And The Rest Is History
date
29/09/25word count
797outfit
⁺₊ ☀︎ ⁺₊speech
#8C2626mentions
@Esme Hestridgenotes
xxx
Esme said something under her breath, something Lucille couldn't quite catch, but it sounded frustrated nonetheless. Lucille winced slightly, realizing Esme was probably a bit more annoyed at her silent display than she thought. Was there no pleasing this girl? It seemed no matter what Lucille did, Esme would let out a pointed sigh, perhaps roll her eyes or let out a huff. In reality, of course, Esme was much too poised to make such a display, but Lucille felt it nonetheless.
Although the other girl had assured her that everything was alright, and it was simply a result of her own rather unpleasant day, Lucille simply took that as a sign to continue her careful tread. She felt constantly on thin ice, even when Esme seemed to have put the entire situation past them. Unlike Lucille, she seemed content with her notes whenever Lucille glanced at her, having seemingly forgotten about the entire situation. One apology, and it was out of Esme's mind. Sighing, Lucille wished she could say the same for herself.
Her notes, however, were coming along much better than before, if only in the rush to be done with it all. Although her focus didn't look nearly as intent as Esme's, her pace was not half bad, consistently turning pages as she tried to push thoughts of their interaction out of her mind.
Everything seemed to be going according to plan now. At this rate, she would be done very soon, and she would be able to return to the dormitory and hold her cat close, telling her of her terrible day. Perhaps terrible was an overstatement; this interaction was really the only negative part of it. And it seemed it wasn't done yet. Esme spoke again, breaking the silence, something Lucille often did, but it almost startled her when she did so. It was a compliment, on her voice. At that, a soft smile spread upon Lucille's lips. This was Esme trying to make amends, she was sure. Her voice was nothing special, only really suited for lullabies, the soft, lilting tone often putting one to sleep, for better or worse. She could hardly claim t0 have the ability to sing something more complicated than "Mary Had a Little Lamb," but the notion was kind either way.
Lucille recognized it for what it was: extension of an olive branch. Her shoulders dropped slightly in relief, and her breathing slowed. She was determined to take it, and to follow along with whatever might make things better between them. For all she knew, that muttering under Esme's breath was a curse she'd planned to cast on Lucille. Of course, she would never expect that from Esme, but one can never be too careful.
"Thank you," she said finally, her voice softer and gentler than it had been before. "I don't really sing, unless you count singing to the animals in the barn. They always have quite an eager ear." Her words no longer sounded cautious, instead containing a level of poise that hadn't been there before, as if mimicking Esme's tone, although certainly not consciously. It was a little habit Lucille had picked up over the years that did not often manifest itself, but now, when she was trying so hard to be accepted, she fell right back into it.
It was true, though. Lucille's experience in singing and reading, for the most part, was in the barn, curled up with her mare, or in the pastures, with a little group of animals nestled close. They likely weren't there for her voice, more so for the warmth she provided, but Lucille swore that talking and singing to them would make them doze off quick, feeling so loved and treasured.
"You don't have to worry about me, you know," she said suddenly, setting her quill down and looking straight at Esme now. It seemed the few sentences from the girl had given her the courage to speak, and although Lucille lacked the tact that often accompanied Esme's words, her bluntness more than made up for it. "I am alright, and I don't resent you or anything. Just a bad day." She shrugged, picking up her quill again and continuing.
It was strange how quickly the girl's emotions would change, from being stressed and frantic one minute, to being calm the next. Truthfully, there were still parts of her inside that tugged at her heart, trying their best to cause some more unwelcome tension, telling her how terribly Esme must think of her. But the simple gesture to try to fix things had given her the courage to relax, and push those thoughts away, at least for now. After all, if she had tried to make her feel better, she couldn't possibly hate Lucille, could she?
| sta 7 eva 7 str 6 wis 5 arc 6 acc 4 calming presence |
And The Rest Is History
| E | ✧  ✧mentions. @Lucille Rosenhart.  Esme watched carefully for Lucille’s reaction, still feeling a reluctant sense of obligation to fix the situation at hand. After a dreadful few moments, it seemed Lucille had finally perked up — though it likely took less than two seconds, it felt like Esme had been staring at her for a minute before she got to watch her spirits lift. Her breathing her slowed and her shoulders were at ease now, resting at a far less wound position than just a few moments ago; like watching a flower unfurl once more after having been disturbed. Though far calmer than the jerky movements from before, Lucille's voice remained quiet, Esme noted with slight dissatisfaction — still, she’d take her wins where she could get them. She leaned her chin in the heel of her palm, leaning in, trying to convey more interest. Maybe even openness, if the slowly releasing tension in the Library so permitted. Quickly, Esme’s resolve to seem open was challenged. “The barn?” She found herself repeating, mild surprise coloring her tone. It wasn’t meant to be judgemental, not really — she just couldn’t have ever predicted that Lucille would talk about… a barn. Though then again, Esme realised with a slight tinge of shame, felt with a chill at the back of her neck, that she really didn’t know anything about Lucille. She had utterly failed at every protocol she thought she had memorised by heart; a humiliating realisation, frankly, no matter how annoying her partner had made her. She was supposed to be better at this; she knew how to behave, how to get people to talk and make exactly this type of social connection. She wasn't supposed to slip up like this. “Right,” Esme quickly added, not wanting the few seconds of silence to come off as if she was casting any more judgement on Lucille. She gave a polite nod, doing her best to train her smile into a more friendly one than usual. “Well, they must have good taste, then." She smiled, continuing on quickly. "Either way, you should consider lessons. I’m classically trained, myself. I’d like to think I know a good voice when I hear it.” Esme hadn’t had the chance to visit the rehearsal room at Hogwarts quite as often as she would have liked, but she considered herself talented enough for her opinion on these sorts of things to matter. It’s not like she was lying, either. Lucille lacked technique, her voice unrefined and plain, but still pretty. Very pretty, really; she’d heard her tutors speak of far less talented pupils grow to a genuinely high level with some dedication. “Do let me know if you decide to ever pursue it further. Perhaps I'll see you in the rehearsal room one of these days,” Esme added off-handedly, an attempt at that friendliness that felt ever so elusive since the beginning of her interaction with Lucille. Maybe if they spoke again on another day, she could get a second chance at a first impression, especially after how disastrous this had been up until a few moments ago. Esme had just been about to finish the topic there, moving to lift her quill and begin note-taking again, when she noticed Lucille putting her own quill down and straightening up. "You don't have to worry about me, you know. I don’t resent you or anything,” she said. “Just a bad day.” And just like that, her head was down again, and she was once again seemingly relaxed, taking her time with the piece of paper and the textbooks laid out on the library table; seemingly unaware of the now puzzled look Esme was wearing. “Right,” Esme said slowly, tone cautious on instinct as her mind worked overtime to find the appropriate response. She hadn’t meant to come off as worried or put Lucille on the spot; had she overcorrected? Really, the strongest feeling Esme could pinpoint was embarrassment at how all had turned out, not any particular concern. Though saying this to Lucille would have been far too rude, she didn’t really care for the girl’s opinion of her. Frankly, all of this would have been far easier to deal with if Lucille insulted Esme and stormed off after Esme made her comment; she would have felt no duty to calm her down, then. Lucille’s sadness, however, was tougher. It was the consequence of a behavior and trait Esme never wanted to be associated with: thoughtlessness. Really, Esme was just doing herself back to steady footing. Still, if Lucille was kind enough to assume Esme’s intentions were far lovelier than they actually were, then the only thing Esme could do was be grateful in return. “Right. Well, thank you… though, I must say, I’m only doing what I would hope anyone would do in a situation like this,” she said with a small shrug of her shoulders. Her voice moved at a more measured pace, now, picking her words with great care to hopefully strike the perfect balance between sounding humble yet like a proper good person. “Either way, I'm truly grateful for your forgiveness.” She held Lucille’s eye contact there at the end, not going back to her notes quite yet. She wanted this last thread of their rather unpleasant interactions wrapped up neatly, and Lucille had just given her the perfect opportunity to do so; what better reassurance than officially spoken forgiveness?  wc. 901 notes. none. ✧✦✧ |
H |
thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |