished, and for good manner, shoved his hands back into his chest and pulled her dress close back to her legs.
“Definitely not yours, either,” Michal retorted immediately, darkly, his words setting her jaw tight with disapproval.
“What’s that supposed to mean, then?” she challenged, feeling a familiar annoyance begin to brew within her. Larkin stood herself up a bit straighter, certainly not intimidated by her now silent former-housemate.
Potentially former acquaintance, because she could never give Michal the satisfaction of calling him a friend. When he continued to not respond after a couple of beats, her mind jumped to what she thought he had meant, assuming not too far off from correctly.
“Is that why you’ve been chasing me around all night?” Larkin’s brow lowered darkly, her hair cascading off her shoulder. “You’ve been talking with Ethan. So now you’ve got a whole speech about how I’m being delusional, or unreasonable, holding onto being a---” While she continued on hissing with her best yelling tone, Larkin noticed that Michal’s interest on her had begun to wane. His eyes were darting over her shoulders, away from her face, and because of that a deeper spark of annoyance flared within her. If he was going to
bother her, attempt to make life choices for her, then the least he could do was give her his full attention. But instead, as she spoke, he went about darting over his shoulder, and glancing over hers, looking around like at any moment some spy by close could see them. “So if you have
such a problem---”
All thoughts and words promptly died as Michal roughly, unceremoniously, took Larkin’s face into both of his hands and unskillfully, and rather roughly, kissed her. Her eyes went wide (tongue,
really?) as she stood rather shell-shocked for a few seconds (which Michal shamelessly took advantage of) until---
Larkin haphazardly shoved him, his hands, his face, away from her. “What are you doing?!” she demanded, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand in mild disgust.
Michal looked at her a bit grimly, but ultimately satisfied. He gestured carefully behind her, and said “Getting you out of here.”
Larkin glanced back over her shoulder, immediately experiencing the
lovely sight of a hard-glaring and notoriously known suck-up courtlier spying across the hall in stock-still shock. Eventually, in a flourish, he turned on his heel and walked out of sight like nothing of it, but Larkin knew better; the damage had been done.
“What have you done?!” she rattled, her hands turning into fists as she turned on Michal. Holy
Merlin she was going to hex his bloody face off.
No, that would be too kind. There had been a goat-transfiguring spell she’d been saving for a special circumstance,
this was definitely counted. Larkin bent down to presumably pull her wand out of her boot when... she remembered she wasn’t wearing her usual boots. And, also, hadn’t held her wand in just about three months. This thought alone stopped her in her movements momentarily.
In this short, but nonetheless ineffective use of time, Michal had dislodged himself from Larkin to cower back from her. Turning on him, she decided no, she really didn’t need her sorely-missed wand,
truly, to extract her revenge on him. Despite technically being just a
bit taller than her, Michal still thought her anger seemed to have brought her to a height at which hippogriffs flew. Or thestrals, maybe? That might be more appropriately coined. But before Larkin reached him, he began to yelp out the speech he had been preparing all night.
“You don’t belong here!” Michal let out, now bending over uncomfortably as Larkin grabbed a hold of his ear to tug on it, hard. “Dressed up like this, going about with a bunch of muggles! A royal muggle.” She stopped attempting to rip his ear off from his head, listening vaguely to his words. “You don’t live in Jordan, you don’t live anywhere. You’re a witch, you enjoy laughing at people, and playing tricks with them, not sitting on a throne and actually all well-mannered. This isn’t---”
“Well maybe this is what I want to be now!” she hissed, cutting Michal off before he struck a chord. Larkin twisted his ear, enjoying a little bit too much his cry of pain. “Maybe I like this better! Maybe this is enough for me, maybe I’m finally happy now! Maybe this is the most normal life I’m ever going to achieve! Maybe I don’t need
magic!”
Michal’s pure look of astonishment moved her to release her grasp on him.
He tripped back in silence, rubbing his ear with his hand. He looked at Larkin openly, and the image of him, bent over slightly looking at her with his funny clothes that obviously did not suit him, was not one easily shaken. Her fists unclenched but she still continued to breathe heavily.
“Bloody hell do you even
remember what your wand looks like?” Michal asked in a low tone, standing up on slightly. “Because I’m going insane without it and it’s barely been a day. And you’re talking like you don’t even
want it anymore, which is just--- when you’re actually--”
“I’m actually
what?”
Michal hesitated for a moment, then replied in a sullen tone, “--- talented.”
Larkin’s eyes slitted, and she regarded Michal wordlessly. And she was actually
talented? What could he possibly---
“I’m leaving,” she produced firmly, cutting all thoughts and inklings within her mind off. There was no need to waste a minute longer here, with Michal, when a potential
treason suit was being mounted against her. “I have go to deal with the unbelievable
mess you just created---”
Larkin pointed her finger at Michal now, sticking it close to his brash face. “I’d ban you outside with Seth if I could,” she threatened, and without another word or implication of his existence, turned on her heel and stormed away to form a plan of damage control. But, what could she really say without exposing the whole truth? Her jaw set as she walked, already realizing what little options were left besides being truthful.
