Closed Excuse Moi, I Was Walking Here PV

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Phelan Emile knew he wasn’t exactly seen by his peers as friendly. In fact, he was pretty sure many thought he was flat out rude. But the fact was, that he didn’t really care. He didn’t much like them either. So arriving at Beauxbatons, he was certainly not expecting to make friends. Hoping? Maybe, though he definitely wouldn’t admit it.

Walking through the corridors, Phelan supposed the school was nice enough. The baroque and rococo style architecture was stunning. The boy had to admit he had never seen grounds more beautiful. Phelan thought back to the many occasions since he’d gotten his invitation when his father went on and on about the long, glorious history of the school. He hadn’t listened, not being particularly interested. He knew his father was trying to make a connection, trying to make up for making his son leave the only home he had ever known for France, and Beauxbatons. It didn’t really matter to the boy. He felt like if his father really cared about his and his sisters’ opinions, they’d never have left Ireland in the first place. So he had not been looking forward to going to the famous magic school. It was just another way his life was changing.

It was perhaps because Phelan was so lost in thought that he crashed into another student. The girl had wavy blond hair, and a distinct proud sort of expression. Pure blood, Phelan thought, rolling his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled, even though he wasn’t really sure it had been his fault.

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★ ☆ ✭ ✯ ✩ ✬

ROLEPLAYING AS JULIETTE AURAND AT BEAUXBATONS

★ ☆ ✭ ✯ ✩ ✬

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Something about the boy's tone made Juliette bite back her words. He had apologized- which was what she had wanted, but something about it made her slightly uncomfortable. He hadn't tried to defend himself or anything. Perhaps she had gotten too used to being around people who would never submit, who, like her, knew only to throw back their shoulders and stand their ground. Maybe she was reading too much into it. For all she knew, he just didn't want to deal with a retort. But it still didn't sit right with her, and she decided not to throw the crash in his face.

Juliette Aurand was a high-society young woman. She wasn't supposed to feel bad for people. All these thoughts were a chink in her armor, and she didn't like it. The girl smoothed nonexistent creases in her uniform and settled her face into its usual expression. Head high. A vision of perfection, nothing less than the best. No fear. If you carry yourself like you are better, you will be treated as such. All of the things her mother had always imprinted upon her ran through her head, and Juliette shook off the last of her misgivings. His apology was not reason for such contemplation.

"It's no problem. We shall both watch where we are going better, oui?" The French girl's gray eyes raked over the boy, taking in the brown hair and look of someone who had been deep into thought. She felt a pang of something foreign- was that loneliness? How absurd. She had almost never longed to connect with someone before. But maybe, just maybe, her no-friends philosophy didn't apply to people she smacked into. Perhaps friendly conversation was allowed- so instead of walking away, as her instincts told her to, she smiled. Juliette had a lovely smile, her cheekbones highly pronounced and her eyes going from a stormy gray to a soft kind of silver. She didn't allow herself a full smile, just a partial, but progress was progress nonetheless.

"I'm Juliette Aurand. You are?"

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Mentions: @Matilde O’Fionnagan

Notes: None

✦ word count: 341/200 ✦

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The girl seemed almost taken aback by Phelan’s apology. Though he had in fact been only trying to avoid starting something, it had make him feel strangely triumphant. But he too was surprised when she dismissed it. And then introduced herself.

At her smile, Phelan found his resolve to avoid his fellow students at all costs dissolving, slightly. It really was a nice smile. Without his meaning to, the corners of his own mouth turned up, just a little. “I’m Phelan Emile,” he said, attempting to speak more clearly. His French may not have been perfect, but he was certainly competent enough to introduce himself.

The boy looked at the girl, Juliette, closer. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he might have seen a look of loneliness in her grey eyes. Maybe he had been too quick to judge her. Phelan had absolutely no intention of trying to make friends here, but if it just sort of happened…well, he supposed it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Did you really think you were going to make it seven years speaking to no one? said a little voice in the back of his head. Of course not. I have friends, he argued back, but then again, none here.

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♢

★ ☆ ✭ ✯ ✩ ✬

ROLEPLAYING AS JULIETTE AURAND AT BEAUXBATONS

★ ☆ ✭ ✯ ✩ ✬

♢

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The corners of the boy's lips turned up, and Juliette felt an unfamiliar flush of pleasure. The shared smile was momentary, and slight, but it felt like a milestone to her. Was it possible for a girl like her to make friends a school? Juliette only had one friend, and she hadn't really expected to make any more. Peculiar, she thought, that such a thing could make her think so much.

"Phelan. It's nice to meet you." The words were automatic, but there was some sincerity behind them. She wasn't displeased to have met him. His French was just slightly broken, but perfectly understandable. Juliette's first language was French, but she learned English very early and became fluent young. She also knew some German, albeit not enough to have a lengthy conversation. But French flew from her tongue, and English was cool water spilling from her lips.

"Are you... enjoying your time at Beauxbatons?" It was the first thing Juliette could think of to ask. She wasn't the best at conversation- and she didn't like to be incompetent. Her parents had hired tutors to teach her when she was a little girl, perhaps they could find someone to instruct her on social skills. What a thought.

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Mentions: @Matilde O’Fionnagan

Notes: None

✦ word count: 207/200 ✦