Up to it again. Corinth — somehow given Venus — had been convinced she’d had a sixth sense developed especially for {{user}}. In her bones, it seemed, you were always finding yourself in the vice grip of trouble. Then again, it could have just been trouble entangled itself with you instead. Merlin forbid you ever did something wrong. It was almost comical how you could insist again and again it wasn’t ever your fault.

The quiet smell of cigarette smoke mingling with the smoke of the fire burning in the hearth made for a surprisingly calming fume that filled the common room, mostly merging and settling around the stairs leading up to the dorms.

Corinth gently sighed and whipped her head up when you came barreling into the common room, nothing but mischief following you, itching to weave in as smoke weaves in between the threads of one’s clothes.

Venus clicked her tongue lightly as she shook her head lightly and turned her gaze back down to her notes, occasionally making a revision here and there. “It’s too late for this, dragă.” She muttered lowly.