Breakfast at Tiffany's [Open Rp]
((OOC: NSFW - China's mun puts forward a warning: There will be Smut! Crowd roars. I, personally, didn't see that coming. But come on, Kuronue is in it. Speaks for itself.))
It was eight in the morning and the air was crisp and cool. China was sitting at one of the room-length tables reading the Daily Prophet. Beside her was a plate with three remaining pieces of toast, marmalade glistened on its surface. As she read an engaging article about what not to wear to a Dragon tournament, a house elf came up to her and refilled her china cup with the tea she had specified; Rose with French Vanilla. It was a fragrant tea, the colour of deepest pink. China thanked the elf, showing a warming smile and went back to reading the paper. She took a piece of toast and took a bite. She wasn't wearing anything particularly fashionable, a nice blue blouse and three quarter pants. No stiletto's this morning, she wore comfortable black ballet-inspired shoes. Her pitch black hair was up, pluming over the silver, amethyst encrusted hairpin that held it up; it was in the shape of a dragonfly.
The Great Hall wasn't especially busy this morning, making it too quiet even for China. Now would be the perfect time for her peace to be shattered.
It was eight in the morning and the air was crisp and cool. China was sitting at one of the room-length tables reading the Daily Prophet. Beside her was a plate with three remaining pieces of toast, marmalade glistened on its surface. As she read an engaging article about what not to wear to a Dragon tournament, a house elf came up to her and refilled her china cup with the tea she had specified; Rose with French Vanilla. It was a fragrant tea, the colour of deepest pink. China thanked the elf, showing a warming smile and went back to reading the paper. She took a piece of toast and took a bite. She wasn't wearing anything particularly fashionable, a nice blue blouse and three quarter pants. No stiletto's this morning, she wore comfortable black ballet-inspired shoes. Her pitch black hair was up, pluming over the silver, amethyst encrusted hairpin that held it up; it was in the shape of a dragonfly.
The Great Hall wasn't especially busy this morning, making it too quiet even for China. Now would be the perfect time for her peace to be shattered.