9 Feb 2020, 05:52
Tarantella
Bastille would like to believe that he and Eve were fine — technically he wasn't the one to really make her cry, even if he did make things worse, and he did try to make it better — but he couldn't deny the slight twinge of guilt he felt when he saw her now, even if a few days since the dreadful tea party had passed. She was likely fine. She didn't seem like the type to be sulky for too long, especially over some prissy Slytherin, but he still felt like he was supposed to be doing something to make sure she was, in fact, fine.
It was rather uncomfortable, thinking of other people. Generally he reserved his concern for his family, but he supposed having friends demanded that he actually care about them. Bastille was still trying to determine how he felt about that, frankly, and so far he found the experience to be a bit wanting. Clearly he had no other option than to try to fix the situation and banish these ill feelings immediately, before he got it in his head to simply forsake the idea of friends forever. Ugh.
So, he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised when he heard the Prefects chittering away about yet another errand and was suddenly possessed by an outlandish notion. He rarely willingly participated in nonsense for the Prefects, honestly, going more or less when someone asked him to; sure, he believed in House points, but... well. Not that much. And yet here he was, thinking about gardening with Eve again.
With a sigh he went to track her down in the Common Room, rather certain she'd be tucked in a corner somewhere revising. The last time they'd trekked out to the gardens hadn't been awful, and really, she'd probably enjoy the chance to be a complete swot and go get some House points. He could feel like he'd done something for her mood, which may-or-may-not be already recovered. Truly it was a win-win. Maman would be thrilled.
"Eve," he greeted when he found the girl as suspected, shoving his hands into his pockets lazily as he eyed her. Bastille contemplated if he should be blatantly obvious about his reasons for approaching her, and then decided against it. She could draw whatever conclusions she wanted about his seeking her out. "Boniface is asking for help again, putting up flowers and sh— stuff for February. The Trophy Room still needs some decorating if you want to come." A pause, and then a hint of a smirk. "I'm surprised you're not already down in the gardens, honestly."@Evelynn Decipio & 434 words.
I KEEP TRYING TO CONCEIVE THAT DEATH IS FROM ABOVE — INFO
#85a9d9 — 5 STA | 5 EVA | 5 STR | 7 WIS | 6 ARC | 6 ACC
12 Feb 2020, 13:10
Tarantella
@Bastille Aurelius
Quite unsurprisingly, Evelynn had been exactly where Bastille had assumed he would find her. Not that it was such a hard thing to determine. By now, the perimeter of her derriere had no doubt embedded itself for at least the rest of the year in that particular chair in which he had found her. Late into the night, after curfew had sent her padding back to the Gryffindor den, and early in the morning before the same rule had lifted to allow her freedom to scamper back to her beloved library or potions classroom or quidditch pitch, Evelynn could be found sitting in that chair. It had become her place of work. Her flagged domain. Her claimed place of study. So-help-you-if-you-tried-to-tell-her-otherwise.
On this particularly morning, she was found sitting upright, feet tucked back underneath the edge of the seat, crossed at the ankles. She was leaned forwards, an elbow propped to either side of an open tome, fingers laced, with the sides of each of her index fingers supporting her forehead and the pads of her thumbs pressed into her temples. Loose, auburn waves spilled over her shoulders, veiling her concentrated face from view. So engrossed was she in this particular chapter of Holiday with Hags, by Gilderoy Lockheart that it took a couple of seconds for Bastille's greeting to sink in.
"Sorry?" She asked, glancing up at the speaker, fingers trailing back through her hair to pull it out of her face. The reddened patches on her face were still visible, but only faintly — like a mostly-healed sun-burn. "Oh," she said almost immediately, seeing who it was. Then added, warily, "morning.."
First the Valentine's Tea Party…Then outside the bathroom after the… situation…Now this. The two hadn't really had all that much to do with each other over the course of the term, but suddenly it was feeling…different. Evelynn narrowed her eyes a touch, suddenly struck with the preposterous idea that…. No… it wasn't possible… but… was it? Did he… Before her thoughts could fully form and work out a formal hypothesis to explain this increased prevalence of crossing paths, and moreover, almost considerate interaction, Bastille spoke to address her unasked question of what the heck he wanted.
"Again!?" she blinked, brows raising. No doubt this was decidedly not the immediate reaction that anyone who knew of Evelynn's tenacity to overachieve would be expecting. That said, she had helped Professor MacTavish with the herbs before, and had only recently aided with the construction and decoration of toad houses. It was somewhat surprising that he was already requesting assistance from students for yet another task.
But then the implication set in. Another task! Her expression of surprise waned to eager curiosity. That was more like it. But just as quickly, it shifted once again to skepticism.
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked, eyeing Bast as though this were some sort of trick. "I thought you hated this sort of thing. You almost make it sound as though you were already planning to go without anyone dragging you to it. And to pick flowers no less. Did your mother guilt you somehow?"
Word Count: 523 | Total Count: 523
22 Feb 2020, 21:02
Tarantella
Bastille let his attention drift down to the tome she was so engrossed in for a moment, tilting his head to the side slightly in a blatant effort to see if he could read the title off the tops of her pages (he couldn't) — an act which, despite the potential rudeness, he did not seem to be at all abashed about once she finally looked up to acknowledge him. Instead he just peered at it for another moment before leaning back on his heels to peer at her again, providing an explanation for his presence as he did so.
Which, well, felt only slightly ridiculous. Bast liked to pretend there was nothing suspicious about this at all, that it was completely within his nature to not only volunteer for a task but seek out a partner for it, but he knew that he was just kidding himself. He could only hope that Eve — swotty, know-it-all, way-too-observant of any and all tiny details about everyone and everything — didn't take notice of the absolute absurdity of this particular role reversal happening between them.
He arched a brow in surprise at her outburst — that was not quite the patented Evelynn Depicio, completely mental about chores and tasks — and for a moment he contemplated the validity of this attempt at peace-offering. But then he caught the shift in her expression and grinned, smug and triumphant; yes, he thought so, of course she would end up getting excited about House Points. He knew it. Bloody brill—
Bast scowled when her demeanor abruptly crumbled again, and what was she looking at him like that for? Affronted, he was about to ask what gave when she spoke, and oh. Yes, okay, he supposed she had a point — a rude point, but still a point — and for a moment he was at a loss. He didn't have a good explanation to cover his tracks, here, and he was about to wildly spin together some bullshite when she went ahead and provided an explanation for him.
"Yes," he said, a bit too quickly, and then he let out a long suffering sigh and shrugged his shoulder. "Right, okay, you caught me. Maman is quite insistent that I be more involved and try harder when it comes to House sh— stuff. Bloody insistent about it, too. I figured I could do a few errands for the Profs, but I didn't want to go pick some flowers alone. Happy?"
He gave her a lazy grin, sprinkled in a hint of sheepishness, and silently congratulated himself for an entirely non-suspicious excuse. Merlin knew he would die on the spot if Eve found out he was just trying to cheer her up post-Tea Party disaster. "So, you in or what?"464 words (/807 total) & @Evelynn Decipio.
I KEEP TRYING TO CONCEIVE THAT DEATH IS FROM ABOVE — INFO
#85a9d9 — 5 STA | 5 EVA | 5 STR | 7 WIS | 6 ARC | 6 ACC
24 Feb 2020, 01:11
Tarantella
Interacting with @Bastille Aurelius
Having noticed his gaze stray to her reading material, Evelynn rocked the tome up enough for him to glimpse the title. It wasn't as though she had been being particularly secretive about her studies. People could make of it as they would. For all they knew, she was just a keener trying to get a head-start in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Which wasn't entirely wrong.
"I suppose," Evelynn replied with a false resignation, going so far as to sigh out the word.
Had it been anyone other than Aurelius, she might have thought the speed at which he jumped at her suspicion of his mother's involvement to be suspect. Knowing what she knew — how little that may yet be — of his maman, however, she could almost sense the irritation and recoiling disgust he must have felt at her insistence that he be more involved. How dare she wish her son to actually integrate himself within his House, or to experience life during his Hogwarts' stay.
"She's right you know," Evelynn chirped matter-of-factly as she collected and tidied her things. "I've been telling you that since the beginning of the year. I'm sure the professors look at the effort you invest outside of class as well, and if you ever want to be a Prefect down the years, you'll have to prove to them that you care about more than just yourself."
Not that she could ever see him wanting to be a prefect, but she could easily see his mother expressing her desire to see him in such an honourable position, and bemoaning his opposition for just such a responsibility.
"What's this errand, then?" she asked with interest. "Actually, hold on…" She gathered the rest of her things together, slid the pile of parchments, scrolls, and tomes precariously from the table and into her arms. "I'll be right back," she promised, before striding to the exit to the girl's dorms as quickly as her burden would allow her.
In a moment, she disappeared up the staircase, but she returned no more than five minutes later. School robes had been traded for thick leggings, riding boots, and long-sleeve woollen dress. Around her neck, she had wound a Gryffindor scarf. She practically skipped down the last of the steps.
"Alright, so what's this errand?" she asked again, already striding smoothly for the portrait hole. She turned on her heels as she passed by Aurelius so that she could look at him while her steps continued to carry her backwards.
"And what did you mean by a few errands?" she inquired, eyeing him conspiratorially. "Have you signed up for some others as well?" And just like that, she came abreast of the bulletin board in the common room. She had been planning to go straight for the exit, but the sight of the notices gave her pause. She scanned them, looking for other errands upon which her housemate may have signed his name.
Word Count: 493 | Total Count: 1016