21 Feb 2025, 04:13
Wafflecrumbing
RPing as Cyrus Alexander Darsel (Ilvermorny iNPC)
The 'fit: white donald duck sweater with blue denim overalls & converse.
After his fateful evening at the fountain yesterday, Cyrus had read part of a book and had later lain down in his bed, ready to let sleep take him. His eyes were drifting shut, soft snores threatening to harass his cabin-mates before they could fall asleep, when he sat straight up in bed, eyes wide in a frenzied panic. 'I never got her name!'
That was all his cabin-mates would have learned of the ordeal just yet. Cyrus fell asleep shortly after and dreamt of extravagant fountains, ducks of all sorts and paintings. He dreamt he was an artist and the sun was his brush, and that he was painting a giant mural of the girl, the fountain and the ducks.
He awoke feeling emptier than he had felt the day before. That, perhaps, was when he knew. It had been a mistake not to ask her name. It had been a mistake to watch her leave, strawberry blonde hair flowing in the breeze as she walked away. He should have said something, should have called after her—but what?
Cyrus sullenly made his way to breakfast, certain he would never see the green-eyed beauty again. Only a few things could raise his spirits even minutely.
The first: sunlight. He made sure to glance out the windows and sigh wistfully at the beautiful French landscape, at the way the sun caught in the clouds, but to his horror, all he could think of was the way the sun had caught in mystery-girl's hair, the way it had reflected off every pigment in her eyes, making them look like perfect mirrors of the sea. His cheeks warmed. He averted his gaze. He continued walking.
The second: over-sugared coffee. It was his go-to back home in New York, and the latte he had here was almost good enough. It still had just a bit of the taste of bitter coffee beneath the layers of sweetened milk and syrups. He wondered if his breath smelled of coffee after he drank it. He wondered what mystery-girl would think. He swallowed thickly and wondered if it was okay to think back to yesterday, if it was okay to want to reach out in his mind's eye and brush her hair out of her face, if it was okay to want to press his coffee-sweetened lips to her forehead if only it meant he would see her again. He set his cup down and instead wondered what to eat.
The third: waffles. Although he was in France, crêpes would not save him. He would not reach for a buttery croissant either; the only thing that he figured would distract him was a crispy, overly-sweet waffle. A plate of them caught his eye from all the way across the table, and he knew without a doubt what he had to do. Cyrus rose from his seat and strode down the table to where the waffles were, and he reached out, a goofy grin on his lips.
His grin faded when his fingers met those of another, but as he lifted his chin so he could gaze upon his fellow waffle-snatcher, his smile widened as if he was finally seeing the light of day. He immediately tried to drop the waffle, although it probably looked more like glorified fumbling. 'Oh! Uh! You should have it!'
That was all his cabin-mates would have learned of the ordeal just yet. Cyrus fell asleep shortly after and dreamt of extravagant fountains, ducks of all sorts and paintings. He dreamt he was an artist and the sun was his brush, and that he was painting a giant mural of the girl, the fountain and the ducks.
He awoke feeling emptier than he had felt the day before. That, perhaps, was when he knew. It had been a mistake not to ask her name. It had been a mistake to watch her leave, strawberry blonde hair flowing in the breeze as she walked away. He should have said something, should have called after her—but what?
Cyrus sullenly made his way to breakfast, certain he would never see the green-eyed beauty again. Only a few things could raise his spirits even minutely.
The first: sunlight. He made sure to glance out the windows and sigh wistfully at the beautiful French landscape, at the way the sun caught in the clouds, but to his horror, all he could think of was the way the sun had caught in mystery-girl's hair, the way it had reflected off every pigment in her eyes, making them look like perfect mirrors of the sea. His cheeks warmed. He averted his gaze. He continued walking.
The second: over-sugared coffee. It was his go-to back home in New York, and the latte he had here was almost good enough. It still had just a bit of the taste of bitter coffee beneath the layers of sweetened milk and syrups. He wondered if his breath smelled of coffee after he drank it. He wondered what mystery-girl would think. He swallowed thickly and wondered if it was okay to think back to yesterday, if it was okay to want to reach out in his mind's eye and brush her hair out of her face, if it was okay to want to press his coffee-sweetened lips to her forehead if only it meant he would see her again. He set his cup down and instead wondered what to eat.
The third: waffles. Although he was in France, crêpes would not save him. He would not reach for a buttery croissant either; the only thing that he figured would distract him was a crispy, overly-sweet waffle. A plate of them caught his eye from all the way across the table, and he knew without a doubt what he had to do. Cyrus rose from his seat and strode down the table to where the waffles were, and he reached out, a goofy grin on his lips.
His grin faded when his fingers met those of another, but as he lifted his chin so he could gaze upon his fellow waffle-snatcher, his smile widened as if he was finally seeing the light of day. He immediately tried to drop the waffle, although it probably looked more like glorified fumbling. 'Oh! Uh! You should have it!'
Date: 13 February 2025
Time: around 08:45, breakfast.
Location: Beauxbâtons
Private to: @Haven Bohannon
[pc] koko riddle · 'i was raised up to be admired.'
'hey! bom bom bom. got any grapes?' · cyrus darsel [inpc]
21 Feb 2025, 09:25
Wafflecrumbing
13 February, 2025. 8:45 AM.
"What's his name?"
"I- I don't know."
Haven lay staring up at the ceiling in her bunk for hours, her mind swirling with thoughts despite her exhaustion. Butterflies swarmed her stomach, just thinking about him. The perfect, golden-haired duck boy. She hadn't gotten his name, they made no plans, she may never see him again. The thought brought a pit to her stomach. She think she'd be crushed if she never got to see him, never got to gaze into those beautiful blue eyes. How stupid was she, to not ask his name? Or to ask him to do something with her- but what if he didn't feel the same? Haven was led down a rabbit hole of terrible thoughts, until the exhaustion finally caught up to her, leading her into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, she awoke in a panic, sun streaming through the windows. She had slept much later than she would have liked, and breakfast would be over soon by the time she got dressed and to the château.
She was still pulling on her shoes as she ran out the cabin door, trying to get to breakfast on time. She desperately wanted a waffle, despite her socks contradicting it, and she'd need the fuel for the day. She'd have to rush through her day's schoolwork so she could have time to search for the boy from the fountain. Maybe she'd have to check there again, and hope he was out there, feeding the ducks again. Yeah, that seemed like a great idea. She just had to find him again, or she didn't know what she'd do with herself.
Lucky for Haven, it seemed her prayers had been answered, though she didn't quite realize it yet. While she was busy scouring out the last waffle, the boy was too.
"Oh," she said, as her fingers met those of another. She instantly started apologizing, not even looking up yet, her brain not registering the familiar voice. "No, I'm sorry, you should-"
Then she saw those beautiful blue eyes.
It was him, it was the boy from yesterday. It was the boy she feared she would never see again. And then, as fate had it, here they were, bumping into each other first thing in the morning. She could have leapt for joy right then and there. Despite her every cell in her body wanting to just rush over to him and hug him or start dancing around like a crazy person, she somehow managed to remain calm, more or less. The blush that covered her face begged to differ.
"No, please, you take it," she said about the waffle. "You were there first." Haven didn't mention how she'd give up all the waffles in the world for just another minute of talking to him. "But under one condition: you have to tell me your name."
She was all smiles, her grin spreading from ear to ear. She couldn't believe her luck, running into him again, finally getting to know the name of the golden-haired boy.
"I'm Haven," she introduced herself. "Bohannon. Haven Bohannon. That's my name." She stumbled over her introduction a little, trying to get it all out while the butterflies in her stomach tried to jump out of her chest.
"I like your outfit, too." Haven looked down at her own outfit, remarkably similar to his. A perfect day for a sweater and overalls, it seemed. She couldn't help but smile at the coincidence. How perfect it was. How perfect everything was, how perfect he seemed.
It was like a picture-perfect scene out of a storybook.
@Koko Riddle
23 Feb 2025, 18:32
Wafflecrumbing
RPing as Cyrus Alexander Darsel (Ilvermorny iNPC)
The 'fit: white donald duck sweater with blue denim overalls & converse.
He could not stop from staring at the girl in front of him. Cornflower-blue eyes gazed upon a face as radiant as the sun, upon eyes as green as the raging sea, upon a meadow of freckles. He wished he had some tubes of paint, a canvas, anything. A photo would last longer. A painting would be better.
He was staring. Her initial cut-off 'you should' went in one ear and out the other as Cyrus stared, slack-jawed and pink-cheeked, before grinning from ear to ear. 'I, um.' Words stumbled out of his lips as he shoved the waffle back towards her. 'You! Waffle. You should waffle. Have the waffle. Oh my stars, I'm sorry.' He laughed in a quick exhale as his words continued to rush together, his cheeks reddening further.
Haven. Like a safe haven! Like somewhere the world stilled, somewhere one could just exist. A haven, a beautiful Haven, with hair like an orchard of half-ripened strawberries and golden stalks of corn, with eyes like a vineyard... A haven.
He couldn't talk, couldn't think; coherency was completely beyond his capabilities. Oh, he had fallen hard.
'Cy. Cyrus. Um. Whatever you want to call me. That's me!' Remembering that Haven had added her surname, Cyrus hurriedly amended his words: 'Cyrus Alexander Darsel, at your service! But you should have the waffle.'
He now understood what butterflies in your stomach was meant to mean. Being so close to her, talking to her, knowing her name, it was all so much. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare, only listen, only gesture vaguely at the waffle.
And she said she liked his outfit! Which... was just like hers, except she wasn't wearing a Donald Duck sweater, just a normal white one. Which was fine! But! 'Ohhhh! We're matching! That's so cool!' He wanted to say more: It's like we're made to talk to each other! Made to get along! It's like we were meant to meet!
Instead, all he added was, 'I really, really think it's good luck that we met. The ducks were right, Haven.'
He was staring. Her initial cut-off 'you should' went in one ear and out the other as Cyrus stared, slack-jawed and pink-cheeked, before grinning from ear to ear. 'I, um.' Words stumbled out of his lips as he shoved the waffle back towards her. 'You! Waffle. You should waffle. Have the waffle. Oh my stars, I'm sorry.' He laughed in a quick exhale as his words continued to rush together, his cheeks reddening further.
Haven. Like a safe haven! Like somewhere the world stilled, somewhere one could just exist. A haven, a beautiful Haven, with hair like an orchard of half-ripened strawberries and golden stalks of corn, with eyes like a vineyard... A haven.
He couldn't talk, couldn't think; coherency was completely beyond his capabilities. Oh, he had fallen hard.
'Cy. Cyrus. Um. Whatever you want to call me. That's me!' Remembering that Haven had added her surname, Cyrus hurriedly amended his words: 'Cyrus Alexander Darsel, at your service! But you should have the waffle.'
He now understood what butterflies in your stomach was meant to mean. Being so close to her, talking to her, knowing her name, it was all so much. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare, only listen, only gesture vaguely at the waffle.
And she said she liked his outfit! Which... was just like hers, except she wasn't wearing a Donald Duck sweater, just a normal white one. Which was fine! But! 'Ohhhh! We're matching! That's so cool!' He wanted to say more: It's like we're made to talk to each other! Made to get along! It's like we were meant to meet!
Instead, all he added was, 'I really, really think it's good luck that we met. The ducks were right, Haven.'
Date: 13 February 2025
Time: around 08:45, breakfast.
Location: Beauxbâtons
Private to: @Haven Bohannon
[pc] koko riddle · 'i was raised up to be admired.'
'hey! bom bom bom. got any grapes?' · cyrus darsel [inpc]
2 Mar 2025, 08:45
Wafflecrumbing
She hated that words had failed her, that she didn't know how to say all the things that she wanted to say to him. How could she tell him that she wanted nothing more but to wrap her arms around him, to pull his face down and kiss him, even though she had just met him? Even so, it felt like they had known each other forever, and she wanted to know him for a lifetime more.
Since she couldn't figure out how to say all those things to him, she was content with just staring into his eyes. She could see him doing the same, but it didn't feel awkward at all. Despite the butterflies in her stomach, she felt perfectly calm, perfectly at peace.
"Cyrus," she repeated his name, liking how it sounded. She just wanted to repeat his name over and over, to yell it from the rooftops! Cyrus Alexander Darsel. She would not be forgetting that name anytime soon. In fact, she'd likely find herself scribbling it in the margins of her notebook in the coming months, thinking about him instead of her classwork.
"You should have the waffle," she argued back, smiling at him because she finally knew his name. She didn't lose that same goofy smile as they went back and forth for a moment, before finally deciding on each of them taking a half of the waffle. Two halves of a whole.
"We just need to get you a hat, and then we can really be matching!" she said of their outfits. Or perhaps maybe she just needed to take hers off. She didn't really want to cover any of his pretty golden curls, though it would be funny. It was such an odd coincidence that they were wearing such similar things- down to the shoes, she noticed. And to think, she debated not packing them at all!
"They were lucky ducks." Haven fiddled with the waffle on her plate, bubbles of nervousness popping around in her stomach. Caterpillars were hatching into butterflies. It really was good luck that they met each other, now she wanted nothing more but to spend more time with him.
"Um, do you want to join me for breakfast?"
@Koko Riddle
24 Mar 2025, 01:16
Wafflecrumbing
RPing as Cyrus Alexander Darsel (Ilvermorny iNPC)
The 'fit: white donald duck sweater with blue denim overalls & converse.
Even as he tried in vain to catch his breath after his jumbled stammering, Cyrus still kept his gaze rooted to Haven's face, certain that this time, he would memorise everything. The way her hair was now was different now that the sun was not shining on it, turning it into brilliant shades of reddish-orangeish-yellow, different now that the wind was not making it flicker like fire. But it was still beautiful, and complemented by a hat just as lovely, one Cyrus had to wonder if she had made herself.
And then there were her eyes! Oh, her eyes. He could not forget them even if he tried. Every time he glanced at her eyes, he had to look away for fear that his breath would catch and he would pass out due to lack of oxygen. He could almost hear his heart pounding, a steady, too-quick undercurrent for the words Haven was saying to him.
Her voice! Like a chorus of angels, like the singing of birds...
'No, no, you...'
He would not remember what he said in weak protest to Haven's suggestion that he, too, should have the waffle. He would only remember the way her voice was like his favourite songs whispered in his ears, the way her gaze lit up the room, the way he was warm despite the winter cold. When they decided on each of them having half of the waffle, a strange, giddy grin took over his features, making his cheeks hurt from how intense the smile was.
Two halves of a waffle, two halves of a whole—two halves of his heart, certainly, for he was sure he would be going back to Ilvermorny half-heartless!
His cheeks took their turn to redden, and his smile forced itself to widen, and a small gasp escaped from him. 'Me? A hat?' Oh, sweet songbird, his word choice was purely dreadful. 'I mean, sure! I'd love a hat. Especially a crocheted one. Like yours. So we can match. By the wildflowers, I wish I could crochet!'
Lucky ducks. Yesterday, those ducks had been lucky. But today? Something twinged in Cyrus's heart, and he stared at Haven as the butterflies in his stomach darted about with reckless abandon. Today, he and Haven were the lucky ducks.
(He remembered having read about how ducks symbolised good fortune, symbolised something to watch over you and keep you safe. But also, they were harbingers of love, of fidelity, of a successful relationship. He remembered. He wondered. He hoped.)
Cyrus beamed at Haven's invitation. 'YEAH! I mean, of course, totally, thank you so much!'
He started to walk in her direction, hopefully towards finding a seat, when someone barrelled straight into him. He lost his grip on his plate and stumbled, surprised by a very rude phrase from the unknown student. His plate crashed into the ground, his half of the waffle sitting sadly atop the shards of dining ware. Cyrus was distinctly reminded of a Vine, the one with the guy who could have dropped his croissant, and despite his disappointment, he began to laugh.
'Ugh, I dropped my waffle,' he said to Haven. 'So... I'm afraid I've gotta grab something else. Maybe some fruit! I love strawberries, might get some of those. But I probably shouldn't make you wait. But... lunch?'
Dinner? his brain added, And all the meals afterwards?
He hurriedly began to scrape the shards of porcelain into a pile to make the mess easier to avoid, and then, with a sheepish wave, he began to search for a new breakfast.
And then there were her eyes! Oh, her eyes. He could not forget them even if he tried. Every time he glanced at her eyes, he had to look away for fear that his breath would catch and he would pass out due to lack of oxygen. He could almost hear his heart pounding, a steady, too-quick undercurrent for the words Haven was saying to him.
Her voice! Like a chorus of angels, like the singing of birds...
'No, no, you...'
He would not remember what he said in weak protest to Haven's suggestion that he, too, should have the waffle. He would only remember the way her voice was like his favourite songs whispered in his ears, the way her gaze lit up the room, the way he was warm despite the winter cold. When they decided on each of them having half of the waffle, a strange, giddy grin took over his features, making his cheeks hurt from how intense the smile was.
Two halves of a waffle, two halves of a whole—two halves of his heart, certainly, for he was sure he would be going back to Ilvermorny half-heartless!
His cheeks took their turn to redden, and his smile forced itself to widen, and a small gasp escaped from him. 'Me? A hat?' Oh, sweet songbird, his word choice was purely dreadful. 'I mean, sure! I'd love a hat. Especially a crocheted one. Like yours. So we can match. By the wildflowers, I wish I could crochet!'
Lucky ducks. Yesterday, those ducks had been lucky. But today? Something twinged in Cyrus's heart, and he stared at Haven as the butterflies in his stomach darted about with reckless abandon. Today, he and Haven were the lucky ducks.
(He remembered having read about how ducks symbolised good fortune, symbolised something to watch over you and keep you safe. But also, they were harbingers of love, of fidelity, of a successful relationship. He remembered. He wondered. He hoped.)
Cyrus beamed at Haven's invitation. 'YEAH! I mean, of course, totally, thank you so much!'
He started to walk in her direction, hopefully towards finding a seat, when someone barrelled straight into him. He lost his grip on his plate and stumbled, surprised by a very rude phrase from the unknown student. His plate crashed into the ground, his half of the waffle sitting sadly atop the shards of dining ware. Cyrus was distinctly reminded of a Vine, the one with the guy who could have dropped his croissant, and despite his disappointment, he began to laugh.
'Ugh, I dropped my waffle,' he said to Haven. 'So... I'm afraid I've gotta grab something else. Maybe some fruit! I love strawberries, might get some of those. But I probably shouldn't make you wait. But... lunch?'
Dinner? his brain added, And all the meals afterwards?
He hurriedly began to scrape the shards of porcelain into a pile to make the mess easier to avoid, and then, with a sheepish wave, he began to search for a new breakfast.
Date: 13 February 2025
Time: around 08:45, breakfast.
Location: Beauxbâtons
Private to: @Haven Bohannon
Notes: Thread left unless stopped.
[pc] koko riddle · 'i was raised up to be admired.'
'hey! bom bom bom. got any grapes?' · cyrus darsel [inpc]