Caviar, Curfew and Chaos PV Mamori Anezaki

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CORRIDORS
2024-10-23
@Novalie Moon

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After suffering through what felt like the longest Monday in human history — featuring a missed lunch, a sprint to seek refuge in the hospital wing (robes strategically arranged to shield his compromised visage from public view) only to get kicked out for "faking illness", a desperate afternoon spent hiding in his dorm trying to fix that cursed streak of blonde hair that someone had so thoughtfully left undyed while simultaneously scrubbing stubborn dyes off his face, topped with a lovely lecture about skipping classes, and at last having to swallow his pride to beg an upperclassman to salvage his uniform — followed by several bland days not worth a mention, Mamori had finally arrived at this fateful moment. The destined day of his clandestine transaction with Novalie Moon. One day. That's all it took to make him question if he'd ever look at pink the same way again. He found himself counting down to second year, when he could just wave his wand at his hair instead of dealing with these insufferable dyes every few weeks like it was some sort of ritualistic maintenance schedule. Until then, he'd resigned himself to setting his alarm an hour earlier than necessary, because that's what it took to keep his dignity intact. All to avoid another morning of some good samaritan pointing out his roots were showing. But he could endure all of this. Not because he was particularly forgiving — though he was absolutely the most magnanimous person he knew — but because the promise of future profits made everything worth it. This was merely the appetizer before the feast, the small print before the grand contract, the setup before he'd be lounging with ten jars of black caviar while watching rich kids outbid each other. The spider Novalie gifted him from their bathroom encounter now resided in a container with air holes in his room. What made her think a spider would pass as an appropriate gift was beyond him, but he kept it. You never know when an eight-legged hostage might provide some useful... leverage. So here he was on a Wednesday evening when even the owls had dozed off, fifteen minutes before curfew, Mamori stood equipped with a full set of spare Hufflepuff uniform, face masks, towels (for the classic "my friend fell in the lake" excuse), and a black curly wig that some upperclassman was definitely not missing yet. Plans A through G sat ready in his head for whatever disaster might strike, and his backpack was precisely measured to accommodate ten containers of precious caviar. Missing an exact meeting time was an oversight, but Novalie Moon would have to live with it. He had more important things to worry about anyway — like whether premium caviar could survive prolonged exposure to corridor temperature. Did caviar spoil? He'd have to check that detail after adding "Purveyor of Fine Caviar" to his growing list of life experiences. The moment he reached their meeting spot, he spotted that conspicuous red-headed Metamorphmagus wearing... some sort of lion pajamas? An outfit with zero connection to their mission. Out of ten points for stealth, he'd give her two, and that was being generous. But after their last interaction, Mamori knew better than to question her 天然ボケ airhead tendencies, that was one losing battle he'd learned to avoid. Approaching Novalie, he cut straight to business. "Good evening, my esteemed partner in commerce," he said, lowering his backpack to retrieve the supplies. "Now, while your choice of attire is... questionable, I've come prepared with appropriate disguise clothes for you to change into. But first — those ten portions of big, black caviar you promised. Shall we proceed with the exchange? Goods first, then services." He set the bundle of uniforms and accessories on the ground and held out the now-empty backpack with an expectant look.

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date: 23rd October time: evening outfit: x word count: 565

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆- #951515-

interaction: @Mamori Anezaki mention: //

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Each second dragged on like an eternity when Novalie waited for Mama to finally arrive. She bounced more feverishly, anticipation dancing in her eyes as they darted about the corridor, because in her mind, she was already painting vivid pictures of the legendary Hufflepuff common room. Was it really overflowing with flourishing greenery and stacks of snacks that hugged the walls like she'd once overheard? Or - no, wait - were their walls possibly made out of gingerbread, like in the tale Hansel and Gretel? Her hopping stopped dead as the girls' emerald eyes widened in sudden realization. Were Hufflepuffs the secret coven of wicked witches and wizards who lured in children to devour them whole? With no mercy whatsoever? But .. weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be friendly or something? Before her thoughts could spiral further into a sugary horror fantasy however, the sound of approaching footsteps cut through the silence of the deserted corridor and made her perk up. There he was! The pink-haired boy rounded the corner, arms and backpack overloaded with various treasures like clothes, somehting that looked like a curly wig, and.. were those masks? The Metamorph leaned her head to the side before breaking into her usual, happy grin, “Mama! You really went all out!” Of course he had. Since the moment Novalie had met him, she had known there was something genius about Mamori, maybe a little bit odd, but obviously he was a master of the spy lifestyle. And here he went again saying something weird. “Partner in commerce?”, Novalie repeated with one eyebrow raised in confusion. Who even said that? “It’s called partner in crime, actually. But, I mean, it’s okay. Commerce does sound almost the same and all, so I get where you're coming from.” He made a comment about her outfit too, seemingly surprised by her pajama for whatever reason, which made her glance down at herself for a moment, contemplating if she'd done something wrong, but couldn't quite grasp the issue. So she figured it was once again her friend just being something else. Also, she had a more important task at hand right now, so Novalie decided not to press further. As soon as he knelt down and opened his now empty backpack, spreading the clothes out beside him on the cold stone floor, Novalie lit up. Inside, itt looked cozy enough - perfect, even. Of course, the redhead wouldn't hesitate any longer. With the flourish of a magician revealing her grand finale, she brought her hands forward and presented her prize, practically shoving the enormous spider in front of Mamori's eyes! “TADAA!” The spider, in stark contrast to Novalie’s enthusiasm, was visibly on edge, its legs were curled in a menacing posture, appearing ready to attack as soon as it was able to and ... was that a hiss? “Wow!”, Novalie gasped, “I didn’t even know spiders could make that sound!” Unbothered by its obvious hostile display, she crouched down and gently tried to guide it into the open backpack. But the moment her fingers loosened, the spider launched itself - not into the bag, but straight into Mamori’s face! “Oh!”, she chuckled, “Caviar really seems to like you!” But that was surprising. He'd never leapt onto her like that before? Did Mama have a natural spider-attracting aura? Or maybe he smelled like flies? Because that was what spiders ate, wasn't it?

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