24 Nov 2024, 04:35
# roots full of banes.
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๐๐๐ ;ใใโข...11 / 13 / 2024 ใ๐๐๐๐๐ ;ใใโข.herbology, grounds. ใ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ;ใใโข1345. |
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โขโขlatin / greek / italian / englishโข...ใใ; ๐๐๐๐๐ใ โขโขhogwarts uniform.โข.ใใ; ๐๐๐๐๐๐ใ
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| โขโขโขโขโขโขโขโขโข | โขโขโขโขโขโขโขโข D espite having grown up amidst an overflowing abundance of flora that somehow had found their way up the treacherous, jagged coastal cliffs and into the inside of the sterilized, marble walls of Crown's Peak, Sanguinius never quite fully conquered the conundrum of a "green thumb". His restless hands had always proven to add more pressure than necessary from time and time again, too quick when it yanked the stubborn roots out of the earth, too hasty in the gesture. too fucking impatient. He was not built to nurture, handling a seedling with tender care until it could transform into a plant that could thrive even against the most harshest of winds and sharpest of clippers was not an activity that he would find himself to be doing on the side any time soon. Most people would have expected that someone such as he, who had been raised in an environment like that of a glorified garden conservatory, would have known to be more understanding of the efforts it took - after all, the very walls of the ancient citadel had been practically overtaken by sprawling ivy, undergrowth, and flowers that were practically foreign to the area, all of which had found their own place in the ecosystem that had been established over the decades.
But the lion had not the slightest clue. There were most likely other people that would have loved tending to the greenery, ones that saw the value in the wide-range of botanica. Too bad that it wasn't him. It was only out of Sanguinius's utter lack of interest for the subject that had made his already dwindling attendance to the class shrink to a bare few, to the point that he would not even show up at all, but the result of his due negligence accompanied with the little work he did on the occurrences that he did appear were enough to catch the eye of the one and only Professor Toussaint. The tempestuous woman had a reputation for cutting through the nonsense that students would serve on a [ falsely casted ] silver platter before her, her gunmetal grey always in the perpetual state of arbitrating crescents that always felt as though they were judging - and she was. In a way. She carried with her the distinct scent of aged, dried incense, the exact kind that the Demarest family would often use during their rites of passage or other similarly significant ceremonies. It had mingled in with a fragrance that was both sumptuous and expensive, redolent with a mixture of tropical and earthly notes, beneath it all, he could detect the faintest undercurrent of brimstone and sulfur, a subtle hint that clung to her like an afterthought. It awfully reminded him of the sweltering heat of a blacksmith's forge, fanning over his face until the hissing steam and crackling of embers had managed to distract him from the torridness. " Mister Demarest, " She began, the disapproval was clear in her voice, like that of a mother scolding her child. She fixed him a gaze so sharp that he straightened up, spine stiffening on pure reflex alone, suddenly becoming more aware of the way his curls stuck to the skin on the of his neck. He winced, slightly. " It's come to my attention that you have not attended my lessons for a while now. I trust that you have a reason for these unexplained absences. Have you found them boring? " " I wouldn't, exactly, call it that but fill in the blank however you like. " He gritted out, his tone deliberately curt, keeping his answer as brief and to the point as possible. If there was such a thing as reason. Then he added in, a second later. " ...Ma'am. " Professor Toussaint's gaze hardened even further -- like the cold, hard, brilliant diamonds that were hung from the chandeliers in the entrance hall of Crown's Peak. " Unless you have a very good excuse, you will tell me your reason for skipping my lessons, " she spoke, her voice stern but not unkind. " I take my lessons seriously, Mister Demarest, as they are designed to help you. Not only in potions, but in whatever else that may lie ahead in your future. If you think I will allow you to squander that opportunity, you are sorely mistaken. " At first, Sanguinius would have thought that his lackluster performance as of late would have meant that he was done for, his fate sealed with no hope for any redemption for his education. Instead, Professor Toussaint had informed him of a tutoring program that had resided within the student body, handing him a flyer with paragraphs upon paragraphs of information - the tiny print was dense with rules, expectations, and hours of a mind-numbing catalog. If he had wanted to research an encyclopedia, he would have fucking told the professor beforehand. Until he came across a rather familiar name, scrawled in a polished flourish, nearing the end of the page beneath the list of tutors that had been listed as available. Spark to a flame, honey locks melting against the backdrop of a twilight refulgence, eyes the color of languid navy pools, and the snappy remarks that increased their bite each time flitted through his mind. Mere visages that were similar to the movements that someone would find in a moving portrait. He frowned. โขโขโข - โขโขโข โขโขโข " Clark, what a surprise! " The blonde had managed to sneak up on Elena, using the unkempt foliage that drooped leisurely over the Herbology entrance as a camouflage - an advantage, he would consider, with the way the leaves made a tall enough of a shade that he could fully stand under without having to twist and turn himself. Although, knowing how the Ravenclaw operated ( from what little information he could scrounge from the Fall Ball event ) - it wouldn't fly past her. The soft rustling of leaves and the water droplets, from the humidity that ran rampant around the greenhouse, that fell from the glass ceiling had been his only company so far, it had been boring. Before the girl could turn around, and punch him, or whatever that she felt like doing at the moment that that indicated as a retaliation -- he took a step back, in a mock show of surrender with his hands quickly raised. Or, rather, hand. In Sanguinius' other, he was holding a small potted plant - to look like he was actually doing something productive if Professor Toussaint ever came sniffing around. He idly bounced it back and forth in the air, the small ceramic pot clinking faintly as he did. " Guessing Professor Toussaint sent you in here to help so I won't -- whatโs the word? -- sabotage my future? Donโt worry, Iโll be on my best behavior for you. Your expertise has to come in handy if you were listed as one of the tutors. " โ I won't make you do the work for me. โ he added, inspecting the plant. โ That would be far too easy to do and would lack the necessary vigor. " |
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Last edited by Sanguinius Demarest on 27 Nov 2024, 15:05, edited 1 time in total.
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26 Nov 2024, 21:25
# roots full of banes.
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Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates."
Absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair, Elena drifted down the sinuous corridors of the castle, humming to herself a poem her mother used to read, the memory rooted in the heavy wodden chair that once sat outside of her childhood home. Extremely fond of nature, Victoria had taken great care into transmitting her passion to her daughter, taking her on extended hikes where she would point every green-ish thing and explain its properties or share some peculiar facts. Upon marrying a wizard, an entirely new world unfolded at her feet, and she plunged into it with eager enthusiasm. Elena would follow the entire process, from the harvest of the various plants to the potions and spells her father made, house filled with countless scents. A soft smile lingering on her lips, she increased her pace. The sun pierced the large windows, dancing with the colors of her heavy locks, shades of gold intertwined with honey, caramel and darker hues. Squinting, her stormy eyes glancing away from the blinding light, the young raven was heading towards the greenhouses, fingers trailing across the thick stoned wall.
Just a few days prior, she had discovered a tutoring program seeking volunteers. Being a passionate academic, she had enlisted for every subject, knowing it would add weight to her record. Though the prospect of meeting strangers wasn't exaclty something she would qualify as appealing, she couldn't deny the potential value of the experience.
Little did she know.
Finally reaching the awaited doors, she took a second to admire the dazzling looks of the greenhouses. Herbology itself wasn't exactly her favourite subject, but growing alongside of a plant mom forged her into appreciating the peacefulness of this matter, and she enjoyed talking about it. The vines climbing across the pillars, reaching the ceiling, the countless flowers adorning the intricate patterns of the marble floors - the greenhouses were truly breathtaking. Finally pushing the heavy doors, she blinked, momentarely blinded by the sudden ray of ligh, slender fingers reaching out to block the sun.
Those few seconds were enough for a familiar voice to rise. "Clark, what a surprise!" Dropping her hand, in a already somewhat annoyed gesture, she squinted. That can b- of course. A grinning lion stood before her, its expression anything but surprised. "You have to be kidding me," she gritted through her teeth, stepping in the shade. As if scared of her - the idea wasn't to displease the young girl, if she was being honest - he stepped back, one hand raised in mocking surrender.
Staring at him with disbelief, she shook her head. "Of all the possible-," she grunted, walking past him. She tossed her bag onto a nearby table, taking off her scarf and coat - the weather was getting, to her great pleasure, colder and colder. The comforting possibility of a castle covered in snow in the upcoming weeks calmed her evident annoyance, as she leaned against one of the stools. Half sat on it, one leg casually hanging, she crossed her arms. Turning around was not an option - both denied by her pride and a signature at the bottom of a page. She examined him for a second with a raised eyebrow, not hiding her hostility - hostility that only seemed to amuse him further, as it did on the countless barbs she had delivered over the course of the ball. He looked as elegantly polished as he did back then, bloodied blades dancing against the mighty sun. A fainted sun, drained by wounds too deep, bleeding out its light. Same effortlessly flowing champagne locks, same devious silver ashes eyes, same infuriating smirk etched on his face. The exact same lion she had left at the Mystery Ball back in october. Their paths had luckily never crossed again, but it seemed "destiny" had decided otherwise.
Hearing the clicking sound of him idly boucing back and forth a small potted plant in the air broke her wandering thoughts. "For Merlin's sake," she said, exasperated, rolling her eyes. "Leave that poor plant alone and sit." She pushed her bag away, turning towards the wooden table, and took out some ink, quills and parchment. If she had to face him regularly, she might as well do it seriously - the sooner his grades raises, the sooner she'll be rid of him. [right]"Sabotage your future ?"[/right][/color] she repeated, raising an eyebrow. You'll have to require one first. Biting her cheek, she stopped the words before they blurted out. She can at least try to be nice even if he behaved as a huge-
โI won't make you do the work for me.โ he added, looking at the poor plant. Scoffing, she glared at him. You bloody bet I'm not going to do the work for you. "How noble of you, Demarest," she replied, honey dripping from her voice. "I was just about to humbly offer my services, but since you've so graciously spared me, I'll just sit back and admire your dedication." Biting her lower lips in annoyance - a tick she had inherited from her father, she scribbled some notes down a parchment. Taking a deep breath, she plastered a faux smile on her face, tapping on the carefully calligraphed title detaching itself on the parchmin - her writing would only be qualified as incomprehensible scribbles, an unfortunate residue of writing in pitch black. Daring him to make any comment, she clicked her tongue before reading it out loud, "Fire seeds."
Giving him time for his thoughts to take shape, she leaned back. "Weโll start with the basics. Explain what you know about them - assuming youโve cracked open your textbook at least once." Assumption she seriously doubted, given how he behaved like the typical "troublemaker lion". Her voice carried a pointed edge, and she leaned back, crossing her arms, her quill resting in one hand. "Well, Demarest ?" She smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Iโm on the edge of my seat, waiting to be dazzled by your vast knowledge," she said, her voice dripping with a touch of sarcasm.
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