Moanday, Tearsday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday

[Renfield Remington]

The snow was beating down fast and furiously, covering Renfield's footprints in the snow not a minute after he stepped in them. Large fluffy pieces of snow fell into his striking blonde hair and on his eyelashes. He was grumbling to himself, tugging his fine velvet winter cloak around him. Occasionally he would be unable to restrain his emotions and at random, angry words would echo over the grounds.

"PONCER! ...HAIRLIPPED... BUGGERING CHRIST! Goddamn...enflamed esophagus GODDAMN RABBITS skipping bloody ...WANKER!" He finished in a huff, his high cheekbones splashed over with red from cold and irritation. Slowly observing the grounds to find only a band of third year boys were having a snowball fight ways off, he had no one around to impress. So, quite unceremoniously, he dumped himself into a sitting position, not even seeming to mind that his robes were getting soaked in the process. If anyone knew Renfield Remington, they'd know that he was either insane, sick, or really insanely, sickly angry to damage his fine apparel in any way.

He leaned his chin on his knees and sighed in a rather frilly tone of voice, looking out at the lake that was beginning to freeze over. He picked a letter with a broken wax seal, crumpled in his trousers pocket. Agitatedly, he unfolded the paper and began to read over the words there, eyes lingering for moments on will, age, birthday, wife. Naturally, he had received similar messages every year from family members, but not once from Grandfather Remington - the old kook, the one with his stubby arthritic fingers on the money pot.

This certainly may be a problem.

((As I'm still painfully new, huzzah for a disclaimer. In short, Renfield is a prissy prissy princess.))

[Casey Kitchen]

ooc: You're just plain fun to RP with. And I have nothing to do.

Bic: Casey strolled through the grounds, wanting to look at the marvelous lake. She had bought the black velvet cloak on a moments whim, and then realized that whilst she wasn't a very rich muggle, she had a small fortune as a witch. Turns out her uncle was a wizard, and had done very well as a healer for St. Mungos in the closed ward. But, all the insane people drove him....well, insane, and so he was incapacitated, unable to spend all the money he had saved. Luckily, He had a very sweet neice, who wanted nothing more than enough money to buy everything her black little heart could wish for.

She gazed over at the third years, having a snowball fight. She rolled her chocolate colored eyes, and then her gaze settled on that boy from the Common Room, the rich one. She hid behind a crudely made snowman, and put up her hood, to deflect the cold from freezing her ears. Oh, how she wished she had her old hair, so that it might cover her ears from the cold. Her ears caught snippets of loud angry cursing, and then That Boy did something she could never actually see him doing. He threw himself on the ground in an outright pout. Her gaze widened and her mouth dropped open, Wow.

She walked over tentatively, her very tall, very gothic boots hitting the ground, and crushing the quickly falling snow beneath them. She lowered her hood, and that Shock green hair stood out. "Um, hi. You seem rather...er...disoriented. May I ask what's the matter?" She said politely. Damn, being around British people too long really did give you a slight accent. She looked out at the almost frozen lake, and felt her cheeks burn in an attempt to heat up. She could barely feel her fingers, and couldn't feel her toes at all.

[Renfield Remington]

((I'm flattered, and am likewise enamored with your writing ability, ))

Renfield jumped up at the high pitched (Girl! Girl! Girl!) voice hovering somewhere above his right ear. His eyes caught on the outline of, as his overexcited brain had already determined, a girl. He jumped up in an incredibly unelegant motion, batting the snow that clung to his clothes. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were spotted red from the cold, but his ears were pink for a different reason. As he shifted out of the direct line of the sun to determine the girl as something else then a black outline, her features swam into view.

"Oh," he said shortly, recognizing her as the wealthy girl from the Common Room. "You." He eyed her hair for maybe the millionth time in distaste, wondering what sort of gillyweed someone had to be to convert their hair color to something so - he flinched - unnatural.

Observing her face for a moment and deciding that besides her apparent and utter lack of style - something you were obviously born with (he was) or were not born with - she took care of herself properly. Well groomed. And, coming from Renfield Remington, that was as high a compliment he would admit to a stranger. On second thought... he drew himself up to his full, powerful, almighty height, and smiled at her - it was sort of a wince, as a drop of melted snow ran uncomfortably down his thigh.

"Hello, Beaudraux."

[Vanity Kerr]

(ooc: Sorry if I'm like...intruding.)

Some sort of yelling could be heard in the distance, she wondered what idiot would be yelling odd words out into an open area. But curiousity had always been a weak point of Vanity, so her feet obeyed her curious mind.

Vanity was arrogant, hence her name...she was stuck up, she was pureblood...she was Slytherin. She was something, rather, someone could easily hate. But she didn't really care, for she returned the hatred easily, and fed off of it. The Slytherin girl disliked Muggles, they shouldn't be introduced to the wizarding world, it simply caused too much havoc, they shouldn't know the secrets of magic. It wasn't their original upbringing.

Her blonde hair spilled neatly across her shoulders, accompanied by a Slytherin robe, a white blouse and the Slytherin tie. Her shirt was tight in the bust area, but fell in an intriguing loose fashion around her midriff. The ends of her shirt met with the line to her mid-thigh black skirt, matching perfectly with her robes and almost knee-high boots. Her knee-high silver and green socks were revealed a few inches above her boots. She would be a perfect Slytherin model, pretty, arrogant. Perfect.

The only flaw that would be considered was her blood-red irises. Some may find it interesting, others scary. It didn't matter, it was hardly noticeble along with her figure and looks. She came from a rich family, her and her twin sister were both royaly rich...they could have a parade throwing money around and it wouldn't so much as make a dent in her flowing cash.

She came to the source of the screaming voice, a bittersweet smile falling onto her glossed lips. "So you..." Her ruby eyes finally fell upon the male, tall, handsome...gorgeous. Her lips parted, a gasp stuck in her throat. Nevertheless she regained her composure, pulling down on her blouse. Yes it was cold out, but looks came before comfort.

Vanity's eyes hesitantly moved to the girl beside the blonde haired male, looking her over. Punk. Interesting. "I'm Vanity Kerr," she said plainly, though with a cheery voice as she looked at them both.

(ooc: I also apologize for the simlarity on our characters, Mr. Remington...but another girl and I have been planning arrogant Slytherin twins for awhile. )

[Casey Kitchen]

He jumped up, and straightened himself out, and was making quite a spectacle of himself. She chuckled very quietly, and a big smile was still on her face as she stood up to full height, surveyed her and then gave a scathing "Oh...you." She looked at him and nodded, "Yes, indeed it is me, And is there a problem with that?" She turned beet red, as she realized that there was tons of things wrong with being her. For one, she was a freak, and had green hair, and wore all black and things like that. She hated her physicue, thought she was fat, when infact, she was very thin, and most of her weight accounted for her bust. She had low self esteem, and a tendancy to want what she couldn't have.

She saw him eye her hair in disgust, and she put up her hood, blushing. She noticed, she was being eyed, and blushed harder. The she noticed he called her somthing odd. "Beaudraux? What?" She was very american, and was brought up with american schooling. Therefore, she was entirely clueless as to anything. But still she might have a chance of looking smart if he made a mstake. But it wasn't likely for him to admit he was wrong.

They were joined by a very pretty woman, who wore almost exactly the same outfit as casey had when she first met Renfeild. She looked as if she might say something to Renfield, but stopped. Her crimson orbs traveld to Casey, and she blinked, felt as though she was being sized up. "Hello Vanity, I'm Casey." She smirked, noticing her name. "Nice name Vanity. I love it."

[Renfield Remington]

"Oh," Renfield looked at Casey oddly when she disputed her name. Until, of course, he realized. "You're not..." he batted his eyelashes innocently. "I know who you are, I swear." The other girl, from Diagon Alley, she was the French one. They were so similar, all the girls at the school - all insisting on dressing unusually and coming from places outside of Britain. It was no surprise that he should make a mi- be temporarily uncertain.

"Hello, though, despite the fact that I can't recall your name at this moment." He was quickly sinking back into his foul mood at being wrong, and quite inelegantly so. He pouted for a moment, then realized the new company he was in.

He stepped back and his eyebrows raised slowly as he looked at the girl who introduced herself as Vanity Kerr. Her name was oddly fitting as she was obviously attractive but in the same way that he was, caring too much about how she looked. He didn't mind something that other boys could call super-materialism or self-indulgence, because he could fully respect someone who wanted to look good. His gorgeous hair and unblemished skin did, after all, come at a hefty price. So as he gazed at her and Casey making small talk, his mind was working quickly through the booklet of pickup lines he had used in the past successfully. His grumpy demeanor, as his grandfather's letter burnt a hole in his trouser pocket, did not help the process, but rather deterred it. He kicked at snow.

"I'm Renfield, pleasure to meet you Vanity." He said, leaning forward and smirking at the girl coolly.

((You're not intruding, and Slytherins should have similar traits, don't you think? I don't at all mind. And, Mr. Remington? *snort* The boy's fifteen! ))

[Vanity Kerr]

A smile twisted onto her peach lips as Casey spoke to her, she wasn't quite sure what to think of her improper appearance...when were students allowed to wear such clothing? "Casey, pleasure" she repeated, with a nod of the head, Vanity was somehow expecting a name like Gothica, or something of the like. She offered a little smile of appreciation, "Thank you," she said curtly, acting sweet as always when someone threw a compliment her way.

Vanity was staring at a man much like herself, they carried that obvious arrogant and cocky aura. But of course, she couldn't assume, he could always be some mudblood trying to pose...but Vanity could basically tell he would be a perfect match for her and her sister. They would get along famously, she knew. Perhaps they'd class, but Vanity was the least bit worried about that.

"A pleasure, Renfield," she said, a somewhat sincere smile evident on her near flawless features. Her ruby eyes scanned the two, wondering if they knew each other, she tilted her head to the side, her blonde hair with random collections of snow tilting with her, creating a veil as it pooled down to mid-back.

(ooc: lol, that's good. Yes, Slytherin's should have similar traits, I do believe. Heh, well, Mr is just polite, and I was talking to you, not your character. )