[ For asthedrivensnow ]

[prettyawkward]

Rabastan arrived at the Black's manor with a satchel that was full of everything he'd need.  A resonant ring announced his arrival, and he found his hand automatically moving to his hair as he waited, rather nervously, for the house elf to allow him into the foyer. Fingers twisted and tugged at a few strands of long, black hair as his eyes wandered around the familiar scene.  Rabastan had spent many occasions here, certainly, but somehow this seemed different.  There was a fleeting thought that he might have a chance; that perhaps this would be the moment where he'd finally be able to say he'd caught the eye of a particularly stunning Black sister.  Soon after that thought came the whispering doubt that caused a slight contortion in his face as he ignored the house elf's ramblings.  Maybe he was asking about taking his coat, or bag, or whatever it was that house elves do.  Rabastan was far too caught up in the noise inside of his own head to really pay much attention to anything in the real world.  This had become more and more common since he'd been living on his own, and his lack of sleep was apparent under his eyes.

With another strange fidget, and sudden realisation that the house elf was still trying to get his attention, he glanced down at the creature, "I'm here for your mistress Narcissa.  She should be expecting me."  

He had remembered to send that owl she had asked him to, hadn't he?  He thought he remembered, or maybe he had dreamt it.

Comments

[asthedrivensnow]

He had sent an owl, but he'd neglected to advise time or place - a hastily scrawled "portrait - Sunday?" was all her notice. Rabastan's timing is fortuitous, because it forces Narcissa to stop dithering over gowns and come downstairs to meet him at the elf's behest.

The first sign of her arrival is the sound of her shoes on the staircase. She's dressed relatively casually; cashmere shift dress, simple flats, her hair in its natural waves pulled back into a low bun. Several stunning gowns are floating behind her, though.

"Rabastan," she greets him, smiling hesitantly. An elegant hand waves at the hovering wardrobe. "You didn't tell me what to wear. And did you have a room in mind? The parlor, or the library, perhaps?"

She hasn't had her portrait painted in years, as she'd told him, and is oddly nervous about having this one go well.

[prettyawkward]

He had turned upon hearing her steps, and found his mouth had fallen open as she made her way toward him. It wasn't until she had finished speaking that he realised it was hanging open like a fish.

His eyes scanned the dresses, and oddly enough, he took quite an interest in all of them. With a detailed analysis of each one, he pointed to a shimmering one in a vivid green colour.

"I rather like this one, I think. And wherever you're most comfortable would be the best. We may be there a while, heh."

[asthedrivensnow]

His reaction is a tad surprising, since she hasn't made any sort of effort at all today - and then it's pleasing, since she really hasn't made any sort of effort at all today.

Narcissa waves the other dresses away, and they sail obediently up the stairs and around the corner, back to her room. The green one - a gift from Bella she hasn't worn yet, worried that it might wash her out - remains, and she plucks it from the air to hang over her arm.

"Well, then. Follow me, if you would?"

There are two rooms in this manor that she considers herself comfortable in, and since they're not going to be painting in her bedroom, she leads him to the music room. A grand piano, great harp, and a chaise are carefully spaced in the large, well lit room, and Narcissa points to an open area.

"You can set up there whilst I change."

[prettyawkward]

He gave her a smile, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a myriad of items he needed. By the time she's finished dressing, he's ready.

[asthedrivensnow]

It takes her less than ten minutes to get ready; a simple charm softens her bun into a low chignon with gentle curls framing her face, and another tightens the laces on the back of her gown.

She doesn't bother with shoes, the skirts of the shimmering viridian dress will hide her feet. Initially unsure of the green, Narcissa can see Bella's eye was once again unfailingly accurate - her skin is creamy, her hair golden and her eyes a clearer blue when reflected from the emerald material.

"Is this alright, do you think? I can sit on the chaise..."

[prettyawkward]

He was finishing his set-up when she returned, and he nearly knocked over his set of paints. With a quick comb through his hair with his hand, he gave her an awkward smile.

"Lovely! It's lovely. I like green," he managed to blurt out. "Er...the chaise is fine, so that you're comfortable. I'd hate for you to have to stand for so long. Let me...just..."

He realised he had blocked himself in behind his easel, and now had to move everything out of his way to get near her again. It was a stumbling sort of maneuver, but he eventually found his way near the lounge. That way he could help her, if she needed it. Not that she would need help placing herself on a sofa, but he thought it might be gentlemanly, nonetheless.

These were also the times he liked to take closer looks at his portrait subjects. There were always subtle features about a person that he enjoyed memorising and bringing into his work. Albeit, most of the time, his subjects had no idea he was sketching them. Long bouts of staring garner some strange nicknames from fellow pupils.

[asthedrivensnow]

"Thank you."

His approval is obvious, if a little gauche, and Narcissa lets a smile of teasing confidence curl around her lips. She was surprisingly impressed with this gown, and to have her suspicions of it's loveliness confirmed just boosts her ego.

She lets her fingers linger on his elbow in the lightest of touches as she setlles herself on the chaise, silvered jaquard silk the perfect background for her gown and colouring. She's aware of his staring, but given he's about to paint her, she doesn't think it too much amiss, and starts to froth and place the layers of skirts.

"Feel free to put these how you need them," she offers, tucking her bare feet up onto the chaise and gesturing to the pile of material.

[prettyawkward]

He nodded, slowly, now beginning to enter into a different sort of mode. When the artist in him took over, his bumbling nature seemed to settle down for the most part. His eyes darted around the scene as he stood back a bit to calculate exactly how he wanted the sheets to fold. Folds were his worst nightmare when it came to his craft. The layer of colour involved in shading could make or break a piece. He made sure to take that into consideration as he placed everything just as he wanted.

Finally he looked back at her and had begun to reach out to her face in an attempt to position her, before realising she might chew his head off for something so forward. As if someone had screamed in his ear, he recoiled with wide eyes.

"Er...lift up, a bit. Your face. I want you comfortable, but I also like that gaze. You know. Eyelids closed just enough. Chin tilted...just...well..." He really couldn't explain it fully without moving her.

[asthedrivensnow]

She makes a decent attempt at altering the angle of her head, but finally simply says, "Just put my face where it needs to be. I don't want to end up looking half asleep."

He needs to be pleased with the outcome, too - why bother to paint if the subject isn't positioned how he wants it to appear?

[prettyawkward]

Her permission made him feel more at ease as he again reached for her face. Though, he did approach her as if she were made of the most delicate glass, and one wrong move would result in her falling apart. When he was pleased with the intensity of her look in his direction, he allowed a wide grin to spread across his face.

"You've such a regal look to you, Narcissa. Your eyes make it, you know? Not sure if you'd seduce the viewer, or slaughter him on the spot."

[asthedrivensnow]

His... awe, she supposes? is palpable, and Narcissa lets him tilt her chin just so, a smirk curling her lip.

"Maybe I'll do both. You never know your luck," she teases, shifting her weight a little so she's more comfortable. The pose doesn't change, she simply settles into it.

[prettyawkward]

After that comment he turned around to go back to his canvas, taking a deep breath before facing her again. There was something to be said about having the ability to hide behind a large canvas.

There had to be focus, though. This could be the portrait of his life---well, perhaps that was a bit dramatic. It could certainly ease him into her thoughts on a regular basis. That was never a bad thing.

He deftly whipped out a small, black pencil and began to sketch on the stiff sheet. His eyes flickered between the lines on the canvas, and the lines that formed her body. It took a keen eye to pick them out, but he knew it was all about acute observation. Whatever he saw, he projected. Perhaps there was more to it, but that's all he knew in his own mind. A simple taking in and giving back.

"So," he managed to utter about halfway through sketching her waist, "How many awkward dates have you had to go on, lately? Do your parents force those upon you?"

[asthedrivensnow]

The silence in the room is actually anything but - it's just that they're not speaking. Narcissa focuses her gaze on the easel for now; she can hear the scratch of graphite over canvas that means he's creating the shapes to work with. She can hear him breathing, she can hear the odd creaks her bodice makes if she takes a deeper breath. For a moment she hears her heartbeat in her ears, and very faintly she makes out one of the house elves scolding another.

When he asks his question, Narcissa blinks in surprise, then looks thoughtful.

"A handful or so," she dismisses. "They're not necessarily awkward, and my parents... they do insist I accept all first offers, but I'm not obliged to keep seeing somebody I consider less than compatible."

So Vincent eventually got his dance, but nothing more. Antonin, on the other hand, is a relatively frequent visitor, along with Lucius - their rivalry is amusing - and one or two others.

"I'm not seeing anybody exclusively, though. It's too soon to settle down."

[prettyawkward]

"Right, you had mentioned that," he said, moving on to mixing up his palette. The brush moves over one colour, then another, stroking and mixing and tapping until he's satisfied with the hue.

"When my parents suggest someone, I know it's going to be awful. They don't really do it for me, anymore. Suppose they've given up. I did notice a drop-off once they were certain Dolph had someone. Now I'm just expected to live out my life making our name look good."

[asthedrivensnow]

"It's the advantage of being the youngest," she points out, nose wrinkling as the smell of the oils reaches her. Once she recognises the scent, she smooths her expression.

"Bella did the right thing, and now all I have to do is not marry someone they disapprove of."

[prettyawkward]

He began moving the brush swiftly over the canvas, building up the background colour.

"I guess I never looked at it as an advantage. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm over-thinking all this sh---stuff. I should be enjoying my bachelorhood."

Although, it wasn't like he had a lot of options even for just having fun. He hadn't been on a proper date in over a year. This had likely been the closest thing he has had to meeting up with a girl at a specified time and place, and he wasn't sure it really counted.

[asthedrivensnow]

"You could just... go and dally with Muggle girls," she points out. Distaste is evident in her voice, but it's certainly not unheard of. "I know for a fact that Henry Mulcuber brings them home every weekend, terrifies them with magic, then Obliviates them."

He also does all sorts of other things with those girls before he panics them by casting ridiculous spells, but Narcissa isn't going to mention those.

[prettyawkward]

Rabastan just snorts a laugh, as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. Or maybe it was an over-compensating sort of laugh, because the thought had crossed his mind...several times.

He knows of Mulciber's past with Muggleborns at the school. He's witnessed a few moments of torture, and had to listen to Avery's constant whining, and sniveling about it. Rabastan had always tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, but they kept finding themselves back in there. There was something to be said for being more powerful than the woman you were with, he thought. His intimate experiences with witches had been severe, to say the least. It might be nice to have a bit of control....

"Absurd. I never liked him, much. I mean, sure it may not result in some wretched half-breed, but I'd still feel defiled. Like there's dirt I couldn't quite rinse off, you know?"

[asthedrivensnow]

"Ugh, I know," she agrees, careful not to move her head. "There's occasional recreational slumming, and there's an appalling lack of taste. I think it's clear which one describes him."

Narcissa can understand the odd slip - beautiful people are beautiful people - but to make a habit of it is... less than desirable, and rapidly approaching revolting. She's seen several young men whilst out in London and abroad who have caught her eye, but - well, you don't keep them. Besides, there are far more fascinating people she already knows.

"You're far more sensible than he is."

[prettyawkward]

Thank goodness for the fact that an inflation of ego, does not increase the size of one's head.

"Yeah. I'm all about purity. I wouldn't dare threaten that. Why chance bringing an abomination into this world, right?"

He was working now on developing her figure.

[asthedrivensnow]

She's rather slender with modest curves, so he shouldn't develop it too much. The gown does accentuate her shape, though.

"Exactly. We can't help the anomalies that crop up, but there's no need to deliberately perpetuate them."

Narcissa is ignoring Andromeda in this equation.

[prettyawkward]

"I'm glad we're on the same page, then," he commented, continuing to work. He stayed silent for a while, and then paused from his brush strokes.

"I think...maybe we should spend some time together. You know, just for fun, maybe? It doesn't have to be anything serious. I know you're enjoying your freedom. I am, too!" Lie. "So, maybe we could just...have fun, or...or something."

[asthedrivensnow]

"Mm..." she agrees quietly, letting the sounds of his brush on canvas fill the room for a while.

When he speaks again, she blinks, startled from the slight day-dreaming state she'd entered.

"Hmm? Oh! I don't see why not..." He's decent company when he's not fretting over social mores, and she doesn't mind him, really. "Anything in mind? Or are you planning an entire series of portraits and are just now springing the idea on me?"

[prettyawkward]

That question unleashed an unexpected snort, that he immediately regretted, and quickly tried to ignore.

"I'd love to, honestly. Though, I was thinking more of...making an evening of it. Going out somewhere you'd like. I haven't really had anyone to run around with, lately. You have all sorts of beautiful dresses. It'd be a shame if you didn't have something to wear them to, you know?"

[asthedrivensnow]

She smirks. "That is your plan. Why am I not surprised?"

Narcissa shifts a little on the chaise, trying not to let her skirts move.

"Are you asking me on a date, Rabastan?"