The Art of French Insults
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The castle was, as usual, buzzing with excitement and constant chatter. The courtyard was absolutely packed: students running across the stone floor, things being thrown all over the place, the constant bump of shoulders...
I was honestly having a bad day. The clump of people, the heat trapped in the castle, the fact that I couldnโt focus on English no matter how many times I read the same sentence. It was unbearable.
I moved through the courtyard with my bag over my shoulder, going through gaps in the crowd. Someone laughed nearby. Someone else shouted across the courtyard. It all blurred into one constant noise pressing down against my head.
Then someone had the wonderful idea to bump into me, laughed like it was nothing, and kept walking as if basic social awareness was inexistent.
I stopped dead, my hand tightening around my bag. My eyes followed them for a bit too long, making it impossible for me to start an absolute war. Lucky them.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my feet to walk away from the crowd, away from the heat and noise and everything else that suddenly felt so unbearable.
Then, in a voice I didnโt intend for anyone else to hear, I muttered in French, "Quelle catastrophe ambulante lui..." The literal meaning is "what a moving catastrophe" idk the equivalent in english, I sighed, "Il a cru c'รฉtait le college a son pรจre ou quoi?" I finished meaning: he thought it was his dad's school or what?
Annoyed, I debated whether I should make it to the common room or stay in the courtyard until the crowd dissipates.
I picked the second option.
I felt my head burning and decided to take the closest seat and start my work here. I didn't waste my time.
Note: Word and a translation tool has been used in this RP
Action: N/A
Stamina: 5 | Evasion: 4 | Strength: 2 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 9 | Accuracy: 3
Abilities: Parselmouth
"That's crap-puccino" Sta 5 | Eva 6 | Str 2 | Wis 7 | Arc 9 | Acc 6 |
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The Art of French Insults
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Students drifted. Stone floorings, stepped, jumped or ran on.
Chatt specifically, got dragged.
Smile reaching his eyes, like the earth, seeing the sun once more. Bumped on, pushed off. An arm over his neck, the group laughing whole-heartedly. God this group was such the noise bringer. While most of them had a busy day, this group didn't care.
Speeches overlapping one another, but somehow somewayโthey understood each other together. Chatt, was in the middle of it. Answering, bantering, exclaimingโall the -ings.
He was enjoying every bit of it. It was great to enjoy friends like these. Especially in such a crowded place where everything stills.
But also meaning, they'd have no personal space at all. They didn't care, to busy in their own bubbleโ
"Oh dude! it's him!"
"Where?" Chatt immediately looked around shiftily.
"Made you look!"
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Laughed. Chatt grinned. Walking faster, letting them catch-up and laugh.
They'd stroll through the crowd, taking their time, in their own pace. A friend bumped into someone whilst explaining, in the mood to do it while walking backwards for some reason.
A bump.
The girl, brown hairโhaving the color of fresh wood. Stopped in her tracks as the group passed them.
"Il a cru...."
Chatt slowed down, slightly ahead of her. He'd wouldn't stare. It was faintโfaded, but, he heard.
"You guys go ahead." He'd pushed them off.
As Chatt looked back, she was gone. He looked indifferently.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I have to handle what you did."
He'd sneer. Leaving them off as she spotted the girl. Sitting quietly on the benches. Everyone here had their own bubble. But she looked quite annoyed at that.
"Hello." Walking towards her, a hand in his pocket, the other waving slightly.
"You're French?"
He looked sideways, just for a slight second.
"Sorry about him. He has an ego of an....Iceberg. To put it simply." Stopping in his tracks, towering over her.
.
"Ah, Chatt Auclair? And you?" He exclaimed, not without continuing another apology.
"Sorry again."
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โฆโขยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทโขโฆ
โฆโขยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทโขโฆ
โฆโขยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทยทโขโฆ
Last edited by Chatt Auclair on 5 Jul 2026, 04:20, edited 1 time in total.
The Art of French Insults
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I heard an unfamiliar voice speaking up, "Hello." the stranger said, I didnโt look up immediately.
The courtyard noise carried on around us, voices overlapping, footsteps scraping against stone...
He spoke anyway, "You're French?"
Slowly, I lifted my gaze from where it had been fixed on nothing in particular, eyes settling on him with a quiet kind of assessment. I heard something behind his voice: an accent.
I nodded, โYou heard that,โ I said, sounding more like a statement than a question. I wasn't mad or embarrassed, it was just inconvenient.
My fingers adjusted slightly around the strap of my bag before I let them rest again, posture straight, composed like I hadnโt just been pushed into a worse mood five minutes ago.
""Sorry about him. He has an ego of an....Iceberg. To put it simply." ". At his apology, my expression didnโt change. If anything, it cooled further, โYour friend lacks spatial awarenessโ I replied evenly. โAnd basic manners. Both are quite noticeableโ
There was a small pause.
My gaze flicked past him for half a second, toward where his group had disappeared into the crowd, before returning just as quickly.
I tilted my head slightly at his introduction, "Ah, Chatt Auclair? And you?" studying him for a moment, "Tes Cadell"my expression didn't shift.
There was another pause, โAnd donโt apologise on his behalfโ I added
Note: Word and a translation tool has been used in this RP
Action: N/A
Stamina: 5 | Evasion: 4 | Strength: 2 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 9 | Accuracy: 3
Abilities: Parselmouth
"That's crap-puccino" Sta 5 | Eva 6 | Str 2 | Wis 7 | Arc 9 | Acc 6 |