By The Water's Edge
☪︎
created by the incredible cirrus nam!
| september twenty|outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
903.200|interacting with @Graci Laren
ℬrookline's thoughts were wild. They were absolutely insane, and even she couldn't deal with them sometimes. Now, in late in the first month of her third year, all she could hear was voices and unclean, negtive thoughts. Sometimes she, and mostly Old Brookline was quite surprised at how easily she judge someone in her head. She probably didn't want to do it, yet, she couldn't stop. It was carving a midnight-coloured hole in her heart. And she couldn't stop the black veins spreading across the organ.
The Welsh Ravenclaw gazed down at her outfit and saw stains. She cringed. She wore a cream knit sweater and dark, black jeans. The sweater wore tons of grubby stains, and had a dark hue. She took a look in her quite messy trunk, expecting to pull out nothing, when her hand reached for a book. She wanted to clear her thoughts and read. Of course she did. She always did and it never worked. Brookline shut the lid after grabbing a hair bubble. Fingers would work their skill to create two half-formed Dutch braids, fly-a-ways and brunnete bangs peeked out. She didn't care. Who did?
Exitting her dorm room, she called out one last half-hearted goodbye to Tigeress, she headed down the winding stairs of Hogwarts. Being a experienced third year Ravenclaw, Brookline knew which step was horribly wrong and which was not. She knew how many steps til the vanishing one. Jumping over the vanishing one, she continued til she was on the ground, and entering the Great Hall, she would sit to eat a sausage or two for supper. She never ate much for anything, now. Too homesick for a home she couldn't have.
Once finshed, Brookline took a swig of water, and headed out for the Grounds. The best place, she thought, to read was outside. She just hoped it wasn't too cold. For September though, it wasn't quite fall yet.
Would the Boathouse be a okay spot to read? She'd speak quietly to herself, her novel pressed to her chest. Brookline nodded, and she moved toward the Great Lake. She'd always liked the water. The lake was a sense of peace for her, a stark contrast to the loud voices in her, fighting for space in her already full of space mind. Her skull could not take much more. She got headaches more frequently now, honestly, it kinda sucked.
Those fierce migraines made her go to bed with a throbbing skull and red eyes. They were not fun. Brookline would sometimes have dreams and wake up with aches, as well. It would take her forever to fall back to sleep due to the terror of the ephialtes and anxiety. Nightmares were absolutely terrible. Anxiety was even more terrible.
Horrible, even.
Grim. Distressing.
Even more evil than a wizard could say "Avada Kedavra" and blinding, green light could cosume her.
Entering the Boathouse, she went by the dark water's edge, and sat crossed-legged, setting her book by the side of her. She turned around, fideting, and she noticed some portraits on the walls. Changing her mind, and deciding not to think about the pictures in the frames, Brookline gazed out at the water, spacing out a bit. She loved the ripples, and just to create a wave, she stuck her pointer finger in to swirl it around.
Brookline opened her book and turned to page 334, where she left off the last time she read the novel. Skimming through the book - she'd already read this book and was rereading it as she flipped the pages. She loved this book. True, she loved all books, nonetheless this book held a adoring part in her heart.
What was left of it.
She was just on the juicy scence when another witch came on down from the cold castle. The girl stepped down from the winding staircase, her long, wavy, brown hair a fringe, and the fact that she was few inches taller than Brookline. The girl looked like she could be a second year or third year, like the Ravenclaw. She was moving towards the water as well. In her hands, was a small journal and a pen. She had never seen such a pen. She knew Muggles didn't necessarily use quills much, yet, she never usually saw pens at Hogwarts much either. The girl sat down, having not noticed Brookline yet. Brookline wouldn't have cared otherwise, anyways.
Old Brookline would have already given the taller girl a bright smile and wave. Perhaps she would have introduced herself. Yet, New Brookline wouldn't. As much extroverted she was, she wanted her peace.
She stayed on her side of the Boathouse, stormy blue eyes trained to the yellowed, fragile pages of her volume. Her untidy, brunnete braids fell into her face, and she moved the stubborn hair aside, trying to avoid the other girl as much as possible. She absolutely hated human interaction, at this moment, even though Brookline would walk around Hogwarts, expecting not to talk to anyone but she does talk to at least someone. Of course she always had to talk to someone. Today, it was her mission to not talk to this girl. Only if the girl spoke first. Only if.
Brookline would turn the old page, and prayed to ever-good Merlin that she would not have any conversation with this other witch. Yet, again, Brookline would be sorely wrong, of course.
occ note: graci gave me permission to mention her character!
☪︎
By The Water's Edge
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────By the Water's Edge | Outfit ♜ #6a0000 ♜ Boathouse ♜ @Brookline Quinn ♜ Thoughts |
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| ── | I'm out, thank goodness. Graci was not quite sure if it was a sigh or gasp of relief when she stepped out of the castle, despite the chill in the air. Usually she was fine with it, the simultaneous incessant chatter and crushing silence, but sometimes... sometimes it was all just too much. She couldn't tell anyone, of course, no, over-stimulation was not something she experienced. At least, that's what she silently debated with the crunching grass and dead leaves as she walked away, away, away. Her breath came in white puffs into the chilled air, though only if you were looking for them... it wasn't quite that cold yet. It wasn't bad weather, per se, simply nothing out of the ordinary. Autumn was coming, undoubtedly, if it was not already upon them, the death and decay seemingly... beautiful. Leaves wilting, browning, and the occasional one turning yellow, orange, or red at its tips. Her destination was the boathouse, for no particular reason. if she wanted to be alone, she could simply go to the courtyard, walk amongst the trees, around the lake, perhaps? Even her dorm room if Azzure wasn't there. Alas, Graci had decided the sequestered boat house might be better despite the rather unsavoury memories she had of the place since last year. Her boots thudded against the ground, towards the looming structure she remembered from last year. Then onto stone, then wood, Graci went, entering the gloomy place thick with a serene silence, interrupted only by her footfalls and slowing breaths as she calmed down. Her journal and pen in hand, not planning to actually write but bringing them for the comfort they provided. The journal was from her mother, given to her over the summer for her thoughts, perhaps out of pity or something more like motherly affection Graci was over complicating. She shivered against the slight breeze, her jacket doing little to help, though she was sure if she hadn't brought it she would have deeply regretted it. Immediately Graci noticed the girl sitting by the water on the other side of the room, deciding she would refrain from engaging just yet... her mind was tired of talking to people for about five more minutes. Ignorance was bliss, so why not feign some bliss for a few minutes? She practically melted onto the ground, a soft sigh escaping her, finally away from everything and everyone except for the other girl in the room, though that didn't count as company. Perhaps I should talk to her... would I seem rude if I didn't? Though, if she came here, perhaps it was for the quiet? Graci shook her head with an exhaled breath, tapping her pen against her journal, seemingly unable to stay still now that she was out of the bustling castle. Her eyes scanned the water, how it rippled and lapped against the little strip of shore. Peaceful. Unreasonably coloured, considering it was a clear substance. Another thing constantly confounding the young girl, odd as it was. Graci turned her head slightly, taking a breath and opening her mouth, then immediately closing it again, lightly tapping her foot in the air to a rhythm she couldn't quite remember. Let's think. If I was sitting in a boathouse and someone came in, would I want them to talk to me? Depends on the mood I'm in. Let's hope she's in a good mood today. "So, what brings you to the boathouse on a day such as this?" When Graci actually looked over instead of furtive glances out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed the book in this stranger's hands. Oops. The young Gryffindor girl was well acquainted with readers who did not like to be interrupted. She lived above a bookstore after all, and had witness many of her father's annoyed bouts when he was interrupted in the middle of reading. | xxx |  |
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♜Word Count: 648 | 09/20/25 - Code Inspired By some of Draven Mirador's coding |
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Stats: Sta 7 ☆ Eva 8 ☆ Str 6 ☆ Wis 7 ☆ ArcPow 5 ☆ Acc 7 ☆ Prodigial Charms ☆ Sixth Sense
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By The Water's Edge
☪︎
created by the incredible cirrus nam!
| september twenty|outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
1,024.200|interacting with @Graci Laren
ℬrookline sighed lengthy as she flipped through the dusty, well-loved pages as of her novel. It was all she could to fight her conscious to not wrap her long arms around the fragile book, lest it might break the peeling spine, and a good tome fall apart.
As she read, her attention grew divided as the other girl’s boots pounded against the stairs, her wavy hair tumbling down her back. Brookline could have sighed, her eyes flipping back her novel. She couldn’t focus on anything, as her whispering mind was whirring with the thoughts what the girl might say and what she might blurt on this day what was supposed to be tranquil, a breath time for her. The Ravenclaw sat there, fuming, as she shifted from her original position to a side-sitting pose. Setting her book in her lap, Brookline continued reading, causing it to look like she had never seen a stranger walk inside the Boathouse. Perhaps the Hogwarts student never noticed her either. Perhaps the girl strode right inside, her head in the heaven-high clouds and didn’t pay attention to Brookline? Perhaps that is what Brookline clung to that hope, desperate for her wish to come true.
Brookline kept her stormy eyes on the blurring words of her paperback, keeping note as the other witch sank to the ground, emitting a gentle sigh, as she started to strike on her notepad with her pen. The Ravenclaw girl tried shutting out all noise as her eyes volleyed back to her novel, hoping to ignore this other girl as long as she could. It would mean a lot to her if she wouldn’t be able to talk or speak or say anything to this girl right here; despite the fact that she is overwhelming extrovert, and that she loved interacting with people, although, when it was the right time to do so.
Brookline flicked her eyes with a clandestine glance, and she noticed that the witch from the opposite of the Boathouse, that the girl had not yet cracked open her journal, nor set pen to parchment paper. Narrowing her blue eyes, the Welsh girl’s gaze slid back to her surroundings and a small voice sounded.
Staring, are you? The intrapersonal whisper cackled maniacally just like a wicked and ungodly sorceress who just slid off in the starry night on her crooked broom, her huge wart trembling on her pale green nose.
At first, Brookline gaped mentally at her conscience, and she trembled at the sheer laugh inside herself; the words hurt like sticks and stones jabbing at her as even more whispers tittered and tattered around Brookline’s intelligent brain, and she tried to tell the voices to stop. She decided she would answer the voice, like she’d done always, even though she did always thought it was quite queer to be talking back to her odd scruples, yet, she had decided, this time, to shake her head gently, and think, No, just watching out for my surroundings. Then, her dark blue eyes went back to her book, her mind speaking with crude and disorganized thoughts, and then the Ravenclaw witch was reading the sentence as least dozen times. She reread and then continued to revisit the same sentence another dozen times.
Why the hell can’t I read on!? Brookline thought, her patience thinning. This is so stupid!
That was when the other girl called out to her, wondering what had brought Brookline out to the Boathouse. The Ravenclaw girl could have sighed. Of course she hadn’t earned the very wish. The other witch had asked her a painstakingly question, and Brookline just had to answer it. Of course. Of course the universe and the whole ding dang world just had bring this upon her and crush her head. When her skull was already crushed with voices that gorged for high expectations, and everything else in the Brookline just couldn’t do. Of course, she just had to be that polite person, raised up to be well-mannered, civil and obviously, lady-like. Certainly, the pure-blood girl would be expected to do this, and that, yet, never what she wanted to do. The world just wanted to hurl different odds and ends at Brookline, just to laugh and jeer at her when she collapsed and failed, dark tears like a potion’s toxin, running down her pale cheeks as bitter chuckles and long sighs escaping from her pink lips that stated, of course.
The Welsh witch brought up a counterfeit of smile she would have grinned two years ago, and shrugged at the other girl. Brookline took a few moments to figure out her words and then nodded at the girl across from her.
“Eh, after a long, uneventful day, I do what everyone does to prevent from going mad here, take a little, refreshing walk, and then, go to a tranquillity place where I can read and read til curfew. And I’ve decided the Boathouse, it’s quiet nature and the gentle lapping of the lake,” Brookline half-fibbed, her voice surprisingly soft, and her brain unexpectedly going with her fast terminological inexactitude, even though, technically, it was more of a half a truth than anything. Of course, the Welsh girl where the border line went with harmless fibbing, and she was quite sure she would not stoop that to the boundary. “What about you?”
Brookline only gave her underclassmen a few moments to respond when she closed her book, and set it aside. “I’m Brookline. Brookline Quinn, resident third year Ravenclaw. And you?” The Welsh witch stayed where she was, and pursed her lips, yet, added another sentence to her little introduction speech, “I assume you’re the same age as me, guessing by your height, or just a little younger. Either way, it’s nice to meet you!”
The Ravenclaw’s light tone was feigned, and laced with fake politeness, and the very fact that she was completely astonished at how easily her body didn’t react to it abnormally, and how the obnoxious voices seemed to ebb for at least a little bit. Brookline smiled nicely at her new friend as she waited for the other witch to respond.
occ note:
☪︎
By The Water's Edge
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────By the Water's Edge | Outfit ♜ #6a0000 ♜ Boathouse ♜ @Brookline Quinn ♜ Thoughts |
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| ── | The soft flipping of pages on the other girls part was rather nice. Comforting, almost. Reminding Graci that she was in the present, not somewhere up in the clouds with only her thoughts. Both necessary, but daydreams and melancholy could never last for too long without hurting. Everything in moderation, Graci reminded herself, picking up a pen, though only fidgeting with the cap, not opening it. The cover of her journal was worn, but not because she used it often (though she did, lately), but because it was a very nice texture for one to run their fingers over. Very nice when feeling overstimulated. The corner, especially, was rather worn, having been picked at for weeks, almost to the point of disintegration. Well, there goes another thing I've ruined. It was a relief when the older girl answered. At least now I don't have to sit here awkwardly. Wondering. Sure, it would have been just fine to sit in silence, but an unanswered question seemed rather rude. Then again, Graci might have been rude simply by piercing the cold quiet. One could never be too sure. She listened attentively, pulling her knees towards her chest, shifting to further face what was hopefully her newest conversation companion. Okay, well, she's smiling so it can't have been too horrid of me. "Well then," Graci said, "I suppose I must give you my sincerest apologies for interrupting such tranquility, surely! Just another of the hoard, come to take away more sanity, I would say if I were more poet-like. Unfortunately, I'm not. Though perhaps fortunately, for you." She paused for a moment, taking a light breath, about to apologize for going on such a rant about nothing. Ah, but that would only make it longer. She gave a wry smile at that, internally chuckling a little. Graci all but perked up when asked of what she was doing there. A bit of narcissism popped into her thoughts at the question, always one to talk about herself. Most times, at least, other times it was nice to remain unknown. Graci figured it was simply because one could never be too sure of much other than ones self. "Much the same as yourself. It gets quite... overstimulating, I suppose, in there." She glanced back over the lake. It felt odd to have such a mundane conversation after the racous chatter in her mind. It was nice, though, and this girl seemed much the same. Nice, that is. A delighted smile took over the young Gryffindor girl's face at the introduction, piping back with one of her own. "It's lovely to meet you, Brookline. I'm Graci Laren, Gryffindor. And I am in second year, be that good or bad, though I'm flattered you think I look more mature than I really am." Or perhaps it was a thinly veiled insult. Most likely a simple observation, but an over active mind never seemed to pass over such comments. She'd had something of a growth spurt over the summer, not too noticable at that time, but rather odd now that she was seeing people she knew again. Then again, most things seemed odd and out of place now, as Graci had not yet had the time to readjust. New year, new expectations, none likely to be met, but romanticized all the same. | xxx | |
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♜Word Count: 555 | 09/20/25 - Code Inspired By some of Draven Mirador's coding |
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Stats: Sta 7 ☆ Eva 8 ☆ Str 6 ☆ Wis 7 ☆ ArcPow 5 ☆ Acc 7 ☆ Prodigial Charms ☆ Sixth Sense
sorry for the late and short reply<3
sorry for the late and short reply<3
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By The Water's Edge
☪︎
created by the incredible cirrus nam/fire!
| september twenty|outfit | xxx | xxx | english| welsh |
1,085.200|interacting with @Graci Laren
Perhaps the fact was that this younger witch was to seek her vulnerable weaknesses. The selfish thought slithered into Brookline’s skull with the feline-like grace of a violent, sliver viper.
Taking careful heed of the slight noise of lithe fingers twiddling with a plastic cap, Brookline flicked her gaze towards the sound. It was the other witch, fussing with the end of the odd gel pen, which seemed to be what was suspending the starry ink from dripping out. The Welsh Quinn furrowed her thin eyebrows, discombobulated.
What happens if she had anxiety like me? Brookline thought, a ivory tooth gnawed on the pink flesh of her chapped lips. Or she’s just impatient.
The query came out of the blue. In pure irritation, Brookline exhaled sharply, inwardly as brunette wisps of hair slide over her forehead, like a stubborn curtain. Her fingers would brush her hair aside before she shifted her neck to grin at the witch across from her.
The Ravenclaw witch dallied on the answer on the opposite girl’s question, acting as if she was reflecting on the inquiry. Then, genuine-sounding sentences tumbled out her lips, gracefully as if she was stating the very truth.
Fibs were lovely. They hid everything you needed to camouflage from others’ meddling natures. They also provided Brookline with comforted. Secrets were yet again kept safe. All the young Quinn had to do was to pretend. Pretend she was fine even if the girl asked.
A few beats passed as Brookline had shot the question back, setting her novel aside. She shifted around to meet the bright hazel iries of the girl just as the other witch swiveled around. It was natural as the Ravenclaw spoke to turn and face the younger youth. Brookline knew her prim and proper grandparents would like to know that their daughter taught their grandchildren to have social grace and polite mannerism.
The other nattered on, chattering about nonsensical and unimportant matters, first apologizing spittling the tranquil serenity.
Yet was there any peace? Brookline thought as she hearkened to the witch's similar answer. I don’t think tranquility can ever stay with me, or even begin with my presence.
“It’s no problem, I suppose I wasn’t getting much peace in the first place. I guess I just have things on my mind, yet, no worries.” The Welsh girl shrugged, moving her shoulders in a swift upward movement.
As the other moved her gaze towards the rippling, empowering lake, Brookline’s mind wandered around a small brick path, far away from the road which had the other girl’s words. Brookline pretended she was with her beloved, yet split family again, posing for a portrait, a rich pure-blood using their expensive tools to layer colours togethers. She could practically feel her father’s large, warm hand setting upon her shoulder, his smile huge and loving for his spouse and offspring, and see her siblings beam a bright grin. Her mother was in a simple frock, much like Brookline’s, her eyes happy and her lips tied in a genuine smile.
Then the comforting image disappeared, like a salty wave crashing into the sandy shore, causing the imprint in the sand to mix together and vanish, for that strong whim dying forever as Brookline knew it could never happen.
The Ravenclaw racer slid her vacant gaze back to the witch, realizing that the girl had introduced herself to Brookline, and she hadn’t acknowledged nor addressed the Gryffindor’s intro. She gave a distracted nod, and a shadow of an artificial grin, a poor yet convincing smile of Old Brookline’s smirk.
“Well, what a lovely name, Graci! And, Gryffindor? I can’t remember which family member of mine was part of the scarlet and gold. Anyways, it’s always a pleasure to be in a presence of a lion.” Brookline took a breath. It was extremely exhausting codding her attitude. While her words were true, her tone laced sheer excitement and flattery were all fake. It reminded her of that underclassmen, Harvey, @Harvey Barrows whom had used blandishment and puffery to compliment Brookline at her lowest and they confided in each other with their fathers. “I have a friend, whom you might know, @Avery Gray who is the same year and house as you, and she is the perfect definition of Gryffindor! Obviously she carries the traits of Godric Gryffindor, and I’m quite sure you as well do, given the Sorting Hat’s decision.”
Brookline, being such a hypocrite, yearned to hurl what little breakfast she had in her system; she loathed when people used flattery on her, even it was just admiration with verifiable words, yet, still look at the whited sepulcher now.
Graci radiated in palpable bliss, her words and tone reminding the wretched Brookline of her firmer and former self. Dark heart dropping, she exhaled. Keeping up wth her breathing was the one thing she could do to start feeling better to her old self. More than anything, the Welsh girl so desperately wished the shadow of Old Brookline. In fact, Brookline missed herself.
Itching for the conversation, as the letters and words prepared herself what to say. They also were comforting to the young Quinn, as she then knew what she would had liked to say to the second year. Brookline drummed the very tips of her fingers on the cool, stone ground before she tipped her neck up to face Graci again.
“Are you on a sports team? Quite random, I know, yet, I think Ravenclaw spring or winter race is against Gryffindor. I’m not sure, though, we’ve been busy in practice lately. I hope we win our first race this season!” As Brookline rambled on, she found out she quite liked the sound of her voice taking over, like a stern ruler ordering his warriors to storm into the neighboring kingdom. Even, despite the lack of genuine excitement in her tone. If you listened close enough, you might be able to tell that Brookline just may be on autopilot. Although she would never tell you that.
Honestly, she may not tell anyone. It was hard to tell what Brookline might to next. The thoughts in her head, though, were demanding her to leave before she’d snap at the poor second year. The Welsh girl didn’t want to leave, she was here first, anyway.
I suppose I could just stay in this conversation, Brookline thought, it’s not like I have anything to do. As numbness seeped across her fingers and body, she succumbed, slave to the persuasive, vile toxins her mind presented to her.
occ note: and my turn to apologize! sorry!!
☪︎
By The Water's Edge
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────By the Water's Edge | Outfit ♜ #6a0000 ♜ Boathouse ♜ @Brookline Quinn ♜ Thoughts |
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| ── | This lovely girl by the name of Brookline reminded Graci of her aunt. The intelligent eyes, ease of conversation, and the aching politeness that you never knew whether if it was genuine or not. The kind where it made you question if you had a shred of kindness, for who would question another's geniality? Katerina laughed more, though that was to be expected of family, not a stranger you met less than minutes ago. One who so expertly hid their emotions certainly had many, and likely a deep sadness. Not that Graci would know. Curiosity was ever a curse upon her, wanting but never knowing. Graci studied Brookline. In the least conspicuous she knew how, that was. Not in a weird way, just wondering what was behind the other girl's blue eyes. An annoyed, though distracted, exhale and such odd emotions flitting through like frames of an animation. Or the pages of a book in the breeze through a window. How odd it was, seeing someone simply exist in the space they occupied at certain moments. Latching onto the reassurance that she wasn't a bother, Graci felt a little better. Delusional, perhaps, but better all the same. The sincerity in the other girl's statement could be debated on and on, but the comfort that her presence was not an annoyance floated her thoughts away from such a dreary angle. Settling her chin on her knees, and her note book and pen beside her, the world felt much bigger. Like she was a shell in the broad sea called life. Brookline had the sort of far-away look in her eyes that made Graci all the more curious as to what was happening behind high walls. Or at least she figured her walls were high and well built. Otherwise she would merely be quite dull. And oh, how boring that would be. Wrapping her arms around her knees, Graci fiddled with the bracelets around her wrists. The other girl had been eyeing her playing with the cap on her pen, so it was merely a hope that fidgeting wasn't too much of an annoyance. A half-hearted nod and shallow smile were all she received upon her introduction. At least, her smile looked decidedly inauthentic to Graci's over-active perceptions. One never could quite tell a smiles origins. Unfortunately. Any negative thought or doubting statement whisping through her brain was gone at the sound of Brookline's easygoing tone. Her politeness was bordering on flattery, which was somewhat uncomfortable, as Graci felt to be quite a bit less deserving of the bold reputation. Alas. Just like it would be no use arguing with the hat, it would be the same here. Hopefully it was something to grow into. "I don't think I've met Avery but I did come across her cousin over the summer." Graci didn't mention the sorting choice. It still felt so wrong during late nights, those times when she remembered how courageous all the people were who had come before her. A dark look crossed her features for a split second before returning to her perpetual grin. It felt more performative now. Are you entertained? Graci thought it with a wry, internal scoff. But then, why am I being so negative? Must've been something in the air, but nothing a little ignorance couldn't fix. "Funny you ask that! I recently joined the broom racing team, though I'm just a tad nervous about the whole ordeal. And yeah, it's the winter match." All the matches were carefully penned into her messy calendar, pretty much the only coherent writing in the whole thing. But Brookline was on the Ravenclaw team? Graci didn't know why it came as a surprise to her, only that it did. How unfortunate it would be to go against each other on the track. Or fun. Graci wouldn't know. | xxx | |
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♜Word Count: 639 | 09/20/25 - Code Inspired By some of Draven Mirador's coding |
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Stats: Sta 7 ☆ Eva 8 ☆ Str 6 ☆ Wis 7 ☆ ArcPow 5 ☆ Acc 7 ☆ Prodigial Charms ☆ Sixth Sense
my draft kept resetting x-x
my draft kept resetting x-x
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