The De Matteos were, as a group, messy. Mara knew this, and, as someone from a family that had a habit of getting pretty messy itself, did not judge them for it. Public figures sometimes simply ended up with little choice than doing some underhanded, amoral nonsense to survive and hide their sins, and everyone understood this – or at least, everyone who mattered did. It was the world they lived in.
There were, however, limits. There were times when one might have to share a bed with racist scumbags, or at least work closely with them, but there were not times when it was okay to openly support them in public, at least as long as one wished to avoid being tarred with the same brush. Therefore, the Quidditch game left Mara with a couple of ideas about what might have happened, neither of which were good:
1) Mara had somehow spent a year being friends with a racist scumbag without noticing, thus endangering her own reputation, or
2) Leonor had somehow managed to miss the memo on Jeremy Mordue, in which case, the girl needed to do some serious damage control, and it was Mara’s duty as a friend to try her best to help with that.
Mara hoped it was 2). She really, really hoped it was 2). Hoped it as intensely as she had hoped anything, at least since she had been focused on hoping that her midsummer ball make-over service would turn at least a small profit. Either way, though, she thought she had to address the issue, and so strolled over to the Pecari table at lunch one day.
“Hey,” she said with her usual brief flash of a smile before sitting down.
She went through the usual mundane, conversation-starting small talk before getting to the point. “So. What was up with that banner thing you had at the Quidditch game?”
16Mara MoralesSo, about that thing... (Leonor)147215
Leonor was feeling pretty good. Things were going as well or better than she'd expected and the satisfaction of it all had given her an energy boost for studying and catching up on things for home and all in all, it was nice. She was enjoying a meal and flipping through yet another book of records when Mara took a seat with a smile. Happy for an excuse not to keep reading, Leonor put the book down and returned the expression. Pleasantries done, it became clear that Mara had something specific she wanted to talk about and it made Leonor's skin feel prickly.
Mara was a good girl and Leonor liked her company a lot. Leonor didn't especially have a problem with muggleborns. In her mind, they were the ones proving themselves just because they had the powers that made the difference. Really, Leonor didn't have a problem with Muggles either. She just didn't think that they were on the same level. The poor things really could do with some help, but that wasn't Leonor's job and she wasn't about to take on the responsibility of it. They seemed to do alright on their own anyway. And Muggles were the reason she was considered so unacceptable to her bleeding heart of a brother, so there was maybe a little resentment there.
"Oh," Leonor began, setting her utensils down. "Well, Jeremy and I are sort of dating," she said, cursing the nerves that were building in her stomach. She really did want Mara to like her, she'd just sort of given up on caring to make anyone like her. Most people already had formed their opinions, so what good was it to try to change them? "I started talking to him to irritate Felipe," she admitted, figuring that would be an area that Mara would understand at least. "But I like him well enough and he's not bad to look at, so it's pretty good." She sure as heck wasn't about to admit to actually liking him, in part because she absolutely did not and they were only together for some fun and for some messing with people who deserved to be messed with.
Staring, as every half-decently raised Southern girl knew, was impolite, but Mara found herself doing it anyway as Leonor explained her strange behavior at the Quidditch game. She couldn't quite help herself; it was the only reaction she could initially form.
This was not as bad as she had feared it might be - Leonor having some brainless crush on an older boy and doing something stupid and desperate to get his attention.
It was worse.
"I'm not sure I agree," she said when Leonor used the word 'good' to summarize how things were with her and Jeremy Mordue. "Do you...I mean, have you noticed how he...generally is? Because..." For a moment, Mara considered tempering her customary bluntness, but then realized she couldn't think of a better way to say it. "Because his whole reputation is that he's a racist a-hole."
She shook her head. "I'm not just getting that from the rumor mill, either," she added. "Just the stuff he said to Jezi in one conversation last year - he said something so bad that Jezi felt like she had to stick up for Zara, and Jezi wouldn't spit on that girl if she caught fire. He said some pretty bad stuff to Jessica, too - that's how we learned how people around here can be racist even if you're white," she added. "Seriously - totally cancellation-worthy stuff there," she said, lapsing into the vocabulary of the beauty community. "You could get a whole Dramageddon out of it, if he had a brand," she added. "You know I don't have much use for your brother, but even a broken clock is right twice a day, and running with Jeremy Mordue? That's not a good look."
16Mara MoralesIt's...kind of not a good thing.147205
Leonor felt prickly but was trying to remind herself to be a proper diplomat. Also, again, she did like Mara. Mara liking her back was totally not important and she had zero investment and it was fine if she was just such a mess that no one liked her because they were just stupid. But she really did want Mara to like her, even if she wouldn't say it out loud. "I've heard," Leonor prickled. "I told you, this started with Felipe. He's told me plenty about him," she pointed out, not sure if that was being lost or if Mara just wasn't sure.
Mara started saying some stuff that Leonor didn't understand, which was really frustrating. Actually, it was straight up angering. Leonor knew English and she did not appreciate being made to feel like she didn't. Just because she didn't like it as much as other people did. And Mara spoke Spanish! If they were going to use this stupid school language, then at least let them use it the same way. Was Mara trying to be rude? No . . . she wouldn't do that. It was that Leonor's English came off so perfectly well that people forgot that she might not know all these bits. Or it was some of those muggle words, in which case she had no use for them anyway. That didn't make her racist, right?
"It's the right look," Leonor retorted, not appreciating this sort of attack. "He's almost as important as I am and that's what counts. You wouldn't understand." She heard the words come out of her mouth as if someone else were saying them. They wouldn't be her words. They couldn't be her words, could they be? That was not something she really thought. "I'm supposed to find somebody."
So ruining your life is the goal? Seek therapy.
by Mara Morales
OOC: Touches on classism and racism/colorism/internalizations of same. BIC:
You wouldn’t understand.
Mara physically recoiled when that sentence fully landed. Her expression concern vanished as her mouth set into a hard line and her dark eyes lit up with anger.
“I hope I don’t understand,” she said coldly. “I really hope I don’t.” She lapsed into Spanish. “Because if you know what he is and you’re okay with that, it looks like the look you’re going for is for everyone to think you’re just as ignorant as he is.”
It was harsh, and a small, objective corner of her brain knew it probably wasn’t helpful – and perhaps not even fair, or charitable, or something. That small corner, however, hadn’t spent her whole life aware that it was only at home that she was even the equal of her own sister – that outside, everyone assumed she was just…ordinary. Nobody. And that now it sounded like someone she’d thought was a friend was saying the same thing to her.
“If he’s the best you think you can do, then you might want to think about improving your station before you think about looking for a man,” she added angrily, ignoring that objective corner ruthlessly. “Because I could find something better than someone who’s proud to be a damn racist in public if I went looking in the bottom of that trash can.” She pointed to the relevant object near the doors to illustrate. “My mamá would knock me over the head if I brought the likes of him home, and she’s one of those who thinks the best thing she ever did was give her kids a white father.”
At the very end, a little bitterness began to mix with disgust, and some of the disgust to focus on subjects other than Jeremy. Mara, however, did not fully notice this. She had lived with it so long that it was just background noise, static she’d long since become accustomed to, so that its absence would have been more remarkable than its presence now.
16Mara MoralesSo ruining your life is the goal? Seek therapy.147205
"Or maybe I don't care what everyone else thinks," Leonor retorted, feeling more angry than guilty. If she'd had a better control over herself in the first place, she wouldn't have said what she'd said. But now it was too late and if Mara wasn't going to give a little grace, then why should she? "Maybe I don't have to.
A not-so-small voice in her head reminded her that Felipe would never do this. Even when he'd gotten into it with people, he'd never argued like this. Well Felipe was stupid and pompous and Leonor wasn't going to be. Why was it that every time she did anything at all, his face came to mind? Or his voice, reminding her to be a good girl? Or else their parents' faces, always with looks of disapproval? They'd never actually looked at her that way, but the possibility was terrifying. Unless Leonor decided it wasn't, and that's what she was going to do. If Mara didn't understand that then Mara could suck an egg.
A memory flooded back of Felipe getting a lesson on diplomacy. Papa had been so considerate and taken it slow and made sure that every point was clear. Leonor remembered it because she'd been small still, and she'd been allowed to stay and watch. Felipe remembered it, too, she was sure, because nothing else had stuck with him quite so hard as politeness. Of course, the Quidditch game was maybe proof that even that hadn't stuck that well. Leonor had to try so much harder than Felipe had had to, and why? Because it was a system built for people like him? Why couldn't she just do it her way? She pushed that thought aside, aware that one such rule of diplomacy was to listen for content and Mara was talking again. Not that it helped much.
"Your white father sounds exactly like who you think Jeremy is. Not that you would know, of course, but that's pretty rich coming from you," Leonor hissed. She wasn't above admitting that Jeremy was vaguely awful but she wasn't going to stand by and let Mara talk like he was the only one. Who Jeremy was was just what you had to be sometimes, and he was a little . . . dim . . . but he wasn't really that bad. He was useful, and that's what mattered. Besides, Leonor knew all too well the stress that being second place could be and Jeremy was nothing in his family line as far as she knew. That meant that his best bet for a social climb was her and her best bet for feeling for one moment like she had any say in any of this was him.
"Don't act so high and mighty because you don't have to think about these things when the reason you're here is because someone else thought of exactly this before. I don't know if I plan on marrying the guy, Mara. He's useful to me right now and that puts me in charge. If I have to have someone useful and he's decent to spend time around and-- no, you know what, I don't have to justify myself!" Leonor pulled back realizing she'd leaned forward, and she lowered her voice, realizing it had gotten louder. Not a yell, but close enough that she blushed as she retreated. "If you have another idea, another person that can get me what I want," she added stiffly, returning to English. "I'm listening. But it doesn't sound like you do, so I'm taking it into my own hands."
Hey, I can at least make sense from one sentence to the next.
by Mara Morales
Mara didn’t even know how to respond to the flail of a response about not caring what anyone thought and not needing to either. How did anyone respond to that? It was a childish taunt, unworthy of response, and so she decided to ignore it.
The next things Leonor said, however, were impossible to ignore. Her hand actually reached for her cup, with the intention of throwing it across the table, when her father was compared to Jeremy Mordue, of all people, though she caught herself and merely took an angry drink of water instead.
“What is it you want, then?” she challenged Leonor. “What do you want that’s worth lowering yourself to that? Or to sounding ridiculous?” she added, coolly again at the end. “My father is a lot of things, but he isn’t a racist. You might notice that I exist,” she added in Spanish. She couldn’t talk about Dad in English; on paper – a bunch of papers written in English – she didn’t have a father. She only did that in Spanish. “You don’t make sense. If you’re not planning to marry him – and dear God, I can’t imagine why anyone would – then you haven’t found squat, and if you’re just hanging out with him…what use is he? Since you aren’t even trying to claim that he’s got secret depths of charm he displays when he’s not around people whose parents he disapproves of.” Her mouth twisted a bit at that idea. “And pro tip, don’t talk about people like they’re chess pieces.” Or squares in Monopoly, but she doubted Leonor knew what Monopoly was. “Makes people who’re trying to help you out wonder what you really think about them,” she added testily.
16Mara MoralesHey, I can at least make sense from one sentence to the next.147205
"Oh so it's only racism if he's rude about it? Because from where I'm sitting, having a secret child with a servant and then not giving them the time of day because it might hurt your pretty white boy reputation is pretty racist," Leonor replied, a bit disgusted at the sort of logic that could make Mara think that wasn't the case. "You've gone your whole life thinking this is okay because . . . what? Because your father is rich? Because he's white? Because your mom lays down and deals with it? You think if something happened to Jessica, you'd be considered for Arvale? Absolutely not. You're a family friend to your own father."
Her mind folded over a lot of options for a moment as she followed Mara's suit and took a drink of water. For a moment, she considered pointing out that Mara shouldn't worry about feeling like a chess piece because she had no use to Leonor. But that sounded legitimately harsher than she wanted it to and Leonor did care about Mara's friendship. That wasn't the sort of thing you'd say about a chess piece. "His use is in satisfying my parents, bothering my brother, and passing the time. Call it an externship," she replied quietly, in a low enough voice that no one outside of the two of them would be able to hear it. "His use is in passing time with something fun to do and something new to do and seeing where that goes because, you might remember, that's what I've got to do. Do you think I want a husband and care about all that? I want to check the boxes I need to check to live my life the way I want and if a pretty racist is the way to do that, then that's what I'm going to do."
She wondered what Jeremy would think if he was hearing this conversation. Was she supposed to be nicer about him? She was pretty sure he was unabashedly racist and would call himself the same. That wasn't the point though, because Leonor didn't care about him that deeply. He was a plot device in her scheme and she was going to have some fun. She hadn't yet fooled herself into thinking that he cared any more about her than she did about him.
"For what it's worth," she added, shifting uneasily in the face of vulnerability. "I don't think you're a chess piece. I think you're great." She replaced her expression with a scowl again. "So are we done?"
22Leonor De MatteoGiddy up; your high horse is running away. 147105
I'm feeling pretty secure in my saddle.
by Mara Morales
Mara snorted impolitely at the attempt to insult her father. “My dad gives me a lot more time of day than it sounds like yours gave you, before your brother threw in the towel,” she said bluntly. “And maybe I couldn’t take Jezi’s place, but my stock options with Arvale will do me just fine, thanks,” she added.
It had crossed her mind more than once, actually, after Jessica had gone to Sonora, that it was possible she might have had a shot at the top job one day. She couldn’t have had as public a profile as the heir apparent to Arvale Cosmetics as her sister, of course – but Dad had always made it clear that she had the option of joining the company in an official capacity if she wanted to, and she knew she was smart enough to go pretty far in whatever field she chose even on her own, without Dad pulling strings behind her. Since she did have Dad to pull strings….
It hadn’t seemed impossible. Dad had established a whole program to provide scholarships and opportunities in Arvale to the qualified children of employees…and her mother was, technically, his employee. There would have been nothing especially eyebrow-raising about Mara taking advantage of those opportunities, and with Jessica out of the way due to her ‘condition’, gaining more power than she otherwise might have done, over the course of a career. She thought Dad had even been planning on that, really – until Mara had turned out to have a ‘condition’ as well.
She raised an eyebrow, though, when Leonor continued contradicting herself. So she wanted to live the life she wanted, without a man…which was why she needed a man. That made sense. So much sense.
“You tell me,” she said when Leonor asked if they were ‘done’ after her abrupt shift to briefly flattering Mara. “If he starts talking the way he did about people with Jessica while he’s talking to you – are you just gonna go along with him?”
16Mara MoralesI'm feeling pretty secure in my saddle.147205
Sitting side-saddle or do you ride like you know what you're doing?
by Leonor De Matteo
Leonor turned red and scowled, not having much to say about her own father or brother. Well, perhaps she had something. She just couldn't deny that she'd never been very important to her parents before. "Felipe didn't throw in the towel," she glared. "The decision was made based on who is better suited for the task. Unlike you, I don't have to buy my way into my own family estate to be part of it."
It was frustrating because she knew she was setting herself up to be insulted. The few things that she did acknowledge bothered her to think about were not that hard to hit, and questioning whether she actually was suited to the task was one of them. However, Leonor had fixed that. Instead of changing herself, she was changing the task. She would be the best heir and she would make sure that her children got what they wanted, including whichever of them wanted the estate after her. None of this primogeniture crap.
She wanted to reply something snippy about how she'd react and whether she would just 'go along' with Jeremy being racist, but she'd been thinking about this herself some. She hadn't been sure until Mara used that phrasing. Leonor didn't 'go along' with anyone. She was her own person. "If that happens," Leonor replied darkly, fairly sure it was a 'when'. "Then I'll stand up against it." She would, wouldn't she? Truth be told, Jeremy probably would be done with her before it got to to point. He had to know enough about what the De Matteo family stood for - regardless of what Leonor thought of the finer points of that - to know that this probably wouldn't work long term. That being said, it would work until she chose to make it stop working. "I'm a better person than that, even for all my games of chess."
22Leonor De MatteoSitting side-saddle or do you ride like you know what you're doing? 147105