Headmaster's office
| CV | OPEN─────────────────────────────────────────────────── Headmaster. In his career, that was not a title Santiago had imagined to add to his résumé. He’d found out the vacancy by chance, courtesy of his mother’s ample network. Sensing a new opportunity for her son, one she would turn out to be correct about, she’d encouraged him to apply. At first, he’d been reluctant. He’d recently been teased with the promise of a promotion at his ministry post, and leaving it all behind meant missing out on familiar opportunities, but also welcoming new, perhaps greater ones. Regardless, he lost nothing by applying. On the contrary, he’d been offered the position. Quietly baffled, Santiago was now sitting in his own— new— office, looking out over the newly decorated space with a pencil tapping on his lips. He was ready for new challenges, he just didn’t imagine they’d arrive so quickly. Headmaster in his early thirties, for heaven’s sake. Not many people could boast about such accomplishments. Of course he would not brag, though it did feel empowering whenever he approached the oak door to his office, the gold-plated sign outside catching his eye: Headmaster Peralta’s office. A slight smirk would graze his lips for the few weeks to come. The first thing one might notice when stepping into Santiago’s office was that the space seemed to have been decorated with nature-inspired, mindful aesthetic in mind. All of the furniture, from the desk, the bookshelf that was integrated in the wall behind the workspace, was made out of dark oak, unpolished and rough for texture and character. Even the trashcan beside Santiago’s desk was made of woven material. The room smelled faintly of fresh rain and greenery, while a gentle rainforest sound played for ambiance. By the window stood a dark brown leather couch for students to sit down comfortably, though he’d warn you with a glint in his eyes to not sink too deep into the cushions, or else you might not get up for a few hours. “That might have happened to me… a few times,” he’d tell anyone who decided to breach the topic. Since the previous Headmistress’s departure, the space had gone from empty and sterile to organized chaos after Santiago had moved in a few days ago. Various folders with paperwork splayed on top of the rough-surfaced, hardwood desk. Wrapped candies clustered in a wooden bowl, often refilled. A black frame at the furthest right corner, with a picture depicting a beautiful family of five, his two parents, two sisters and Santiago in the middle, was the only thing that could be considered personal at first glance. No other significant figure in his life was pictured anywhere, nor did he wear a ring on his finger, keeping his life private. Any other personal items were carefully locked away in the trunk, partially hidden behind his workspace, hoping that keeping it out of sight would minimize the risk of nosy students trying to pry into his business. Nothing of considerable note was hidden inside; he was simply a private man, which was obvious to anyone who’d met him. Perhaps he also enjoyed keeping some of the mystery, not that he’d reveal that information to anyone. Despite his serious first impression, Santi was always welcoming of students to visit him in his office. Unless he was terribly busy or in a foul mood due to others incompetence, he’d offer his visitors a honey drop candy from the bowl on his desk on arrival, or perhaps a cup of water or coffee, if they fancied. CHEAT SHEET──────────────────────────────────────────── You enter unannounced → He'll be engrossed in work and visibly surprised. Expect a brief pause, raised brow, maybe a slight smirk once he registers who you are. You knock and wait politely → He’ll glance up, nod, and invite you in with a warm, professional tone. Likely to offer a seat and a honey drop candy or a drink. You try to be overly familiar → He’ll raise an eyebrow and keep his distance, question why you're here. You try to pry into his private life → He’ll close off, redirecting the conversation. Might joke lightly, but clearly signals “this is off-limits” if you're not close. You are visibly nervous or shy → Gentle reassurance. He might offer candy or coffee to ease tension, accompanied by light, friendly commentary. RULES────────────────────────────────────────────────── 1. Only one person is allowed in the office at a time. If there is an active rp happening this thread will be marked as closed, when that is the case please do not post in here until either the last person leaves the thread or when they haven't posted for 30 days. 2. This is an IC area, so all posts here must be at least 200 words, follow RP rules, Castelobruxo forum rules, and lore. 3. Interactions in this thread are meant to be short, if you wish for a longer thread, feel free to owl me. 4. Light god-modding is allowed. Anything mentioned in this post is okay to mention, as well as minor actions. |
CV |
Banner by Esme Hestridge
Headmaster's office
~ banner by the lovely Elena Clark ~
HEADMASTER'S OFFICE
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
date: 06/03/26 | place: castelobruxo headmaster's office | outfit: uniform (-feather) | wc: 1252
────────────────────────────────
| xxxx | ───𝕬fter Castelobruxo's ex-headmaster Catalina De La Torre had taken her leave, it was only a matter of days before a new visage took the woman's place. Many headmasters had come and gone from the position throughout the ongoing school year. Whether they did not like the climate in the rainforest or simply decided that the job wasn't suited for them, she did not know. It was only a matter of time before they would find a competent individual who would stay for a longer tenure, however, but until then, the cycle continued. Ariana much disliked the constant change herself. Being a werewolf, child of the moon, each swap meant that she needed to make herself known to the new director as the being that she was, and from then on they almost always saw her as nothing more than that. A pitiful monster. Once again, a new headmaster stepped up, refurnishing the space adjacent to the office door with his very own title, filling the post that had been left vacant after De La Torre's departure. Santiago Peralta was the man's name, a 32-year old of whom the huntress planned to learn each detail she could snag by closely observing his demeanor, possessions and possibly even rumors, for the man would be in possession of her greatest secret. The werewolf's trust had always been difficult to acquire after her father's abandonment, each variable in future exchanges influenced by her now cynical view toward most other mortals who she needed to put up with. If the man wished to see who she truly was beyond her werewolf husk, he would need to work for it. Despite her decisive introversion and cynicism, the standard procedure needed to be followed and Ariana saw no point in stalling the matter. What must be done needs to be done, the sooner the better. After all, what good would it do to wait until the very last minute and end up risking more than should ever be put on the line? Overthinking could be seen as her specialty, one could say, but so were intelligence and determination. It was the latter two that kept her sane, keeping her mind aligned to the straight and narrow path that she knew was the only successful way forward. Each step a variable to decipher, nothing more than a matter of logic and calculation. That was precisely the way she planned on going about this specific encounter, if not more perceptive and sharp than her usual conscious self. Headmaster Peralta would receive an interesting first welcome, that was certain. Ariana was the first to visit his office, coming but a day after his appointment to the previously unfilled post. The huntress' footsteps were noiseless, not disturbing the silence that echoed off the pyramid's walls. As she made her way through the structure, many plausible outcomes of the conversation to come played out through her mind, each less likely than the next. Acceptance was what she wished for. Not pity. Not scorn. Merely quiet understanding, no drama, no evident distaste. But a wish is called a wish for a reason, hardly ever coming true. The gilded sign could be seen from a distance for those who were alert of their surroundings, the werewolf included. Although it is said that creatures such as she had better eyesight by nature, one must be looking to truly see. Once Ariana had closed the distance between her and the office by a few more *feet, the inscription upon the aureate plaque became visible. Headmaster Peralta's office, it read, the words radiating possible confidence of the man on the other side of the wooden door it stood beside. The time had come to make her appearance once and for all. Ariana rapped on the wood with three consecutive knocks, her movements measured and precise, lacking any excessive flamboyance her peers might have. Rather than barging in, the first variable was patience, the act of waiting one's turn until called upon without growing restless. Her actions were deliberate, thought-out before they were to be performed. That was what her presentable self consisted of: systematic containment of the wilderness on the inside. Beyond the sight of her peers and superiors, however, there was no easy distraction to stop her soul from crumbling, pouring out, showing emotion. Pain. Archery and the wilderness of the forest were her safe-haven, treating her like she belonged in its embrace, unlike many- many a time including herself. Once the headmaster's voice invited her to come in, Ariana turned the handle and crossed the threshold to the office beyond the oak door. Her first impression of the office before even taking it all in was a welcoming presence. Methodically looking around at each detail of the nature-themed space, it was evident that he too had an affinity for the wilderness and the outdoors. A picture frame caught her eye, a photograph depicting Santiago and his family. The mother seemed to especially draw attention, seemingly a veela. If that were true, that would make the man sitting directly in front of her a part-veela. Revolving her attention toward him at last, she now saw the distinctive traits that marked him a half-breed, should her theory be correct. Interesting. Perhaps that would make him less scornful of her own status; both muggle and wizard lineage with cursed blood. It was only a matter of seconds before Ariana had finished looking around the room, each artifact and feature standing out to her watchful eyes. A house tour was not the reason she had come, however, nor would it matter should she miss the opportunity to introduce herself properly make her statement. "Good morning headmaster, it's a pleasure meeting you; My name is Ariana Westonfield-Rivera." A deliberate pause. "I came to offer my congratulations on the position, and bear a formal request." After accepting a drink with gratitude – in this case a green tea – and a place on the leather couch beside the window looking out across the campus, the huntress began to explain. "You have probably heard of lycanthropy before, throughout your studies or merely during a tour of the grounds. It is the term that refers to the curse spread by werewolves on the full moon if their fangs pierce a human's flesh. As a young girl, I was bitten by a lycanthrope and inflicted with this curse, and have dealt with the consequences ever since." If Santiago Peralta had an aversion towards werewolves, this was the moment in which she would notice. Her vulnerability was at its peak, leaving space for judgement. Ariana did not mask it, for she seeked to know how the man would react in this moment of silence. "I am able to attend this school safely due to the monthly intake of the Wolfsbane Potion and being escorted to the Caverna Iuvante on the evening of the full moon." Her request was now clear, despite it not being worded into a fully-fledged question yet, the statement hanging in the rainforest-scented air. "My request is therefore that I am supplied with the correct dosage of Wolfsbane on each day of the week prior to the full moon, and hopefully your time in escorting me safely to the Caverna, if you wish to play it at its safest." She had said her piece. Now, all she could do was hope for a sliver of understanding and agreement, her mind unconsciously rehearsing the same phrase over and over again. I am not a monster. ──────────────────────────────── action: entering the office and speaking to headmaster peralta *OOC I use the metric system but this sounded better STA 5 | EVA 7 | STR 2 | WIS 8 | ARC 4 | ACC 9 - @Santiago Peralta - | xxxx |
| xxxxx | ⊹✧𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖠𝖭𝖠 ~ ency ☽ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄 ☾ |
⋮ ⋮ |
⊹ Sta 5 | Eva 7 | Str 2 | Wis 8 | Arc 4 | Acc 9 ⊹ ─── ‿︵˓ ʚ✩ɞ ˓ ︵ ‿ ─── |
⋮ ⋮ |
xxxxx |
Headmaster's office
| CV | SIXTH OF MARCH, 2026 with @Ariana Westonfield-Rivera
The first day of settling in had been quiet. Aside from getting his office in shape and arranging it to his liking, the only visitors had been faculty members. Santiago had been grateful for the low traffic at this time; there were, after all, plenty of administrative details to sort through in the beginning. At the end of the work day, he’d crashed into the expensive, dangerously plush leather couch with a sigh. Allowing his head to fall back, his gaze traced the corners of the new room and furniture with an almost wistful look. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be new at the job. His prior life at the ministry, despite the temporary relocations he’d done for business travel purposes, had been stable. Santi had quickly been trusted with responsibilities for his competence. People came to him when there were problems that needed to be solved or handled with a critical eye; rarely had he had to ask others for information, for he knew best. It was not arrogance so much as fact. The man had worked hard to get to where he had been, and he planned to work even harder to get where he wanted to be. The thought of his promised promotion at the ministry before he’d taken on the position as Headmaster still left a bittersweet aftertaste. But there was no point in dwelling. He had seen little of the school outside of a student perspective, and his graduation had been more than a decade ago, but he had fond memories of Castelobruxo. Things ought to have changed since then, as he would eventually discover. The depth of the cushions trapped him without ceremony. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the room had dimmed, the sky through the window holding the last of a sunset in bleeding oranges and purples. Santi blinked through the drowsiness. “This damn couch,” he muttered, rubbing his nose bridge as he realized he’d done it again, as if the inanimate object was to blame. Although, after a stressful day, Santiago deemed himself worthy of calling it an early night. His first student visit happened the following day. The morning had been quiet, and Santiago had spent the majority of it by his desk, sorting through paperwork and the archives. There seemed to have been several re-appointments of this position in a short amount of time. Likewise, a cluster of students had transferred the previous year, for reasons Santiago could only guess. Perhaps he was missing a crucial piece of information, an institutional blind spot, or hopefully it was only a coincidence. Leaning back in his chair, one hand resting at the nape of his neck, he sat lost in thought. In hindsight, Santi thought he should have spoken to the former Headmistress Catalina before she’d departed for good. Three consecutive knocks interrupted his pondering. As if he’d been expecting company, he raised his voice and immediately replied, “Come in,” then folded his hand back into his lap and shifted into a more neutral position. Not a second too early, the doorknob turned. His gaze flickered to the door when the visitor entered, a measured-looking girl from one of the lower years, judging by presentation alone. She appeared to bring an air of seriousness with her into the space, gaze sweeping the space the moment she entered, lingering on the framed photo of him and his family, which he supposed was only natural—curiosity, especially. Students did not usually wish to speak with the Headmaster unless it was regarding serious matters. Regardless of what brought her here, Santiago offered a small, pleasant smile in encouragement. In his professionalism, he wished to be regarded as a serious man, though not at the cost of trust. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Miss Ariana. That's very kind of you,” he greeted her, a slight warmth entering his smile after she had introduced herself by name and offered her congratulations on his new position. A pleasant surprise. It was certainly more than he had expected from any student. Of course, the welcome also came with a request. Rising from his chair, he gestured toward the couch, as if only just remembering it. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Moving to the drinks station behind him, Santiago prepared two mugs of his own hand-made design. Coffee for him was a given; meanwhile to his guest, he offered a selection of drinks. Green tea would suffice. Once both drinks were prepared, he placed the steaming green raku-baked mug on the coffee table in front of her. He then sat, lifting his own cup and taking a slow sip of coffee, lightly creamed with oat-milk, as he regarded her over the rim. She began to explain her purpose before Santiago had to ask. Despite the heavy drop of information, he kept his expression steady as she spoke of her sensitive condition, having been bitten by a lycanthrope as only a young child. In his field of work, Santi had encountered his fair share of abnormalities. He himself was technically an abnormality, though the difference in how Veelas like him were treated compared to lycanthropes was not something to disregard. While they had their similarities, their struggles were vastly different, some of them he wouldn’t even pretend to relate to. He offered only a few measured nods as she continued, letting her speak at her own pace. The girl clearly did not need pressure added to what she was already carrying. Up until that point, Santiago had not made any outward indication of judgment. He sympathized with her condition, of course, as well as felt respect for her candor, spoken through a vulnerability she did not appear to be hiding. At the end of it, her request was completely reasonable: providing wolfsbane potions and escorting her to the safe location was the bare minimum, without forbidding werewolves from attending this school. For various reasons, that was not an option. As living proof himself, Santi didn’t believe being classified as a different creature determines your competence or how well you’d succeed in life. It was impossible to say how the others before him had absorbed the news, but outwardly he didn’t move a muscle that could have been interpreted as disapproval or disgust. For a brief moment, long enough for Santiago to drain half of his cup, only the ambient sounds of the rainforest were audible in the room. “That’s very good to know,” was the first thing he said, plainly. “Thank you for being honest. I assume that you are familiar with the full-moon procedure by now. That you know how to handle yourself without me telling you what to do.” A faintly amused exhale followed, as he flashed her a disarming smile. Granted, she probably knew more than him, and assuming otherwise would have been insulting. She was free to correct him if he was wrong, but Ariana didn't speak like a girl of incompetence. It felt safe to say that she'd been through this before. “And I will speak to the potions master to make sure there’s a steady supply for the full-moons. I will escort you myself, of course. Is there anything else you need?” He presented the question openly. |
CV |
Banner by Esme Hestridge