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Jane wanted to punch the stone wall. What was with this girl? Was to really this difficult to talk to people? She huffed and put on a fake, courtesy smile as the boys joined them. It was honestly a bit strange how quickly Jane could change her attitude. Just a few moments ago she had felt like crying now she wanted to punch something.

Jane followed Phi without another word pulling her wither book close to her. She was no longer sure what she was feeling but what ever it was she didn't like it. She wanted to run away, all she really wanted to do right now was take her broom and fly as far away as she could, she wanted to get away from everything. Life was hard here and Jane wasn't sure she much liked it.

Jane wanted to say something. To break the silence and talk, but nothing seemed right. Nothing right now seemed right. She wished so desperately to leave, to just do anything but this. She was so confused and that was not normal for Jane. She usually wasn't like this but something about being her with Phinelia when she was like this. They needed to discuss this and work whatever was wrong out but she felt she needed to be like Phi and remain trapped and silent in her own mind but it was so hard especially when he mind was clouded with nothing but nightmares. Jane again wanted to break down and cry.

ooc; outfit in side pic, music in top.
MADE BY PURPLEINATOR

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

Rhea walked out into the hall, following the Prefect, as well as turning to converse with the mystery girl who was walking with her. "So anyways, I still don't know your name. I know you have to have one, everyone has a name." She shook her head at the own silliness of a person with no name in her classes. "And I guess I'd like to at least know what to call you, or to right on notes, you know?" She stopped for a moment, to show the girl that she didn't want to look like she wasn't paying attention, though she still looked over at the line of students that they were following. "I'd like to be your friend, because I don't really know anyone here," she nearly whispered. "My mum didn't want me to go to all of the other Pureblood parties and galas and what not, she'd rather had me learn to be prouder of myself and stronger for my time here." Rhea let out some air, trying to gain her normal confidence back and reignite her energy, proving successful from her attempt. "So if you'll allow such a notion, being as I'm the only other first year girl in house, I think it makes perfect sense that we become friends." She then smiled with the most honest and warm smile she could muster. "If you want, we can discuss it more as we catch back up with the group."

Rhea quickened her step to catch back up. "I suppose that is where friendship comes from," she said more to herself than Evangeline, though she was sure the girl also heard her. Normally she'd just jump back in the conversation, but her new friend seemed a bit aggravated with Rhea talking as much as she normally did.

So after a short walk, already catching back up to the line of snakes, she finally decided to talk again. "I'm sorry for dominating our talk, I tend to get carried away and forget to let others actually reply," she blushed. "I'll work on it. If you'd like, I'd love to know more about you, since as you said we'll be spending a lot of time around one another for the next 7 years and I'll rather be on your good side than to be the target of any Slytherin spite," she chuckled, hoping none of the other classmen held a grudge to her for her boisterous nature yet.

The smile that grew on the boy’s face in front of her might unnerve anyone looking, still, to Catherine, it held a familiarity that, while certainly not gentle and reassuring, reminded her that she was part of his world, the pureblood world to which they’d both been born. His stance proved him to be just that, a true pureblood, a true Slytherin. With his incredible pride, one could never doubt his impressive lineage. She wondered if those of her new “house”, the scrawny mix of mudbloods and muggle-borns, knew anything of what it meant to be a pureblood, the years of history and honor they were born to by right of birth. No, they couldn’t possibly understand.

As his hand met hers, leading her in an elaborate spin, one of their time-honored traditions, she allowed a small smile to creep through. At his mention of her nickname, the realization that, she still was the same girl he had always known, sunk in. The truth was, though she would not like to admit it, her nerves, until that moment, were on edge. At his complement, she inclined her head in polite nod of gratitude, ”You look well yourself, Ace”, she countered with his own nickname due to the idea that he always seemed to have an ace up his sleeve, something to turn the tables back under his control and the ability to surprise anyone at any stage of the game. As she used the old nickname, a small teasing smile reached her face.

Suddenly, there it was, “Never pegged you much for Ravenclaw", he'd said.

At the mention of her current house. The smile fell away as, the worry crept into her again, making her want to clutch at her stomach. Of course, this was a temptation she avoided, but compromised by clasping one hand over the other wrist. She acknowledged the truth in his words, but she supposed she was, in fact, not worthy of the great house of Slytherin and that fact was what caused her to be sorted elsewhere. She could not, in that moment, see any of the merits to her new house. ”Father won’t be pleased”, she said simply, knowing he understood the implications of that sentence. Her father had always been stern with her. He had never physically hurt her, he was much to proud for that, but his coldly calculating words were enough to damage.

”No,” she responded to his last inquiry, ”I’m not interested in them”. She emphasized the last word and thus, emphasized the difference in the status of her housemates and herself, a fact she was certain Tay was aware of. She could not, in all honesty, say that she would have had any more interest in mingling with them if they had been Slytherins, that had not been her way, but at least then she would not feel as unworthy. She wondered if any of these thoughts were apparent to him. ”What should I do?” She had no better words to describe how she felt. Should she confront the sorting hat? The headmaster? Should she simply let it be? She hoped he would have some answer for her. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a purpose for being stuck as a Ravenclaw.

It was only because of her friendship with him, and her admiration for the young man, that she could bring herself to ask this question. She was normally not one to ask advice, however, these were special circumstances and he was, after all, the only other person she felt a kinship with.

There was truth in his words, though Catherine was not keen on believing them. In her mind, she countered the boy’s point. Ravenclaw may be an honorable house, she thought, but that won’t do well for an explanation to Father. In truth, it did not matter, she knew better than trying to explain herself, it only got her in deeper trouble. As such, she chose not to make her point aloud to the boy, and would certainly not use his words in explanation for her Father. Her family cared little for intellect when lacking the company of ambition and honor. Still, she could not deny the truths the boy spoke and for some reason, perhaps knowing there were merits to be found in her house, she was slightly comforted. Even though he left no room for an objection, she could not say she would have had one if there was. She knew that, at least with a Nott to explain her failures away, though certainly not entirely, she could face the displeased words of her Father.

His possessive arm took hold of her, effectively snapping her out of the hypothetical conversation she was having with her disappointed father.

She could not be certain whether the boy had posed a veiled threat or whether he was offering simple advice, but she had no mind to defy him. Threat or not, his words, once again held true, though, she had to admit, he was very practiced in the art of lying. Still, having her father hear that she was not, in fact, a perfectly manipulative, well-liked, social butterfly, or at least, having him hear that she was not the epitome of polite, would simply not due. He would not tolerate it. Thankfully, Tay did not add salt to the wound by having her acknowledge aloud the wisdom of his advice.

At his mention of the infallibility of the sorting had, Catherine was taken aback. She had not meant to question the sorting hat’s ability, or, perhaps I did? she thought. Avoiding predicaments like these was exactly why she had learned to keep her mouth shut. She always seemed to talk her way into a situation, but lacked the tact to talk her way out once cornered. She almost opened her mouth to explain, but, she remembered quickly, explanations wasted time and breathe. It was only promises of better performance in the future that would be acceptable. Again, she chose to keep silent, her mind was running too quickly and her words, as always, would not do her thoughts justice.

She was surprised, however, to find that the Slytehrin boy, adorned wih his well-recognized bullmastiff family crest, would stoop to acquaint himself with Ravenclaws. But, could it be considered stooping if he had done it? Certainly not. Maybe though, due to his impressive lineage, he could afford it. She supposed she would simply have to observe and learn. This, she could succeed at. It crossed her mind that her quick-wit may just be exactly what had landed her in Ravenclaw, but she did not have time to wonder as he continued to speak. She did not want to miss a thing her childhood friend had to say. So far, at least, he had proved himself tactful. Even if they hadn’t shared a long history, she liked to think she would take note of these qualities he possessed. He was, after all, “Ace” for a reason.

Perhaps, she realized at his confirmation, she might not have to be as guarded around these Ravenclaws and she would Slytherins, but she was practiced at being guarded, and she certainly understood she could trust no one right out of the gate. She understood he had begun to talk more about his problems than her own, but this did not bother her. She allowed him to take the lead. It was familiar, and what was familiar was safe. Yet, as he spoke, she realized something did not feel quite right. Something felt very strange, very foreign, but she could not pick up on just what that sensation meant, nor could she place her finger on its origin. Perhaps it was the new environment, but she was not entirely inclined to believe it.

”Enemies?” she questioned in an effort to keep him speaking. ”In Slytherin? she urged. And friends in Ravenclaw? she wanted to add, but knew better.

Maybe, if she kept him speaking, she might be able to figure out just what was wrong, or simply put this sensation of strangeness to rest. Either way, hearing him speak had, so far, been the only welcomed think in this place, thus far.