6 Oct 2024, 22:05
# to be or not to be.
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| === | date: 9 / 8 / 2024 place: history of magic, first floor. wordcount: 1066 (1k) |
========================= | langs: greek / latin italian / english outfit: hogwarts uniform. song: human. |
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| ===== | ===== 𝓣 he ionic, serene quietude of the atmosphere that accompanied the History of Magic class acted as a soothing balm for the chaotic greeting call Sanguinius had experienced at the Gryffindor table, a pattern of tumultuous discord that he had come to quickly recognize with each passing day since his sorting. If not for his certain attentiveness to things, he would have ended up with a face full of strawberry rhubarb pie, and that would be a grave insult to the dish in itself. He was not the type to pass up on good camaraderie, even more so from his own house, but he was more accustomed to the silent company rather than the ever-changing loudness of it all. With the professor's voice and the hushed conversations of the other students acting as an ambience of the background for Sanguinius, it allowed his thoughts to settle more, a welcoming reprieve from the shambolicy of his mornings. The first week of being away from his family was too simply complex to establish in the right word form - all he could say was that he would be making a place for himself among the lions, one that he would be prideful to have over his head, like a crown. The Demarest's had took to placing their roots down in not only Italy but also the Gryffindor house, to no one's surprise. They had a penchant for being headstrong and fiercely devoted to a cause, should they choose to pledge to a person or not, it was always the same symphony and dance. Traits that the sorting hat must have took into account on Sanguinius's expectant behalf, as he disgustingly also exhibited them in his personality. When the worst comes to ghastliest, he'd be forsaking the Demarest name in the end. A destruction that he was content in being the harbinger of. His tempered grey orbs ringed with circlets of cobalt glided over to the animated tapestries that lined the stone walls, each telling grandoise tales of ancient wizards and their bard-worthy exploits of what Sanguinius had read more than a hundred of times from the books inside of the Demarest Library. The cracks on the surface reminded him of the branches from the olive tree that used to stand outside of his bedroom window, its gnarled branches twisting in the gentle breeze, telling him how long the castle had held itself throughout the decades of having lines of generations walk through its famed halls. He wondered if Hogwarts, too, had grown weary of the ceaseless rotation of stories, just as he had watched the same tree shift and fall with the seasons. How many times did Hogwarts witness history repeat itself, resolve, then cycle again? If the walls could talk, he wished he knew. The Ravenclaw's shared much of the period alongside the Gryffindor's, the sensitive colour of azure clashing against the intrepid vermillion that was scattered among the tables inside of the otherwise packed classroom. Sanguinius had noticed that most of the classes he had were either with his own house or with other houses, he supposed it was a clever way for the school to mold the young minds for coexistence. By having them interact with different varying types of people before they were sent out to the brutal gladiatorial arena that was called society-- a slaughterhouse for the unknowing sheep. All of the sudden, Sanguinius straightened up in his seat, not that he was slouching-- mind you. Years of having a strict dancing instructor and an unyielding etiquette teacher made him wary of how he presented himself before the public eye. In a way, they had instilled in him the importance of sophiscation and refinement, the lesson being that one’s demeanor spoke more volumes than a single word that was to be uttered. Decorum before disgrace, a mantra that other pureblooded children recognized. Sanguinius's attention was now intensely fixated on the girl beside him, trying to recall her name the first time she and him were assigned to the desk-- Ophelia? Ainsleigh? She looked like she was an Ainsleigh. Her chocolate brown hair looked like they had just tussled with the wind and came out as the victor, reminding him of the hounds that were taken out of the hunting parties the Matriarch used to have, who were simply too playful to command. He had noticed, with polite courtesy, that her looks were more softer around the cheeks, similar to the cherub statues he would see on his strolls in the garden. She was wearing the standard uniform that was reserved for the feminine-presenting students with the robes that didn't fit quite to her frame just yet, but instead of the Gryffindor red, it was the Ravenclaw blue. He couldn't trust himself to know what her name truly was, so he referred to her as "Cherub" to himself for now. "Pardon me, miss," Sanguinius began, making the conscious decision to keep their conversation to a mere whisper, as if he were attempting to share a delicate secret that required discretion above all. He leaned slightly closer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind his champagne-colored locks, ensuring that their exchange remained unobtrusive amid the bustling classroom. "I do not wish to come across as a stereotypical Gryffindor who didn't listen along to the lesson. However, I would be most appreciative if you could direct me to the passage we have been examining. The last week has been quite hectic, as you can probably understand." " I believe this is also the first time we've spoken, correct? I'm Sanguinius Demarest. " He bowed his head slightly, his words seemed rehearsed to the degree where they simply came as automatic, but they still sounded elegant-- aristocratic. "I’ve often heard about the intellect the Ravenclaws possess, and I must admit, I’ve been curious to engage in conversation with one of your caliber. Is it true that you have to answer a riddle every time you wish to go inside of your common room? " |
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@oakleigh bell
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Last edited by Sanguinius Demarest on 1 Dec 2024, 07:20, edited 2 times in total.
| ▬▬▬▬ | == | ( @ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ) | == | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝. ♛ 𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅. |
7 Oct 2024, 01:41
# to be or not to be.
Oakleigh had perked up at the sound of another's voice. It was the boy that sat beside her. She quickly tried to compose herself. He seemed so... Perfect in a sense. Perfect posture. Oakleigh thought she looked like a shrimp compaired to him. She was an exellent sloucher-- not the best thing, but she would take the achievement.
She slid her textbook over so he could see the page number and chapter heading. "Ay, we're on page 294. Beginning of the renassance period of magical history." Her scottish accent overtook most of her words, causing a bit of thought having to be done to interperet what she said.
She had to think for a moment to process he had said other things to her. She often got too focused on one thing and not the whole spectrum. Makes sense. She always had a lot on her mind, most of it utter nonsense.
"It is the first time we've spoken, ay. I'm Oakleigh. Oakleigh Bell." She gave him a polite nod. Her words weren't as sophisticated as his. She just seemed to talk without a care.
"We do hav'ta answer an engima to get into our commons. Sometimes students get stuck ou'there." She spoke with her hands, using gestures and movements to put her point across.
Her family was one of all Ravenclaws. Well, at least her direct family. Parents, siblings. Okay, her older brother was Hufflepuff, but it was a fifteen minute hat-stall. Her family was smart, often asking hard questions to one another often. It was a fun time, engaging in trivial topics with her family. Her younger brother however just inserted jokes and no real value. Nonetheless, a family of studious Ravenclaws; and one Hufflepuff; was her own.
"Aye've often heard of Gryffindors. Mainly from my brother. Mainly neutral, mainly neutral." She stared off for a moment. "Well, aye guess aye don't remember much, actually." She kept her gaze focused on nothing before heading back to the conversation at hand. "No need to feel steryotypical. Aye often feel it my own."
She noticed his central hetrochromia. She had to use all her might not to go into a full rampage about the science and dna and genetics behind what causes it. Man, did being a nerd fall into being a trouble sometimes.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
ReducioO-M-GOODNESS. Cherub. It's adorable. Lovely. Lemme just. 'Screams' Sorry if mine is extremely shorter. I can do long but this one I was like 'Omgoodness, it's so long, panik' Amazing btw!I usally put slang here, but her slang is self explainatory for this one.
Reducio@Sanguinius Demarestword count: 343/200
ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ. ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ.
Sylvie LaCroix
10 Oct 2024, 03:22
# to be or not to be.
—————————————————————————-♛ to be or not to be-————
| === | date: 9 / 8 / 2024 place: history of magic, first floor. wordcount: 675 |
========================= | langs: greek / latin italian / english outfit: hogwarts uniform. song: human. |
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| ===== | ===== 𝓗 is eyes twinkled with an enlivened sort of mirth, watching the incongruous cogs in Oakleigh's head turn and fasten themselves in nooks and crannies that he wasn't as much of a prophet nor had the certain aptness for clairvoyance to further understand the intricate whirring of her thoughts. It was an undiscovered language of her own, he noted with the fleeting sense of impartiality of an empty scale that was evenly weighing both sides without ever tipping in the favor of one, and as she spoke, her words flowed in playful arcs, sometimes curving to be sharp and precise, while the other times were one that were whimsical and airy. Oakleigh Bell was an enigma to behold with her scottish accent and the amount of question marks that hung over her head, similar to the gilded reconstructions of stars and constellations that he would see floating in the middle of the open dome in Astronomy class, which was a mildly impressive sight for those who had the opportunity to slip inside and witness the mechanism for themselves. Sanguinius took this the time to glance over the passage that Oakleigh was more than gracious enough to point out to him, prompting him to flip a great deal of pages back before he landed on the same foliate of text as she had. The Renaissance period marked the start of--- the Goblin Rebellions? How long has Sanguinius's attention been wandering from him? He was strongly sure that they had just started the section on Gargoyles and were slowly inching to the grim discovery of "witch-hunts" in the mid fifteenth century. " Well, Rowena Ravenclaw must not have intended for a single answer to atone alone for all of her riddles. Solving it would take an unnecessary amount of time by the end if that was the case. If I was a Ravenclaw, I would be more than be wrought with anger if all of my answers kept being shot down just because they were incorrect." He raised his head to level his gaze back at the brown-haired girl, the simple adjustment provided his neck with a much-needed reprieve from the strain of constantly looking down at their peers. It felt refreshing to share the same perspective for a brief moment. " Wit beyond measure. " He murmured, the echo of Ravenclaw's motto rolling off his tongue. It felt strange, like the dull aftertaste of lukewarm Earl Grey tea lingering uncomfortably. He pondered for a moment, then continued, " I would guess that wit and wisdom share a deeper alternative relationship within the context of her teachings. Answering her riddles in a way that diverges from the expected might seem wrong at first glance, but if you can provide a compelling reason for your interpretation, it could be seen in a completely different light with enough understanding." He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “ That’s my perspective on the debate, at least. I’ve always had a particular dislike for the word 'no.' ” he confessed like a guilty man on trial, a soft snort escaping him. Sanguinius was more accustomed to the notion of biting the hand that fed him. Every achievement he had gained so far was marked by the blood, sweat, and teeth of his core-- evidence of the testaments that he had invested in the struggle for a flatter ground to land on in the aftermath. He tilted his head ever so slightly, “ Oh? And what have you heard about us lions that makes us be on the same boat? Calling someone you just met reckless now, are we? ” The corners of his mouth had turned upwards, a minuscule movement by the least of it. " After I mentioned how clever you were, as well. " |
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@oakleigh bell
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| ▬▬▬▬ | == | ( @ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ) | == | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝. ♛ 𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅. |
10 Oct 2024, 14:26
# to be or not to be.
"Oh, gosh. Aye dinnea call you Lions reckless. Aye was just sayi'g aye've heard things. That don't mean bad or mean all the tim'. My brother's best friend was a Gryffindor. Aye've just heard a lotta thi'gs. Aye got a bad memory, so aye cannea remember anythi'g that was said. Ay'm so sorry if aye offended you, aye dinnea mean ta. Aye hope yeez cannea forgive my mistake." She apologized quickly, her words spewing out of her mouth like an inactive volcano that just erupted after centuries of being dormant.
She felt so bad. She didn't mean to offend him. She was just, well, word vomiting for a lack of a better term. Now she thought she made a really bad first impression and that he was going to think she was a bad person. Maybe a bully.
The gears in her brain turned as she tried to convince herself that everything was going to be fine and he didn't think she was a mean person. She put her hair up in a messy bun, holding it in place with her wand. It was just for her hands to have something to do and not just sit there. She grabbed her quill, writing down notes quickly from the textbook, just so she would have something to look back on and not just the book. Her cursive was loopy and stretched out, the letters having quite a bit of distance between them.
She was clearly used to a quill, well, at least writing as a whole. Unlike her speaking, her writing was fully in the traditional English sense of word.
She related to him in the sense that the word 'no' was a mutual dislike between the two.
"Aye don' like the word 'no' either," she started, "After all, if ye're told a word a lot, yeez start to gain a disliking towar's it."
She had focused so much of him being offended that she forgot what he had said about the riddles with the door. She turned back her memory, pretty much replaying his words in her head.
"Naw, Madame Ravenclaw did things right. We get to argue with the door quite often about our answ'rs. We convince that doorknocker bird a lot. We're right a lotta the time." She laughed quietly, not to disrupt the other students with their studies. She snorted as she laughed, making her nose scrunch up as she did so. She controled her laughter after just one oink.
Sanguinius was an interesting person to Oakleigh. The Demarest family was a name she had heard once or twice before, due to her father being a pure-blood himself. She had just heard the name, nothing more, nothing less.
To Oakleigh's gaze, he seemed special. In a way she couldn't pinpoint, but she knew. She wasn't a seer, nor was anyone in her family, but it was clear that he was going to do some great things. There was a fire of determination in his gaze that supported her claim.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
ReducioPoor Oakleigh baby, my child. Her slang is explanitory
ReducioSept, 9th, 2024
Reducio@Sanguinius Demarestword count: 502/200
ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ. ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ.
Sylvie LaCroix
8 Dec 2024, 08:19
# to be or not to be.
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𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 ; •...9 / 8 / 2024 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 ; •.history of magic, first floor. 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ; •649. |
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••latin / greek / italian / english•... ; 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔 ••hogwarts uniform.•. ; 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆
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| ••••••••• | •••••••• A s if a dam had collapsed, unleashing a torrent that could no longer be contained, Sanguinius found himself to be on the receiving end of a sudden, nearly frantic apology from the fantasizing Ravenclaw -- words tumbling of the girl's mouth like the currents of a raging river, spilling into the open air as each sentence entangled themselves with the threads of a nervous and awkward-like ball of yarn. It was as though she feared that she had spoken too much, too quickly, retracting like a drawn back arrow from the moment she had started talking. He could see her fidgeting now, fingers desperately clutching for her quill that had been on the far side of the table as if it were a lifeline and she was the one that kept sinking like a stone under the waves. Was she trying to distract herself from her blunder? Sanguinius had thought that was the case, watching the first few stray curls fall down in front of Oakleigh's face from her hastily-made bun. She seemed to be more focused on her hands rather than with eye contact, gesturing with them to emphasize certain points the first time.
The habit of associating mutual gaze with politeness for the speaker had been so deeply ingrained into him that he forgot most people had the opposite case at times, it caused a shred of irritation to creep up on him -- but he didn't fault her for it. Old habits die hard, after all. Especially for someone like Oakleigh, who was clearly not the type to engage in that exchange of gaze as readily as he was. " I'm joking. You make it sound as if I'm holding you accountable for a heinous crime. " He was able to read the chicken scratch version of what he could tell was a idiosyncratic version of cursive longhand, managing to make out a few sentences that he, admittedly, had only skimmed over when she handed him her textbook awhile back - though, her notes were a little hard to follow. They were more of what he imagined half-formed ideas and fleeting thoughts would look like if they were written down, scattered pieces scrambling around to find the matching fragments of a bigger puzzle. " On the other hand, if you've actually committed a crime, I should be concerned that you'll pull me in as an accomplice. " Sanguinius nudged her knee with his under the table, a small but deliberate gesture to pull her back to the present, and task at hand. " Focus, Bells. " Instead of the faint teasing undertone that been present throughout the entire conversation, he admonished her in a more firmer tone that he expected would prompt her to control her giggling and dial down a few notches. Unless the girl's exact plan was to draw the attention of the professor, long enough for her to notice a laughing Ravenclaw and Gryffindor that both appeared completely out of sync with the lesson, then he would not be looking forward to the extra pile of homework they would surely receive today. |
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| ••••••• | 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅 •@oakleigh bell. |
𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 •chiding. |
𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔 ; ••str 5 | eva 4 | str 6 | wis 5 | arc 5 | acc 5 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 - 𝒗𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒂 ; •alluring | ab. | ab. | ab. | ab. | ab. |
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| ▬▬▬▬ | == | ( @ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ) | == | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝. ♛ 𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅. |