Calliope blinked in delight as Seraphina struck out against a particular example. Calliope had no qualms in pinning a target to anyone particular in her speech, of course, that was not unusual, but it was always thrilling to hear someone else choose the next casualty of a conversation. Miss Dippet it was!
Calliope's smile twitched surreptitiously towards a smirk. It was precisely because she counted Mrs. Devine amongst her friends, rather than because she did not, that she found this turn of talk already so entertaining. After all, the more time one spent suffering to be pleasant to another's face, the more cathartic it was to rip them apart when they were out of earshot. And the better one knew someone, the more fodder one could find. "Oh, I know Mrs. Devine quite well," Calliope remarked, thinking of the Phoenix Society, and wondering how she could use this familiarity to her advantage here, "but I would have to agree with you on that. Not all girls are made to rise in status," - herself excluded, clearly. She might have come from the same sort of middling birth as Ophelia had, but Calliope had been born to climb. Not to mention Ophelia was halfblooded, and had been an eccentric and morbid little thing once, however much she thought she had shaken that off now, hosting all her parties.
"How do you think she ensnared him, then?" Calliope asked, keen to prod Seraphina into something of a tirade, if she could. Not pink letters and Amortentia, of course, but if Mr. Devine could have done so much better, she had blinded him somehow. "Do you suppose he was taken in by her tragic past? Found all her peculiarities and provincialism endearing, at first?" They still seemed a happy enough couple to her, but perhaps Seraphina had been more observant than she, and had spotted the first cracks of the charm wearing off.
Calliope's smile twitched surreptitiously towards a smirk. It was precisely because she counted Mrs. Devine amongst her friends, rather than because she did not, that she found this turn of talk already so entertaining. After all, the more time one spent suffering to be pleasant to another's face, the more cathartic it was to rip them apart when they were out of earshot. And the better one knew someone, the more fodder one could find. "Oh, I know Mrs. Devine quite well," Calliope remarked, thinking of the Phoenix Society, and wondering how she could use this familiarity to her advantage here, "but I would have to agree with you on that. Not all girls are made to rise in status," - herself excluded, clearly. She might have come from the same sort of middling birth as Ophelia had, but Calliope had been born to climb. Not to mention Ophelia was halfblooded, and had been an eccentric and morbid little thing once, however much she thought she had shaken that off now, hosting all her parties.
"How do you think she ensnared him, then?" Calliope asked, keen to prod Seraphina into something of a tirade, if she could. Not pink letters and Amortentia, of course, but if Mr. Devine could have done so much better, she had blinded him somehow. "Do you suppose he was taken in by her tragic past? Found all her peculiarities and provincialism endearing, at first?" They still seemed a happy enough couple to her, but perhaps Seraphina had been more observant than she, and had spotted the first cracks of the charm wearing off.
