26 Sep 2024, 21:45
A Recipe for Disaster
TIME | 15:11
DATE | September 24th, 2024
INTERACTING |
@Elisa Wagner
@Iris Athanasiuo
@Matilde O'Fionnagan
00:35⠀─── ◉ ───────⠀02:34
#B68EA7 | DIALOGUE
xxx| MENTIONING
The classroom was unusually quiet after the rest of the students had cleared out, leaving behind only the soft sound of quills scratching against parchment, the gentle simmer of a potion bubbling, and the occasional rustle of fabric. The sunlight filtered weakly through the high windows, casting long shadows across the rows of empty desks. Ula sat at one of the tables in the middle of the room, her posture perfectly straight as she stared down at the group project in front of her.
Potions.
Of all the subjects, it was the one that most resembled cooking, and Ula had never been fond of cooking. Truthfully, Ula had never had to cook or prepare anything on her own before. There had always been someone else to do it for her, whether at home or even in Potions class where she usually paired up with someone competent. She could brew a potion—or something close to it—but the tedious process of chopping, slicing, and measuring ingredients felt beneath her. And, judging by the way she was holding the knife now, awkwardly and with far too much pressure, she wasn't exactly skilled at it either.
Her eyes narrowed as she sliced into the shrivelfig in front of her, the blade slipping slightly as it hit the surface. It's a shrivelfig, not a bloody rock, she thought, suppressing a growl. Why does it need to be this difficult?
She glanced at the book laid out next to her, scanning the page for guidance. "Carefully slice the shrivelfig into thin, even pieces to ensure the smoothest infusion," she read aloud, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Of course. Thin, even pieces. Naturally."
Ula grimaced at the shrivelfig in her hand. It was about as evenly sliced as a crumpled piece of parchment. She turned the knife in her hand, examining it as if it were to blame for her poor skills. Thin, even pieces, she mentally mocked the instructions. Who wrote this book, a house-elf with nothing better to do?
She eyed the cauldron in front of her, the potion inside bubbling gently, waiting for the next ingredient. The other girls around her were already moving along smoothly, working quietly on their own portions of the assignment, while Ula felt like she was stuck in a never-ending loop of frustration.
Her gaze flicked back to the book. "Or," she murmured to herself, "I could just... skip the slicing altogether." She looked around to see if anyone was watching before shrugging and plopping the entire shrivelfig into the cauldron.
The cauldron hissed in response, bubbling a little more aggressively now, and Ula's stomach dropped. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea...
coded by charisse
Last edited by Ula Takahashi on 15 Jan 2025, 20:37, edited 1 time in total.
27 Sep 2024, 03:20
A Recipe for Disaster
Potions were an easy enough ordeal for Iris. Like math, you could always find an answer.
Groups, on the other hand, weren't much her style. At least not when it came to academics. Counting on someone, let alone multiple, to do their job right was a gamble; a kind you were almost always sure to lose. Yet as it stood, there appeared to be no getting out of Professor Regan's instruction. From the corner of her eye she watched quietly as one of her partners wrestled with a shrivelfig, burning frustration visible even from the distance that stood between. No patience, Iris thought, her hand failing to pause in its steady movement across the page.
It had been the soft sound of muttering that caught her attention, followed by a giveaway hiss as an entire ingredient was dropped into the cauldron. Iris froze, if for a fraction of a second, quill hovering just above her parchment. There it was; the creeping, inevitable dread that signified someone had taken a shortcut.
Still, Iris didn't look over immediately. Instead carefully finishing the line she was on, refusing a single blot of ink to disturb the clean curve of her handwriting. Once the quill had finally been set aside, she wiped her fingers clean on a nearby cloth before addressing the situation. Casting a sidelong glance toward Ula, she was able to catch the exact moment her expression shifted from defiance to regret. The Ravenclaw sighed, a sound barely louder than a breath, before carefully turning toward the simmering potion.
"It needs to be sliced." Her tone clipped, regardless if the girl knew it already. “Otherwise the infusion is too harsh.” As eyes flicked to the offending shrivelfig bobbing in her cauldron like a parody of competence, a silent gaze then shifted back to the dark haired Gryffindor.@Ula Takahashi @Elisa Wagner @Matilde O'Fionnagan
| sta : 7 ⸝ eva : 7 ⸝ str : 0 wis : 9 ⸝ arc : 9 ⸝ acc : 8 |
Iris E. Athanasiuo ·𖥸· |
━━━━━━ | Wings of silver, talons of gold. |
27 Sep 2024, 19:14
A Recipe for Disaster
Reducio
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Holding her ink-dipped quill in mid air, the young Slytherin girl's eyes followed the lines of letters on her potions book. She quickly scrambled down the last few words, layed down her quill, and tilted her head up to look around at her partners. Three other girls sat on either sides of Elisa, all working towards their own cauldron. No one was speaking - yet.
Out of the corner of her eye, one girl - the one next to her - didn't seem to be dealing with her potion so well. In fact, she was reading the instructions out loud rather sarcastically. This is a group project, Elisa thought, considering whether or not she should propose to help. After a brief moment of pause, she turned around slightly to address the girl - Ula, her name was.
Elisa opened her mouth to speak, but before any sound came out, another voice spoke. It was that of Iris Athanasiuo, that other girl in Ravenclaw. And Iris was quite clearly annoyed with Ula.
This group project is not going well. Her brows showing a frown, Elisa bit her lip. Heaving a little sigh, she said in a slightly irritated tone, "Girls - this is group work we're supposed to do here."
Elisa looked back at her potion. She just wanted to finish with this and get back to her common room. A new book she had picked up from the Library was waiting for her there.
Elisa Wagner | Clément Guillaume Cantegrel
SHOP | GALLERY
sta 6 | eva 10 | str 3 | wis 9 | arc 8 | acc 10
SHOP | GALLERY
sta 6 | eva 10 | str 3 | wis 9 | arc 8 | acc 10
21 Nov 2024, 14:58
A Recipe for Disaster
Interacting with @Ula Takahashi
@Iris Athanasiuo@Elisa Wagner
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It was fair to say that Matilde was not very good at potions. It was a bit of a sore subject for her because her mother was a avid potion maker and even experimenter. She had spent many afternoons sitting at the kitchen table, watching her mother brew, but clearly no extra potion knowledge had sunk in. Matilde was the kind of girl who’s head was always in the clouds. She was prone to carelessness when she wasn’t paying attention to her actions. That said, the girl knew how to work hard and focus when it was something she cared about. But for some reason it was just hard for her to care about potions. She usually enjoyed group projects in potions. Matilde had fun working together. This project didn’t look like it was going to go so well though. Matilde looked up from her what she was working on, warily watching the scene unfolding in her group. She could usually handle group projects fairly well. But she absolutely hated conflict. Thinking it was best to try to diffuse the situation, she said, “It’s okay Ula, just try again,” smiling anxiously. She looked at Iris out of the corner of her eye. Was she trying to get Ula more upset?
OOC Note:ReducioI’m so, so sorry it’s taken me so long to write this. School has been crazy lately, and I haven’t been managing my time well.
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21 Dec 2024, 20:01
A Recipe for Disaster
TIME | 15:12
DATE | September 24th, 2024
INTERACTING |
@Elisa Wagner
@Iris Athanasiuo
@Matilde O'Fionnagan
00:35⠀─── ◉ ───────⠀02:34
#B68EA7 | DIALOGUE
xxx| MENTIONING
Ula's grip on the knife tightened as the Ravenclaw's words landed like a pointed jab. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping back. The potion was bubbling away in the cauldron like it had a personal grudge, and honestly, Ula could relate.
She glanced sideways at the Slytherin girl who had just chimed in. "Group work," she repeated, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Fantastic. Glad we're all so... synchronized." Her dark eyes flicked to the shrivelfig bobbing forlornly in the cauldron, mocking her with its intact defiance.
The Hufflepuff offered some soft-spoken encouragement, which only made Ula want to roll her eyes. What was it with Hufflepuffs and their relentless optimism? Forcing a tight, insincere smile, she muttered, "Great pep talk. Super inspiring."
Dragging the shrivelfig out of the cauldron with a ladle, she slapped it back onto the cutting board. Picking up the knife again, she stared at the slippery fruit like it had personally wronged her.
Her fingers worked quickly, but her movements were sharp and jerky, frustration bleeding into every slice. The knife caught on the edge of the shrivelfig's slick surface, and the uneven rhythm only made her temper flare hotter.
With one particularly forceful slice, the knife slipped.
Time seemed to slow as the blade veered wildly, the momentum taking it off course. Ula's hand jerked, trying to catch it, but the motion only made things worse, the momentum driving the blade forward—and straight into the Slytherin girl's arm.
For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. Ula's hand was still gripping the knife, and it took her a second too long to process the reality of what had just happened. The blade was lodged there, bright red blood oozing out around it, staining the fabric of the girl's sleeve.
"Oh," Ula said blankly, staring at the knife in the girl's arm. "Well… that's not great."
coded by charisse
23 Dec 2024, 07:34
A Recipe for Disaster
⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤
She fixed her eyes on the parchment filled with the scribbled notes all while reaching a hand towards the ingredients laid on the table. Her fingers had barely touched the wood when she sensed a tiny swirl of sharp, cold air, and before any of her reflexes could take control, the blade flew to her with such speed that it planted right into the flesh in her arm.
For the fraction of a second, the time it took for her body to process what had happened, Elisa froze, her wounded arm dropping to the table, stunned with the suddenness of it all. Then, as quick as the knife had came, the agonising pain flooded her body, hot as flames and cold as ice. With great effort, she muffled a cry in her throat, bitting her lower lip and blinking hard to prevent the tears from spilling out of her eyes. Elisa took big gulps of air, forcing the oxygen in and out of her lungs in an effort to calm herself, in vain.
The pain was unbearable. It seemed like the young Slytherin could feel the sharp, icy blade of the knife still stuck in her flesh. With every twitch of her muscles, the blade seemed to dig even deeper, creating huge waves of pain menacing to overthrow the young girl. She had to force control over her other arm to prevent it from pulling the knife out. That would be no use, she thought, it would only increase the bleeding.
Elisa forced herself not to look at her arm - it would only worsen the situation. Instead, she stared determinedly through the thick veil of tears straight at the blackboard in front of her. It was no use, she could still feel the blood damping her sleeve and the excruciating pain was not going away.
Finally, the avalanche of tears spilled onto her cheeks, flowing down all the way to her chin and dripping onto the table. Had it been any other situation, Elisa would've been very embarrassed, as there were three people staring at her crying. Now however, the Slytherin had no strength to think about that - when you've got a knife in your arm, people staring at you is not your top priority.⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤
Elisa Wagner | Clément Guillaume Cantegrel
SHOP | GALLERY
sta 6 | eva 10 | str 3 | wis 9 | arc 8 | acc 10
SHOP | GALLERY
sta 6 | eva 10 | str 3 | wis 9 | arc 8 | acc 10