Finished Ripples in Silence Livia

25 Jan 2026, 14:43

date: 28/2/2026
location: Viaduct
coat: Link

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Livia Machavariani

Petty gossip was not something Camille usually associated with. He liked to believe he was above it, finding most of it uninteresting, unless it involved him directly. In a moment of assumed privacy, he’d spotted his dear Gryffindor associate a few days ago, practically throwing himself at a seventh-year Ravenclaw, who seemingly wanted nothing to do with someone so immature and clearly desperate, evident in the way she’d pushed him off as soon as their lips had touched. The kiss had barely lasted a second, yet Camille had not been able to stop thinking about Harlan's massive lapse in judgement since. Camille had suffered painful second-hand embarrassment in bearing witness. Of course, he was not a stranger to Harlan's hopelessly pathetic infatuations with older girls. However, he could never have fathomed that he was desperate enough to publicly humiliate himself, and possibly earn himself a restraining order, to steal a kiss. It was a side Camille had never seen, leaving him feeling puzzled over his childhood connection and what to do with this piece of information. The answer was obvious. A few days later, he’d made up his mind. It was the perfect opportunity to finally kick Harlan down a peg or two, after several humiliating acts the past few months, and years before that.

To achieve his goal, he needed to find someone with a broad enough audience and power to spread it like wildfire, someone discreet. For the first time, Camille decided to pick up the Headliner in search of answers. A quick flip through the pages showed that the main topics of interest were school related. The French boy skimmed the words, bored. Eventually reaching a column called "The secrets of Hogwarts", Camille paused to read more thoroughly. Lady Audentia. His gaze darted to the alter-ego signed in the margins of the article. She seemed to be the main writer responsible for exposing the scandals of Hogwarts students and professors alike, if a poor Hufflepuff failing their classes could be considered newsworthy. How a professor harassing women was still allowed to walk the corridors was concerning, albeit unsurprising, given every other failure of this institution. If the student population wanted to read about the awkward schoolboys tripping over their feet, and slimy History of Magic professors' problematic behaviors, they could be his guest. Camille saw potential to cause some disruption on his own, getting his long-awaited revenge on Harlan. First, he needed to get in contact with this gossip journalist.

With no other trace to follow, he had to act based on prejudices. In his mind, the most likely to enjoy chaos enough to make a living out of it were Slytherins. He began his mission in the dungeons. He’d slipped out from potions one lesson, ensuring the dungeons were empty before he planted a note, partially hidden behind a stone torch, requesting to meet with Lady Audentia somewhere discreet. Naturally, he had not signed his name; the last thing he wanted was to expose his scheme and risk Harlan and the seventh-year to corner him for spreading rumors. Rumors that were facts.

The following day, he’d taken a detour through the dungeons after breakfast and found a reply shoved under the initial paper. Without reading it, he’d ripped both of them from the hiding spot and shoved them inside his pocket, planning to read it once back in his dorm, away from any prying eyes. During the long walk up the tower, it felt like he was starring in a psychological thriller, keeping an eye over his shoulder in case anyone caught him before he could finalize his plan. The immorality, while the nature of the rumor was trivial, was thrilling. A slight flutter in his chest prompted him to quicken his stride. The French boy smirked to himself, amused, yet partially exasperated with himself, thinking about the notes clutched between his fingers. Somehow, he’d ended up playing the part of the villain. Was it pathetic to be wasting all of this effort on Harlan? Knowing that the Gryffindor menace would have done the same, or worse, if roles had been reversed, the answer was no. Yet he hoped the fallout would prove rewarding.

Finally back in his dorm, he'd unfolded the crumpled up note. The reply was short and concise; his pleas had reached the journalist, who suggested a meeting at the viaduct, complete with a time and date, for ultimate discretion. Preparing for the meeting, Camille decided to dust off his designer, never-worn fur coat with tags still intact, that had been rotting in his trunk for months. His regular robes would be too revealing. What his winter coat offered that his regular robes lacked was a big hood with fur trim that he could pull over his face to remain unidentifiable, even if his fabulous wardrobe was enough of a giveaway. It was worth a try; if anyone recognized him, he’d lose all anonymity. Camille shoved the coat inside a bag before he left the dorm, waiting until he’d reached halfway through the castle to hide behind a statue. With one quick motion, he draped the slightly over-sized coat over his shoulders, the thick fabric swallowing him whole. The bag was left tucked behind the statue before he reemerged, hood pulled over his head. With half his face fully concealed, he shoved his hands inside the deep pockets and continued to the viaduct.

Last edited by Camille De Varenne on 7 Mar 2026, 09:52, edited 1 time in total.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

26 Jan 2026, 15:00

date: 28^th february 2026
time: evening
location: viaduct

roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence

As much as one Lady Audentia preached that 'candour was [her] most unrivalled virtue', the most intriguing thing about Miss Audentia was that it would have been quite difficult to be bothered at all by a lack of veracity. Although numerous claims in the articles were forwarded by intrigued or vindictive students, Miss Audentia was simply the messenger, for the most part, and she was glad to play a role in assisting these students, should it make them happier. An added bonus, one might surmise, was the indignation some individuals might possess after observing their names in the Headliner, and for no good reason at all!

One might note that this Lady Audentia seemed to have a penchant for wordiness and stirring up chaos. If one were to encounter the writer behind the quill, only one of those statements would initially hold true, for largely anyone who had met Livia Cassia Victoria Machavariani would say the pretentious pre-teen was far too supercilious to think herself a rabble-rouser. In fact, those who had observed her interactions with Silas Norwood and Oonagh Brown would note that she appeared to look down upon miscreants and think of them as lesser members of society. Certainly, she would not be able to rationalise the same behaviour!

When such sedition was simple girlish fun and could better inform the members of high society regarding their peers, and when it had the added benefit of her obtaining blackmail material, Livia found it quite a lucrative endeavour. She did have to remain on the lookout for anything she could use to fuel her enterprise; after all, she was hardly the most creative of students. Luckily, since her column had started, rumours simply sought her out. One fine example was when, upon returning to her dormitory, she observed a slip of parchment sticking out from behind a torch. Her initial concern had been that it might catch fire; however, being the newsmonger she was, she could hardly resist having a peek at what was written on the parchment. The encounter proved serendipitous, as the words were meant for her – well, her alter-ego, and the connection between the two of them simply couldn't be revealed. The horror!

Of course, Livia could not resist the opportunity for more scandal. She left an unsigned note in the same place to list a location, time and date while dressed in the bulkiest winter coat she owned. Although 'skinny, dark-haired Slytherin' could befit a number of people in her house, it was imperative that she was not connected to this. Thus, when the 28^th of February rolled around, Livia put a great deal of import on the newly-contrived wardrobe for Lady Audentia. She would be taller, courtesy of a pair of black heels she had kept in her trunk 'just in case'. A long, loose skirt with numerous layers would conceal her frame while affirming that Lady Audentia was, in fact, a lady. Disguising the rest of her proved a more difficult endeavour. Livia toyed with the idea of a mask before deciding that was too childish and the sort of thing a true rake might do. She thought of tying a scarf about her head, but upon trying it, she found it did not conceal enough of her face to bring her comfort.

The result of many options was that she would wear the boots, the skirt and a fine blouse. Her hair, as always, was pinned up. However, atop all of that, she had slung on a somewhat fashionable black cloak, pinned together by rubies on leather-and-silver clasps. As the cloak was a bit too large for her spindly frame, the hood lay quite low on her face; the only part of her that might be identifiable was her lips, as she wore black velvet gloves to conceal her hands. Ultimately, she felt quite proud of herself as she departed the dormitories, taking the long way to the viaduct to ensure she had not been followed.

Upon arriving, she found that her source had similarly decided to conceal their features. A quick observation led her to recognise that the individual's coat was designer, something that pleased her. A small part of her had worried she would be dealing with the likes of Norwood tonight. Quick steps led her to a spot in the middle of the viaduct, overlooking the Great Lake. A by-product of those speedy steps was that her cloak billowed, making her look bigger – and hopefully older – than she was. She even lowered her voice when she addressed the informant: 'You called?'

@camille de varenne

[staff] jessamine lancaster
even you cannot conquer the sun.

marina alacrán [inpc]
her hair is kinda wild and free.

28 Jan 2026, 17:10

date: 28/2/2026
location: Viaduct
coat: Link

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Livia Machavariani

Taking a detour to the viaduct to avoid being followed, Camille arrived and found it was empty. He claimed a spot somewhere in the middle, deciding to give his secret company no more than ten minutes to arrive before he would return. The February wind was icy and ruthless, whipping his face and creeping under his fur coat, chilling him down to the bone marrow despite the layers. However, it did give him enough time to prepare for the upcoming meeting, collecting his words in his head to make this a smooth transaction.

Since his sight was compromised by the hood over his face, Camille didn’t register the approaching figure until he heard the footsteps against the wooden bridge. Only when the journalist, presumably, was standing next to him, at a distance carefully maintained to preserve both their anonymity, did he dare incline his head. The slight movement exposed his jaw and mouth to catch a glimpse of Lady Audentia, an action driven by curiosity as much as by reassurance that he would not entrust his secrets to the wrong ears. Whoever it was had gone to the same extreme lengths as him, perhaps even further, by covering up in several layers of skirts under a cloak and gloves, trying to hide any identifying traits. She was roughly his height, if it was a girl. As soon as he’d gauged the presence, Camille glanced away and lowered his head back towards the icy lake beneath. Based on height, it might as well have been a boy his age, or someone older, if they were unfortunately built. The skirts could have been a deliberate misdirection, however unlikely it was that a boy would be storing skirts in their trunk, just in case.

It was only confirmed when she spoke up. “You called?” The voice was undeniably female, though deeper than any of the girls he’d spoken to personally. Perhaps that, too, was augmented with intent. Judging by its timbre alone, she was likely one or two years older than he was, decreasing the risk of him being caught. Camille had already prepared for the interaction in his mind, planning what pitch and accent to use to mislead. The French accent was too revealing in a castle with mostly native English, likewise his regular way of speech, if Lady Audentia had happened upon him. Speaking casually was not a risk worth taking, even if the likelihood of the journalist being familiar with him personally was rather slim.

Clearing his throat gently, Camille adopted an octave deeper when he answered. “Yes.”

Fearing a posh RP accent that he’d identified in Esme’s speech, while gorgeous, might not be absurd enough to warp his voice into something unrecognizable, Camille conjured his best imitation of a cockney accent he'd heard in passing, only after realizing how difficult it was to rewire his tongue when he tried to eliminate the ‘T’ sound. In comparison, the lacking ‘H’ was easy to grasp, just as it came naturally in French, just more peasant sounding. Still, the number of mistakes he made was enough to give away that it was not entirely natural. Whether his imitation could have fooled her as natural didn’t matter, as long as it was impossible to tell that it was him.

“I saw some’hing that could be of in’erest for the li’le gossip column of yours. With full discre’ion, of course,” he said, choking back a laugh at the utter ridicule of himself, embarrassed by the lengths he had gone to spread a petty rumor about Harlan; alas, he’d come too far to back out now.

With so little time at a public location like this, he had to get to the point quickly. Who knew who would stumble upon them any minute now? Two hooded figures whispering to each other at a distance would look suspicious to anyone. Schooling his voice back, he added, “It’s about Harlan Mon’gomery. Fourth-year Gryffindor, he just got back for this school year. Do you know ‘im?”

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

4 Feb 2026, 06:07

date: 28^th february 2026
time: evening
location: viaduct

roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence

While Hogwarts admitted anyone with a hint of magic in the British Isles (or so it seemed), Livia never ceased to be mildly surprised by the variety of accents and behaviours she encountered. Largely, this was not for any good reason. Livia's upbringing as a proper young woman from a well-off family had ensured that, although she was, at times, exposed to those from differing backgrounds on shopping trips and on her father's work trips, she often lacked the understanding that those who did not sound educated were often intelligent in their own right.

Nonetheless, she was more than aware that gossip – or, otherwise, anything she could reasonably spin into a rumour that might offend someone – could come from people of all shapes and sizes, of all backgrounds, of all aptitudes. Thus, she kept her mind quite liberally open when this informant released his spiel, even if she did have to devote more attention to proper listening than before.

However, as cognisance's ghastly fingers grasped her mind, she hesitated to reply with haste. Did she know Mr Montgomery? No. Did this shabby informant need to be aware of such a trivial tidbit? Of course not. In fact, the less he knew, the better. Maintaining what she hoped was an air of nonchalance, Livia nodded – although, as she was aware such a gesture was likely difficult to discern from beneath her hood, she would move to affirm the statement verbally. 'Of course,' she said, the neutrality fading as she realised that with anonymity came the allowance of acting. She would get into character and even allow herself a small smirk beneath the shadows cast by her headpiece. 'It's not as if I live underneath a rock. What have you got to tell me about our dear Mr Montgomery?' The word 'dear' would drip with sarcasm even though the query was, of course, genuine.

@camille de varenne

[staff] jessamine lancaster
even you cannot conquer the sun.

marina alacrán [inpc]
her hair is kinda wild and free.

9 Feb 2026, 20:23

date: 28/2/2026
location: Viaduct
coat: Link

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Livia Machavariani

Being the Headliner’s appointed gossip queen came with expectations few dared underestimate: a finger threaded into every affair, a sharpened ear angled toward places where privacy was merely assumed. Given those conditions, established as early as his first appraisal of her, it came as no surprise when Lady Audentia confirmed, attitude intact, that she knew of Harlan. What else was to be expected from someone who had made others’ humiliations and secrets a part of her reputation? Beneath the shelter of his hood, Camille offered no visual response; neither could he see the girl’s body language, unwilling to gamble his identity more than he already had by standing in plain sight in the viaduct, the heavy coat doing what it could to hide any identifiable features. Unfamiliar he was not, yet judging by the sarcasm lacing the word ‘dear’, it was safe to assume she held no affectionate feelings for Harlan, or personal involvement that would be to his disadvantage. It would make his job much easier. Pleased by the discovery, as well as jittery over the exchange that was about to happen, Camille allowed a sly smirk to appear on his lips.

“Good,” Camille commented, sounding as maliciously pleased with himself as he currently felt, for a second forgetting his purpose when he realized the word hadn’t sounded as shabby as before.

His face fell a fraction when he realized his mistake, even if one word could hardly be enough evidence to completely expose himself. However, it was not a mistake he could afford to make again. He played it off with a cough. “I mean, good,” he quickly corrected his pitch and accent.

“Then I trust that you know of ‘is womanizin’ behavior,” he said in a very exaggerated version of the truth.

In all actuality, Camille would have been surprised if she’d agreed. The recent light that had been shed on Harlan’s behavior was news even to him. The details of where he’d gathered such judgement of Harlan being a womanizer were observations completely based on his hopelessly crushing on his sister; not malicious in any way, just a pathetic infatuation that he clearly hadn’t given up on yet. However, the clearest example remained this single instance, seeing him force a kiss on an older girl who clearly did not reciprocate his feelings, either. Taking everything into consideration, Camille saw a clear pattern in his upperclassman’s preferences: older, unavailable women. Were these instances fair evidence of his overall character? Probably not. Harlan might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but he was far from evil. Nor did Camille think everyone who read the Headliner would take it seriously, though he secretly hoped at least a shred of embarrassment would sting Harlan when he saw his own name in the column.

“Just the other day, I caught ‘im throwin’ ‘imself at Dealla Prince, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, thinkin’ no one was watchin’,” he said, scowling under his hood, not that Lady Audentia could tell. “Sloppy, desperate… and let’s be honest, disgustin’.” Reflecting back, Camille admitted the details of sloppiness were conjecture, and whether it was truly disgusting was irrelevant; the very mental image of Harlan’s lips on hers churned his stomach with a nauseating mix of outrage and personal vexation. Camille couldn’t explain it even if he tried. He'd refuse to linger on it, regardless.

“With the amount of practice, you’d think he’d be a be’ter kisser! Worst of all… the girl seemed to be enjoying it.” Every word was an exaggeration, a lie even, but delivered with such fervent, theatrical indignation that Camille sounded as if he’d been personally violated by the spectacle itself.

“And hear this: the girl has a boyfriend.” Personally, he held no sympathy for the man, after all, he was making up lies about the girl anyway, but that major detail gave the most reasonable explanation for why he’d decided to expose Harlan to the journalist.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny

19 Feb 2026, 15:31

date: 28^th february 2026
time: evening
location: viaduct

roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence

Livia could hardly have cared less that her source was anonymous, but that he was actively hiding something, as evidenced when he quickly corrected his pronunciation of the word 'good'? That was delectable. Juicy. She had thought he was anonymous to avoid retribution, which was, of course, understandable. That he did not want her to recognise his voice intrigued her. She would not show this, but from that point and forward, she would observe him with far greater scrutiny, simply waiting for yet another hastily-hidden error.

Nonetheless, a source was a source, and she would continue to gracefully absorb the information he gave her. Something about Mr Montgomery being a womaniser? Well, for one thing, Livia was twelve. Her first instinct was to shy away and wrinkle her nose. Her second instinct was to thoroughly slander Mr Montgomery, since womanising, in the manner she understood it from literature, was quite rude. Why couldn't more men be better behaved, perfect gentlemen of the twenty-first century?

Having realised she had grown quiet, she would quickly respond. 'Oh, of course,' she said, her artificially-lowered voice, aided by her already-low timbre, dripping with disdain. 'Tsk. What a scoundrel!' Classic Lady Audentia. She was doing great.

She vaguely recognised the name Dealla Prince. Hadn't that been the old Ravenclaw lady in the Great Hall when Robin and a bunch of her lackeys had ganged up on Livia and that dratted Camille? Oh, right – the juicy details. Although she was intrigued by the idea of romance, Livia did not quite have the mind to actually know the juicy details, but, then again, that was her job as Hogwarts's favourite gossip girl. 'Oh, the horror. I would have imagined he would be more proficient.' The source quickly echoed her sentiment. Livia did have to wonder, how could someone who kissed many girls be bad at it? Certainly, he would be rejected after too many horrid attempts. But then the source said something contradictory. 'Enjoying it? Well, some simply like the sloppy things. It says quite a lot about one's character.' If she hadn't been disguised, the words coming out of her mouth would have made her stomach twist and her face redden with the impropriety and rudeness of it all.

When her source dropped the horrific punchline of this evening's joke, though, Livia could not even stop herself from lifting her eyebrows. She became immensely grateful for her hood as she forced a chuckle. 'Dear me,' she uttered, all while thinking of Miss Prince's poor boyfriend and how he really deserved far better. 'That will certainly find its way into my next newsprint. I think Miss Prince's boyfriend has a right to know, don't you?' Yes, yes, that was going just swimmingly. She rested a gloved hand on the railing of the viaduct, hoping to convey that she felt quite at home here, in this role, talking about kissing and cheating. 'Tell me more. You know, I've got the "who" and the "what". Now, I need the "where" and "when".'

@camille de varenne

[staff] jessamine lancaster
even you cannot conquer the sun.

marina alacrán [inpc]
her hair is kinda wild and free.

28 Feb 2026, 23:33

date: 28/2/2026
location: Viaduct
coat: Link

abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Livia Machavariani

The details, both fabricated and factual, seemed to catch the journalist's attention. Her commentary didn’t seem scandalized per se, though with her record, he wouldn't have expected anything less. She only needed to find enough intrigue in his story to spread the word. Whether the girl's boyfriend deserved to know, Camille agreed, albeit not because he was yearning for justice. The consequences would merely be a pleasant byproduct of his larger goal, one he had no intention of elaborating on during this exchange. The only thing worse than being caught spreading rumors was being caught personally invested.

When? he echoed in his mind at her follow-up questions, scrunching his nose, momentarily confused. Hadn’t he informed her that it happened just the other day? Camille thought that information was generous enough—enough to make a scandalous headline out of it and give Harlan the public embarrassment Camille thought he deserved. Who cared if it was fairly recalled, when most of the details he’d provided was entirely made up? Either way, he racked his brain for the details, which came rather easily, considering the torturous number of times this scene had replayed in his mind the last few days like on a damned record. Just like then, the memory made his stomach twist, reminding him exactly why he was here, and that he would make it worth his while.

“The library. In the evening, two days ago on the 26th.”

He made a wretched sound from low in his throat, feigning disgust at the very idea of anyone using such a public space to engage in salacious behavior. Personally, Camille could hardly have cared less about public indecency if he'd stumbled in on anyone else in the act of kissing. He’d scrunched his nose at most, insult them if they were particularly disgusting, depending on the timing, location and technique, though the fact that it was his childhood associate did make it feel all the more personal.

“In a public place like that, meant for studyin’,” Camille began another judgemental spiel, accent and tone intact, as if studying was his main concern.

A sly smirk appeared on his lips, adding suggestively, “You’d almost believe they like others watchin’.” Another fabricated lie, though he wouldn’t mind Lady Audentia spinning the story in such a direction for dramatic effect. In the end, he wasn’t writing the column, merely providing enough fuel to the fire and hoping it sparked.

Voices in the distance were carried by the wind across the viaduct, reminding him that their time was running out. The sudden possibility of being recognized urged Camille to step back from the edge, pulling his coat further over his face to prepare for a discreet departure before anyone could speculate about their secret meeting. The information he’d provided was sufficient, and if Lady Audentia wanted to fill in the blanks herself, he trusted she’d do it justice. As he exited toward the castle side of the bridge, Camille paused just behind her. Leaning in enough to graze her coat with his own, he cleared his throat.

“I trust you know what to do with that information,” he murmured in a low tone, slipping into a his natural accent out of habit, hoping the wind swallowed the words before they could reach the wrong ears. Then he left, hoping the statue where he’d hidden his bag remained deserted.

Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny