5 Jul 2018, 23:56
To Whom It May Concern
Aubren,
I just wanted to say I'm sor
Hey Aubren,
It's Max. What happened was
Ms. Anson:
I was in the library when
To Whom It May Concern:
Early in the school year, I happened upon a conversation involving a few Gryffindor students that I found quite distressing. It appeared that some boys thought they were better than a brilliant witch simply because of who their parents were. Now, maybe bloodlines offer some advantages and maybe not - I'm not here to debate it - but the thought of a witch as clever as this one being put down for an unworthy reason like that hurts my heart.
She seemed kind; she was ready to be friends with someone and open her heart despite that being a difficult thing to do. She seemed smart; she knew about many things and was excited to learn more. She seemed feisty; she was more than ready to laugh in the face of a fraud wizard and call him out. She seemed like she didn't deserve what she got.
The boys making fun of her were utter idiots for breaking someone like her, and I'm writing this in the hopes that someone will see it and tell her that they were wrong. She's not nothing. She's not. She's a girl anyone should be proud to be friends with, and I hope she knows that.
-An Anonymous Watcher
Sitting surrounded by crumpled paper balls with his back pressed against the cool stone of the owlery wall, Max scanned over his final letter one last time with a restless feeling of inadequacy. It was bloody crap. He'd tried all manner of things from simple 'I'm sorry's to a page of angry scribbling about his parents, but none of it felt worthy of being an apology and excuses felt too cheap to give in return for the breaking of a heart. If he really wanted to get the sentiment of what he was feeling across, he should get down on his knees and physically beg her for forgiveness to show that he truly meant it. But no... that wasn't quite what he wanted or deserved. What he wanted most of all was for her to not take what he'd said into her heart and hold it there like a dark secret until it consumed her. That was what he was afraid of, because he knew words could do that to a person. Consume them.
Tilting his head back against the roughness of the stone wall rather violently, he crumpled up his last letter and tossed it an owl. Not good enough. Making a sound of frustration that was swallowed up by the current of the creatures coo-ing around him, he closed his eyes and tried not to imagine the things he and Aubren would lose out on because 'she was a half-blood.' It was difficult when they'd stretched their imaginations in that new-friend excitement way kids had.
He would've gone to her place for Christmas to meet her grandpa she was so fond of, and he would've taken her to Quidditch games so they watch everything with wide-eyed admiration. They would've had adventures against trolls and evil, standing up to it all with Gryffindor bravado, overcoming it with her quick-wit and their combined spell knowledge. Taking classes together, chatting about the profs they liked, learning amazing things... they were supposed to do normal kid stuff. The thought of that had been so exciting he'd forgotten everything else, and that made the shock and disappointment of this ordeal so much worse.
"I didn't mean it," he whispered bitterly, that too being snatched away, though this time by the drafty wind sneaking in through the open windows of the room. With his eyes closed and the murmur of sound around him, it would be impossible for him to notice anyone else entering.
"There’s something brittle in me that will break before it bends."
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8
8 Jul 2018, 04:19
To Whom It May Concern
Dear Mother,
Is there any advice on what to do when
Dear Mum and Dad,
I feel very sick, I would like to go home and
Dear Mom and Dad,
Is there any chance of me being home schooled instead?
No, No, No.
She sighed as she crumpled up the parchment and tossed it to a family of others. Just the sight of the towering papers in the corner of her bed was enough to symbolize a miserable defeat, let alone the growing dread of her parent's reaction yet to come from the letter they were about to receive. Groaning, Aubren let herself slip off her bed and land on the carpeted floor with a soft 'thunk'. She was, for once, lost on what to do. Usually, she was the one to come up with a quick plan to get out of any situation, leaving the problem finished with satisfactory efforts. Yet, here she was, sitting alone in her dorm room floor, her eyes blood shot from tears of stress, and her cheeks red and puffy from those very tears.
How was she supposed to tell her loving and calm mother that she had been shamed and bullied? How was she supposed to write those painful words, the painful betrayal, and send it to her mother for her to read? How was she, her daughter, who had promised to not let Richie ever bother her, that she had a hyperventilation attack just from Richie making eye contact with her in the Great Hall? She couldn't. Not only did the incident left her damage, but it would damage her even more to know the sickening pain her mother would feel after reading that her daughter had been shoved into a darkness that she was having trouble getting out of.
How was she supposed to muster up all of that courage under all of that pain?
The truth was an ugly thing. Well, it was in this situation. Aubren came to the conclusion, whether she liked it or not, that she had to tell her parents the truth. With a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, Aubren grabbed a slip of parchment from her bed, wrapped her shaking hand around her raven quill, and began to scribble down the distasteful truth.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Something happened at school. One of my close friends turned against me, siding with Richard Harper when he invaded in on us at the library. My friend was a pure-blood, but he was just like Richard. It hurt me, very, very badly, and it's been very difficult for me to move past it. They said hurtful things, and I really don't want to write them down, but you could probably figure it out. I hate them both, I despise them, I want nothing to do with him or Richard. Richie didn't even effect me until now, not after what happened, not after my friend turned on me. I know you told me not to fret over things like this, but this is too much to bear. I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore.
I want to go home
It was all Aubren could even muster. She folded the parchment with great care before slipping it into an envelope, stamping it close with the stamp her father had gifted to her. With her cursive writing, she printed her family home address, before silently leaving the Gryffindor common room, venturing down the halls with dark thoughts hanging above her like storm clouds. The burden of carrying that envelope up the stairs just forced her mind to wander in imagination, scenes of her mother breaking down in tears, and her father having a fit over his daughter being treated in a way that would leave her to wanting to go home. She thought about it all the way up to the Owlery, the cold draft of the staircase making her shudder and pull her grey sweater down her arms even more. It felt like she was signing herself away with that letter, showing her parents the open wounds the attackers had cut into her.
As she walked through the the entrance to the circular stone room, Aubren stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she caught a glance of a familiar someone she hoped to never see again. Her blood ran cold, and her heart beat shot skywards.
"Oh, god, please don't be-"
Aubren tried to deny it, but it was no use. She recognized that face anywhere, and to her demise, Max Avery, the boy who had hurt her deeply, sat with his back pressed against the wall, his eyes closed as though he was in thought.
Her eyes immediately stung, the sight of her former friend sitting there with what seemed like not a care in the world just made her feel even worse. Since he appeared to not have even acknowledge her presence, she instantly made the move to run off, deciding she would just come back later when he was gone. However, in the unfortunate events of her horrible luck, the door slammed closed in a startling bang. If that didn't wake him up, he might as well have been deaf or dead.
Aubren's feet were rooted to the floor. She was absolutely terrified, knowing full well she was going to be shattered to bits again. Of course, she could just turn and leave, but for some horrible reason, she couldn't. She was frozen, afraid to move and afraid to speak, now hiding the envelope she had in her hands behind her back.
Is there any advice on what to do when
Dear Mum and Dad,
I feel very sick, I would like to go home and
Dear Mom and Dad,
Is there any chance of me being home schooled instead?
No, No, No.
She sighed as she crumpled up the parchment and tossed it to a family of others. Just the sight of the towering papers in the corner of her bed was enough to symbolize a miserable defeat, let alone the growing dread of her parent's reaction yet to come from the letter they were about to receive. Groaning, Aubren let herself slip off her bed and land on the carpeted floor with a soft 'thunk'. She was, for once, lost on what to do. Usually, she was the one to come up with a quick plan to get out of any situation, leaving the problem finished with satisfactory efforts. Yet, here she was, sitting alone in her dorm room floor, her eyes blood shot from tears of stress, and her cheeks red and puffy from those very tears.
How was she supposed to tell her loving and calm mother that she had been shamed and bullied? How was she supposed to write those painful words, the painful betrayal, and send it to her mother for her to read? How was she, her daughter, who had promised to not let Richie ever bother her, that she had a hyperventilation attack just from Richie making eye contact with her in the Great Hall? She couldn't. Not only did the incident left her damage, but it would damage her even more to know the sickening pain her mother would feel after reading that her daughter had been shoved into a darkness that she was having trouble getting out of.
How was she supposed to muster up all of that courage under all of that pain?
The truth was an ugly thing. Well, it was in this situation. Aubren came to the conclusion, whether she liked it or not, that she had to tell her parents the truth. With a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, Aubren grabbed a slip of parchment from her bed, wrapped her shaking hand around her raven quill, and began to scribble down the distasteful truth.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Something happened at school. One of my close friends turned against me, siding with Richard Harper when he invaded in on us at the library. My friend was a pure-blood, but he was just like Richard. It hurt me, very, very badly, and it's been very difficult for me to move past it. They said hurtful things, and I really don't want to write them down, but you could probably figure it out. I hate them both, I despise them, I want nothing to do with him or Richard. Richie didn't even effect me until now, not after what happened, not after my friend turned on me. I know you told me not to fret over things like this, but this is too much to bear. I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore.
I want to go home
I'm so sorry,
Aubren
It was all Aubren could even muster. She folded the parchment with great care before slipping it into an envelope, stamping it close with the stamp her father had gifted to her. With her cursive writing, she printed her family home address, before silently leaving the Gryffindor common room, venturing down the halls with dark thoughts hanging above her like storm clouds. The burden of carrying that envelope up the stairs just forced her mind to wander in imagination, scenes of her mother breaking down in tears, and her father having a fit over his daughter being treated in a way that would leave her to wanting to go home. She thought about it all the way up to the Owlery, the cold draft of the staircase making her shudder and pull her grey sweater down her arms even more. It felt like she was signing herself away with that letter, showing her parents the open wounds the attackers had cut into her.
As she walked through the the entrance to the circular stone room, Aubren stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she caught a glance of a familiar someone she hoped to never see again. Her blood ran cold, and her heart beat shot skywards.
"Oh, god, please don't be-"
Aubren tried to deny it, but it was no use. She recognized that face anywhere, and to her demise, Max Avery, the boy who had hurt her deeply, sat with his back pressed against the wall, his eyes closed as though he was in thought.
Her eyes immediately stung, the sight of her former friend sitting there with what seemed like not a care in the world just made her feel even worse. Since he appeared to not have even acknowledge her presence, she instantly made the move to run off, deciding she would just come back later when he was gone. However, in the unfortunate events of her horrible luck, the door slammed closed in a startling bang. If that didn't wake him up, he might as well have been deaf or dead.
Aubren's feet were rooted to the floor. She was absolutely terrified, knowing full well she was going to be shattered to bits again. Of course, she could just turn and leave, but for some horrible reason, she couldn't. She was frozen, afraid to move and afraid to speak, now hiding the envelope she had in her hands behind her back.
ѕнe вlooмѕ wιtн ɢrαce ιɴ lιfe'ѕ ɢαrdeɴ
~A.A, Gryffindor
20 Jul 2018, 01:11
To Whom It May Concern
The door slamming shut behind her was the only alert Max had to jerk him out of his thoughts, his eyes sliding halfway open and turning in annoyance towards whoever had come in. He'd expected some nervous first-year with a letter to their concerned but well-meaning parents to be standing there, probably a Hufflepuff who was writing home to say how joyous everything was. Something about the huge amount of friends they'd made and a trivial mention of how classes were going - just enough for their parents to 'ooh' and 'aah' over while commending the headmaster of the school to anyone who would listen.
Because the happy kids never saw the flaws in the system - the happy kids went about life never bothering to look below the surface, because they only wanted to see the good in life. In that way, the people who smiled the most were also the most selfish. They didn't look at things that didn't directly affect them; if they saw the suffering other people experienced, there was no way they'd be able to keep smiling like that.
It all ran through Max's head in the blink of an eye as his gaze stayed steadily on the sight of the girl he'd broken - of course it would have to be Aubren that walked in right now. And, man, it made him wonder. Just when along the way of his short eleven years had he become such a cynic?
"It's not supposed to be you." His voice was too quiet to hear for anyone except for himself, and even he had trouble catching it with how toneless and flat it was. Might as well have been the creaking of a rock with all the depth it had. It wasn't, it really wasn't, supposed to be her who'd walked in right now. Now he couldn't send the letter because she might know it was from him, and if she knew then it might lose some or all of its sincerity to her. She might think it was just another joke, a stupid attempt for him to weasel his way back into her good graces so that he could break her again. But she needed to know - He needed her to know that -
He was on his feet before he'd made the conscious decision to stand, and it took a certain amount of self-restraint not to go over and demand that she stop looking at him like she was scared. It was a new feeling to have someone who'd once been warm look at you the way she was, and he decided that this feeling was one of the worst he'd met up with. Another piece of the puzzle to file away for when he later wanted to examine the things in the world that made him cynical.
So... what did you say to someone whose heart you'd broken?
He'd thought he'd known, thought he'd had it all figured out in his letter. Ha. What a bloody joke.
"Aubren." He cleared his throat, swallowing hard so that he could talk loud enough to project over the owls. "Don't go yet. I know I don't have any right, but I need to say something. You don't need to - Hell, actually, you do. I need you to listen, but you don't have to respond. You don't even have to move, and I won't either, okay?" He lifted his hands in the universal sign of surrender, planning to keep them there for the entire time he spoke. A part of him still insisted that he keep ties with her severed - and truthfully it was something he was planning on - but before he went back to ignoring her, he needed her to understand. Not to absolve him of his guilt, since that guilt was something he deserved for his actions. But to absolve her of whatever negative thing he'd instilled in her, since that wasn't what she deserved.
"It was wrong - what Richie and I said to you. Everything about what you are and what you aren't... no one has the right to tell you that based on something you can't control." It was a razor-thin line he was walking between his parents' belief and... something else. "You know yourself better than anyone, and what right do we have to judge you after only knowing a part of you? You're more than the parts that make you up, so only you have the right or the knowledge to say what kind of person you are. No one can tell you that, but I know people can make you feel like they know better. And it's bad, and it's - it's mean - if you listen to it then it can overcome everything you thought you knew about yourself."
His voice had gone from confident to pleading, as if he was begging her to understand just how based out of malice it was rather than any sort of sense. "So don't. Don't listen to it, Aubren, don't listen to what they say about you. What someone else says about you says more about them than anything; what Richie and I said was never about you, not really. What you are should never be more important than who you are, and who you are is..."
He dropped his hands, feeling like he'd somehow defeated something at a very great cost. It was tiring to delve this deep into an issue he always tried not to look at, harder even when he couldn't just come out and say 'your bloodline doesn't matter.' It mattered to him, to his family. Yet...
"Who you are is up to you. Not me. Not Richie. Not anyone else. That's it. It's really just up to you."
"There’s something brittle in me that will break before it bends."
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8
Fearless | Poison Resistance
STA - 7, EV - 5, STR - 1, WIS - 9, ARC - 10, ACC - 8