The Deeper Meanings (Constance)

[Daphne Beatrix Greengrass]

(I'm Not A Princess)

(This ain't a fairytale)

Days that Daphne didn’t have work to deal with was hard to come by. Which was why she would usually have to gather all the bravery she could and demand her own day off for both her and Alice. Not like she was shy in doing so. In fact she was pretty sure they couldn’t afford to fire someone with her talent. She knew this considering that was what happened this morning. She walked into the publisher’s office and demanded a day off. Well more like asked politely not wanting to seem like a major pain in the company’s arse. Which she probably was if someone really put a lot of thought into that topic.

Daphne stood outside of the National Gallery. It was in London, obiously because there was no way she was going to leave a country for a day trip. About this National Gallery, it was full of art pieces, muggle art pieces. Sure she learned a few things about it in Muggle Studies but that class had so much to cover they barely spent time on the important and interesting stuff. Like art. Daphne wasn’t an artist but she loved looking at it. It was a sign of self expression and how one person could perceive something as something totally different than planned. She remembered how over the summer she would usually sneak out to the Art Gallery by herself just to think and look at the art. Find the pieces that expressed anger, sadness, and confusion. Of course she mostly saw those themes because that was how she felt at the time. Now all she saw was unique, colorful, and independent. Once in a while she did see anger in the paintings, but what could she say? She had a horrid temper that she had troubles maintaining control over.

She walked into the National Gallery and looked around amazed. Even to this day, every time she walked in she was astonished at the beauty of it. She paid her passage in and started off with the beginning. She could spend every day looking at these paintings and see a different theme and mood each day. Maybe it was because she was developing an over active imagination. Or maybe she was just analyzing it more than it was needed to be analyzed to understand. Therefore finding a deeper meaning than the artist themselves, or maybe she was just being arrogant again also. Both of them would make perfect sense. After all she tended to think of herself as higher above everyone else. It was kind of a habit of hers ever since school. A habit she hadn’t been able to break so she just accepted it as a part of her. A part of her that people would have to accept if they wanted to be on good terms. If no then it was there loss.

[/color] first thread =)
Outfit;; CLICK
Words;; 480
Tag;; Constance!
Credit;; made by lelegirllele of CAUTION TO THE WIND
[/ul][/size]

[Constance Rayne McCarthy]

There had always been something about the muggle world that fascinated the former Slytherin, which is why she had never quite grasp why Dark Wizards wanted to destroy it. While she was a kid, her parents encouraged her to make friends with the other children in their neighborhood before she knew what she was, how the world worked the way it did. While she knew about magic, she wasn’t blind. It wasn’t under her father died that she really began to understand how pure-blooded wizards weren’t very fond of muggles. Her parents were, but her mother’s side of the family – aside from her aunt, Svetlana – turned their noses up for even associating with them. When she was younger, her maternal grandmother would lecture her for hours about how important it was for Constance to marry into a rich, pure blooded Slytherin family. Her paternal grandmother used to disagree.

As she entered the Nationally Gallery, Constance carefully tucked her wand deeper into her little bag and adjusted the shoulder straps, the soft clicking of her heels being barely heard on the flooring. After the Battle, she found herself drawn to the raw, unique beauty of the gallery, admiring the talent of muggle artists. She liked their music, their clothes – being that she didn’t like the robes – and even the people. It was just difficult for her to understand the supremacy that her old house had. Once, when she had first began talking to George, Constance had been relatively surprised to learn that the man didn’t know what an airplane was, and it had taken her a little while to explain despite the fact she doubted he grasped the concept that something that big, full of muggles and not enchanted could fly.

Usually, she started backwards, making her way slowly through each room to admire the work of others, making careful note of the technique of color and texture that the chosen artist worked with. Her favorite room was always room eighteen, which focused on French artistry, but she was also rather fond of the other ones. After consideration, she went back to level zero, in search for a cup of coffee, and bought a double shot espresso, no sugar or crème, and then continued on her way, not paying much attention as she bumped into someone lightly, swearing under her breath as she stepped back, gray-blue eyes focusing in on the other’s face. “Daphne?” She paused, “Is that you?

ATTIRE

[/color] click CREDIT SAM !? of Confronting the Faceless. Don't remove the credit or I will find you. LYRICS brick by boring brick - paramore NOTES WORD COUNT 408[/center][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Daphne Beatrix Greengrass]

(I'm Not A Princess)

(This ain't a fairytale)

Daphne kept strolling by the beautiful paintings. She tried to keep some path to follow so she would try and get the chance to see all this place had to offer. Sure it would take probably three whole days to see and observe the whole thing to her content but she had a feeling it would be well worth it. After all she could make this a routine for every time she had a day off from work. That way she wouldn’t spend countless hours at the house doing pointless things like painting her nails, writing to others, or plainly just walking around the place bored and go stir-crazy. She could actual do something productive with her free time. How looking in that National Gallery was a productive waste of time, she had no idea. It just sounded like it helped imagination, perception, and creativity. Three aspects that were a big part of Daphne’s job that she treasure so much. It was like her working for the Dailey Prophet was meant to be. She would grow and be one of those elders even at old age still loves their job and that everyone looks up to and tells them to retire every single day.

As she walked slowly to the next painting observing the fine artwork of it she felt someone brush against her shoulder. She decided not to pay much attention to them, any attention actually. After all what was she going to do, apologize for being brushed against the shoulder? Was she supposed to be all like ‘It’s fine’ even if they didn’t say anything? So unless she heard a word come out of the person’s mouth she would continue to focus and admire the beauty of this piece. Maybe Daphne should start buying paintings since she was suddenly getting so into art and such. She could just hang up muggle paintings all around her own little apartment where she stayed by herself with no company. It was her own place to decorate however she wanted. Now who would stop her? Astoria would probably enjoy looking at the pieces if she decided to decorate her little apartment that way. It all seemed to work out in her mind. Guess Daphne had her very own project about to start. So all those competing against her for the best decorated home better watch out because Miss Greengrass planned to beat every one of them.

Daphne was brought out of her thoughts upon hearing her name in a questioning tone by someone. Just by the tone she could tell it was someone who knew her from school. She prayed it would be someone who wouldn’t ruin the day she was having. She turned to face the girl and gave a small smile upon recognizing who it was. “Constance, hey.” She said surprised to see her, then again it wasn’t a huge shock, this was a tourist attraction after all, right? But what probably surprised her was the timing, and how she recognized Daphne even if they never really talked in their school days. “Yeah it’s me.” She said with a shrug as she turned back to the painting. “Don’t you just adore the beauty and detail?” she asked kind of in a daze as she admire it. She felt guilt build up at the fact that she used to be part of a group that would look down upon people who supported muggles. Muggles that made these beautiful paintings. She took her attention away from the artwork back to Constance. “So what brings you here?” she asked curiously.

[/color]
Outfit;; CLICK
Words;; 597
Tag;; Constance!
Credit;; made by lelegirllele of CAUTION TO THE WIND
[/ul][/size]

[Constance Rayne McCarthy]

 

 
She found the building to be a piece of Art on it's own, built of pale limestone, and looking like some of the temples she'd seen in Greece on one of the trips she took randomly through out the year. While she knew it wasn't the biggest gallery, it always captivated her and she always found the people to be really kind. It was difficult for her to believe that while the muggles could have felt the change in the air when the war had been going on, they had no clue how close they had all been to becoming doomed, becoming pets for the Dark Wizards. Constance had been horrified when the Death Eaters destroyed the pedestrian bridge in 1996, gasping and dropping the Prophet when she had read the article about the Malfoy family and having it suddenly change on her.

That had been the year when her life dramatically changed, where she'd fallen in love, been betrayed and had to decide quickly what side she was on. It had been the year that she had become a full blown blood-traitor, following after her mother and making a very good point that not everyone in Slytherin went bad. They just needed their own bit of light to lead them through the darkness. She smiled a little at what had kept her out of it, and then apologized after knocking into the person, despite the fact it had almost immediately been taken back when she saw it was Daphne Greengrass, a rather good friend of the one person in the world she didn't like. Constance would have gone for her wand, however, as he hand itched for it and she knew it was there, she was surprised to see the blonde studying the artwork in awe and not disgust. 


Lifting her eyebrows lightly, Constance knew she shouldn't be so surprised... after all she got along with Astoria in a sisterly fashion while at school, and that Daphne had never treated her badly, they just never talked at when it was in her direction, Constance had been usually insulting Pansy or purposely annoying the other girl just for her own amusement. The Greengrass sisters had also fought on the right side of the war, against the Death Eaters with Constance and the others. She relaxed lightly and nodded her head as she looked up at the painting, "Mhm... Piero della Francesca and Leonardo are probably my favorites, but it's all beautiful." As Daphne asked her in a curious tone why she was there, Constance smiled after taking a sip of her coffee, "People watching... The beauty of the artwork..." She shrugged softly, looking back up at the paintings, "Sometimes I need a reminder of what's worth fighting for. My mother used to take me here, it's a relatively easy place for me to think and remember her."

ATTIRE

[/color] click CREDIT SAM !?  of Confronting the Faceless. Don't remove the credit or I will find you. LYRICS brick by boring brick - paramore NOTES WORD COUNT 474[/center][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Daphne Beatrix Greengrass]

(I'm Not A Princess)

(This ain't a fairytale)

Daphne could see the surprise written all over Constance’s face. She could just tell that she was trying to adjust herself to the thought that little Miss Daphne Greengrass could actually enjoy muggle art. The same Daphne that during school years was in the crowd of Pansy Parkinson and basically represented what people thought of Slytherin. That was until it was time to pick a side in the war and picked the defending side against You-Know Who. She always said the reason she fought against him was to protect her sister and out of anger at her father. But that was probably not the main reason. Maybe the main reason was because for once in her life she wanted to make a difference and stand up for something she believed in without being scared of being judged. And when doing so she felt a load be taken off her back. She felt less stressed because she didn’t have to worry about pleasing people. She could just be herself and if someone didn’t approve then it was their problem, not hers. She promised herself to never be something she wasn’t otherwise she would end up living her life as a fake and be miserable always asking “what if?”

She smiled as Constance stated her favorites. “I agree, I personally can never choose a favorite. They are all so amazingly talented and to add on to that I am a pretty indecisive person. Always switching back and forth between different things.” She said. She smiled lightly to herself. She was really indecisive. Whenever working on an interview for the Prophet she would spend hours thinking about the set up. How she should arrange the questions. Should she add anything to make it better or worse? She would have to change it at least 10 times before being satisfied, and even then she would still be uncertain about her decision. This was why she need people to read through her stuff and give her constructive criticism or to tell her that it was perfect the way it was and to stop worrying so much. That she didn’t have to be that huge of a perfectionist. Or that she would need more confidence in her work.

As Constance answered her question Daphne nodded with a soft smile. But she got a straight face when hearing about her mother. “I’m sorry about your mother.” She said softly and gently. She looked straight ahead. “I kind of know what it is like to lose someone. My father was killed, but I don’t think it’s the same. I didn’t like my father or what he believed him. I actually kind of despised him. I don’t even know if his death hurts me, maybe it is the fact that he was never there for me. That both my parents were too busy to ever pay much attention to me…” she said softly avoiding eye contact not wanting to show any trace of weakness or pain in her eyes as she talked to the girl.

She randomly gave a small chuckle and shook her head amused. “Quite weird to be in this situation. Never have I imagined myself being here admiring art. I always used to think I would spend my life keeping up that dreaded lie in school.” She said. She had no idea what she would be doing now if she still kept up that lie from school. If she still pretended to have those strong pureblood beliefs. Maybe she and Pansy would still be on good terms, not like it really mattered that they weren’t anymore. Because honestly Daphne really didn’t care about what the other girl thought. But things were different and some parts of it was a good different but other parts she could do without.

[/color]
Outfit;; CLICK
Words;; 632
Tag;; Constance!
Credit;; made by lelegirllele of CAUTION TO THE WIND
[/ul][/size]

[Constance Rayne McCarthy]

 

Constance often felt bad about the fact she didn't believe people could change much over time, but there she was, standing near one of the other students in Slytherin that Constance had never gotten along with, especially in her seventh year when she spent her free time in Hogsmeade with a Weasley. She knew the war changed people. Draco was more paranoid, the Weasley family tried to keep a close eye on each other, and Constance was constantly putting up charms up in her room. "Sorry, just a bit unused to the whole 'Muggle Our Friends' thing with other Slytherin... Maybe I should have moved in with Alice and not the Malfoy's." She reached up to lightly rub her temples for a second before her gray-blue eyes floated over the other female. She smoothed out her dress, studying the painting. "I don't think I ever told you or Tori this, but thanks for fighting on the right side during the war... I know what it was like fighting against loved ones, you two really surprised me... Though did you two sneak back?" She asked softly, making sure she was quiet so passing muggles wouldn't hear. Two pretty young woman exchanging war stories were likely not going to be easy to explain.


The brunette smiled in return, turning her attention back to Daphne as she nodded. "Agreed, there's just too many. I have one piece... Can't remember the artist in my room at Malfoy Manor. It annoys Draco and his father because it doesn't move. She giggled quietly. While Daphne wasn't the last person she would expect to find herself talking about muggle art, she certainly wasn't the first as she continued smiling and took a drink of her coffee, the strong taste only sweet because it had been chocolate mint flavoured beans. As a comfortable silence fell between them, she took the time to consider what she knew about Daphne. Yes, she'd been in the group of girls that Constance couldn't stand, but she'd never been hateful. She fought during the war against her father, and she currently worked at the Prophet with Alice as an interviewer.
 

When Daphne put on a straight face after Constance mentioned her mother, she gently shook her head. "It's alright, I lost my parents before I was fourteen. Mum in third year, dad in 1990. My brother was the cause, he was thrown into Azkaban." She looked rather at peace about the entire issue. Constance really didn't know who knew about her past, and by then, it didn't matter much. Things were settled and River went missing after the war. Constance expected he changed his name and took over their grandfather's wandshop. She listened to Daphne, nodding her head and hesitantly reached out to squeeze the others shoulder. "I understand, and trust me when I said the confliction will get confusing but easier." She smiled, and took another drink of her coffee, "Still talk to Pug? Or is she finally realizing that showing that she was a coward and telling everyone to grab Harry was a bad idea?" Alright, so maybe Constance hadn't changed that much, she still hated Pansy to the core, but it didn't help that the other woman called her "filthy".

ATTIRE

[/color] click CREDIT SAM !?  of Confronting the Faceless. Don't remove the credit or I will find you. LYRICS brick by boring brick - paramore NOTES WORD COUNT 538[/center][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]