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the elegant rachel m. corner ([info]malengled) wrote in [info]valesco_history,
@ 2009-07-13 17:08:00


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Entry tags:caradoc dearborn, derek dobbs, edward pennifold, evan rosier, giada vance, graciela cervantes, graeme dorny, group, mackenzie loftus, matilda rowle, rachel englewood, sebastian goldstein

1976 Christmas Party!
Entertaining came naturally to Rachel Englewood. If you knew her, in fact, she'd sultrily tell you that many things came naturally to Rachel Englewood, including being the center of attention, being able to produce a good time for anyone out of any circumstances, and throwing the best, most elegant parties. Perhaps it was the French flair inherited from her mother, or her simple determination to be the best, brightest, and most affluent, but parties were her forte, and that needed no explanation. The seventeen-year-old balked at the prospect of her last year in school passing by without so much as hosting a lavish high tea! Successful events were not borne out of nothing, however, and the sly brunette mulled over the various occasions which might warrant celebrating. Debutante balls had come and gone early in the summer, and regardless of how successful hers was, it was a new season, and therefore a blank slate. Winter proper was fast approaching and with it, the perfect holiday; after all, what better occasion to go all out for, than Christmas? Thus, their graduating year was, fortunately, not void of any contributions to the social calendar by Miss Englewood, who was fully confident that the Christmas of 1976 would be remembered by all.

Having gone through great lengths to ensure her parents would be unreachable for the duration of the party, such as packing them off to Canada in the form of an early Christmas present they had to take advantage of before her father's work detained him (naturally, she had taken special care to double-check dates with his secretary, to avoid potential conflict), the lack of supervision allowed the girl to plan what she wanted in peace. She need only have contended with the House-Elf, whom she had sworn to secrecy, and the other help, which had been given paid leave for the duration.

By five-thirty in the evening, everything had been set. Food aplenty was scattered amongst elegantly draped tables, and though the girl looked down on alcohol as a harbinger of bad attitude, it was found amongst the drinks. The drawing room was dimly lit by the roaring fire, which cast its orange glow against all the walls. A large, decorated tree towered near to the high ceiling in one corner, the fire glinting off the glass trinkets hanging from the limbs. Classic Christmas cheer was rampant in every corner, and there was little Rachel found disagreeable as the soft strains of the WWN's holiday program lilted across the expansive room. The hostess herself was decked in elegant black dress robes, the short length of which was a pervasive style that she could not come to an opinion on, but tried, nevertheless. As was written clearly on the invitations, formal dress was the only acceptable attire and it was for the benefit of everyone that they heed the warning. By six-thirty, guests began arriving, and the soirée crept towards its crescendo.

Wrapping a curl around her finger, the one physical vice her mother had never quite beaten out of her, she took a moment to stand back and survey the goings-on of the class of 1977, goblet of pumpkin juice in her unoccupied hand. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

OOC: Open to ALL graduates of 1977, and a few select students from 1978 who would logically be close to many of the 1977 attendees. Time's a bit wonky in the thread (as it is with all group threads? IDK?), so feel free to be in two+ places at once! AND TAG, PEOPLE! WE HAVE KIDS BACK FROM THE DEAD, HOW GREAT IS THIS? So I want to see lots and lots of interaction >[ OR ELSE.



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[info]malengled
2009-07-14 06:25 am UTC (link)
She raised her eyebrows at the abrupt company, smirk widening upon seeing Caradoc. There were few people in the world she worthy of her time, and it was (often begrudgingly) worth noting that Caradoc Dearborn often floated somewhere near the top of that list. Rachel was, of course, very careful to keep this information from him, so as to prevent the enlargement of his ego, but such things could not be denied.

"It's painfully clear you haven't heard of the word 'effort,'" the girl replied sweetly, tipping her goblet in a mock-toast to his less than impressive attire. "I don't know how they allowed you to advance this far, since it's apparent your reading suffers some as well. I did specify 'formal attire,' Caradoc. It hurts me, what little regard you have for my requests."

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[info]docstheword
2009-07-14 07:19 am UTC (link)
Well. Nothing like starting right off with a bang. Not that he expected anything less than the Rachel Englewood. There was a reason behind why they had dated.

Caradoc feigned mock shock as his jaw dropped suggestively. "What do you think this is?" he stated, gesturing generally with his hand to his upper body. He had put on something other than a plain shirt for her, and for her alone (just think of the bloodbath if he had gone otherwise), so Rachel of all people should understand that this gesture of his was one of great significance. It wasn't everyday that he cared to notice what he was wearing, let alone basically stop to think about it.

Well, for next time, Rachel had just earned her a tee shirt with holes in it. And robes that were dusty. All for her to wear. Because next time that would be the only thing present in her wardrobe.

"And--- the shoes. Those are dress shoes, mind you," Caradoc indicated smartly, deciding to completely ignore her attempted at scathing remarks toward him. He smirked again, and let out a small laugh. "Request fulfilled, in any normal book. I think it's you, I'm afraid."

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[info]malengled
2009-07-14 08:26 am UTC (link)
Blunt was a good word for Rachel, as was coy. And while the two seemed like opposites, Rachel often effectively united them in a somewhat infuriating display of smugness. Verbal foreplay, her method of conversation had been called on more than one occasion, and while she turned her nose up at the term, it had to be said that it was an honest description. "I suppose you're right--too often we forward thinkers are shunned for our alien beliefs that are, in actuality, miles ahead of the rest of the populous. To think, you'll only appreciate me and my modern sense of fashion when I'm dead and gone." The look she gave him was one of pure exasperation, but this seemed to be an age-old debate between the two, and Rachel was positive she'd provoked him into coming to the next social event in naught but a makeshift burlap robe. She'd tackle that mess when they came to it, but was not above turning him out on his ear. Caradoc's company was thoroughly enjoyable, of course, but nothing excused a poor wardrobe.

Except, of course, she did find his shoes passable. At least they weren't clogs.

"Mackenzie, on the other hand," she began, clearly going nowhere good with this subject as she thought back to the ring on the Slytherin girl's finger, and what a stir it had been causing, "appears to be perfectly dressed for the occasion, and I don't simply mean with clothing. Tell me, do you hear spring wedding bells, or do you find winter much more suitable to your tastes?"

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[info]docstheword
2009-07-17 04:46 am UTC (link)
He wears something that could be "considered" semi-formal to her fucking soiree, so in return she brings up that? He should just pour this drink over her head and start an uncontrollable, never-end (not to mention destruction) rave for that little comment of hers. Very much unable to control himself now, Caradoc's entire body tensed as his face darkened to a completely different mood before Rachel's eyes: complete loathing.

Hadn't she learned from the public displays people had made out of themselves when they brought UP that to him? No one had gone unpunished. By now, anyone would be a fucking idiot to think that bringing up even Mackenzie's name to him was hazardous to everyone's help. Just ask a third year that just so happened to try out for the quidditch team, and accidentally fell fifty meters from the ground. So terrible.

"Why don't you hold your breath until the owl arrives," Caradoc finally responded sourly, severely put off at the fact that no, he couldn't punch Rachel in the face and start screaming at her. But fortunately for him, he was versed in other ways of abuse. "Who said you were even invited?" he continued, going purely on anger at this point. It didn't matter that he knew this engagement was going to end within the week, and that he had despised every minute of it, no no. It was war, now, and Caradoc would do whatever it took to take her down.

"And you know," he started, putting his drink down on the nearby wooden table (without a coaster: any detail at this point would help). "I am lucky, Mackenzie already is proving to be beyond anything I could ask for. Unfortunately, I've had some bad luck with girlfriends, especially so in my fourth year. Completely inept in every way compared to her."

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[info]malengled
2009-07-17 05:16 am UTC (link)
Her grip on the goblet tightened dangerously, her small hand doing as much to crack it as possible. Were it not for the simple fact that pumpkin juice was impossible to get out of fair rugs (and this sort of thing was always present in Rachel's mind, being that she practically lived the part of hostess), the annoyance she'd be feeling right now would have been enough to do splinter it. Instead, she smacked the goblet down on the table, right next to his--on a coaster, thank you very much, because she was not savage--and turned to face him, expression deadly.

"I realize," Rachel snapped, enunciating her words in a tight, low voice, "that this is a sensitive subject for you and I realize that you have a particularly fragile male ego and therefore find it impossible to talk about such things, but you cannot fly off the handle like an uncivilized heathen every time it is even mentioned."

Being told she wasn't invited was easily handled, if there even was a wedding. The girl even doubted whether that sentiment would stick with Caradoc as soon as this mood dissipated. Being cursed out for making a jab below the belt, even, Rachel could patiently tolerate until he had gotten whatever ill-feeling off his chest. She was only trying to help him, after all! Bottling this sort of thing up served no one well, and it was in his best interest to open up about it—though she was well aware that all too often, there were people who needed such help, but strenuously objected to receiving it, since they didn't believe it was necessary. Trying to be the bigger person and helping those at such a disadvantage overcome these obstacles could be a tireless, thankless role to play.

But there were some lines that were unforgivable when crossed. Being told that she was "incompetent," as a girlfriend or otherwise, was one of these. It was painfully obvious to whom he was referring, of course. As if anyone had been foolish enough to date him their fourth year besides her! Not to mention attempting to insinuate that any subsequent break up had been anything but mutual--that was simply unforgivable. And Caradoc was a fool if he didn't know that; Rachel Englewood was a far cry from incompetent, and Merlin take pity on whatever poor soul failed to believe that!

"At least learn to handle it with a certain amount of grace! Not everyone bringing it up is trying to humiliate you!"

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[info]docstheword
2009-07-18 06:47 am UTC (link)
"And you weren't?" Caradoc snapped, knowing that the only reason why Rachel brought up Mackenzie was to humiliate him: it obviously was the only thing that could get to his inner core these days. Just like how he knew questioning Rachel's competence as a girlfriend would strike her inner core. Who was she exactly trying to kid, here? Like he hadn't taught her a few things along the road, and while he would never admit this to her, she had taught him a few ways to verbally abuse as well. It really was pointless for them to bring up anything that annoyed each other: it would only result in death.

"How about you just don't ask about it to avoid it entirely?" he drawled, calming down at the sight of her anger. At least she had gotten the point. If she honestly wanted to know so much about this wedding that would never happen, she could go ask Mackenzie, seeing as the girl was a much safer bet.

Caradoc picked up his cup again and drained it completely, giving time for both of them to not say anything for a few moments. Just... try to avoid thinking of ways how he would kill Rachel for bringing this up. And! And! It was just that he expected more from her. He did. That was the problem.

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