affairs of honour.
| E | ✧  ✧location. outside of the dueling club. date. 15th september, after classes. mentions. @Prat Pass.  For someone supposedly so very involved with the house of Slytherin, one Prat Pass was turning out to be unusually hard to track down. When Esme first heard of the dueling club from Livia, she was uninterested. It was yet another thing Thomas Hestridge sung Hogwarts’ praises about, and therefore another thing that made Esme’s stomach churn at the idea of. She knew that even if she were to join (which, to be fair, she wasn’t sure if she did), she would be dueling on the behalf of Slytherin. A house she wasn’t, at least at present, particularly fond of. And though its impression was steadily rising in her mind, the aforementioned Machavariani girl being a huge part of that, she also knew the house of the cunning housed some people she did not particularly love. Esme avoided the boy she met during the boat trip — Simon? Sullivan? something entirely pretentious yet inconsequential — as if he were the plague. Now, when it came to people whose opinions Esme actually cared for, Livia spoke very fondly of dueling. It was certainly nice to have a peer that had such a passion for something. Esme found most of her other classmates boring in comparison, with interests that rarely crystallized into the kind of borderline concerning level of care that Livia had for… well, everything. As much as Livia’s enthusiasm was infectious, Esme had her reservations. A dueling club also seemed like an ostentatiously violent place; in addition to being a breeding ground for most undignified bruises or injuries. Still, the idea of a codified way to assert herself better, smarter, than her classmates — including the other Slytherins she was now housemates with — was certainly enticing to Esme. And having paid plenty of attention to Livia whenever her friend spoke of dueling matters, Esme knew exactly which upperclassman to go to with her further questions. One Prat Pass: a third year, also a Slytherin, and co-captain of the dueling club. Esme thought it wouldn’t be hard to find him. I mean, he was involved, right? She figured that if she loitered around the Common Room long enough, she could probably tell which of the sea of upperclassmen he was. Unfortunately for Esme, dark-haired teen boys who seemed to hold themselves with an unearned confidence were a dime a dozen in her new house. She had little luck the first and second night, and found staring every person down to try and find out not only boring, but time-consuming. Walking up to every single one of them just for the chance of finding the right one was also out of the question — it would have been demeaning and below Esme’s station. She was not trying to get petition signatures, she was trying to get answers. Esme considered trying to find out the schedule for third year students. She decided that would be overboard; as much as mister Pass seemed to be actively hiding from her, she was not so interested in dueling so as to try and stalk the poor sap. No, instead, she consulted the Slytherin house bulletin board instead. It held many announcements; some from the passing year, some welcoming new students, both of which Esme rolled her eyes at. Amongst announcements of a lost set of crystal phials and two (!) lost rememberalls, there it was. An advert for the dueling club, featuring exactly what she was looking for — which room the club met in and, more importantly, when. Of course, it was ridiculously early. Esme had her days planned out by the minute — her timetable was full, from when she woke up each morning to when she went to sleep every night. There was not a second unaccounted for, and the skulking around the Common Room had already taken up far too much of her time the past few days. The dueling club held its meetings after classes, coincidentally during the exact time slot that Esme had just agreed to have her bi-weekly game with a recently met chess partner. The games took place in the library, meaning Esme would be forced to rush up three flights of stairs and down a corridor if she even wanted a chance to catch the ever-elusive dueling captain; and really, she did not want to look disheveled and like she’d just ran over. So, Esme reached out to the partner, pushed the chess game to Tuesday, moved her later vocal rehearsal over a half hour, grabbed her bag and her wand, and was on her way to the dueling club a solid half hour before the meeting was scheduled to begin to give herself more than enough time to sit around and wait. She had some hope that, considering his position, Pass would also have been there early — she did not know what being captain entailed, exactly, but thought it only safe to assume that they had to do some sort of set-up before club meetings began. Esme stood outside the room, back straight, watching just about every person who walked by. Some she recognized, most she didn’t; free time after classes meant basically everyone was either participating in an activity or going to or from one. All the staring and watching without success was making Esme overthink once more. Why was she doing this? She didn’t even care that much about dueling, right? And even if she did, couldn’t she have tagged along with Livia one day and just got her questions answered that way? Well, she wouldn’t have wanted to disturb— but wasn’t this also disturbing— Before Esme could convince herself to leave, she spotted the person she was looking for. Dark hair, immaculate posture, large round glasses that cast a gentle shadow over the rest of his features. Admittedly very pretty, all things considered, with an air of untouchability about him. Tall, too, which did not help. Esme might have been tall for an eleven year old girl, but she was still an eleven year old girl, and found herself uncomfortably dwarfed by the boy. No matter; she had to reschedule her chess game for this. Esme would not let herself be intimidated, only taking a moment to pull herself back together and approach the boy, projecting a confident expression. She had to lift his head to meet his eyes. Esme could only hope that it looked less like craning her neck, and more like her chin was just lifted proudly. “Hi— you’re Prat Pass,” Esme said, tone unyielding, matter of fact. She was confident she had the right person, finally. The rules of etiquette disallowed her from foregoing the greeting, but it was clear she was not here for the sake of small talk. She still had a rehearsal to get to in less than an hour, and the search for Prat had taken up far longer than she had wanted it to, already. Sizing him up a final time, she added a comment, “... You’re taller than I expected.”  wc. 1168 notes. took me a while huh ✧✦✧ |
H |
thales amaro. second year castelobruxo quidditch. |
katherine townsend. professor of charms, former thunderbird. |
affairs of honour.
date ; so/me/day
mentions ;
languages ; english | thoughts
900+ ; wordcount
I'm eepy ; ooc notes
XXXXXBecoming captain of one sport had already consumed a remarkable portion of Prat's life. Becoming a captain of two had somehow convinced the universe that this boy clearly did not value free time and therefore; this idiot deserved even less of it.
Between the Duelling Club and the Slytherin Quidditch team, his days had become an endless procession of inventories, schedules, strategy meetings, recruitment, equipment maintenance, moderating matches, answering questions, settling arguments, giving advices that students would promptly ignore and then somehow being expected to solve the consequences of them ignoring it. God that a mouthful. It was exhausting work by every reasonable standard.
Fortunately, Prat had never been a particularly reasonable man, for he was who he was.
Had someone asked whether the workload was perhaps becoming excessive for the shoulders of a thirteen year old, third-year student. Prat would have just looked at the as though they proposed abolishing the very idea of gravity. The notion of possibility that he had simply taken on too much responsibility never truly entered his mind. Problems existed to be solved, work was there only to be completed and time, time was a construct that simply had to cooperate eventually.
And for Prat, somehow it always did. Perhaps he simply bullied his schedule into submission until it resembled something manageable.
Unsurprisingly, it worked.
Academically he remained near the top of his class, both sports were progressing better than he could have hoped, the Viridian Vipers continued to grow stronger despite his resignation from active membership, and somewhere amidst the organised chaos, there was still Neoth, who had somehow become the only creature capable of consistently forcing Prat to stop working for more than five consecutive minutes.
Unfortunately, Neoth had also occupied what little free time Prat still possessed.
The morning had begun as most of them now did. Before class, Prat was already up and on his walk across the corridors with Neoth for their morning run. The two had wandered far enough that the crup inevitably found mud worth rolling around through in the grounds while Prat found enough exercise to satisfy himself before breakfast. Afterwards came the familiar routine of cleaning Neoth, drying him off despite the animal's complete lack of appreciation for his efforts.
As he placed him back comfortably upon the bed, he instructed him with complete seriousness to stand guard over the dormitory. Post that, Prat cleaned himself as he prepared for the remainder of the day's tasks.
Neoth, naturally, accepted the assignment with all the dignity expected of an exceptionally fluffy security officer.
Several hours, a handful of classes and one Quidditch club meeting later, Prat could already feel the pleasant sort of fatigue that came from accomplishing far too much in a single day of work. There remained however, one final responsibility before he could even begin entertaining the thought of finding something edible.
The duelling club.
By the time preparations had been completed and the earliest members had begun arriving, Prat found himself once again surrounded by enthusiastic students asking strangely enthusiastic questions. Some wished to improve their spellwork; yeah buddy so did the guy you're asking.
Others wanted tactical advice. A handful merely wished to chat. Somewhere amidst the conversations, Prat had also successfully convinced several members to donate towards Viridian Vipers through what one could generously describe as passionate promotional campaigning and less generously as Shameless propaganda.
Either way, it worked.
Eventually the conversations dwindled. Students dispersed into smaller group and Prat mentally congratulated himself, clapping on his back for surviving yet another social encounter without collapsing from sheer boredom.
Excellent, food awaited him now. Blessed, glourious food.
He'd managed about three steps towards the exit before a voice interrupted his escape.
"Hi— you're Prat Pass"
Prat stopped. The voice had phrased it so strangely.
It sounded not much like a question, neither a statement. It was as if they were identifying him and then deciding his name after careful consideration.
He looked down.
"Yes," he answered casually, absentmindedly straightening a stack of club paperwork resting nearby, "that'd be me."
Only then did he properly study the figure standing before him.
She was very pale, exceptionally pale in fact. Light blonde hair framed features that appeared almost sculpted rather than born. Giving her the appearance of an expensive marble statue someone had animated. If gargoyles came in less terrifying varieties, Prat imagined they might resemble something like this.
"You're taller than I expected."
Now that, at least, was a familiar sound. One he'd hear a many times now.
A grin tugged lightly at one corner of his mouth. "Thanks, I get that a lot."
He finally turned fully towards her, giving her his complete attention, only to discover the practical difficulty of their conversation. From his perspective, she appeared to be craning her neck upward with enough determination that it looked faintly uncomfortable. Geez, desperate much.
That simply would not do.
Without making much of it, Prat gestured her towards a nearby table tucked into one corner of the club while he accio'd a few chairs there.
"Take a seat."
He wandered over first, dropping comfortably into one chair before motioning towards the other opposite to him. Much better, Now neither had to strain their neck for trivial conversations.
Resting one elbow against the table, Prat folded his hands together and regarded the young snake with much curiosity.
"And you are?"
The question from Viridian Captain carried neither impatience nor authority. If anything, it was a conversational choice, accompanied by the relaxed composure of someone who had grown remarkably accustomed to younger students appearing out of nowhere seeking advice.
or favours, or signatures or explanations.
Most of all it was complaints. But Prat didn't care about that, who did.
Once introductions had the opportunity to sort themselves out, Prat leaned ever so back on his chair, the round of his lenses catching the room's light as an amused expressed settled comfortably across his features.
"So," he asked, "is there a specific reason you've sought me out?" Judging from the determination etched across her posture and cadence, this conversation was certainly not accidental.
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banner by esme hestridge | coded by elena clarkxx | x |
| Prat Pass - Slytherin | |
Sta: 7 | Eva: 10 | Str: 6 | Wis: 7 | Arc: 7 | Acc: 13 |
Sta: 9 | Eva: 15 | Str: 0 | Wis: 7 | Arc: 5 | Acc: 15 |