Pell Laveau
Pell hadn’t so much as blinked as far as accidental onlookers went. But she could feel their flitting eyes and immediate reserve they executed. If she was that concerned, or out for the attention, she would have gasped and clutched herself like something out of a Betty Boop animation. Maybe even throw in the fanning of the hand, making squeaky noises that might imply she was embarrassed, or something. But Pell wasn’t quite on that level of humility. Sometimes, she acted more like a shameless boy than a girl. Let alone a witch from an aseptic bloodline.
She glanced out while Silas and Hale pressed themselves into the hall, as though there were some sort of laser alarm system at the foot of the doorway they dared not touch. Kyle bounced in and right out again. Typical, for him. At least in the case of unanticipated nudity. Hale looked slightly less shocked, but still red in the face. Hale could not see it as anything less than a chuckle marathon. By now, he was a frequent audience member. He might have laughed with
others, but Pell knew that in his solitary mistaken viewings before, he would sort of gawk and stumble away. Hale’s square jaw tensed, fighting back a smile. Silas on the other hand… If his cheeks had bloomed a more fervent color of rose, they might have swelled and popped, too. He was panicked and debased. It looked as though he was blaming himself. Pell had cast him a lukewarm expression, then a small smirk at its edge, “It’s okay, really, Abernathy.” Playfully, she waved a manilla folder with his title on it. That was something she would save for post-Ceremony entertainment. Pell might not have confessed it, but he was very strange and interesting. Which naturally, made a girl like herself, intrigued and committed to figuring out just what the hell was up with the guy.
Medium cooked steak was in the air. The scent was hot and fresh. If it weren’t for Greyson being so alluring and hard to pull from, Pell would have flew to the dining room like a rock from a slingshot. Naked,
too. But in spite of her devotion to bloody meat, she cocked her hip at an angle to rest it on her door frame while she talked, or more so, watched, Greyson.
Clothed. In the distance she could hear Hale guffawing and shouting out to Rowe about punctuality. Rowe ferociously yelled back and corrected the teacher. An arched brow quirked above gunmetal eyes. Pell grinned. The lavender haired girl edged from her room, reaching in a wayside manner to yank Violet with her. “Stick around as long as you like,” Pell crooned, looking over the array of color in the fresh meat’s locks. “We’ve got plenty of room.” Pausing, the Laveau girl’s scrutiny passed between her closet and Violet.
“Oh…”Her white teeth flashed toward Greyson, who had her doubts about anyone who came in at Pell’s heels. Or, at all, really. Greyson didn’t get excited over newbies. She didn’t even bat an eye sarcastically. She just had her usually cold regard, with some ice in the daggers shot from her stare. Pell liked it, low-key. When the boys were out of sight, she snapped her fingers in response to Violet’s question about Ceremony. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she piped up suddenly as Greyson was stripped of everything but her bra and panties, “I don’t have time to sift through my closet with you and if you’re coming, you need to follow dress code.” Pell wasted no more time in the effort. Something black, something that would ‘fit’ to Violet’s style, even if just barely. In a matter of seconds,
ebony garb manifested itself, sheer at the torso to give glimpses of Violet’s pale skin.
“Now you’re set,” Pell continued, wandering into the hallway and following Greyson’s finger which had only moments ago grazed Pell’s cheek. The girl must have looked like a little puppy in that moment. Snapping out of it, she watched Greyson go. It was a good opportunity to give Violet a moment to gather herself and maybe take a look at her reflection. The dorm hall became busy. In passing, Jacqueline might have noticed Pell with the new girl, but probably not. She had a bit of candy on her own arm, strolling around the school with her usual smooth demeanor, that cool dialect of hers probably wrapping him around her finger. He seemed content with the idea of her tour and it being more exclusive than the ones given by Kyle, head sort of bobbing happily, shaggy hair shifting as he listened to Jacqueline speak. Pell choked back a snide sexual remark at her own cousin, figuring she could save it for the wine segment of dinner. Besides, even if Jacqueline didn’t acknowledge Pell, she knew she was there,
knew what she was thinking.
Pell jerked her head in the direction of the stairs, knowing Violet would follow. She kept her at arm’s length, though. Didn’t want to lose her. “So this is Robichaux,” she briefed, “Established in some… Late 1800’s, maybe. It’s a school for witches. We have class schedules, our own rooms, freedom to roam if you’re legal, and every Wednesday we have ‘Ceremony.’ It’s kind of how we stay in touch with our roots. Or, at least that’s how I see it.”
Once they made it to the main floor, the dusky luster from candles had taken the place of electricity. Hundreds of smells were in the air. Most notably: sage, Delmonico, garlic, and a dash of Merlot. Even some Louisiana fruit aroma had crept through the windows. Pell loved these kind of nights, knowing that the fresh air was coming in, but nothing was getting out. It was a liberating sort of evening. Most of the students and household dreaded it. It forced them to maintain some kind of prompt schedule. To Pell it was an excuse to get drunk and set shit on fire, plainly. But of course there were other perks. Say… Like the possibility of yet another new student, learning advanced spells if Fiona herself was drunk enough, and just letting loose.
The vibrant duo approached the mouth of the dining room, where Hale and Kyle now stood side by side. Kyle’s sandy hair frisked itself as he eagerly requested permission to personally serve new students. And more specifically,
Silas. Mostly everyone would be rolling their eyes at his enthusiasm. But Pell hoped that he’d keep that virtue and that people would embrace it. It helped him feel alive. Judging from Hale’s taut regard, there would be no special treatment or excepting meal serving. She frowned at his disapproval, but understood that there was good reason behind it. Hale encouraged and always backed proactive behaviors. Unfortunately, he was under strict surveillance especially during Ceremony hours. There was always business to attend to on Wednesday’s, and he followed protocol. It was bizarre to see him so upright and obedient. Pell might have even scoffed and giggled as she walked by him to find her seat at the center of the table, beside Greyson rather than parallel, to let Violet sit on the other side and have a taste of the
‘finer things’. If she did decide to stick around, she might not sit at this area for a long,
long time.Soon the seats were filled, and voices were low. Even Arturo's growling had ceased. The candle chandelier swung slowly above the buffet and its consumers. But no one dared touch a fork. Cordelia stood, glass of wine in hand, clouded eyes blinking as she waited for total silence. And then she dimpled politely, “Welcome to Ceremony. I know we have a few newcomers, and a
visitor,” her smile wavered, probably in the event of Pell being so rushed she forgot to ask permission, “So let me be the first to say, don’t be scared.” A short laugh followed, and she went on, “I’ll save the long speech, I know you all must be starved. Regulations are the same. This area is sealed until midnight. You will not be able to leave unless asking permission.” Emphasis sunk into the last two words. Bowing her head, she smoothed her skirt and took a seat, “Dig in."