The Mail Swap PV Camille De Varenne

9 Jan 2026, 22:41

date: 08/01/2026
mentions: @Camille De Varenne

outfit: school robes with a navy knitted sweater
abilities: lovely creature

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𝐖hile quickly pulling a navy sweater over her head, Samantha rushed out the girls' dormitory to head down to breakfast. She wasn't usually one to lie in, ever the early bird, but the weather had dampened her energy a bit in the mornings. As she entered the Great Hall, many students were already enjoying their breakfast. Samantha would usually find someone to sit with or she would have brought a book with her to read, but since she was already late, she just quickly took a seat in the nearest empty spot she could find.

Samantha grabbed two slices of toast, smeared some jam on top, and started chewing away at a vast pace. Still, ever the stickler for rules, she uses the table manners she's been taught by her mother. She was always scared that her mother was somehow watching her and ready to send a howler her way if she even dared to slouch for a second. So, with a pin straight back and her elbows stuck to her sides, she cut up her toast and ate as quickly as she could before breakfast would come to an end and her long day of classes would start. The brunette already felt the last bit of her energy drained from her when she thought of the History of Magic class that would come right after breakfast. She couldn't think of a worse way to start her day. Luckily, a small smile could find its way onto her face as the owls flew in with letters and packages. Samantha was eagerly awaiting a response from her friend back home, Hannah.

But, as if her morning couldn't get any more dreadful, she got a letter from Grandmother Beaumont. Her smile immediately got replaced by an ugly scowl as she saw the neat, curly handwriting of her grandmother. No doubt she had written her response to the girl in French, as her grandmother always wanted Samantha to hone her skills. Whether those were language skills, playing an instrument, or even socialising, her grandmother would always find something for Samantha to practice.

She opened the envelope next to her plate and unfolded the letter to read. She skimmed over it, not having the time to fully read it due to her dilatoriness this morning. Still, as she skimmed over the words, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at some of the things her grandmother had written down. It took her some time to get through it, not bothering with any difficult words she'd come across. As always, the letter was in French, and she couldn't help but let out a small huff at the request that had been written down at the start of the letter to write her back in French. Samantha had often refused, writing back that it was too difficult and that she could far better express her thoughts and feelings in English. Nevertheless, her grandmother was a persistent woman, always demanding more of the young girl.

Then again, she had told her countless times before that she was 'the only hope that her family had left'. Maryvonne Beaumont had grown to be disappointed in both of her daughters; one had married a muggle and the other had decided to quit everything after her husband died in a car crash. Samantha's grandmother would have loved to see Lillian, Samantha's aunt, remarried after her husband died and give Maryvonne more grandchildren with another man, but she never did.

This is why Samantha has now halfway read through yet another letter reminding her of what she must be doing by now to avoid becoming a complete failure like both her mother and aunt. Samantha often ignored most of her commands, seeing as her grandmother wouldn't find out if she was lying about anything in her next letter anyway. She could be saying she's practised speaking French every day, and she wouldn't find out until the next social event she's most likely hosting at her large country home in Bedfordshire or her Château nearby Bordeaux. Samantha wished she'd never have to go to either of those places in her life ever again. Yes, she absolutely loved everything organised and having strict rules in place, but her grandmother could be quite exhausting at times. Always having something negative to say about someone. Then again, Samantha was of course grateful for the time she got to spend in France over the summers. Not everyone got the opportunity to do that. Yet, she was also grateful that for the past few years, she hadn't been forced to go to France much except for a weekend here and there. As breakfast was almost over, she quickly gulped down the last bit of orange juice left in her cup before making her way back to the large entrance of the Great Hall. She would just read the last few sentences, which would most likely be a few more questions about her time at Hogwarts, before she could quickly make her way to her dormitory to dump the letter and grab her bag. She'd be just in time for class.

'I wanted to thank you for playing the harp...' she translated in her head before skimming over a few words. She rolled her eyes as her grandmother mentioned 'Anna', which was meant to be Hannah, of course. '...A few weeks in the summer...,' her eyes flitted over the end of the page before they flew back to the sentence she'd just passed. Wait, something about the upcoming summer break, she thought to herself. She missed a few sentences while rushing through the letter. She read that part again carefully, making sure she could translate the French properly in her head, not wanting to make any mistakes. She scoffed out loud at the table, her nose scrunching up slightly as she read the ending again. And again. She quickly folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, making a small rip in the paper from being careless. She thought about making a quick detour to one of the two fireplaces situated in the Great Hall to throw the letter in, but decided against it, since she had to hurry now to not be late for class. She'd think of writing a proper response to the ridiculous announcement later. She grabbed the envelope and stormed away from the long table and towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Her eyes were red as she crumpled up the letter slightly in her hand. How dare she make such stupid demands, she can't simply expect me to―

Before Samantha could make it out of the Great Hall with the letter, she slammed into someone, causing her to drop the letter. "Watch where you're going," she snarled, even though she technically wasn't watching where she was going either. She couldn't be bothered to apologise to the boy she bumped into. She needed to fetch her bag before she could go to her first class, since she needed her books. She grabbed the envelope closest to her from the floor without even looking at who she bumped into before making a beeline for the stairs to get to her dormitory as quickly as she could.

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Stamina: 6 │ Evasion: 6 │ Strength: 3 │ Wisdom: 8 │ Arcane Power: 6 │ Accuracy: 6
Special abilities: Lovely Creature

19 Jan 2026, 00:29

date: 8/1/2026
location: Great Hall

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Samantha Jones

The return to Hogwarts seemed to be a time most students had been looking forward to; Camille was not one of those people. This Thursday morning was as dull as he’d remembered, one of the first mornings back after a well-deserved winter holiday, hectic with travel between France and Windsor, and the gala in Canterbury, yet the familiar routine and simple luxuries were something he enjoyed, compared to the unsatisfactory life in the castle. The new term brought few surprises in terms of accommodation; his dorm, luckily, was exactly how he’d remembered it, despite Lorenzo’s endless attempts at diminishing his work. The only thing out of the ordinary was that Camille managed to sleep past eight, a stark contrast to his criminally early mornings the previous semester. The Ravenclaw couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been tossing restlessly in bed before the sun had risen. Feeling surprisingly well-rested, Camille lingered in bed past his usual waking hours, for once savoring the silent morning. By the time he slid the curtain open and glanced at the other bunks, the dorm was mostly deserted, save for a few stragglers still stirring.

Camille carefully climbed down his top-bunk, as he’d done countless mornings before, and changed out of his pajamas to his tailored school uniform. Knowing there was nothing to look forward to this morning, after yesterday’s rude reminder when he’d been greeted by bacon and beans, Camille was in no particular rush to breakfast. No matter his mood or wishful thinking, there would be no fresh croissants awaiting him today, either. Before his departure, he spent a few minutes freshening up by his antique vanity, once in a while throwing admiring glances at his own portrait. The breakfast might be lackluster, but he could at least try to look and feel his best amidst mediocrity. His classes would begin with History of Magic, not his favorite subject by far, but it was followed by Charms, which had become one of his most anticipated hours of the week, though not for the subject itself, solely due to the hours of uninterrupted time with his favorite Slytherin. With little else to recommend the day, at least he had a steady class partner in all of the subjects; the girls he’d hand-picked to surround himself with were one of the few tolerable constants Hogwarts had to offer.

Walking with the usual immaculate posture, Camille arrived at the Great Hall with an air of unbothered confidence, compared to other, clearly more anxious students, who seemed to worry the breakfast might vanish in front of their eyes. He eyed one brunette with a precise posture in particular by the Ravenclaw table in passing, yet, compared to the proper manners she clearly possessed to some degree, demonstrated the strange behavior by chewing down her toast with seemingly no enjoyment. When it came to the quality of the food, Camille could agree there was not much enjoyment to be had, yet the image struck him oddly, an observation he allowed to drift past without comment, knowing she was far too absorbed in her meal to notice. He said nothing before continuing down the table to claim a seat of his own.

The food was, as expected, the usual. He selected eggs and a scone, splitting the latter neatly before applying a modest amount of strawberry jam. Lifting it to his mouth, he found himself mildly irritated as the biscuit crumbled dry against his tongue. Camille covered his mouth with a napkin and wiped off any leftover jam. The texture left much to be desired, though the flavours themselves were serviceable. It was hardly comparable to the breakfasts he’d enjoyed over the winter break, but for English cuisine, the scones could have been worse. He left the scone half-finished on his plate before moving on to his eggs. Only a few bites into his continental breakfast, the owls swarmed the hall with the morning’s mail. A surprisingly large amount was delivered, despite this only being the first week back; exactly for that reason, Camille had not expected a letter to be dropped off addressed to him. Based on previous experiences, mail, unless expecting a delivery, never turned out in his favor. The envelope that lay before him was an unwelcome surprise, one he ignored until he’d finished his eggs, though with the awareness of it still nagging in his consciousness. It could not possibly be from his parents, Camille reasoned, for any urgent business they might have had could surely have been mentioned in the last three weeks beneath their roof, leaving him wondering with slight unease coiling in his chest, who else could it possibly be from.

When there was nothing left on his plate to distract him from the inevitable, Camille turned to the envelope with a sigh, reaching for it slowly to rip the edges open. Unfolding the letter, Camille observed the childish scrawl of its author and, feeling a small measure of relief at its immaturity, allowed himself to begin reading. Not further than the first sentence, Camille was physically taken back by the name of the addresser, not due to negative associations, it was just one of the last names he’d expected to stumble upon: Noel, an old penpal of sorts, a childhood connection from France whose exact circumstances had long blurred in his memory, leaving only the awareness that he knew the family—a fact his father held divided opinions about for reasons Camille did not fully understand—and that he had known the boy personally, at some point. The letter exchange had stopped around the time Camille had enrolled at Hogwarts, or perhaps before that; honestly, the boy couldn’t recall the moment, only that it had been a while since he last heard from his distant associate.

The letter came with an invitation for lunch together, as soon as Camille could spare him the time, an invite he was not opposed to, with the pleasant interactions they’d had. Still, he would have to consider it before replying, his social battery lately nearly depleted, though in all likelihood, he would find a way to squeeze in lunch with Noel, whenever that might be. It would have to wait until after classes, regardless. Folding the letter back into the envelope, Camille stood up from his seat and began walking towards the exit doors, in no particular hurry this time, either. Someone else, however, was moving faster. Barely a step past the door, a sudden collision from behind sent Camille stumbling forward, the letter slipping from his grasp and fluttering to the floor. Irritation flaring, he whipped around to the culprit, the same girl from earlier. "Watch where you're going," the girl had the audacity to snarl at him, when she, quite obviously, was at fault. Camille had the urge to tell her that if she wasn’t hurrying through every minor task like her life depended on it, she could easily avoid being sloppy to crash into him in the first place, alas, she had picked up her letter from the floor and stormed off before he got a word.

“Coming from the right mouth,” he said with an annoyed huff, reaching to pick up his letter–assumedly– from the floor. They were headed in the same direction; he couldn't fathom why there were any need to run.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

21 Jan 2026, 18:53

date: 08/01/2026
mentions: @Camille De Varenne

outfit: school uniform
abilities: lovely creature

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𝓗er nose scrunched up slightly as she heard some mumbling behind her in the hallway, but ignored it, continuing on her way towards her dormitory. She rushed up the stairs, solved the riddle at the door faster than she ever had before, and quickly made her way over to her shared bedroom. She still had to get used to sharing a room with so many girls. Samantha rushed over to her bunkbed, throwing the envelope on top of it to read later before pulling the sweater over her head to discard it. She grabbed her baby blue shoulder bag and started pinning up half of her hair with some bobbypins. She unfortunately didn't have the time to brush it into a tight ponytail as usual. While checking her reflection in a compact mirror, she noticed something off about the envelope on her bed. She could vaguely see it's outline from the corner of her eye, next to the small mirror. She redirected her attention to it with furrowed eyebrows. It didn't have the same burgundy wax seal with antlers that her grandmother used. She quickly ripped open the envelope and checked the letter. Her eyes darted over the letter as she read the name of the addresser. Noel.

She read it again, just to make sure it didn't say Maryvonne. No, it definitely said Noel. By now, she was certainly going to be late for class. She decided that for just once, it wouldn't matter. Her eyes skimmed over the letter again to find the name of the addressee. It didn't take long for her to find the name; Camille. It's French, that much was obvious. His friend must be French too, since the entire letter seemed to be written in French. Maybe they both grew up there? She didn't know of any Camille so far, but her eyes widened as she finally came to the realization that she must have accidentally picked up the wrong letter when she bumped into that boy after breakfast. Even though she wanted to put the letter away, her eyes kept flying back to read more, no matter how much she scolded herself for how wrong it was. She sighed as she finished the letter, stuffing it back in the envelope and putting it in the compartment of her bag closest to her side where she kept the book she was currently reading and her diary. "Of course this has to happen to me," she complained, mumbling to herself, as she quickly made her way down the stairs and out of the common room again.

Samantha rushed towards her History of Magic class and made it just in time as the Professor still tried to get everyone to quiet down. She quickly sat down on one of the empty seats near the back and got all of the necessary supplies from her bag that she slung over the back of her seat. She felt absolutely horrible; besides having to follow the only class she was currently barely passing instead of acing, she also apparently picked up the wrong letter from the floor earlier. The worst part was that she hadn't even gotten a good look at the boy who she bumped into, so it could literally be anyone. And to top it all off, she believed her hair to look absolutely horrendous today; instead of being in a neat ponytail as usual, the two front pieces of her hair were twisted back and held there with some pins, leaving the rest of her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. She thought it looked lazy and unruly this way, ruining her image. To distract herself from her overbearing feelings, the girl started looking around at her classmates as the Professor droned on about some boring subject she couldn't care less about. She only recognized a few dormmates here and there, but that was about it. No boy that seemed vaguely familiar either.

She huffed quietly, shoulders sagging, as she decided to just try and focus on the lesson instead. Fortunately, she could look forward to Potions after lunch, the last class of her day and her favorite. She figured that maybe this Camille would approach her sometime during lunch or dinner if she didn't have any classes with him. And if he still wanted his own letter back. On the other hand, she didn't mind it too much if he decided to keep her letter for some reason. She wanted to throw it into the fireplace this morning anyway. Still, it was her letter and he bumped into her this morning, or at least, that's how she perceived it. The letter he received from this Noel boy seemed sweet though, inviting him over for lunch. She felt bad for reading it, but then again, he was rather careless bumping into her earlier like that. She came to the conclusion that reading the letter was just karma for his actions, and that she shouldn't feel too bad about it for now.

Stamina: 6 │ Evasion: 6 │ Strength: 3 │ Wisdom: 8 │ Arcane Power: 6 │ Accuracy: 6
Special abilities: Lovely Creature

29 Jan 2026, 21:24

date: 8/1/2026
location: Great Hall

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Samantha Jones

Compared to some special individuals, Camille continued walking up one flight of stairs to the first floor, feeling unhurried to get there on time. By the time he slipped into an empty seat in the History of Magic classroom, both the letter and the unpleasant collision in the dining hall had already begun to fade. What hadn’t yet registered, perhaps because he’d never bothered to notice in the first place, was that they apparently had a new professor. Instead of that unhinged man for a teacher, Elmo (as you could tell by the strange name), a tall woman had taken his place in the front of the classroom. Camille stared at her, brow faintly furrowed, trying to determine whether this was a recent appointment or a spectacular lapse in his own awareness. Surely he would have remembered her. Wouldn’t he? First impressions suggested she was reasonable enough, though the bar was laughably low given the scandals that had followed Elmo’s absence.

The letter was tucked into his robes for the first hour of the lesson. Camille was hardly in a hurry to respond; Noel could wait, at least until the class had gone on, the professor more mind-numbingly boring than he’d remembered from last semester. In trading instability for competence, they had lost the accidental engagement the previous professor had provided simply by being himself. Camille’s limited attention-span, especially when it came to things that did not excite him, thinned quickly, before he felt his eyelids grow heavy. After one blink too long, he jerked awake in his chair, pulse spiking in sudden, irrational fear of being caught leaving. Unsurprisingly, no one seemed to have noticed, except perhaps his bench partner, who, if they had noticed, clearly did not care. In a half-hearted search for something more stimulating, Camille reached for the letter. If not to answer it, then at least to rehearse a response in his head. He read the first few lines without suspicion; it was written in French, after all.

Dear Samantha,
Thank you for your letter,

He paused for a second, dumbfounded, before he realized the mistake. Samantha? Blinking, the French boy lowered his gaze onto the letter and read the greeting sentence once more. Slowly, deliberately, he continued reading, not for the message itself, but to confirm what had already become painfully clear. Whose hands Noel’s letter had ended up in, it was not his. Somewhere in the timespan of the collision, their letters must have gotten accidentally mixed up. His mind, and gaze, wandered to the stiff Ravenclaw girl from earlier. Camille turned his head towards the back of the classroom, spotting her in the furthest back, wondering if she’d already noticed that her letter had gotten into the wrong hands. The return might have been more urgent if Noel’s letter hadn’t been completely harmless and unrevealing of his own character. It wasn’t him who was dealing with an overbearing French grandmother, whose interest in her granddaughter ranged from French literature, harp, schooling her in France over the summer, to getting rid of inappropriate boys named Richard, though he was well familiar with the sort.

He supposed he should count himself lucky that his parents had not yet made finding him a suitable partner a priority. At his young age, and his older siblings in their early twenties, still unmarried, despite ample attempts at matchmaking, they had more important matters at hand. Intimate arrangements (failed ones) were his brother's expertise. Camille could have asked to exchange letters then and there, but he decided switching notes was not the sort of attention he wanted to attract in class, in front of people he knew well. Filing the task under things that would have to wait until lunch, he turned his attention back forward, attempting, somewhat, to focus on the class.

When lunch eventually rolled around, Camille gauged the Ravenclaw table for the girl. Samantha, as was her name, was nowhere to be seen yet. Shrugging to himself, he sat down at an appropriate spot, figuring that if it was anything of importance, she’d come running in her usual haste as soon as she realized something was wrong. Until then, Camille could not be bothered.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

31 Jan 2026, 00:38

date: 08/01/2026
mentions: @Camille De Varenne

outfit: school uniform
abilities: lovely creature

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𝓢amantha had a hard time keeping her focus on class that morning. Usually, she had no problem following the long lectures from the professors, but today, her mind kept wandering off to the letter in her bag. After Charms, it was finally time for them to head on over to the Great Hall for lunch. The brunette normally couldn't wait to catch up with some of the other students she had gotten to know during her last few months Hogwarts. Unfortunately, her mind was preoccupied with the letter from her grandmother, which was in Camille's hands because of their run-in earlier. The only thing currently coursing through her mind was on how to get her letter back.

Now, having made her way to the Great Hall at a rather leisurely pace, Samantha stood in the door opening, her eyes flickering over the four long tables. Multiple students were already seated, chatting away with others or quickly grabbing some slices of toast to still their growling stomachs. The girl's eyes moved over a couple of students before she let out a deep breath. There was no way she could find out who this Camille was on her own. After mulling over the situation so often during classes that she almost got a headache from it, she realized two things; his shoes were neatly polished (which she saw as she grabbed her letter from the ground), and he seemed slightly taller than her as they bumped into one another, but not by much. This made her come to two conclusions. Firstly, he was put together. Not everyone cared that much about their appearance, but even his shoes seemed squeaky clean and well kept. Secondly, he must be either a first or a second year based on their small difference in height.

Still, that left far too many students for her to check. Samantha's gaze landed on some students, but nobody fit the profile for whoever she was looking for. She figured starting the search at her own House might be the easiest. Maybe someone there would know Camille. So far, she hadn't heard his name pop up anywhere yet and none of the students she knew had ever mentioned him before. In the meantime, more and more students made their way from their classrooms to the Great Hall for lunch which made Samantha decide to walk over to one of the long tables to find an empty seat before they would all be taken. If this whole ordeal hadn't taken up the majority of her working memory, she wouldn't have been so eager on getting the letter back, but for some reason, the whole situation kept gnawing at her. Maybe part of it was curiosity, eager to know who this Noel wanted to organize a lunch with, since not much was revealed about the French boy in the letter. The one thing she did know for sure was that she just couldn't afford to get distracted by this anymore.

As Samantha walked past some students enjoying their lunch, her eyes met those of a boy seated a bit further away, seemingly around her age. He was quite handsome, but in a slightly unsettling way. It wasn't that her eyes weren't pleased by the sight of him, quite the contrary, but his features were sharp, and his hazel eyes seemed piercing, as if they could see straight through her. While everything about him felt calculated, Samantha couldn't help but feel intrigued. Keeping her main objective in mind, he seemed like he fit the profile she had made up for the boy she bumped into, or at least knew someone by that name. Luckily for her, the seat across from him was still empty. She made her way over before someone else decided to take her spot. She mustered up the most friendly smile she could before taking a seat. Normally she wouldn't bother with such theatrics, but right now, she needed to find this Camille that had her, rather personal, letter.

"Hello, this seat isn't reserved for anyone is it?" The brunette asked as her eyes flitted over to meet his keen ones before grabbing some toast, not waiting for an answer. "I'm Samantha," she introduced herself as she slathered some jam onto the toast before spreading it to the corners with a knife. Every introduction so far to any other student hadn't been this stiff or formal for the girl. She would always introduce herself as 'Sam', but because of how he seemed to carry himself, she hadn't dared to. He seemed well mannered, something she could appreciate, but also someone who looked down on others who weren't, which was intimidating. As if any mistake could cost her her head. She took a small bite of her toast before looking up again to meet his eyes. She swallowed before speaking again. "I don't believe we've met yet."

Stamina: 6 │ Evasion: 6 │ Strength: 3 │ Wisdom: 8 │ Arcane Power: 6 │ Accuracy: 6
Special abilities: Lovely Creature

7 Feb 2026, 15:42

date: 8/1/2026
location: Great Hall

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Samantha Jones

Shifting his attention between the hall and his lunch, which today was tomato soup with fresh bread, Camille kept a sporadic eye out for the keeper of his letter, and vice versa. Seeing they had left classes at the same time, it didn’t take long before the lithe-framed brunette caught up with the rest of their year and came marching into the great hall. His gaze traced the already sharp contours of her cheeks and jaw before meeting her eyes. He gauged her intent, wondering if she had realized it yet. Based on her focused gaze, fixed on him, and the fact that she was heading toward where he was seated, he assumed so was the case. Preparing for the confrontation, Camille straightened in his seat, facing the stranger until she reached his side.

The girl from earlier asked whether the seat beside him was taken, politely enough, though her intention was evident when she sat down without waiting for an answer. Glancing over at him, she introduced herself as Samantha. Camille already knew her name, and the reason for her approach, though at the moment, Samantha seemed content to pretend otherwise. Why else would she, of all people, suddenly feel compelled to mend bridges with him, if not for the personal letter now in his possession? Camille did not mind, of course; he merely found the beating around the bush faintly comical, idly wondering how long she would keep up the façade unless he cut to the chase. He would sooner rather than later, finding aimless stalling a waste of both of their time. Noting their lack of formal introduction, Camille watched her with mild amusement dancing in his eyes, quietly aware of the circumstances that led them here. His expression remained otherwise neutral.

“Not formally, no,” the Ravenclaw boy said matter-of-factly.

“I’m Camille,” he added with a subtle smile in acknowledgement, before returning to his plate of soup, calmly lifting the spoon to his mouth to finish another mouthful. Compared to the lackluster breakfast that morning, the soup was rather pleasant, almost worth savouring, knowing the majority of the food served was bordering on inedible to his nitpicky tastes.

Evident in his movements, he was in no particular hurry to conclude the exchange. It was probably in her best interest to get her letter back, considering the nature of her grandmother and her overbearing personality coming through the ink clearly. Noel deserved a response, which was why Camille intended to get the letter back, even if the contents were low-stakes to him personally. He wondered whether Samantha, behind the prim and proper exterior, was growing anxiously impatient at his lack of engagement. With the previous interaction in mind and the information he’d extracted from the letter, albeit limited, the fellow Ravenclaw struck him as an anxious, young girl who had all the resources available to succeed, but lacked the confidence to trust herself fully, apparent by her inability to stand up against her elders. The impression was reinforced by her natural air of endearment, which likely made her popular among her peers, along with hints of French heritage, artistic talent if her grandmother was correct, and a certain measure of class. Those were simply Camille’s observations, he supposed: not facts until proven. He decided to save her the trouble; after all, Camille would rather engage in stimulating conversations to idle small talk, which this clearly was not.

Reaching into his robes, Camille retrieved the letter and held it up in front of her, waving it leisurely between his fingers. “I assume you’re looking for this?”

While Camille was rarely helpful out of the goodness of his heart, he saw little reason to withhold her envelope this time. Perhaps he could have asked for a favor, perhaps not. He slid it across the tables towards her without causing much of a scene, except for the small off-handed comment he couldn’t keep from escaping him. “Ta grand-mère a l’air d’une femme charmante.”¹

Camille opted to speak in French this time, for his own comfort, assuming she was familiar enough with the language to read her grandmother's letter. The sarcasm came through clearly in his tone, at least so he imagined, as he made no effort to hide it.

1. Your grandmother sounds like a lovely woman.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

10 Feb 2026, 21:53

date: 08/01/2026
mentions: @Camille De Varenne

outfit: school uniform
abilities: lovely creature

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𝓣he Ravenclaw girl couldn't believe her luck. Her eyes almost started twinkling when he told her his name. Samantha had made a guess mostly based on pure stereotypes of what she believed he'd looked like based on his French heritage and shoes. She felt elated for finding him so quickly and so far, he hadn't made the feeling dim yet, since his introduction was paired with a subtle smile which made Samantha return a small one of her own. She eased slightly in her seat; the stress fading as she allowed herself to slouch slightly. A bad habit she caught herself repeating more often now that her mother and grandmother weren't around as often to correct her.

She mentally noted how he hadn't touched anything other than the bowl of soup and some bread in front of him. None of the other dishes on the table seemed to appease him in any way. Most of the other students had multiple small portions of the prepared food on their plate, hoping to gain some energy from the it for their afternoon classes. Camille, however, didn't bother trying anything else. It wasn't like Samantha was one to judge him, she couldn't get enough of jam on toast, which wasn't exactly the most diverse or nutritious meal. Samantha's sweet tooth was acting up today, so she was hoping she could satisfy it with strawberry jam on toast for breakfast and for lunch. Maybe even snag a jam puff after dinner, if there were any. She'd go for soup tomorrow, to balance it out of course.

She took another bite of her jam on toast, chewing as Camille brought the spoon to his mouth to consume more of the soup. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get to the point, leaving it to her. But her mind was going a hundred miles a minute. Small talk wasn't her strongest suit and she didn't know if just getting straight to the point would be considered rude. That's when she remembered how carelessly he had bumped into her that morning and figured there was no need for any cordiality. He had her letter and she had his. They didn't need to turn into friends, this could merely be transactional. No need for small talk. After mulling the entire thing over in her head a couple of times, he had already fished the letter from his robes, making her forget whatever she was about to say. She stared at the curly handwriting on the envelope as Camille waved the letter back and forth. That was definitely her grandmother's handwriting. The euphoric feeling the boy had given her for introducing himself as the person she was desperate to find since that morning quickly diminished as he slid the letter across the table to her with a snarky comment. Her blissfulness turned sour at his words. She felt a flush creep up her neck just as her brown eyes met his, wide and alert. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was grab the cup of soup and turn it upside down over his head. He had read her letter.

It hadn't even crossed the brunette's mind that she had practically done the exact same thing to him and that it would be hypocritical to even feel anything other than a slight sting at the comment. And while she craved for nothing more than to shout at him in that moment, she didn't even know what to say. The letter from his friend revealed nothing about Camille. She couldn't even think of anything to throw back at him. Her letter was personal, his was merely an invitation for lunch. He was still an enigma to her and it bothered her deeply.

After his somewhat formal introduction with a smile, albeit small, she had already created a mental image of him as some prince charming she reads about in her storybooks. He seemed handsome enough to fit the part and even friendly for a moment. But now, all she could see him as was a spoiled, royal brat.

While she was still angry, especially after remembering what her grandmother wrote in the letter that he has now read, she eventually decided to try and stay calm before she would lash out unnecessarily. She didn't want to make a scene and draw any attention towards herself, as something like that would simply make matters worse. Her nose scrunched up slightly before she spoke. "Tu as lu ma lettre," she stated stiffly, her eyes narrowing marginally. Samantha didn't want to give the boy the satisfaction of an emotional reaction, since Camille seemed to be fishing for a one to liven up their conversation a bit. "That's improper, you know." She hadn't bothered with French this time as the remark had simply slipped out. She made a mistake. The tone of her comment also wasn't as flat as she had preferred, now clearly revealing the frustration she held with the boy. She had tried so hard to suppress the feeling, but failed anyway.

Samantha first thought of getting his letter out of her bag when he revealed hers, but now, she didn't want to give it back anymore. She wanted to lie; say she lost it or threw it away, or maybe even transformed it into a piece of fabric, just so he'd feel a fragment of the anger she just felt. For now, she'd keep the letter in her bag situated on the bench next to her, stuffed between her diary and storybook.

"tu as lu ma lettre" = "you've read my letter"

Stamina: 6 │ Evasion: 6 │ Strength: 3 │ Wisdom: 8 │ Arcane Power: 6 │ Accuracy: 6
Special abilities: Lovely Creature

17 Feb 2026, 21:02

date: 8/1/2026
location: Great Hall

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Samantha Jones

The figurative bridge that had been mended with the exchange of small pleasantries, even earning a smile from the girl, shattered when he let his off-handed comment slip without much thought. Would it have been more polite of him to feign obliviousness? Probably. Exactly how offended she’d be over his actions, he didn’t realize until a pair of large, brown eyes stared back at him in wide shock, a tint of red flushing otherwise pale skin, he noted, if he wasn’t mistaken. Compared to her physical reaction, her verbal response was mild, though impulsively enough to reveal her emotions on the matter, none of them positive, presumably. Stiffly, she reminded him that his actions had been improper. Finding the reaction mildly comedic, Camille accepted the critique with a mental shrug.

“I didn’t read your letter because I was nosy,” he said haughtily, albeit amused by the absurd insinuation that he was interested in others' private life. Unless it personally concerned him or stared it straight in the face, he rarely paid others much mind. He’d retorted to reply in English this time after she’d slipped back into the language, half-lie and half-truth. The fact that he’d commented on her grandmother's ‘charming’ personality was proof that, regardless of his excuses, he had read enough to snap up details, tone, and had found enough intrigue in the details to mention it.

“‘Skimmed’ might be a more accurate term. How many English students do you think receive letters in French on a regular basis around here?”

The only other French literate people he knew besides himself, and Samantha, apparently, were Esme and Rafal from the second year, and even then it seemed to be an independent hobby on their end, rather than a family expectation. With that in mind, it made sense why Camille had initially assumed nothing of it, until he was already paragraphs deep. Granted, her name had been in the first sentence. As soon as he’d read the first cue that the letter did not belong to him, he could have folded it back instead of reading through all of it, even if he had mostly given it a glance-over. Since it was written in French, his native language, a negligible amount of energy was required to make sense of it all. By that point he’d already reached the final line. Camille didn’t bother to fight for his case, suspecting the girl was too agitated by the invasion of privacy to change her mind about his intentions anyway. If she wanted to believe delusions rather than seeing it from his perspective, she could be his guest; he couldn’t imagine what difference it would make, how having her grace would enrich his life.

“But yes, you’re right. How awfully improper of me.” The words were regretful, but his tone and the faint smile on his lips betrayed him. Of course, if Camille had aimed to fool her, he would have made his apology far more convincing.

“I suppose that means you haven’t taken the liberty to pry into my letter?” His gaze sharpened, scrutinizing, searching for her bluff in the faintest twitch of her expression. Granted, he had little to lose. The boy wouldn’t have cared much if she admitted to it: he would have been far more surprised if she hadn’t read it. He just found it peculiar how some girls liked to play princess but couldn’t live up to the same standard others had to follow. It was entertaining to watch the hypocrisy, that’s all.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

27 Feb 2026, 20:54

date: 08/01/2026
mentions: @Camille De Varenne

outfit: school robes
abilities: lovely creature

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𝐖hile his excuse seemed rather poor, earning a soft scoff from her side, she still listened intently. She knit her eyebrows at the question that followed his flimsy explanation. The question could have been rhetorical, simply added to support his argument, but she decided to answer anyway. "Probably a few, although I don't personally know anyone. Why? Do you?" Her tone was verging on bored since she didn't care much about what other students knew. In that moment, all of her interest was captured by him and their problem at hand. "Besides, why don't you go to Beauxbâtons? Aren't you French?" She adds to her previous questions with annoyance evident in her voice. So far, he hadn't made an effort to be kind to her, so the girl assumed there would be no harm in mirroring his tone or actions.

Camille only went on to exacerbate their issue as he smiled while offering a mocking version of her earlier words. It couldn't even be regarded as anything close to an apology, which only enraged Samantha further. She at least expected him to acknowledge his faults, but no. He figured he stood above all of this.

The girl wanted to bite back harshly, serve him a taste of his own medicine. Wipe the arrogant smirk right off his face. But the comment that followed his derisive apology made her rethink the insult on the tip of her tongue. Samantha could lie, but then again, he most likely wouldn't believe her. She wasn't the best liar of the family. As his gaze travelled across her face and his once again piercing eyes met hers, she narrowed her eyes the slightest. While Samantha knew it was hypocritical, and morally wrong to be this angry with the French boy for reading her letter while she had done the same, she simply couldn't help herself. It just felt unfair to the girl. If someone had read her diary she would have reacted similarly, because to her, they seemed equally personal. Still, as his eyes were dissecting her every move, her glare, which was already small to begin with, started to drop. It didn't feel like it was of much use anyway. As if her backbone was too cracked and weak to hold up to his stronger personality, regardless of how hard she tried to convince herself she was in the right.

Samantha eventually came to the decision that lying was futile in this moment. "I merely skimmed it," she retorted, the right corner of her mouth twitching faintly upwards. It wasn't like there was much to get out of it, just an invitation to lunch. She secretly wished his letter held secrets or something more personal, not only to insult him with it, but to also make it even between the two. So she wouldn't feel as exposed on her own. "Who is this Noel anyway?" She asked curiously, finally holding off on the cold tone for a few seconds, wanting to at least know something about Camille to make this entire exchange more equal from her point of view. "And where will this lunch be? Sounds just lovely, truly. I didn't know you were someone who enjoys lunches and tea parties and such." She sounded rather demeaning towards him while finishing off her toast with jam, as if having lunches and/or tea parties could be childish in any way. She had nothing to fire back with, so she used whatever she could to try and make a shot in the right direction, hoping he'd feel something other than smug for a moment. He seemed prideful enough, so making a dig at his likings could possibly do the trick.

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Stamina: 6 │ Evasion: 6 │ Strength: 3 │ Wisdom: 8 │ Arcane Power: 6 │ Accuracy: 6
Special abilities: Lovely Creature