February 12th, 1891 - Sonata #7 Debut
Sonata #7 was in line with her goals, and Camilla was happy to attend with her older brother. It was like a party, and being seen being attractive in public would help remind people that twenty-five aside, she was beautiful and elegant and would make an excellent wife. Camilla was honestly indifferent to the Sonata itself; music, sure, acrobats, whatever, it was all a little scandalous but in the way that music could be scandalous. It wasn't a real scandal.
She had lost track of Victorius for a few minutes now in the lobby between parts, but was not too concerned. Besides, she was trying to get a drink for the next section of the Sonata. (Four hours was a long time for music, wasn't it?) Camilla was heading over to the bar when she saw him and carefully schooled her expression into something neutral.
The trouble with having these cousins meandering around was that it was rude to ignore them, and while she would have much rather pretended they didn't exist, she didn't think she could get away with it.
"Savino," Camilla said, in the sort of tone one used to say 'go fuck yourself.' "Still staying in Britain, then?" She didn't understand why the Italian Zabinis were here, swanning about her society like they had not singlehandedly managed to ruin her life - it was easier to pretend they did not exist when they were safely in Italy. At least, she supposed, she had not seen his mother.
Savino Zabini Elias Grimstone
She had lost track of Victorius for a few minutes now in the lobby between parts, but was not too concerned. Besides, she was trying to get a drink for the next section of the Sonata. (Four hours was a long time for music, wasn't it?) Camilla was heading over to the bar when she saw him and carefully schooled her expression into something neutral.
The trouble with having these cousins meandering around was that it was rude to ignore them, and while she would have much rather pretended they didn't exist, she didn't think she could get away with it.
"Savino," Camilla said, in the sort of tone one used to say 'go fuck yourself.' "Still staying in Britain, then?" She didn't understand why the Italian Zabinis were here, swanning about her society like they had not singlehandedly managed to ruin her life - it was easier to pretend they did not exist when they were safely in Italy. At least, she supposed, she had not seen his mother.