Stargawking
M I L OxH A R T M A N
per aspera ad astra
❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼
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When Milo entered the tent he had three thoughts nearly all at once. His first thought was that the tent was even larger and more lavish on the inside than the outside. His second thought was that he wanted nothing more than to lie down on the ridiculously fluffy bed in the corner to rest his aching legs, which he would have done if the third thought hadn't hit him.
Because there was a boy already inside the tent who stood a little taller and a little straighter than any other eleven-year-old who'd ever lived. Camille de Varenne was not easy to miss, not just because he was annoyingly tall, but because he usually had small pack of admirers at his heels. And yet Milo's third thought was not about how unfair the genetic lottery was, or what had happened to the usual pack of admirers. Instead, Milo's third thought was about space and stars.
Stars are kind of strange. People stars that is, not the blazing fireballs in the sky. Why are people stars called stars? If you think about it, there's not much similarity between blazing fireballs in the sky and people with smooth puffy faces and forced smiles and blinding teeth. Except for maybe the blinding part. You should never look directly into the sun, and you shouldn't look at a star's bright white teeth either. Not unless you're wearing shades.
Too late for that now though. Milo hadn't packed any shades. The minute Camille would turn around and flash a white smile at him he'd be blinded for the rest of his life. Sad times for him. Unless Camille wasn't a star, though he definitely acted like one and he was a good singer -- him and that girl Esme who's a Slytherin and who's very white (like Camille's teeth), especially her hair. Maybe she dyes it. Or maybe the dying happened mostly on the inside when they'd been standing on that stage together. She had looked rather bored at the pageant...
Maybe being called a star has got to do with being pretty. Stars are pretty, but only from a distance. Up close they're blazing infernos and they emit radiation. That's a space fact, and Milo knew a lot of space facts. The thing is, star's got gravity and gravity's a monster you can't ignore. If you get close to a star, you'll get sucked in, which would be bad for you, the star doesn't mind. Actually, you'd burn to a crisp before you'd ever get close, so instead of getting ate up by lava you'd be evaporated, which is like melting really quickly. Still quite painful though.
Milo squinted at Camille. He had decided that he probably wasn't going to melt if he took another step closer. “Hello,” he said. After shrugging off his backpack, which he dumped rather unceremoniously at his feet, Milo made his way over to the nearest water basin. He hadn't bothered to be surprised or amazed yet by the fact this tent had a water basin at all, he was feeling far too hot and thirsty to have given that any consideration. After he'd splashed some water in his face, he looked back up toward Camille, streaks of water still running down his face. “I saw you at the pageant. Nice song. Couldn't understand a word of it though. Have you got a towel? I don't think I packed one and they're expecting us back at the campfire, I think.” Ironically, it wasn't entirely inconceivable that Camille would now be the one struggling to understand, because Milo's words came tumbling out like his thoughts: all at once.
@Camille de Varenne | Stargawking22/04/2026Grounds
Stargawking
LOCATION: GroundsTAG: @Milo Hartman |
DATE: 21/4/2026WORDS: 768 |
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NOTES: mwah |
STATS: STA 5 | EVA 6 | STR 4 | WIS 8 | ARC 7 | ACC 5 ABILITIES: LOVELY CREATURE |
Last edited by Camille De Varenne on 7 Jul 2026, 15:16, edited 1 time in total.
Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny
Stargawking
date:
time:
location: grounds/tent
The stars – spreading across vast voids of velvet – sparkled in the spectacular sky. The mountains of northern Scotland stretched out before her – vast, sharp, yet lacking resemblance to the mountains Livia so often missed. Something tugged at her, an urge to compare the shapes to the topography of the land of her family, but she calmly ignored it. Beautiful and sprawling and splendiferous they were, but they were not hers.
The lack of homely mountains did not dissuade her. The stars, after all, remained the same no matter the locality in which one resided; though they shifted with the movements of the Earth, they all ultimately existed within the same cosmos. The bright light of the sky made her think fleetingly of her brother, but she shook the thought. No, he was more than a star; he was closeness and warmth – the sun. If anyone was a star, it was her: too dim in the distance to truly shed light. Otherwise, a moon: emitting no light of its own, only able to reflect that of others. It was not something she minded, though. Let the reflection occur.
The event itself was pleasurable. Livia understood the basic manoeuvres of the heavens, but she allowed herself to submit to childish wonder. One of the school’s prefects – Elena, the star-blessed child of the skies she had encountered in the library – seemed to be passionate about the stars, so she would listen to the girl’s spiel. Then, she had taken the time to interact with each – sans Ms Townsend – of the adults, wishing to truly glean as much from the experience as possible. After her earlier encounter with one Miss Annwyn in the abandoned toilets, Livia had only looked forward to a night well spent in nature. This night had only proven rewarding as of yet, so by the time she retired to the tent to do away with her bag, she had imagined she would have the best, calmest quiet of her life.
Of course, the girl was no seer; it would thus prove imminent that her premonitions lacked predilection for truth. She entered the tent in search of further tranquility, but her footsteps sped to a halt once she recognised one figure within the room. She did not know his name – she had not bothered to learn it. However, she could not have mistaken that fine visage, paired with an insufferable demeanour, for anyone else. This was that dratted boy – altogether better than Norwood, she supposed, though Mr Egotistical was still annoying in his own regard. Livia maintained her neutral expression, wordlessly attempting to claim a bed. All she heard was the rude boy's utterance, his admission: he was not planning on going anywhere.
This spelled potential panic for Livia, who had wished to remain somewhere restful. She levied a blank stare at Camille as she began to sift through her belongings, finally neatly setting her bag on the end of a bed. Slowly, still silently, she bent down to remove her shoes. Finally, she stood, still wearing stockings, and then sat primly on the edge of the bed, her back straight. She glanced once towards a small Slytherin she vaguely recognised from classes, and then to the rude singer. 'Hello. May I ask your name?' she asked the former. To the latter, she would say nothing, simply observing as he – in a manner that truly lacked decorum – sprawled across the couch. Such insolence.
time:
location: grounds/tent
roleplaying as livia machavariani | ‘fit: x
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 8 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 8 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
The stars – spreading across vast voids of velvet – sparkled in the spectacular sky. The mountains of northern Scotland stretched out before her – vast, sharp, yet lacking resemblance to the mountains Livia so often missed. Something tugged at her, an urge to compare the shapes to the topography of the land of her family, but she calmly ignored it. Beautiful and sprawling and splendiferous they were, but they were not hers.
The lack of homely mountains did not dissuade her. The stars, after all, remained the same no matter the locality in which one resided; though they shifted with the movements of the Earth, they all ultimately existed within the same cosmos. The bright light of the sky made her think fleetingly of her brother, but she shook the thought. No, he was more than a star; he was closeness and warmth – the sun. If anyone was a star, it was her: too dim in the distance to truly shed light. Otherwise, a moon: emitting no light of its own, only able to reflect that of others. It was not something she minded, though. Let the reflection occur.
The event itself was pleasurable. Livia understood the basic manoeuvres of the heavens, but she allowed herself to submit to childish wonder. One of the school’s prefects – Elena, the star-blessed child of the skies she had encountered in the library – seemed to be passionate about the stars, so she would listen to the girl’s spiel. Then, she had taken the time to interact with each – sans Ms Townsend – of the adults, wishing to truly glean as much from the experience as possible. After her earlier encounter with one Miss Annwyn in the abandoned toilets, Livia had only looked forward to a night well spent in nature. This night had only proven rewarding as of yet, so by the time she retired to the tent to do away with her bag, she had imagined she would have the best, calmest quiet of her life.
Of course, the girl was no seer; it would thus prove imminent that her premonitions lacked predilection for truth. She entered the tent in search of further tranquility, but her footsteps sped to a halt once she recognised one figure within the room. She did not know his name – she had not bothered to learn it. However, she could not have mistaken that fine visage, paired with an insufferable demeanour, for anyone else. This was that dratted boy – altogether better than Norwood, she supposed, though Mr Egotistical was still annoying in his own regard. Livia maintained her neutral expression, wordlessly attempting to claim a bed. All she heard was the rude boy's utterance, his admission: he was not planning on going anywhere.
This spelled potential panic for Livia, who had wished to remain somewhere restful. She levied a blank stare at Camille as she began to sift through her belongings, finally neatly setting her bag on the end of a bed. Slowly, still silently, she bent down to remove her shoes. Finally, she stood, still wearing stockings, and then sat primly on the edge of the bed, her back straight. She glanced once towards a small Slytherin she vaguely recognised from classes, and then to the rude singer. 'Hello. May I ask your name?' she asked the former. To the latter, she would say nothing, simply observing as he – in a manner that truly lacked decorum – sprawled across the couch. Such insolence.
@camille de varenne & @milo hartman.
(ooc note, Camille said I could join! Feel free to owl me & tell me no
)
(ooc note, Camille said I could join! Feel free to owl me & tell me no
)| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |