Closed Long Arguments, Short Stories PV

The day had been going perfectly well, but of course it only took one interaction with the wrong type of person to ruin that, didn’t it? The girl’s tongue was as filthy as her blood, proof of not only her bastard nature but also of inappropriate nurture. Others were often content enough to give Raul a wide enough berth, letting their obvious superior go about his business accosted by the lowborn gutter rats that seemed to inhabit the once-grand institution like a pestilence. The seeker knew he was broadly disliked, hated even, and he’d revelled in it. If blood traitors and mudbloods thought that his behaviour was unbecoming, then it was proof enough that he was doing the right thing. There was something to be said about causing harm and anger to fester in the hearts of the wrong types of people.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wanted to engage in an argument with the swine given human form at every given opportunity. He knew he was better than them, and he did quite enjoy making sure that they knew it. That did not mean that he wanted every waking moment to be taken up with the banshee-like complaints of the lowborn.

In fact, he’d rather enjoyed the quiet day thus far. Classes had gone well, he’d not grasped every concept, but he’d at least had the good fortune to wrap his head around most of it. All he’d wanted was to grab lunch and then attend to his rostered chores. In spite of himself, it was doing the latter that provided him with the most peace and comfort of mind. Something about watching the growth of plants cooled an otherwise burning demeanour. He’d been looking forward to it.

Manu Macedo had gotten in the way of all of that.

Raul loathed her. His hatred ran as deep as that mighty river which provided the school with its lifeblood, and the vegetation that sprung from such was just as lush. She was arrogant without cause, and frustratingly self-righteous. Raul knew he was better than her, just as he knew he was better than just about every piece of trash that attended the school. Why then, did she feel the need to intervene when he was just going about his business? What concern was it of hers if he called a student a ‘mudblood?’ Hell, half the time she seemed to appear out of the woodwork, as if seeking an opportunity to set upon the beleaguered pureblood.

He had no time for it. He had no time for her.

So, of course, he’d pre-empted her before she could speak. Launching into a thick tirade, the very sight of her curls setting his temper to boiling.

“Don’t even start on me, you filthy half-blood,” He spat, the last word half-growled as if to masquerade it from the prying ears of any of the teachers.

“I’ve not the time nor patience to deal with the asinine nonsense you feel like spouting today, so save it for your book club or sewing circle or whatever it is muggles do. Mother of God, just leave me in peace!”

Of course his raving had attracted Boe, ever the protector of the family name. Raul had never quite understood why his brother insisted on playing the part of black sheep, and it was well and truly a part. The brothers understood it well, that the elder of the two was the dignified statesman, the kind who had to wade in filth to speak to the animals that lived in it. There was logic to it, yes, and on more than one occasion Raul had willingly cast himself as the villain to further his brother’s schemes. But it just seemed all so tiresome, and frustrating. No, it was better to speak the truth. Their family was better than others, why not flaunt it?

Still, Boe’s duplicity was founded in goodness, and Raul could hardly stay mad at his brother.

Instead, his demeanour changed as if on a dime, “Boe! Had History, Quechua and Philosophy this morning, been stuck behind a desk for the entire day, unfortunately. I was planning to get lunch,” He sneered at Manu, “But I appear to have lost my appetite.”

@Jack Warren & @Aly Salinger

It was supposed to be a nice day. Classes had gone well, Monet finally felt like she was grasping how to excel at magic. Incantations and magical ingredients no longer felt foreign, but as if they were tugging at something within Monet, something that had been buried for her whole life. But more excitingly, Monet had gotten mail from home earlier that morning. It was a letter, short and brief, as her parents often were, but it still warmed Monet's heart. Until she got to the bottom. The letter was distinctly missing two signatures. Her mom and dad's signatures were there, obviously. Hell, they must have mailed the letter back to Barcelona so Carlos could sign, too. But Mateo and Dante's names were nowhere to be seen. Monet glared at the paper as she crumpled it in her hand. God, did she really have to go home after all of this?

Monet's mind churned over the last time she exchanged words with her brothers. She hated them, she hated them, and the feeling was mutual. She felt her heartbeat quicken, her steps faster, heavier. Monet stormed outside, hoping the fresh air would give her time to cool off before doing anything else. Maybe with all the strength she'd built from quidditch this year she could just punch her brothers when she got home. Would that make her feel better, hurting them? Monet thought about it for a while, no definite answer popping in her head. "Probably" was the conclusion she eventually came to.

If she never saw the twins again, Monet truly didn't think she would mind.

The path Monet was on led her back to the entrance of the grand golden pyramid. Monet pushed open the doors and stepped inside, greeted to the sound of a familiar voice spewing all-too familiar insults. At least they weren't directed at her. Monet had the unfortunate pleasure of being teammates with Raul Mirales Correa. He had made his distain for Monet and her blood very clear from the start, shouting insults that Monet didn't often understand the meaning of, but the intent behind them was very clear. Thankfully, as she approached, she soon after heard a voice that was a much more welcome sound. Boe reminded Monet of her oldest brother, Carlos. The way he genuinely cared for her well-being, cheered and challenged her as a beater, and traded joking insults with her made Castelobruxo feel so much more welcoming than home.

Surely Boe would understand the plight of terrible brothers, perhaps he could provide reprieve from her anger. Or show her the best technique for punching one.

As she approached the pair (who were with someone else that she couldn't see as Raul's damn big head was in the way), Monet took a deep breath, shoving her letter deep in her pocket. She lingered around the brothers for a moment, waiting for a pause in their conversation, before finally approaching. "Hi Boe!" She greeted him with a smile, trying to hide her frustration, but her face quickly fell as she turned to acknowledge the other. "Hello, Raul."

@Jack Warren, @Nicholas McCowan & @Aly Salinger

“Tell me who you walk with, and I’ll tell you who you are.” —Brazilian proverb

Manu Macedo made it a point to walk with all walks of life. Whether her classmates were rich or poor, Muggle-born or pureblood, Brazilian or Mexican or Chilean or wherever they were from, Manu despised discrimination with the entirety of her heart. Castelobruxo was for everyone, after all - these rich green rainforests blanketing the school in a cool, damp mist, these acres of rolling golden fields overflowing with cared-for crops of all kinds, this shimmering golden pyramid that caught the sun's warm rays just right to wash everything in a glimmering light. Manu had just finished up with classes for the morning, and her favorite thing to do was to peruse the walled gardens round said golden pyramid on her way back to her lodging-house for the midday meal; there was nothing like the peaceful green serenity the flora-covered walls offered, the quiet calm that often helped her to relax after her temper flared into a spark which sparked into a bonfire. Her fingers brushed across the soft, damp petal of some giant magenta flower, collecting the last few droplet remnants of the morning's surviving dew.

It was then that movement caught her attention from the corner of her light eyes, and Manu's head swiveled to see who had joined her in the gardens. The sight of a small, slight figure with a soft face, bushy eyebrows, protruding ears, and stupidly styled hair that made its wearer look like a two-year-old trying on his pai's hair gel immediately took her good mood, brought so calmly into existence by the lush gardens surrounding her, and stomped on it. Then burned it. Then stomped on it again. Then threw it off of a cliff.

The one walk of life that Manu could not stand was that of a bigot - a rich, spoiled, puristic ass who had never quite grasped the concept of 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.' The Mirales Correa brothers were the very definition of this kind of people, with the elder, Gregorio, a cunning, sly psychopath who had never said a true kind word to anyone in his life and lied at the drop of a hat to get what he wanted, and the younger, Raul, missing his elder brother's filter and any semblance of a soul. Manu had never thought in her life that she would find people she hated more than the bullies at her ensino fundamental, Davi Guimarães and his dumb little buddies, but the Mirales Correas had almost instantly eclipsed any thought of Davi from Manu's mind. All of her hatred now went to them. It was really hard to pick which one was worse - Boe with his emotional manipulation, or Raul with his cruel tongue.

No matter. Manu could handle either of them. Or both, if the need arose.

On this day, it seemed to just be Raul, a year younger than Manu herself, navigating his way through the gardens; he, too, was likely on his way to lunch. But his food could wait. Hell, it could grow cold as ice for all Manu cared. Because, earlier today, as Manu had ducked and swiveled through the pyramid on her way from one class to the next, she'd caught a glimpse of the younger Mirales Correa cornering some infinitely small first-year, sneering down his nose at the poor boy. Raul hadn't been speaking loudly enough for Manu to hear him over the chatter and clamor of the crowded corridor, but the boy looked scared enough for Manu to want to storm over there and shove herself between the two. Unfortunately, a classmate who knew all too well of Manu's desire to protect people had also seen the scene, and had grabbed Manu's arm and dragged a resisting Macedo to class. She'd been boiling ever since, and the sight of Raul's smug baby face was enough to send the rage spilling over the sides of her internal cauldron.

Just like she'd wanted to earlier, Manu let her thundering feet yank her over towards Raul. This time, there was no classmate there to stop her, and just as she opened her mouth to speak, the boy noticed her and cut her off with a furious tirade: “Don’t even start on me, you filthy half-blood... I’ve not the time nor patience... save it for your book club or sewing circle... Mother of God, just leave me in peace!”

Well, it wasn't like Raul could read minds. Occlumency wasn't on the Castelobruxo curriculum. So that meant that, somewhere deep in his soulless, thoughtless brain, he knew that bullying first-years was wrong. Did he have the smallest thread of a conscience hidden underneath all that hair and bravado? That, or he was just tired of her going after him, but Manu wasn't a quitter. She would keep nipping at his heels (or punching at his face) until he realized that the only way to get rid of her was to become a good person, no matter how long that took.

"My blood's purer than your soul, or it would be, if you had one," she retorted. "And if you have neither time nor patience, maybe you should've thought about that before you went around being a cabrão to first-years. Actions have consequences, Correa-"

Her soon-to-be rant was effectively interrupted, again, by the arrival of the second Mirales Correa. Deus, did they travel in packs? Manu felt her heart seize in anger inside her chest at the sight of Gregorio, just as it had since that fateful day in their second year when he had first let his true colors fly after over a year of pretending to be her most faithful, kindest friend. He still kept up his façade most days, but now, Manu could see through his transparency to see the hatred simmering behind those dark green eyes. Gregorio strode to join them, asking his brother where he had been as though Manu weren't even there; soon enough they were joined by another younger student, younger even than Raul by the looks of it, who greeted both boys in an almost friendly manner. (Well, Gregorio more so than Raul. But certainly, the young dark-haired girl held none of the bubbling vitriol that Manu did towards the brothers.)

Manu turned towards Gregorio to snap at him, but thought better of it; two could play at this game of pretending one another didn't exist. As for pretending he didn't matter to her, well, that part wasn't even pretend anymore. "Good. Starve," the carioca snapped, turning from one brother back to the original. "Now listen to me and listen carefully - leave that boy alone, because if I ever see you talking to him again, I'm going straight to Dourado. Maybe if I can't get you to stop being cruel to the younger students, the threat of expulsion can."

She glanced then to the youngest student, the other girl at this encounter. "I don't know who you are, but a fair warning," Manu said, as kindly and quietly as possible, to her unknown non-enemy. "These aren't the sort of boys you want to be making friends with. Look for a better sort. Maybe some with a heart."

	@Jack Warren (as Boe Mirales Correa)
|| Interacting with: ||	@Nicholas McCowan (as Raul Mirales Correa)
	@June Selwyn (as Monet Navarro-Gallay)

Portuguese word translations: pai = father, ensino fundamental = elementary/middle school, cabrão = general curse word similar to asshole or bitch, Deus = God, carioca = someone from Rio de Janeiro