Miserable Mornings
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xx | Kahira Valerian had had a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad, in fact absolutely catastrophic twenty-four hours, and her mood was as sour as a lemon to fit. Just a day's ticking of the clock before, she'd been on the Hogwarts Express, excited for what would surely be an amazing beginning to her glorious and resplendent educational career. Her curly red head had been full of dreams about acing all of her Potions classes, having her name carved into various trophies, finally showing up her dhampir prick of an elder brother (@Blaize Valerian), and, of course, being Sorted into Slytherin, though that one had seemed like a given at the time. After all, there had barely ever been any Valerians in any other House, and those who had been - well, they could hardly call themselves part of the family anymore after such a disastrous failure at fitting in, now, could they? But all that had come crashing down when that Hat, that bloody daft tosser of a Hat, had decided to ruin her future with a single word and announce to a whole Hall full of people that she - a Valerian!!! - belonged nowhere other than... gag... Hufflepuff. The night after was a bit of a blur - snapping at various people, attempting to convince the elder students that she didn't belong there, forcing her way into a single room in the Hufflepuff dormitories so she wouldn't have to sleep next to those obviously lesser than her (they'd been Sorted as a badger, after all!) - and then this morning of classes had been somewhat dazed through. Kahira had categorically refused to put on any semblance of anything yellow - a Hufflepuff tie, sweater vest, and robes, all discarded into the deepest depths of her trunk, as though hiding them would take away the shame - and instead had spent the morning in a plain uniform adorned with as much green-and-silver jewelry as she could find in her luggage, as if she could convince the teachers that she was actually a Slytherin in disguise. As soon as the lunch-hour hit, Kahira went not to the Great Hall for a meal - she positively refused to force herself to sit amongst the yellow and black a single time more - but, instead, she managed to find her way to the Headmaster's Office via directions from a few friendly upperclassmen and one not-so-friendly talking portrait. The simple fix here is to speak to the Headmaster, and he will certainly see my situation, she had ruminated on the walk here. The Hat is old, and magic wears off after a time. It is bound to make mistakes. Surely, the Headmaster is a reasonable man, and he will grant me an easy change. I shan't even have to write home about it. Unfortunately for the eleven-year-old pureblood, none of the friendly upperclassmen (and certainly not the portrait who had just blown a raspberry at her from behind the relative safety of its frame) had mentioned that there was a password to get into the Headmaster's office, or, specifically, what it might be. Kahira tried everything - "Pumpkin pasty! Lemon drop! His Greatness Solomon Lear! Aluhumura! Or whatever that stupid incantation might be. Password! Password! Let me in! Ugh, you blubbering nitwit!" In the end, she resorted to simply pounding closed fists on the gargoyle that would not reveal its hidden staircase. "I need to speak to the Headmaster," she wailed up at it, her voice growing louder and more miserable in pitch and tone with each passing second. "I've been put into the wrong House! This is all just some terrible mistake! Why won't you bloody thing just let me in?" |
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| kahira valerian second gen | _____________________ | shop | ___________________ |
Miserable Mornings
Date: 2 September 2026 (Lunch Time)
Mentions: @Kahira Valerian
W|C: 825
OOC: Hi! I am so in love with your writing style. It just has so much tone and emotion in it! I could practically feel Kahira's emotion while reading it!
The moment her last class for the day had ended, Elisha had went straight to the owlery to send her family the letter she had written during one of her class. She had asked for directions from her seniors before she had left the common room only to remember vague bits and pieces of it. She didn't expect to be so immersed in the lessons that she almost completely forgot about the path her seniors had instructed her.
So she had to ask another student from other houses to guide her towards the owlery. She was tempted to ask the portraits hanging on the wall or the ghost she had seen reenacting he's own death in front of a group of Gryffindor but she feared that she might get distracted and waste her time asking them questions she had always been so curious about the moment she opened her mouth.
Thankfully though, a kind Hufflepuff had volunteered to show her the way. The journey was short and quiet, aside from some small talks. After arriving, Elisha bid him farewell and had set on doing what she needed to do. Unfortunately, the moment she had taken a step on the moving stairs on her way back was the start of her journey of being lost yet again. It seemed even more absurd that the students she had talked to seemed to have the unanimous decision to play a prank on her by giving her wrong directions! Honestly! Maybe she had used all her luck for the day.
Now she was just trying to find her own way in her own pace while admiring whatever the place she had landed into. "Maybe I should've bought a more comfortable shoes" Elisha said as she leaned down the wall to rubbed her aching foot. "Or maybe a spell to make any footwear comfortable no matter the environment." She took a tired sigh and stared at the portrait in front of her.
The portrait depicted a child climbing a tree to reach for the broom stuck in it's branches. 'He must've fallen off his broom while flying.' She thought as she took a step closer, the boy had almost grazed the tip of the broom with his fingers only to startle and fall down from the tree when a shrieking voice seemed to echo within the halls followed by loud insistent banging. Elisha and the boy from the painting looked at each other before staring at direction where the sound had come from.
"So..." Elisha started eyes still looking towards the direction as if the source of the still, loud noise would suddenly appear right in front of her. "Should I go and check that out? Or should I just stay here?"
The boy in the painting dusted his cloak off of the dust and fixed his disheveled hair, shrugging at Elisha to do whatever she wanted to do. Giving the direction an annoyed glare before starting his climb on the tree yet again. Elisha took a few more second staring at him before slowly walking towards the noise. Turning a corner, she could see a red-headed girl pounding on a statue, demanding to see the Headmaster.
"So I was near the Headmaster's office" Elisha muttered to herself.
The girl seems to grow more hysterical the longer Elisha looks at her. She couldn't see any house insignia she could use to verify which house she belongs to from her position but seeing how much green and silver adorned her body seems enough to guess her house to be in Slytherin. But that wasn't right though. Elisha doesn't remember her face among the first year in her house, and she surely haven't been paying much attention to the other first years during the Sorting ceremony to place a name on her face. Seeing how determined she was to see the Headmaster about her house placement Elisha concluded that she must've expected to be sorted into Slytherin but instead is place into another house.
Finding her curiosity satisfied, Elisha takes a step back only to remember her own circumstances. She wonders if the girl knows the way back to the Great Hall.
Setting her resolve, she took a step towards the girl making as much noise on her movement to caught her attention over her loud voice. The girl turns towards her eyeing her critically. Elisha gave her a soft smile as she stretched her hand towards her for a handshake.
"Hello, my name is Pennyworth. Elisha Pennyworth." She glance at the girl's reddening hand. "I just couldn't help myself looking over. Is there anything I could help you? You seemed...troubled at the moment."
Miserable Mornings
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xx | Kahira's hands were beginning to grow sore from pounding them on the door; the petite eleven-year-old was unused to manual labour, and she was easily tired with this sort of physical activity involving her soft, uncalloused fingers. Her hands were red along the outer sides, and yet she hit on, a boat against an uncaring gargoyle current, even as her eyes grew a similar shade with tears. She immediately blinked back any semblance of a sob, however, when footsteps and a voice nearby sounded; Kahira was many things, but she was not going to be seen as weak in public. She turned, her gaze hardening immediately - not the girl's fault, necessarily, more of a defence mechanism - away from the gargoyle, shaking and stretching out her smarting fingers and palms as she looked away from the stupid Headmaster's office entrance for the first time since she had arrived in this bedamned corridor. In front of her stood a dark-haired girl with amber eyes, her hand outstretched to shake (a greeting that Kahira had never quite enjoyed; she found that a proper cursty was more well-received in her usual circles, with handshakes reserved for business deals among the patriarchs of pureblood families... or Muggle-borns and half-bloods who didn't know any better). Kahira's dark eyes narrowed, and she was about to smack away the other girl's outstretched palm and go back to banging on the gargoyle when the surname stopped her short. Pennyworth. And the girl had introduced herself in the same way Kahira so often did, too - surname first, then full name. It was the mark of someone educated, someone worthy - someone pureblooded. The Pennyworth family wasn't particularly famous anymore, but they were old and storied, and a recognisable enough name to Kahira, who had grown up studying the intricacies of old-world pureblood families. The redhead suddenly had every reason to believe that this Elisha girl was the youngest of that lot. And judging by the Slytherin uniform this girl (who looked about her age - probably another first-year) was wearing, this was actually someone worth knowing - a pureblood Slytherin of an old family, exactly who Kahira herself had been meant to be. Kahira instantly hated her and was jealous of her, right on the spot. Still, she forced herself to reach forward and shake the other girl's hand with a grip strength that would've rivalled her father's. "Valerian. Kahira Valerian," she said, mirroring the other girl's introduction and watching her face closely for signs of recognition. That was what would surely implant this girl as worthy of Kahira's time - if she had heard of the Valerian Consortium, for if she had, that meant she was indeed of magical heritage. "I suppose... thank you for the offer, but unless you know the password to this ridiculous thing, I'm afraid you shan't be much help. I shall need to speak to the Headmaster some other way. There's been a terrible mistake, and I shall need it fixed before long." Kahira heaved a big sigh, casting one longing and yet still annoyed look at the gargoyle blocking her way. "Ugly little thing, isn't it?" |
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@Elisha Pennyworth
| kahira valerian second gen | _____________________ | shop | ___________________ |
Miserable Mornings
Date: 2 September 2026 (Lunch Time)
Mentions: @Kahira Valerian
W|C: 825
OOC: Sorry for late reply! Got busy with school and a family death
"Valerian. Kahira Valerian,"
Elisha slightly winced as Valerian took her outstretched hand. She wasn't sure if she had somehow offended the girl or if it was just her natural strength but it almost made her unable to focus on her introduction. Elisha gingerly took her hand and hid it behind her back to slightly ease the pain out of her view.
Her name was familiar though she wasn't sure where she had heard it before. Perhaps during her parents business talk or maybe even during the few social gatherings she used to attend. She wasn't knowledgeable as other pure-blooded heirs about other pure-blood families as she should probably be but if her name was familiar enough to her then she must be one of them. Valerian continued to talk about wanting to see the headmaster and fixing a mistake that had happened.
Elisha have no clue about the password on the entrance but she thought Kahira would have thought to ask a professor for it or raise the concern to them and have them relay it to the headmaster. But perhaps Valerian's emotion are clouding her judgement.
"Ugly little thing, isn't it?"
Elisha followed Valerian's gaze unto the still gargoyle, slowly examining it's features. "We'll I'm not much of a gargoyle enthusiast nor do I find them aesthetically pleasing to use as a decoration but I wouldn't outright call it ugly. It has it's own...charm, besides it's been part of Hogwarts for a long time. I doubt you'll be able to get rid of it" She looks back at her and smiled regrettably. "I'm sorry though, I have neither clue as to what words this statue wanted to hear. Perhaps you could try again tomorrow, I doubt the headmaster is planning to retire soon. You'll have plenty of time to come and talk to him."
She shifted slightly, feeling a bit awkward now to ask her a question. For some reason, she feels like the girl has become more intense than before, nevertheless she couldn't risk getting lost again. "By the way, do you perhaps know your way back to the great hall? I'm kind of lost you see" It's more embarrassing to admit than she would've thought. Something about Valerian makes her feel...something.
She wasn't sure. Maybe because she hasn't interacted with a lot of pure-bloods than she should've. It's not like she hated socializing, but their family hasn't been invited as much as before. The only families that never changed was those who were close friends with her parents, those who have are in their debt and those who thinks they can touch whatever is left in the family's legacy.
Elisha grabs a small tin container on her robes pocket and showed it to Valerian. "Also. You should put some ointment on your hand before it swells from all that banging. Wouldn't want to have that gargoyle injure you don't you think?"