(1938-12-18) - Living Gallery
Details for Living Gallery
Summary: Lea and Edgar meet at the Gallery, discuss their holiday plans and she turns down his request for a date.
Date: 1938-12-16
Location: Hogwarts - Art Gallery

Well, it's likely due to the fact they've never actually gone anywhere without being in the company of like half a dozen people, but Edgar invited Lea over to the Art Gallery. When she's in their pre-arranged meeting place, he will accompany her to the gallery and be gallant enough to hold the door open for her, et cetera. While, of course, trying to figure out how to do 'small talk' with someone who is equally as uninterested in that as he is. Nevertheless… as soon as they are inside the room, he looks around. "I wonder if they still have that statuette of one of my forebearers here."

It wasn't all that far from the Ravenclaw common room, not really. So rather than meet and walk, Lea just met him there, at the door. And the thing that surprised her about the invitation was well, the invitation. There was no place to play chess in the art gallery. "I could not tell you," she answers what had sounded like a question to her ears. "Was there something that you needed to talk about that you felt you could not, in front of Weasley?" Sensative creature, isn't she? "If you need assistance with something, you need only ask."

Chess can come later. This is, after all, a situation he's not exactly accostumed to. "Probably not," he says of his own question, before Edgar looks towards Lea after her second. His cheeks redden again, but just barely before he looks to her. It is perhaps due to his poor sense of timing or outright inexperience with such things that he answers, when prompted, "I know you are not the sentimental kind, well, neither am I, usually, but I was wondering if you would like to go out with me to Hogsmeade at some point. Maybe drink some butterbeer if that is your inclination, and I can purchase you some chocolate frogs." he looks to one of the paintings that depict what should've been a notorious wizarding duel of an age past. "How do you like that painting?"

"I don't drink butterbeer," Lea replies, as her attention shifts from one of the paintings towards Edgar once more. "And I prefer the kind of chocolate that does not feel inclined to hop around at the risk of making a mess. To be honest," the girl pauses, smoothing at the front of her uniform. "I do not often go down there." And again, she paused; thinking things over in obvious silence, before allowing his question of the painting to distract her. "It's more elegant than emotive," remarked of the painting. "The traditionalism in the imagery is there but to be fair, for art I prefer those pieces that convey intensity of emotion." And still, it seemed she hadn't gotten around to answering him. Until eventually, "I suppose, however, if we should happen to both have cause to go, that there is nothing to keep us from doing so."

"Would my invitation suffice as a cause, then?" He wonders of her, looking over at the painting and musing her words. He nods once, and then leads her towards a painting that has been entitled 'Star-Crossed', with the author's name captioned underneath the title. The scene, living with magic as it is, is of a young man holding a dying maiden in his arms; what the scene betrays is that he, too, is to pass away, or so the apparent wounds he has imply. Edgar looks to Lea once again, then back to the painting. "And if you prefer different sorts of chocolate, then that can be arranged, too," Edgar replies, watching Lea. "I also don't drink butterbeer. I prefer mead."

"Your invitation…," the girl parrots and then trails off into silence, with a faint frown. For a long moment she lets it linger as well, the sound of her heels clicking softly across the floor marking progress towards the painting and while it was a piece that would provoke a wealth of emotion from many a girl, Lea simply stares with a rather empty look in her eyes. "I buy my own chocolate, when I have a desire for it, Carrow. And I should be very clear about something now. I have no desire for a relationship, for anything that embodies one and if such a notion is what has possessed you to make your invitation then I suggest that you discard it right now."

"I am aware you do, it was not meant as an offense, but merely an overture of appreciation for your company, my apologies." If Edgar feels anything looking at that particular imagery, it doesn't show on his face, either. He is a bit paler than usual, strangely. Not unwell, perhaps just… dreading some response. And if he was to be crestfallen when her response is a warning, he acknowledges it with a nod, "I see." Is the only answer that rings after a moment, but then he smiles, although it is slow to bloom, and short-lived. "I understand, Rashley. Still, I would like to invite you nevertheless, because I believe we are of a compatible mindset for a friendship, perhaps. Or working more closely. It does not need to have any other sort of implication to it than that, as you desire it." He can be a stubborn though, she looks to Lea for a fixed moment before he leads her away from that scene and to another the artist has seen fit to dub 'Rainfall over the Hollow'. It shows a lady, in 19th century clothing, holding up an umbrella and watching the rain fall around her. She has a wand in her other hand, and there is an indistinct figure lying at the side.

Edgar is spared the questions that were sure to come, when her attention is still on the scene, rather than on the boy. He has been informed, she has done her duty. That he was still there instead of politely retreating in embarassment somehow surprised her. An assessing look was afforded him then, one of weighty consideration. "I should not mind to work with you," is the eventual response and now that the lines have been made plain, the girl offers her arm; that his direction of her person about the gallery might be easier. "Though I feel the need to point out that there is little work that can be done in Hogsmeade and if it is in fact work that you desire, it may best be served here." A pause, while she considers the woman in the painting, the prone figure, the gleam of a wand. "Are you very passionate about art, Carrow?"

Linking his arm with hers, after a courteous nod of his head in thanks, Edgar smiles, briefly. "Leisure is almost as important for teamwork as labor itself is. We cannot understand the other if we only see one facet of the other at work," his viewpoint on why Hogsmeade might be a good meeting place declared, he stops to contemplate her question as he looks to the painting, his gaze finding hers at that question before he answers, "I would not say passionate, but some works resonate with me. And I write. Sometimes. I am not good at it, though." The next one that he leads her towards is a very vivid, perhaps almost horrid depiction of a snake coiling itself around a rabbit. The fact the painter chose to Animate it puzzles Carrow. "And you?"

"So your implication is that you do not only want to work with me, you want to understand me. I am not some puzzle piece for you to examine at leisure, Carrow," Lea gently chides, with a faint glance of disapproval cast in the boy's direction. While others might have picked up on the note that there was a gift of sharing personal information, Lea seems to miss it. Or perhaps it is simply over looked as the kind of personal information she does not seem inclined to recriprocate least such exchanges only encourage him. But to ask if she's passionate about art? "No. I am not. Nor do I encourage a life lived only through the pages of a book."

"You'd get along well with the rest of my family, in this case," Edgar replies, "I do not live through books. I live my own life, which is hard enough without the fantasies inherent to storybooks. It is difficult enough to face reality as it is," He nods once at her chiding, "To say you are a puzzle piece would be to do a disservice to your complexity, Rashley." He probably means it as a compliment, glancing sidelong at her. "Regardless, part of living in 'reality' is why I guess this wand," he unsheathes his spellcrafting companion, gliding the other hand's index across the burnished wood, "chose me in the end."

"I get along with most people," Lea replies, "Who are of the proper mindset. Age makes no difference," Lea does not abhore her parents, if anything, she seems quite comfortable with them. It is the way of the world, rather than a trial to be bore. Yet, as he speaks of living his own life, there is a measure of stillness that drifts through the girl, a finely imperceptable narrowing of the eyes. "Which is to say that you do not life the life of which your parents have chosen for you?" It's a dual edged question, though she allows him to temper the topic with the sharing of his wand.
"It is a lovely piece."

"Ollivander said it was meant to be a duellist's, given the slight curve in the handle," Edgar remarks, pointing to that exact curvature point in the craftwork. "My parents were of the expectation I would be a ringleader," he tells Lea, looking right into her eyes at that. There is a sort of understated fire in the green of his gaze, "but I apparently failed the very nature of being a Carrow. It changed somewhat when I showed that yes, I can hold my own. I cannot exactly say that I am living how they wanted me to live. I can only say I try to live on my own terms. Then again, I still depend on them financially, it would not be very smart of me to openly defy the Carrow family. Nor interesting; my name does take me places, sometimes."

"A ringleader of what?" The question comes with the arch of a slender brow and an expression of faint puzzlement. It lowered, as she listened and the girl unwound her arm from his so that she could smooth at the front of her skirt and against the outside of her robes, making sure that they hung just /so/, against her person. "Why would you want to defy your family? I think that is a perfectly foolish thing to do. Not to mention somewhat childish in its selfishness. Do you imagine to just flitter about as you please, acting like some common mudblood?"

One wonders if Lea know the effect of smoothing her clothes so in front of a teenage boy does, but Edgar doesn't show that his attention trails after the motion of her hand — much. "I wouldn't. And … they simply wanted me to show leadership. I am many things, but not a leader. Independent, definitely. Leader, no." The Carrow shrugs, before mentioning to Lea, "We all have to be selfish one day, though. Even if for just a moment, it shows how we stand apart. And as far as acting like a mudblood, I don't think I would be capable of that even if I made my best efforts, to. I believe in the purity of wizarding blood, as you do."

"If one does not lead, then invariably one will follow. Do you care to be a follower, Carrow?" Lea asks, her tone not soft but neither is it spun of winter's chill as she regards him. That her fretting her appearance might be even remotely appealing to someone hasn't so much as crossed her mind. "Though I suppose there is merit, to remaining independant. It removes you much from the politics of your house, for instance. Though I should have care that independant does not also become aimless." A pause. "Forgive me, did you say that you had plans for the holidays or..?"

"I do not think we fall only between those two roles, Rashley. If I must follow, then I will. But not blindly." Edgar sheathes the wand, nodding affirmatively to her second statement. "I have a goal. Politics hinder that goal, unless it is meant to help me along /towards/ that goal. But the best move is to simply let those willing to stab eachother do so, and then approach whoever wins — provided I can make myself useful in the meantime, which I am sure I can." He pauses as well, to answer her latter question, "I do not, so I am open to ideas."

"At times one may do both," the young woman ventures, "Though a clever mind would never do so blindly. "Though to be fair, politics would assist that goal, to refuse to acknowledge such is to sell yourself short. We study now with those who will grow to hold position, whose families will expand. The contacts and connections that we make here, will benefit us for a lifetime and the families that we ourselves establish beyond even that." Yet, she has no suggestion for the holidays, there was naught but a bob of her head. "I could not remember."

"Are you still going to Black's party?" Edgar asks of Lea, after a moment. "We could do something, if you would like to. I know too many people going to France," he sighs, "I do not feel inclined to go travel that way." He pauses, before acknowledging her point with the families, "That is true. It is one of the main reasons why it is important to make lasting connections here."

"I was merely asking for insight, not because I had a desire to contrive a connection," it's a bit..short, perhaps and there was a rather sharp narrowng of her eyes. She reigned in the reaction however, offering the ghost of a smile. "However," and no answer was given in regards to Black's party, "I shall be in London, for the duration." It is not a suggestion, but merely, a location of course and he can make of that what he will.

"So will I," he replies, smiling back at the short answer. He doesn't mind it, at all. "We might as well do something, in that case, Rashley. It /is/ a fairly big city," he adds with some measure of glee, before offering her his arm again. A painting can be entertaining for so long, after all! Even if his attention is not upon it but upon Lea, instead. "If you would like to, of course. I would never say no to your company."

"I would be agreeable," Lea murmurs with a faint dip of her head. "Though, I should quite like to be done with the gallery as well, if there is nothing else that you would care to look at. We might..take a walk, instead perhaps," suggested with a small glimmering of a smile in his direction.

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