I can't say I've ever known you to be a victim. It was funny, really, the way that two people could see things so differently. Rosaline often felt like a victim of their family, or well...more specifically, her dreams were victims of their family. Rosaline had never asked to be in this position, running Moribund's with their family's reputation solely on her shoulders. Her dreams of being an artist gone before she could even really think about it. Was she being dramatic? Probably. But that didn't get rid of the pit of resentment that she carried in her stomach, reminding her that her life wasn't her own. It was controlled by her family's whims, Harrison's whims. She supposed that that was just the price of being a Pureblood woman. "I just got mauled by a werewolf, let me be dramatic for a few minutes," she replies, a smile on her lips so Cordelia would know she was teasing.
"You know that I love Ajax, but I wish he could think with his head and not with his heart," She sighed. "Or figured out how to balance it like I did. There are some instances where it makes sense to lead with your heart and others where it doesn't. And Aurelia is just one of those not it situations." Rosaline worried about Ajax, and how he would take it if Aurelia ever tossed him aside for someone better. She was certain that Aurelia would do so if she was given the chance or opportunity. And Rosaline and Cordelia would be left to pick up the pieces.
It was horribly tragic, the faith that Cordelia put in her. If she knew what Rosaline's life was really like, she was certain that Cordelia would think differently. "You're the strong one, Cordie," she murmured softly. Cordelia knew what she wanted, and while Rosaline didn't understand her desire to heal, she had made a choice. What had Rosaline done? Stepped up to take on something that she never asked for, started dating a man for the status, and pushed forward. Perhaps that took a different type of strength, but Rosaline couldn't help but feel jealous that Cordelia did what she wanted and lost all of her friends in the process. Rosaline was a coward, afraid of the unknown. She was all talk and no substance. She had been so sure that she would be an artist back at Hogwarts, and look at her now. She was a socialite, a man's pretty face to show off as he pleased, never really caring about who she was so long as she played her part.
"I'm just grateful that it only got my arm. I shudder to think what would happen if it had gotten me somewhere...visible." As it was, people would know about the wound, but over time she was sure that people would forget. There would be some cheating scandal and they would all move on. It was the Socialite and High Society way. It was almost reassuring, in a messed up way, the way that these things never seemed to change. They were always the same. You could rely on things to remain exactly as they were each time. "I know," she agreed.
Rosaline was almost grateful that Cordelia had taken to deciding what she should wear. She wasn't quite sure she had the mental capacity to decide on her clothes, and besides she had no idea what a healer would approve of. She would hate to get dressed and then have to change back into that dreaded hospital gown. "Good, I'm worried that the press is going to be here when I leave," she sighed. One of the drawbacks of dating the Minister's son. "I would hate to have an unflattering picture," She rolled her eyes so Cordelia would know that it wasn't quite her thinking about that. "I think I can manage until I have to get the sweater on," she told her, biting down on her lip for a moment and slipping out of bed.