Out, Out, Brief Candle! ERRAND PV Marla Finished

Being a prefect and a writer, Marla didn't exactly need to do this for a quick buck. However, she was in desperate need of chocolate frogs. Since the Gryffindor scavenger hunt in May, she hadn't gotten the chance to have any. And while regular chocolate was great, once she tried the frogs, she couldn't go back. Of course, she had her permission slip to where she could sneak out into Hogsmeade and buy a few, but last time she decided to do that– well, it wasn't exactly ideal. She spotted Olphie and Caradoc canoodling in Madam Puddifoots, and not even eye bleach could whitewash that out of her mind. She asked for it for spying on them, but it was disturbing, nonetheless. Not to mention, she also needed some new experiences that didn't include incendio-ing her brother, spray painting on the dungeon walls, or raiding the potions classroom. So, here she was.

As she ambled throughout the hall, it gradually shifted into more of a distressed toothpick blowing in the wind, growing more frustrated each time she tripped on her much too big robes. Expecting to grow bigger this year, she bought new robes that were significantly sizes larger than the last year, but just her luck. She shrunk. Now she was stuck in clothes that looked like she poked holes in gigantic garbage bags. At this point, she was willing to sell her soul for something as simple as a small growth spurt. Her hair stood poofy and untameable, more noticeable than usual. She shoved it in a bun, but it still really didn't do her any justice. Still, she was more of a function over fashion person.

Eventually, the short second year made her way into the ancient runes classroom, soon greeted by a variety of scents. Frankly, it was relaxing, so much that she fell into a small daze upon entering. A sigh escaped her lips, however, she caught her wits quickly and scanned the classroom for what they'd be doing today. The place was packed with a mound of students. It still wasn't too loud, which meant that she wasn't the only one who thought they were soothing. Or the only one who was anticipating chocolate frogs (though the money was still a plus). But soon, to her dismay, a familiar and quite pretty face could be seen at the far corner of the room. And was the only spot not completely packed. Alexx French-Last-Name-That-She-Didn't-Remember. As annoying as it was, it seemed that the two would have to work together.

Marla approached the blonde, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. "Looks like we're working together, yeah?" She remarked flatly, glancing over at the Slytherin to possibly see her reaction. As much as she disliked her, maybe this could cool things down between them, at least enough so that she didn't want to off herself every single time the Headliner met up. However, even if she wanted to, she couldn't start (or finish) a conversation for the life of her. Since she was little, behaving politely was never something she was familiar with, and that carried into primary school, where she didn't make any friends. Hogwarts was really the only time that she was ever able to have friendly interaction with people, and was still new to it. It would be easier to snap at the girl. Safer. But she wasn't going to start conflict when the point of this was to... Make candles. It really wasn't that deep.

She took a green, pine-tree looking herb, and gave it a quick sniff. Blech. This stuff was... Frankly, a little gross. She fished around in her pockets, finding a hard, tube-shaped object. Pulling it out, it was... A cherry lip balm. Okay, as much as she was tempted to plop the whole thing into the hot cauldron of wax... Marla promised herself that she'd follow rules. For once. As a prefect, this would be an every day thing, and she would have to get used to it. Marla made for the juniper, dumping a clump of it into the molten wax. She scrunched her nose up, immediately regretting not using the sweet, synthetic cherry, but it wasn't like she was going to use this anyway. It would do.

"What are you using?" She asked Alexx, peering over at her cauldron, "Stuff smells rubbish. Like something your grandma would wear, or somethin'" She murmured, inhaling sharply through her teeth as she moved her eyes back to her own cauldron, stirring it occasionally. It definitely would wouldn't hurt to try to be nice, no matter how much of a dick this weird baguette girl was, right? Even if the girl snapped, she would just close her eyes and think of those glorious chocolate frogs. It was better to restrain herself from murdering the Slytherin, especially for a reward like this one.

Word Count; 811/1000

To say that Alexx was taken aback by Marla was... Well, an understatement, more or less. While Alexx didn't know Marla and couldn't say whether or not she held grudges, she could say that the two had never made up since their previous encounter. There were other things at the top of the "to-do list" for Alexx Séverin, and making it up to someone who was less than an acquaintance wasn't exactly a priority for her. It could be said that Alexx wasn't seeking out an enemy, but she didn't even see Marla as that. She was neutral to her; nothing more and nothing less.

Being polite was not going to kill Alexx, or even so much as to be out of her way. However, Marla was the one that approached her, and not the other way around. If Marla was making an effort, then surely Alexx should too. All things considered, it was never too late to mend a broken bridge. But Alexx was still unsure as to who Marla really was. What were her intentions? Nothing was made very evident or clear to Alexx, especially considering that she had only met Marla on one other occasion.

There was still room for redemption, and she would believe that Marla had been chipping away at that, given her current status. Co-captain for Gryffindor, Prefect, Headliner writer. This girl was on top of the world; the same way that Alexx was a few months ago. This made Alexx envy her and her position, because, well... Alexx missed all of that stuff. While she was still Editor-in-Chief, and at least held some authority, she would still blush and look away at the thought of her old status. How she longed to take it all back... To regain what respect people once held for her.

Truth be told, outside of the pure-blood community, Alexx was nothing anymore. While she could be seen as "greater than" simply based on blood status, what fun was that? She hadn't earned any of it. But she had earned everything else, which is what made her so unsteady on the subject. She earned Editor-in-Chief. She earned Prefect. She earned her spot as a Chaser. Alexx put in the time and effort, only to make the rookie mistake of giving it all up so that she could chase some dream about being the face of the Headliner. While that dream was now a reality, she often found herself questioning if it was rewarding to her at all. Was she satisfied?

But despite their similarities, Alexx did not believe that Marla Quinlan, of all the people, could sympathize with her. Eris did. Reid tried. Max... Was getting there. But Marla? There was much to discover about this unfamiliar, less-than-friendly face. While Alexx would love to get to know her, she didn't suspect that now was the time or the place.

More on the matter, where was her sweet and lovely silence? Was she condemned to some sort of purgatory where she was forced to make small talk with the enemy? Alexx held no interest in discussing lavender and the smell of it. There were people in this world who Alexx could talk to for hours about useless nonsense, but Marla did not make the cut. She would need to be a better person before Alexx would consider comfortably making small talk with her anytime in the near future. For now, it was awkward and left far too much to be desired.

But Alexx wasn't going to be rude and ignore her. She was raised better than that. And, if she ever wanted to be above people for reasons not pertaining to her status as a pure-blood, then she would need to make just a little bit more effort than her normal standards. At least her mother would be proud. Socializing was never her forte, not even as a small child. She was damn near reclusive, almost to the point of her family worrying for her. This was due to the extreme lack of social interaction that she faced, so Alexx just happened to fall more comfortable with being left alone, thank you kindly.

"Lavender," She replied, holding it up in her hand. Alexx also collected a piece of string, examining it as a way to avoid eye contact. "I am afraid that my grand-mère only wears Chanel." She added, which was true. Jeannine did enjoy her high-end perfume, none of which smelled anything remotely like these candles that they would be making.

752 + 359 = 1111/1000

As addicting as being liked was, some people are simply not meant to be friendly towards each other. This was certainly the case with Marla and Alexx, not even the most expensive of bribes could force them towards an alliance. Even with their similarities. Both were prefects, love quidditch, and are writers on the Headliner. And yet, something about the Slytherin third year repulsed her. Just being in her presence made the lion feel grimy and wary. However, it would be uncalled for if she snapped out of nowhere. After all, Marla did this to herself. It would have taken little to no effort to walk out of the classroom at the sight of the kiss-ass French girl. But she didn't.

So, that left her here, feeling extremely regretful, but there was nothing she could do now. It would seem rude and quite strange if she up and left in the middle of making a candle. Plus, besides Alexx, it was actually kind of nice. It wasn't too loud, despite the room having several groups of students. There was a low, steady hum of whispers making their way throughout the room, but nothing extremely rowdy. The smell of the herbs made her a little drowsy, especially with how warm the room was. It kind of reminded her of the Gryffindor common room... If a magical hippie revamped it, but still. It wasn't half bad.

It seemed as if Marla's joke didn't make it to Alexx's mind, because she mentioned her grandmother only wearing Chanel... Oh– excuse me. Her grand-mére. The Gryffindor frowned. Could she be any more snobby? What the hell was Chanel anyways? If it was a brand, it was a stupid name for one. "That's..Something." She murmured under her breath, more to herself than her company. Grandmas wore perfume? Was her's having a midlife crisis or something? "Is your grandma in the middle of a midlife crisis? Or do all of them wear perfume? She repeated aloud, taking a string herself and dipping it into the wax carefully, spinning it slowly in between two of her fingers in an attempt to get it dry faster. "I mean, I've never seen my grandma wear any weird perfumes. Thank god." A scoff escaped her lips as she dipped the string into the molten wax once more, avoiding any eye contact with the Slytherin.

She didn't know whether this experience was awkward or just infuriating, but either way, there was a feeling of unadulterated qualm brewing in her gut, growing more noticeable by the minute. Something told her, even though nothing terrible had happened (yet)– that this wasn't exactly going to end well. The worry caused her to drown herself in her thoughts, to the point that she forgot she was dealing with hot wax. At some point, she had dipped it too deep and it reached her fingers. Only when her index finger was halfway in did she notice the scorching pain flaring her nerves. She recoiled, her hand flying away from the cauldron almost immediately. She held her finger tightly, trying to play it cool, even though she was, well, in agony. She inhaled sharply through her teeth, scraping the now half-hardened wax off her skin as best as she could. Waving her hand as to dull the pain, she toughened up and got back to work. After all, it was just a small burn. Some kids have been in much, much worse circumstances with fire at this school. She couldn't complain.

Continuing to work, she felt her face burn up. What if Alexx thought she was weak? The last thing she wanted was to be underestimated by a potential enemy– but then again, if she was.. It could be an advantage. But who knew? At some point, they could become friends and it would just be a useless, mortifying memory lodged in the back of her brain. "I mean, what does Chanel even smell like? It's a name, not a freaking scent," Why she was still talking about it, was even a mystery to her, but for some reason, she couldn't help the flow of words coming out of her loud mouth. "Like, even a bird poop or sandwich smelling thing seems more practical. I don't understand.. I mean, your grahnd-mehr or whatever the hell must be losing her mind to be spending her money on that." She shrugged, continuing to dip the now slightly dented candlestick into the wax, now much more careful as to not repeat the same mistake as before. Anyone would do the same.. Its kind of like when you move your finger across the tip of a flame really fast, but accidentally put it too close or go too slow, and feel that sting, but multiplied by ten and much longer-lasting. She frowned, trying to ignore her now slightly numb, pins-and-needles finger and wiggled it a bit, but nothing helped. It hurt more than she thought it would, but not unbearable. It'd be a quick fix at the hospital wing as soon as she was done with this errand...

Word Count; 811 + 846 =1657/1000