Bonding Over Books PV Aida finished

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

The offending person turned out to be a strangely pale girl with shocking white hair and violet-blue eyes. She asked if Ivy was alright, seemingly not caring that she, too, had been knocked to the ground. “I’m fine,” Ivy muttered in response.

The girl launched a whole speech in Ivy’s way without giving her any chance to repond. Ivy sighed. She did not like having one-sided conversations - it was annoying, for one, and rather impolite as well. The white-haired girl seemed rather inclined to talk, her words tripping over each other and her accent thick and difficult to understand. The only things she picked up in her little monologue was her name, really, which was... Aida...? Ivy blinked at her, baffled, before responding, “Uhhhh... right. I’m Ivy Bellamy.”

The girl then apologised for speaking too fast, and Ivy relaxed, relieved that she was aware of her own faults. “That’s alright. Aida, right?” Ivy was still rather unsure of what her name was, as her speech had been so rushed. “What house are you in?” It was impossible to tell now, as classes had ended already and majority of the students had changed out of their uniform into their own clothing. Ivy herself was wearing a pretty pink dress with a simple design and dark boots. It may be considered fancy for other students, but for Ivy, who had been raised in an aristocratic, old-fashioned family and was reminded daily that appearances were important, this kind of outfit was something she wore all the time when not in Hogwarts robes.

“I was about to return this book to its shelf. It didn’t strike my fancy,” Ivy told Aida, turning the book over in her hands. Ironically, the title was The Art of Walking. She suppressed a grin and began to walk along the shelves, searching for where the book had been. “So what brings you to the library today?” she asked Aida casually.

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

The other girl’s outfit choice was... interesting. Ivy was rather unsure of what to think of it. She had grown up in an old-fashioned pureblood family who would not be seen dead in something like Aida was wearing, but something about the Ravenclaw’s already-strange appearance, with her shock of white-blonde hair and skin just as pale, seemed to balance out the oddness and modernity of her outfit.

Overwhelmed was an understatement for how Ivy had felt when Aida had been shooting questions her way. Honestly, that girl needed to slow down. Her accent was hard enough to understand as it was. Ivy blinked at her next question, but not because it wasn’t incomprehensible. Tell me about yourself wad a rather odd way of starting a conversation, wasn’t it? Something like that was only said in an interview and most certainly not an everyday conversation.

“A little intrusive, don’t you think?” Ivy did not hold back from expressing her thoughts. She stood on the tips of her toes, pushing the book back into where it had been before turning around, grey eyes scanning Aida’s face for a response. “I’ve known you for all of five minutes.”

This girl really did not know how to talk to people, did she? Ivy sighed. She, of course, had been given Conversation lessons by her mother, although the methods used were... questionable. Ivy was raised to speak to everyone as if they were a servant and nothing more (unless they were from some respectable family) and did not hesitate to speak her mind. This often resulted in clashes between her and those she met, but Ivy was also raised not to take to heart words said by insignificant people; naturally she did not care what they thought. Aida, on the other hand, seemed to her like someone who would take everything personally. Pity for the awkward Ravenclaw stirred in the depths of Ivy’s heart, and she relaxed her face and tried to keep her tone gentle. “The castle’s so strange sometimes, isn’t it?” She was giving Aida a subtle prompt for conversation. Hopefully the girl would take it.

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Ivy was unsure of how to react to Aida’s rant. Should she laugh or should she snap at her? In the end, the Gryffindor decided that both options would probably confuse the Ravenclaw even more, and instead eyed her carefully as she spoke. “Well, one would expect this castle feel very empty, as it’s so big,” she explained, a little impatiently. Ivy was not exactly the best at social interactions, but this girl took awkward to a whole new level. She had never met anyone who ignored all prompts for conversation and spoke in random bursts.

They reached a window, and Ivy sat on the edge of the windowsill, her back against the glass. She would try one more time for a successful conversation, and if Aida did not take the chance, then Ivy would make up some excuse and make her exit. The Gryffindor‘s patience was running low, and if this did not work, leaving would be the only way to avoid snapping at Aida. “Have you written home yet?” Ivy had. It was a slightly mournful letter addressed to her father regarding her sorting, and while the reply was not openly accusing, it was most certainly disappointed.

All Bellamys, aside from her mother, who had attended Beauxbatons, and her older sister (Hufflepuff), had been in Slytherin. It was not surprising that Oliver Bellamy had been disappointed - but what could he do about it?

@Ivy Bellamy

@Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood

Ivy's eyebrows shot upwards when Aida squatted down in front of her. In truth, there was nowhere else to sit, but squatting seemed like a strange thing to do. She could have leaned against the wall, or just stood there... Ivy tore her gaze away from the absurd sitting position and stared at her hands uncomfortably at the other girl's next words. What to say to that?

Ivy wasn't particularly sympathetic with, well, anyone, and she didn't quite know what to say to the whole 'running away' thing. She was glad that the other girl asked a question next, and answered, "Yes, I have been." Ivy didn't elaborate, and answered the next question shortly after. "It's alright, I suppose. How's Ravenclaw?"

Aida had finally taken notice of her prompt for conversation, and relieved, Ivy continued. "Where are you from?" Perhaps the answer would explain the accent? It was hard to understand the Ravenclaw's thick accent, and Ivy couldn't quite place it. She had grown up in the English countryside, and her father was from Wales and her mother from France, but she had caught onto the typical posh English accent, with a hint of something akin to French - something easy to understand.

Interacting with @Ivy Bellamy