𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝚆𝙻𝙴𝚈, she had no intentions of speaking to the woman — she’d always seemed… odd in comparison to the other witches Narcissa had spent time with. Perhaps it’d been the cultural barrier, but Narcissa never quite took to Risha. Of course, she knows plenty of Pureblood women with no interest in being married, but Risha is married. To one of the Fawleys, no less.

But Narcissa supposes it’d be in poor form not to greet a fellow wife, and she smiles as she saunters over to the other. “Risha Fawley — are you enjoying yourself?” Taking in her mask, Narcissa frowns a bit, tilting her head. “Love, is it? I hope that’s not insinuating what I think it is.”