Poppy couldn’t help the amused grin that spread across her face at Mr. Lestrange’s callous response. It must have been nice to have such freedoms to do whatever he liked, whenever he liked. She was envious in so many ways but the look on her face only betrayed sincere amusement. Perhaps with more genuine emotion than she was wont, but still mostly amusement. Poppy had decided she rather liked Mr. Lestrange. He made everything seem so much less… mundane than it ought. As he continued speaking, her eyes grew wide and a slight glimmer touched her expression. He’d traveled! So many questions flew to the tip of her tongue, but Poppy held them back, breeding more than restraint keeping her from babbling like a rambunctious puppy. She smiled at him so eagerly however, as he commented about causing trouble. It was downright indecent to be so obvious! “I’d adore to hear some of your stories!” she said, imploringly. “The more troublesome, the better.” She added with a laugh.
“I’ve no such exciting plans come my debut, unfortunately. At least not yet.” She sighed a little wistfully. “I would so love to travel!” Poppy grinned broadly, pleased they were in the hall now and not in the crowded ballroom. She leaned closer to Mr. Lestrange and whispered near to his ear. "I very much would like to cause my own mischief and get up to something downright indecent in the name of adventure,” she said conspiratorially. “Perhaps explore some fantastic isle off the continent all on my own, or see Paris and walk in on someone in the rafters of the Palais Garnier doing something quite improper!” She laughed again, this time bowing her head discreetly as she leaned away. It was mostly jest as far as Mr. Lestrange was concerned, and her tone indicated as much, but Poppy would have loved to wander the streets of Paris or Rome unchaperoned and free to explore and take in what she pleased. If she came across a silly young soprano ridiculously in love with a vicomte, all the better.
“You know,” she said more seriously then. “I’ve always wanted to see the grand foyer of the Palais Garnier in person or pen a letter under the cherry blossom trees along the parc de sceaux. Ideally the letter would be about something utterly fascinating and be sent off to a tall, handsome stranger.” She grinned again. Poppy didn’t know what it was about Kristoffer Lestrange that bolstered her confidence and made her want to share so much. Perhaps it was that Mr. Lestrange represented so much of the world she wanted to be a part of that she hoped, by sharing with him, she might experience just a taste of it through daydream. She also hoped he wasn’t getting the entirely wrong impression of her, but in a small way - she also supposed it didn’t much matter in the end.
“But you must think these such idle, ridiculous dreams for a woman.” She blushed then, head turned away from him in embarrassment. “I promise you I am not so very strange,” she forced a small laugh. “I will likely be up to to the same domestic frivolities as the other debutantes come spring and later summer. Buying new frocks and flirting with tiresome gentlemen looking for a wife.” Poppy rolled her brown eyes a little impatiently as she turned to look back at him, hoping in some small way the blonde beside her might understand the gesture. For only a moment, he was privy to the true underlying desire of the Ravenclaw to cast aside societal norms and be so much more than she was expected to be. Like a veil, however, the expression was soon gone and Poppy saw with it the last of that confidence flicker out. In retrospect, she supposed she really ought to hold her tongue a bit in future. But she didn’t regret a single word.
© Fox