pretty please

"Some tables would look better with you on them," Malcolm smiled into the comment, thinking his mind could run wild with his own brand of chaos. "You light up every room," he says, kissing her forehead. "Even the ones you haven't stepped into." And he said the words as honestly as he thought them. "I'll buy you whatever you want. I know some contacts in Paris. We will eat at the best restaurants and stay in a large townhouse with a balcony facing the Eiffel Tower. How does all of that sound?"

"Only some?" She fluttered her eyelashes as she looked up at him, ever one to make a moment more dramatic than it needed to be. "It's because I'm so beautiful." She smiled at his compliment, her eyes lighting up as she drank in the way he looked at her. The prospect of going to Paris with him, spending time together just the two of them and having him buy her anything she wanted seemed exactly like what she needed right now. "It sounds perfect."

"Oh, yes. Your wedding!" she exclaimed with some feigned excitement. Serra Borgin was one of the most socialite witches and it would be good to have a direct quote from her. "I interviewed the new Miss Selwyn not too long ago to talk about her plans for your wedding. It is set to be one of the biggest events before the year ends. Have you decided on a dress or colors?"

"Obviously. We're only talking the most important event of the year here." She rolled her eyes. It is why she had hired Agatha, only the best would suffice for her wedding and both her parents and Malcolm were not planning to spare any expense. Looks mattered, reputation mattered. "Of course I have. I will not have my wedding dress be a rush job. Quality takes time. I do not plan on revealing the colors or the cut of my bridesmaids dresses before the event. I have too many people who could copy me and try to pass it off as their idea."

The last person Alara expected to run into was Serra. They’d never gotten along, and she could only imagine how much worse it would be now. “Then leave,” she retorted, unwilling to waste a moment of her time. A flicker of irritation flashed in her eyes as she silently cursed herself for not looking up sooner, for letting the words slip before she saw who stood in front of her.

"I was here first." As if she would do anything Alara told her to do, she hadn't done it before she had disgraced their family and she surely didn't plan on listening to her now. "You should go back into hiding."

Mary's smile faltered slightly when she recognized the woman and who wouldn't? She was a socialite and her wedding was set to be the ceremony of the season, as Mary was already working on covering it for another one of her pieces. "What activities or food have you tried so far and what are your thoughts about them?"

"Oh the food here is not good enough, it is entirely too fatty and oily, I would never eat that, especially so close to my wedding. I need to look my best." Not that she didn't think she always looked great, but for the wedding she wanted perfection. "I have tried some bulgarian wine that was quite nice."

where: end of summer fayre who: open to all

"It's the place to be- I've seen it already, you won't want to miss it." Serra said in a self assured tone that left no room to argue, easily standing by Malcolm's side and helping him spread the word about his new business venture. Waiting for the person to leave she turned to her fiancé. "I think there should be no problem on opening night. It'll be filled to the brim. There'll be a line outside for so long people will keep talking about how successful you are for weeks."

where: end of summer fayre who: open to all

"Of course. What kind of questions would you like answered?" She knew she had this air of elegance and people gravitated towards her to hear her opinion on things, it was the most natural thing in the world. She couldn't help that she was so influential.

where: little tart bakery who: open

"Are you talking to me?" She scoffed, looking around seeing that there was no one else. Never in her life had she thought Alara would ask her for advice, she did not know how hard she had hit her head to even approach Serra after turning out such an embarrassment and being burned off the family tree. For her they were merely strangers now. "I do not care about what you do. At all."

Malcolm could recall the first time he set his eyes on Serra, long before they were arranged twice over. There had always been a spark between them, a tug in his chest that led him to her. Even throughout the years, he busied himself with sending her presents in hopes that one would be enough to start a conversation. It wasn't his best approach, and although that method didn't work, he was grateful to have any version that led him back to her. "I've thought of you many times in the manor," he said, his voice low as he came closer to her. Malcolm lifted Serra's hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to it. "You caught me," he smirked. It wasn't his intention in that moment, but as he was learning, what happened between them was spontaneous and kept him on his toes. "Wherever you want. I owe you a few dates."

"Oh really? Tell me more.." She raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him, her tone more confident and nonchalant than she actually felt. Truthfully for her there had never been anyone that came close to making her feel what he did. It was daunting to let him in again, to actually give things a real shot. "I want to go to Paris. You can watch me try on new dresses, buy me a few.."

Malcolm tightened his arms around her, a genuine smile playing on his lips at her playful defiance. Once upon a time, he had dreamed of something as simple as this with her, trying on different wallpapers and colors. It felt good to know this wasn't just a dream or something tangible, not when he was holding her in his arms. "Oh, I'm quite certain my love that you would survive even a purple living room," he murmured against her hair. The idea of her making his ancestral home truly hers – and by extension, theirs – was a comforting one. It felt less like a concession and more like an evolution. "You can redo the entire house not just this room. It needs a good eye like yours. My parents didn't really have any taste...but you. You can probably make anything look good."

The way they were now was a stark contrast to how they had acted around each other only months ago. Serra had been sure she hated him, too blinded by her anger to see how well matched they were despite the years apart. Her ego and pride had taken hits and she could not imagine letting him in again. Then her accident happened and he had been by her side the entire time and she had begun to let her walls down in front of him. "I would shine despite the color being ugly." She was so sure of it, never one to doubt herself or her appearance. Her smile widened when he complimented her and in extension her taste. He gave her free reign to do whatever she wanted, trusted that she could excel and make it look great. "Are you trying to sweet talk me into going on a date with you?"

Agatha’s smile deepened as Serra opened the gift, clearly pleased by the reaction. “I’m so glad you like it. The artisans in the old quarter swore by those mirrors-- supposedly they reflect only beauty and truth. Very on brand for you, I’d say.” She reached for her tea as it arrived, fingers curling around the porcelain cup as she studied Serra more closely. “I suppose we both had our own… versions of drama after the wedding,” she said lightly, though her voice carried an undertone of concern. “I hated being so far while everything unfolded. Malcolm kept me informed, of course, but it’s not the same as hearing it from you.”

"Well these artisans must have an extensive knowledge on how to showcase beauty best." She mused, unable not to check herself out in the mirror that she had gotten. Her reflection was staring back at her as gorgeous and flawless as ever and after a minute she closed the mirror back up and rested it by her side. "Well you can rest assured that this chapter is over." Technically the investigation had come up blank as to who was behind this but she chose not to dwell on it. It would only stress her out and then she could get stress wrinkles.

Malcolm lived in a few days of darkness as Serra lived in pain at the hospital. There he realized St. Mungo's wasn't doing near enough to help them and considered moving them to a better facility. But he did his best to dress the room with fresh daily flowers and gifts to have something to look forward to or at least a distraction. Anything to see her smile. The solution was to move her to his manor as it seemed the obvious answer. Malcolm came up behind her, circling his arms around her waist and bending down only to press a kiss to her shoulder. "You can do whatever you want," he smiled. "Change anything. I mean it. I trust your judgement. Except purple. It's not a great color."

She smiled too, leaning into him. It was obvious that she liked hearing him say that she was free to change things in his place however she saw fit. Soon it would be hers too, after all. Merlin, that was a weird thought to have, but it did not anger her or scare her like it would have a couple months ago. "If I chose to paint the walls purple you would have to love it, but alas I do not think that is the direction I want to go in. Things just need to be modernised and made to fit our taste and not your parents'." With their taste she naturally meant her own, but seeing the presents he had gotten her over the years she did have faith in his taste. He knew what she liked, which is why she always found it so hard not to wear the things he gifted her even if she had been angry at him.

where: borgin manor who: @serraborgin

She had spent most of her recovery at Malcolm's with his house elves tending to her every need, but now that she was up and running again she was back at her parents'. It was much more convenient to focus the base of their operations here as she did want to surprise Malcolm with some of the choices, he had left the wedding planning up to her and Agatha. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement when she saw the present, the impatient side of her wanted to rip into the present right away, but her manners held her back. Luckily the necklace incident did not traumatise her of presents, she still felt the same way about receiving and deserving them. Motioning for the couch opposite to hers she waited for Agatha to sit down before she did, delicately opening the gift as her house elf took their drink orders. The mirror was gorgeous, so she did not have to fake her delight once she had opened the box. "It is lovely, thank you." She did need a new compact so this was good.

"Have you met yourself?" He asked, genuinely baffled. It was as if she thought herself impeccable, some sort of goddess. He couldn't imagine something farther from the truth.

"I wish I could. There should be more people like me, of course they cannot be exactly like me as I am unique, but they can definitely learn from me." Serra said, she did not need to be humble after all. That was for the poor.

They were trapped in a desperate hope of more answers, but Malcolm felt like they were only grabbing at more questions. This was the worst level of hell to sit. If it wasn't for the healer's constant visits to the room, Malcolm would've believed this was some false reality. But Serra was here, she was okay despite the worst being behind them. It only cemented his feelings for her, knowing that a river of pure panic ran through him from all of this. "I can do that," he said, reaching out to kiss her hand. Now was not the moment to push for more. "I'll send for an owl to deliver your word to your mother. In the meantime, you should sleep my love. You need all the rest."

She hated all the whiteness of the room, from the bed to the chairs to the blankets and onto the curtains. It was all so sterile and clinical, minimalist in a way that didn't fit her at all. It only made her look more pale and sickly and she did not want that. Serra didn't like him seeing her like this but at the same time she did not want him to leave her alone or move away from her. With him here she knew nothing would happen to her. With a nod she laid her head on the pillow, turning sideways so she could look at their joined hands, feeling calmer feeling and seeing him right there.

Clyde couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake her or congratulate her on having the world’s thickest skin. Nothing was an insult to her it seemed. She really thought herself that good. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a steadying breath. “It may be good for you to learn to recognize insults. Just a word of advice.”

Serra furrowed her brows, shaking her head after half a moment of consideration. "I do not see why I should do that. Why would anyone insult me?" She believed herself to be without fault, so that anyone would find her lacking seemed far fetched.

There was a whole world between what Rita was willing to write about those crazy fools and those she actually cared for, agreed with or considered her friends and family. To an extend the wedding had turned Serra a sort of friend. A complicated friend, but a friend, nevertheless. “Right. I do not believe with the right article this will gain you pity. Fools might. But then again, they do everything to earn that title, don’t they?” The witch smiled, amused by the thought. “The rest will simply see that someone with perfect health was clearly under some form of attack.”

To Serra, Rita Skeeter was an icon, a role model. Someone she looked up to. While Serra did not share her work ethic and would never consider herself a hard worker, she knew Rita was excellent on getting gossip and bringing it to the masses. It was an art that was lost on some, they thought themselves above it. Something she thought was foolish. "I suppose you are right. I do not wish to associate with fools anymore than I already do." She shook her head, a grimace of disgust on her face for a moment. "I suppose that is better, yes."