Shaved Ice PV. Alphonse Toussaint

Koldovstorvetz IMOG Yurts ──〃

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

XXXGeneviève had skated away in a panic when their results had been declared by the judges. The wobbly gait she took as her skates left the ice and into the snowy mush of the dirt path back to the Yurt she had been sharing with Alphonse. Humiliation burned deep in her chest and a feeling of ickiness rose in her throat, threatening to release itself over her clothing and her skates if she remained in the eye of the public any longer. How had she fallen out of a jump she knew by heart? And in the midst of the confusion- she attempted a spell she only knew in theory. The shock factor from herself combined with the snickering from the crowd and the look of the judges panel had awoken a feeling in her soul that she was grossly unaware of. Geneviève hated whatever it was. She did not know what it was called, only that it made her hands clammy and the feeling in her shoulders was more than just a shiver from the cold. Her knees knocked together and she collapsed against the covers of her unkempt bed. She had been in such a tizzy that morning that she had not made it. It seemed appropriately dressed for how she felt currently. The blankets felt suffocating and the stretching of the lycra around her neck was choking her. She could feel herself coughing and chocking on nothing, but the cold air of the Russian countryside which burned the innards of her throat and scarred her lungs. Every breath felt like a piercing scrape, as though her ice skates were cutting up the skin within rather than the ice they were meant for. Everything hurt and it was all far too much. She needed to get it out she needed to get it out she needed- She coughed so loudly that her stomach heaved but nothing exited her mouth. Her body still convulsed as though it was trying to purge itself of whatever was inside her that was making her feel so disgusting. There was no sound other then the noise of her retch and there was no feeling other than the scrape of her formerly perfect manicure against the "worn in" wood of the fake floor. She felt one of her fake nails pop off leaving the natural nail exposed. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. What was the point of being perfect anymore when every time you did what you thought led to happiness, was only a cover for the real world that was waiting for her in the grand scheme of things? When the convulsing stopped and her body managed to reconcile with her mind Geneviève sat against the backside of her bed. She wiped the spit that was still left in the corner of her mouth away from her face as she looked around the yurt that she had been lucky or perhaps, unlucky enough to be paired up in with Alphonse. His side was messy- well cluttered really and her side was so much tidier. She let out a small unamused huff at the situation. Her side looked so fake. Geneviève felt so fake. For so many years, of her nearly fourteen years on this Earth, she had thought that she couldn't ever be fake if she was honest. She believed that honesty lead to beauty and that it promoted happiness. Her mother had been honest enough to tell her that she still loved her very much, but that her true happiness did not lie with her father. Geneviève loved her mother dearly and while it confused her still, she never once believed that honesty would lie to her. But here she was. Lying to Alphonse. The finger missing the press on nail scraped against the floor as she wallowed in her thoughts about the upcoming inevitable talk she needed to have with him. There was so much that ad been revealed to her about her life, that she just wasn't sure how to explain it without breaking his heart. Or her own even. Her nail scratched a small 'g' in the wood of the floor and moved into the letter 'a' next. A stupid muggle-thing she had heard about from a muggle book that had been left by one of her doormmates in their shared room back at Beauxbatons. The girl had drawn her initials with another set, presumably another student's over and over again in hearts. It was silly but Geneviève continued to mark up the floor lightly. She would fix it later. Geneviève let her head fall back against her bed as she finally tugged at the laces of her skates which were still on her feet. It felt cold when her stockings hit the air and she flexed her ankles. Life was so annoying right now... and she needed something to help her believe it would get better.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

――――――――――――――――― date ; february 16th, 2026 time ; afternoon mentions ; @alphonse toussaint Reducio STATS: sta ◦ 8 | eva ◦ 10 | str ◦ 3 | wis ◦ 7 | arc ◦ 9 | acc ◦ 8 ―――――――――――――――――

――――――――――――――――― koldovstoretz ; ice skating lake word count ; 950 words #FFFDD0 ; dialogue Reducio ABILITIES: Lovely Creature | Perfectionist | Prodigal Transfiguration Learner ―――――――――――――――――

Coded By: Isabeau Nevara