Who:Christian Entwhistle & Ashlyn Cooper
Where: Hogsmeade
When: February 16th, late afternoon
3It was near the end of the day and Ashlyn was glad for it to come. She'd had a decent time, of course, but her mind had been preoccupied the entire time. Not with school, or the Feminist club, or anything super important; just with Ingrid Catchlove holding bloody hands with Christian. She didn't understand it at all. Ingrid was pretty and she was smart, but...wasn't she also pretty and smart? And yet, for some reason she was
different to him. Prettier, or something. Ashlyn didn't understand it, but she had been moody the entire day because of it. Sieffre hadn't done anything wrong, anything to deserve spending time with her while she was like that, but she had never been good at holding back her emotions.
So it came as a surprise when she spotted Christian and Ingrid over by an inn. Her brow furrowed as she watched the two of them kiss and hug and be all
lovey dovey with each other (ugh, it was so annoying). Her thoughts drifted to what things would be like if he was with her and not Ingrid, but all of that faded as she saw Ingrid walk away, back towards the school. Right, well...there was still a little bit of time left for the Hogsmeade trip. She could spare a bit of time to at least say hello to her friend, right? She jogged over to where he was (trying not to appear to eager or anything), forcing a smile upon her face. "Christian! I didn't know you were going to be here today!" she said breathlessly as she came to a stop in front of him, quickly pulling her hair out of her face and tucking it back behind her ears.
Christian did not want to let go of her. Not even for a second. And here he was, outside of the Inne, knowing that in mere seconds he was going to release her, and that he wasn't going to be able to hold her or kiss her or do
any of the things that they had just done in that Inne for months. Sighing, he pulled her closer and pressed one last kiss against her lips before they said their goodbyes; he turned away, not wanting to have to watch her walk away from him. He would go after her if he did.
Jamming his hands into the pockets of his peacoat, he had just realized that he'd left his hat in the room he and Ingrid had rented when another female approached him, breathlessly bursting with a greeting. His head jerked up, realization pulling the corner of his lips into a warm smirk as his dazed mind finally recognized her. Sex did that to a bloke, you know... made them all groggy-like. He absently reached back to pat down his bed-rumpled hair. "Oh, hey Ash. Long time no see, yea?" He shifted his weight and drew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, nodding all the while. "Yea, I uh... I came by to meet up with Ingrid. You know her, I think. One of your feminist warriors," he said teasingly, lifting a fist in the universal gesture for "power".
Ashlyn smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I know her. She's pretty nice," she said casually, looking down at her feet as she kicked at the dirt there. Oh wasn't this just
rich. He was there, all gooey and distracted-like...probably thinking about Ingrid. "So I take it you're doing well, then?" she asked curiously, looking back up at him. He looked good, at least. Oh, she hated Valentine's Day. It turned even the sanest of people into complete loons. No, she needed to be positive right now. Positivity always made things better.
"How's your art going? Anything new or exciting or..." she trailed off, not really sure where she was going with her question.
He flicked his lighter until it produced fire, cupping his palm around the tentative flame while he lit the fag dangling from between his lips. "Yea," he said with a smile; 'doing well' was probably the world's biggest understatement. "Yea, we're doing real well. Still getting used to the whole... monogamy thing, ya know." A toothy grin was offered, teeth worrying at his bottom lip as his fingers ashed the cigarette.
"My art? My art... it's... it's going. Got some new places on my wall filled in, and just finished a new ad for the paper. How about you, Ash? How's the war against sexism?" He huddled deeper into his useless jacket. "Ya know, if ya ever want me to draw you something for that club... you know, for posters or whatnot? I'd be more than happy. Keep me busy."
Ashlyn had to force a smile and nod as he talked about the 'monogamy thing.' Right. She could essentially cross out any chance of wooing him (as if she'd actually thought she had a chance to do that in the first place). "Must be nice, having someone that...that you care about," she said slowly, trying to hide the anger, annoyance, the twinge of pain in her voice.
"Oh, the war against sexism...I think it's going to end up a never-ending battle at this rate." She sighed softly before shrugging. "I just finished up with an advertisement a week or so ago, but...next time they come up, I'll let you know?" It was taking everything she could muster to stop herself from pouting at that moment. It wasn't going to do her any good to just stare at him and hope and dream and wish, as much as she wanted to. He didn't belong to her, she didn't have the right to swoon after him, to want to do anything past chat and be chummy with him. She was--well, she wasn't friends with Ingrid, really...but she was one of the few members of the feminist club. She couldn't just be horrible and ruin that, could she? It wouldn't be fair or right. And yet, she couldn't help but ask herself what if...What if he really fancied her over Ingrid, what if it was her that he ended up hugging and kissing and whispering quick goodbyes after a short afternoon together? Ashlyn would give anything to have that with him. She was really aching over that forbidden fruit, and a serpent hiding somewhere deep down inside her was telling her to try for a taste despite everything she knew about right and wrong.
He tilted his head a bit to offer a slightly concerned quirk of his brow, even going so far as to have one hand in front of her eyes to try and gain her attention when she quite visibly spaced out on him. "Oy, you alright Ash?" She wasn't her normal, chipper self... even Christian, shrouded as he was in his own post-sex euphoria, could see that something was clearly bothering her. "You look sort of out of it. Don't tell me you're letting this bloody holiday get to you." He remembered back when he was in school that some of the birds in his house went nutters over Valentine's day only to be reduced to tears by it that night.
He playfully reached out and wound a strand of her red hair around his finger, giving it a teasing tug. "Aw, c'mon. Don't look so down."
She smiled again before shaking her head. "No, I'm fine. Valentine's Day is a sad pathetic excuse for the candy and greeting card industries to make money off of society's image of the dependency of women upon men." She firmly believed that, but it was hard to be so sure of it when everyone around her was so into it. "It's no big deal. I'm just letting something bother me that really shouldn't be," she explained slowly, trying to select her words as carefully as possible. "So...er," she looked behind her, realizing that most of her peers had begun the long walk back up to the castle. The briefest thought of Sieffre entered her head, and she wondered if he was waiting for her somewhere so they could talk some more on the way up or if he'd left her behind. "It was...it was nice running into you," she said slowly. She needed to leave before she said or did something stupid. "Maybe we can catch up again on Easter hols." And after exchanging quick goodbyes, Ashlyn made her way back to school, feeling worse than she had when she left the castle that morning
