Blue Jay Way
It was 2 AM, and Tilly was skulking through the castle, seeing what trouble she could get into. She had been tossing and turning in bed since 10 PM, and nothing was helping her fall asleep. It was her own fault; she had stayed up listening to the Blue Jays play in the World Series on the radio her parents had gotten her in Diagon Alley. It had been heartbreaking listening to them get so close to winning it all just to come up short at the very end. Unfortunately for her, a month of staying up late to listen to baseball had caught up with her, and her sleep schedule was messed up.
At about 145, Tilly had taken off her pajamas and put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She set off into the castle and made her way up to the second floor. She slipped out her wand and quietly said, "Alohomora," while pointing the tip at the lock on the classroom door. It clicked open, and she quickly cracked the door and slipped in before closing it. She wasn't sure what to do and immediately wished she'd brought a book or something. She needed something, anything, to help her pass the time insomnia kept her from sleeping.
She settled on practicing some of her Charms work. She had been running through different things she could try to do to get herself tired. She thought about counting sheep and, in her mind, wondered whether or not the repetitive motion of casting a spell would help her fall asleep. She started practicing locking and unlocking a lock she'd found on one of the shelves.
Blue Jay Way
| E | ✧  ✧location. second floor classroom. date. 4th of november, around two in the morning. mentions. @Matilda Nowell.  Perhaps one of the most annoying parts of being a prefect was patrols. Late night, empty, dark castle, Scottish weather in the middle of the night, always combined with an early start the day after. For the past week, the combination of all the elements of a patrol had been making Esme groggy and unable to focus through her first class come next morning. Even hearing the word “patrol” now made her want to roll her eyes. She’d hear it too many times in the past two weeks; and every single time she did, she grew more and more convinced that the whole ordeal with Silas that led her to getting this position in the first place had not been worth it. Of course, patrols were done in shifts. The Hogwarts faculty wasn’t so sadistic as to make one person stay up all night, scouring the halls for anyone out past curfew; though she wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking they were — they still had students making sweeps of the halls at all hours of the night, after all. Usually, Esme was able to pull the newbie first year card, and get out of the later slots, but this week, it didn’t work. She pulled the metaphorical short straw and was told that yes, she would indeed have to go out and do her due diligence in keeping Hogwarts safe and free from rule-breakers. Esme had reacted with a restrained nod then, but now that the time to patrol had actually come, she’d been dragging her feet the whole night. Who cared if people were walking around past ten, or, in the case of her lower year peers, nine? Was this really a matter of school safety? Did Hogwarts really have no more pressing issues to worry about? Or, at the very least, a prefect more qualified than a very cold eleven year old? The tail end of October still held some warmth; the same could not be said for the beginning days of November. Even during daytime, Esme found herself pulling the robes of her uniform tighter around herself, always with a sweater as her base layer, including now; also forced to pair her skirt with fleece-lined tights to try and maintain some sense of style even when the cold bit at her skin. Still, with every precaution taken, 2AM was a different beast than the daytime entirely, and one Esme had not been prepared for. She padded along the second floor corridor, shoulders raised and arms braided around her torso to maintain some semblance of warmth. The cold had reached her hands, now, and she wished she’d brought along her coat. As stupid as it would have looked to be wearing it inside, at least she would have some pockets to put her hands in. It’s not like she looked any less dumb, walking around with permanently crossed arms, and at least pockets were a more reliable method of getting relief from the cold. Really, Esme had half a mind to call it a night and fib if anyone asked her about how the patrol went. She was tired, and cold, and nothing had come up… until, of course, it did, and fate forced to take note. Soon after Esme rounded the corner, she saw a figure at the other end of the dim corridor; she couldn’t quite make out who the silhouette belonged to, but she was unfortunate enough to tell the stranger had definitely just unlocked a door and slipped inside. Whoever they were, it was definitely past curfew, according to rule nine in the student handbook — and using magic to sneak into locked rooms was a clear violation of rule eighteen, as well. Esme sighed. She considered turning around and minding her own business. If any mischief maker in this school was dedicated enough to stay up until two in the morning on a Tuesday just to cause trouble, she said let them — they clearly cared far more about whatever they were doing than Esme did. Unfortunately for her, the handbook she’d been told to internalize did not share her opinion, and the small silver badge pinned to her sweater made it very clear that this was, indeed, her business. With a small sigh, Esme fixed her posture. She would not be confronting anyone hunched over with her arms wrapped around herself — the indignity would be far too much to take, especially in her current state. She immediately mourned the loss of the faint warmth in her fingers, flexing them at her sides instinctively before moving her hand up to comb her hair into a neater state. She sped up her gait; the faster she could get this over with, the better it would be for everyone involved. The door was closed when Esme approached it, but whoever was inside clearly hadn’t bothered to lock it. It gave way the moment she pushed down on the handle, creaking quietly as Esme stepped inside. A number of lamps hung low on chains from the ceiling, illuminating the figure Esme had come here to catch — a tall girl, currently standing by one of the shelves lining the walls, wand in hand, repeating the same movements, time and time again. She had red hair that hung just above her shoulders, and almost insultingly plain clothes, a simple sweatshirt and jeans. Esme cleared her throat, braiding her hands behind her back so the girl wouldn’t see her fidget with them.“A bit late to be out practicing spellwork, isn’t it?” She said. Her face was already trained into a polite, though undeniably irate expression; a smile stretching across her lips, though not quite far enough to reach her eyes. Perhaps it’d hold more warmth if Esme herself wasn’t currently freezing.  wc. 964 notes. none. ✧✦✧ |
H |
thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |
Blue Jay Way
Tilly knew she was busted before the voice behind her even spoke. She heard the gentle creak of the door and felt the warm air get sucked out of the classroom and into the drafty corridor before the person could close it. Till looked over to the corner of the room and saw Barf curled up and fast asleep in the corner. "Some guard dog you are," she said dryly before the intruder had a chance to say anything. As the new girl spoke, Tilly did not take her eyes off the lock, continually unlocking and relocking it until the girl was finished talking.
Finally, once the girl was done talking, Tilly began to turn around, but did so very slowly as if to underline just how much of an inconvenience this was to her. When she was finally facing the girl, she put on a reproachful look as if to say, 'How dare you interrupt my work.' As she stood there with that look of smug superiority on her face, she surveyed the new arrival.
The first thing she noticed was that the girl clearly thought she looked good with her fleece-lined tights and her skirt, but the trade off was that the new girl looked very cold. Tilly liked that. "Bold move marrying the tights and the skirt. You know, they say looking good is feeling good, but you look like you just left the penguin enclosure." She may not have been straight off the pages of Vogue, but damn if she wasn't at least comfortable in this drafty old castle. "You'll have to let me know if the cold you're in the process of catching me was worth looking so stylish in the middle of the night."
Tilly had no idea who this bitch was, but she already strongly disliked her. Yes, sure, she was out of bed and roaming the corridors after the witching hour. What was she supposed to do? Lie there in bed, wide awake. She wanted to do something with time that would be otherwise wholly unproductive and frustrating, and she didn't want to do that in her dorm where she could disturb her fellow students. But no, instead, she decided to do what was the kind thing and go somewhere else. She was in a classroom, not the Forbidden Forest.
She finally felt compelled to respond to the girl's question, and before she even spoke, she knew it was going to get her in trouble, but she didn't care, "Yes, that's right, I couldn't sleep so I threw some comfy clothes on and went to the closest empty classroom to the Hufflepuff common room so I could practice my charm work in here. How very naughty of me." She did nothing to hide the smug superiority in her voice. Who was this girl to judge her? "I stupidly thought it would be impolite to practice in my dorm with my classmates but, you know, that's fine because we can just go up there right now and you can tell them how they also don't get to sleep tonight because I had the audacity to go for a walk to try and clear my head and do something repetitive so I can sleep." The sarcasm grew more and more the longer she talked, and the mounting frustration and anger made the fire in her Veela blood flare up and it added to the intensity she was showing.
"So, before your mouth writes a check that can't be cashed while you're there shivering in your tights, why don't you slither in to bed and leave me to unlock and then lock this door another 50 times. In fact, you can pull up a lock and just go nuts, maybe the hot air you'll expend practicing will keep you warmer than those leg coolers you're wearing."
Interacting: @Esme Hestridge
Mentioning: @N/A
Blue Jay Way
| E | ✧ ✧mentions. @Matilda Nowell. “Some guard dog you are.” There were plenty of reactions that Esme could have expected; this was not one of them. She thought the person inside might be surprised; a first year who got a bit too big for their britches and didn’t realize patrols were… well, a thing in Hogwarts. Maybe someone who was overwhelmed and needed a break; both of these, frankly, were things she wouldn’t care for. Esme had no interest in giving out detentions to people who did not deserve them, no matter how cold and irritated she was. Hell, Esme had no interest in giving out detentions, period — the idea of then having to waste her time supervising someone who broke one rule of twenty-four for hours while they did some inane task… boring. Really, she would have let all of this go with any excuse. Could have been a lie — anything that would have let Esme be on her merry way to finish this stupid patrol and get to bed. To her comfortable, warm bed. She would have accepted, even expected, to some degree, was anger. She was annoyed and angry, too. She could understand. What she neither understood nor expected were the playground insults that the girl in front of her was now spouting. The look on her face, too — downright indignant. As if she was well within her rights to be there, and Esme was the one being rude by interrupting her 2AM escapades. Merlin’s sake, Esme wanted to huff; she would have, too, if not for the complete lack of energy. In some other situation, this would have been funny; right now, it just made Esme reconsider ever reporting Silas’ behaviour in the first place. The girl spat something about a penguin enclosure, smug smirk plastered across her face like it had earned its place — Esme could feel her usually manicured expression fall, twisting in disgust. Was this girl being intentionally dense, or did she genuinely think like this? Esme was quickly reminded that it wouldn’t do her any favors to sit there silently, no matter her thoughts on the matter, and the slight wound to her pride that came with being attacked over her appearance. Neither would it help to outright cuss this insolent girl out and get herself removed from the position she acquired barely two weeks ago; still, a personal insult required a personal response, and Esme was not one to leave personal matters unresolved. She schooled her expression; forcing her eyebrows to only lift herself towards her hairline. She nodded along, waiting for the girl to pause her tirade, smoothing out the ever important skirt in the meantime. Chatterbox, this one, apparently. Not that it mattered. “Right,” Esme said, disgust-curled upper lip replaced with a sickly sweet smile. Her tone was deliberately slowed down, as if she were talking to an idiot or a particularly troublesome child. “I'm going to spell it out for you, because I doubt someone with your… vocabulary can tell, but this is merino.” She gestured to the tights in question. “Now, before you comment on clothes that are worth double everything in your trunk, I'd suggest finding something that fits you better than whatever that thing you got from the lost and found bin does. And maybe something for that blight on your face,” Esme sneered, glancing between the girl's sweatshirt and the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. “Soap and water can work wonders, you know.” The girl continued speaking. Not surprising; decidedly not impressive, either. Esme curbed the urge to roll her eyes. Woe is you. Did this girl think she was the only person in Hogwarts with issues falling asleep? What, was the next excuse going to be homesickness? Missing her mother? If she had started with those, Esme really wouldn’t have cared — unfortunately, now that she had been all but called a hag, it had turned personal. Really, what was it with redheads in this school and getting on Esme’s nerves? At least Cecilia would have had the decency to try and lie to Esme’s face about why she was out past curfew before trying to make fun of her clothing choices. “Now isn't that a great idea!” Esme's smile, still sweet to the point of nausea, widened, her voice taking on even more of a pre-school teacher tone when the other girl (finally!) stopped talking. “I’d gladly walk you back. And while we're at it, we can stop by miss Alarie’s office, too. I am sure that she would just love to know that one of her students is sneaking out the dorms and then calling prefects of other houses dogs when caught.” She lifted her chin, eyes slightly narrowed, and lips curled into a sneer. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think she would be particularly pleased to hear it.” “So, before we do that, or waste any more of my time with your little… idea, let’s call it,” Esme stepped closer to the girl — this time, she wanted to be quicker, not letting her get a response in and continue on with her word vomit, “I'm going to do the nice, mature thing, and let you try again. I recommend starting with ’I’m sorry’ this time.” wc. 881 notes. none. ✧✦✧ |
H |
thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |
Blue Jay Way
Matilda rolled her eyes in a very pronounced way as she walked across the room to the corner where Barf was napping, picking him up. "Oh, good god almighty are you annoying," she said in a very exasperated tone as she cradled Barf in his arms, "Barf, annoying prefect who is... apparently way oversensitive," she said with a rigid formality that was clearly mocking the other girl while looking down at Barf, "annoying prefect who is apparently way oversensitive, Barf." She said with a faux reverent nod to the girl who was getting more and more annoying by the second.
Now it was the snooty prefect who was mocking her, talking about Merino, and not the Arsenal midfielder. She clearly had a quite high opinion of herself and her station. Matlida could only assume she was one of these snooty pureblood bitches who thought being one of the old wizarding families actually made you royalty. She let out a scoff as she listened to the girl, "I suppose just because you're tarted up in them you're hot shit," she said with a smirk before continuing, "Seeing as how this was a private party that you are quite rudely crashing I tend to think my clothes are of no concern for you, but rest assured, my wardrobe could go to toe to toe with yours and come out comfortably on top," finally she paused and gave her an icy look, "And this is simply the sun kissed face you get from going out and touching grass, perhaps you should try it sometime."
But still, this bitch just wouldn't shut up; she clearly really liked the sound of her own voice. She still couldn't believe she was so clueless as to think that Matlida was calling her a dog and not her, you know, actual dog. "I actually think she'll be far more annoyed that a prefect could be so dumb to think someone was calling them a dog when a literal dog is sitting in the corner." She said with a wry chuckle while gently scratching behind Barf's ear. "It's ok, I might be able to save you from embarrassment because I hear she loves animals, so I can just have Barf be super cute and maybe she'll just forget about the fact that you woke her up to act like a stroppy little tart."
And now, she had the unfettered audacity to act like she was doing Matilda a favor and letting her 'start over'. "I'm sorry," she said, feigning genuine remorse, "I'm sorry... that I can be in here... bothering no one... just practicing my charms work... and some prefect on a power trip can just burst in here... cause a scene... and tell me I'm the one that needs to start over." There was an edge to her voice now that had some real venom to it. And why not? She couldn't sleep. She wasn't bothering anyone. "So I'm going to do you one better: you can turn around, close the door, and then come back in, and tell me how cute my crup is, and we'll be the friends I suspect we probably should be, since you and I do seem to share some qualities."
Interacting: @Esme Hestridge
Mentioning: @N/A