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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 17:49:38 GMT -5
{ hmm? oh me? it is but it's due monday so i'm not too worried about finishing it immediately }
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 19:28:57 GMT -5
Hawthorne closed the bag, already sensing she wasn’t going to get a single galleon out of this guy. Yet, curiosity rooted her to the spot. Curiosity and vanity. The pride she took in potion-making was second only to the pride she took in painting. “Any kind you want!” She puffed, “I can make anything. Amortentia, polyjuice potion, nothing is too advanced for me.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Hawthorne’s ambition had blown up in her face━ quite literally ━more than once. More times than she’s willing to admit, the girl had gone running to the window, eyebrows still sizzling as she coughed lungfuls of magic-polluted smoke into the open air. But that hadn’t stopped her. If rules weren’t going to stop her then lack of skill sure wasn’t either!
Not that she was so bold as to claim herself to be a potioneer! Cracking open a book and reading ingredients and instructions was no walk in the park, but Hawthorne had no intention of devoting time to making new potions like some kind of shut in!
Sitting across from him, the girl looked like a carefully-crafted statue: ramrod back, folded hand pressed carefully into her skirt. She looked ready to lecture the blonde boy about the finer points of potion-making. Everything about her was precision and delicacy. Her hair, her make-up, Hawthorne treated herself like a work of art. Not a girl, but a masterpiece. The only time this facade came undone was when she painted. Only then did the layers fall away.
She slipped her hand back into the bag and pulled out a vial and presented it to him, “For instance, this Calming Draught is painstaking work. Everything has to be precise. How many times you stir it, when you add the next ingredient, how long you stir it. It’s all about timing or you’ll screw it up. I might add that this is perfect if you get test anxiety!” He wasn’t interested, that much she knew. Still, it was worth a try. She could use a few galleons when the candy cart made its rounds.
Hawthorne was sliding the potion back into place when her gaze landed on the cat still sitting on his shoulder. “Does he have a name?” She asked. It was a very pretty creature, she admitted. A formal little thing, black and white patterned like he was wearing a suit. He sat easily on his owner’s shoulder like he belonged there. Like some kind of cat owl. Owl cat? Meowl?
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 19:42:56 GMT -5
("Owl cat? Meowl?" c'mon Hawthorne!)
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 19:58:10 GMT -5
{ gotta love meowls }
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 20:00:35 GMT -5
Jasadja lifted her shoulders in a simple shrug. “I don’t know why my Dad named him that, he’s so big maybe he just wanted to make him less scary by giving him a silly name,” she reasoned. Outside the compartment she could hear the train becoming gradually quieter as students filed into different compartments, sorting themselves out and clearing out the aisle. “Yes, I think those names are common. But how would you like it if someone named you something like Fingers or Hairy?” Pausing she let that thought process and a frowned curled her lips. “Wait Harry is a name isn’t it?” A bad example, did her argument even stand anymore? Unlikely. Jasadja had never been great at arguments. She got too emotional and her emotions tended to override her logic so she ended up doing something she would regret later, usually in defense of someone else though.
“Sinbad is...more well-behaved.” Flicking her attention between Jane and Lavena she hurriedly added “No offense of course,” though unsure of who to direct the apology towards. Jasadja watched as Lavena tried to snap off her owner’s finger and suddenly found that she was no longer tempted to pet her soft looking feathers. The thought of having that gleaming beak try to nip Jasadja’s fingers made her shift her hands away ever-so-slightly.
“Bewitched dogs?” A curious tone crept into her voice. The thought of dogs being made to fly and speak in riddles by work of spells intruded her mind. A shake of her head scattered the funny images like birds scattered by fright. Still, traces of images like dogs wearing witches hats remained like an afterimage. “I suppose I wouldn’t really know. I’ve never had a dog you see, I do like them though. I always wanted one when I was younger but Pickles gets jealous and we didn’t have room in our house for one.”
She remembered begging and pleading and bargaining with her parents if only she could get a dog. Jasadja had once scoured books looking for the perfect dog she would get if only she could. Pictures of beautiful silky black dogs and small yappy white ones with brown spots. They all seemed appealing to her. But Sadja and Jasmin had refused to budge on the subject, they simply couldn’t have one. Eventually she had to give up. She couldn’t have brought a dog to Hogwarts anyway so maybe it had been for the best.
Jasadja beamed. Her freckles smudged together as her mouth pulled into a wider smile. “I’d love to teach you! I’ve taught my brother before but I warn you that I’m not a very good teacher...at all.” She made a move to sit down, but stopped tipping her gaze to the door. “Oh. I should get my things.” Setting the paper down she left in a flurry with a quick “I’ll be right back!”
Moments later Jasadja appeared in the doorway again with her luggage precariously balanced under her arms. At her feet a three-foot gray tabby glared into the compartment beneath half-lidded eyes, clearly unhappy at being woken up in order to switch compartments. Rather ungracefully Jasadja shifted into the compartment and lifted herself onto the plush seat, she stacked her luggage onto the rack above her head.
Plopping down onto the seat across from Jane she opened her black coat and drew out a piece of yellow paper. She folded it in half, then in half again. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord. Moving the paper this way and that, flipping it over and rotating it. It bent under her touch like water, and she never struggled in getting the paper to obey her direction.
Jasadja folded the paper into what looked like a kite, then opened it into a tall diamond. Not too complex. It was a bird, with a tall neck and long tail, and broad, triangular wings creased to perfect points. She held the bird in the palm of her hand and showed Jane the creation. “What do you think?”
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Oct 14, 2017 20:04:53 GMT -5
The Thunderbird ❝ If you take the time to listen, you can hear the world say its greeting. ❞ ━ ϟ ϟ ϟ ━ The bottles were hidden from his sight as the bag closed. That was too bad, he was rather curious what she dared to bring with her. He listened, as he always did, his eyes immediately training on her lips to make sure that he got every word that was said down. He wasn't really into chatting much and he really didn't care about buying a potion; he had no need. If he needed to get out of a nasty situation there was always the quick escape of shape-shifting. Of course, it wasn't some grand spectacular thing and he didn't show it off. No, he wasn't exactly the flashy type to brag and wave his achievements in the faces of others.
Potions were not his thing and, while he was patient, he wasn't a fan of making them nor being around them. If it was true that she had just about any kind of potion at her finger-tips, a brag that Allen was well curious to see unfold for himself, then he knew of a perfect customer. His sister might be one to follow the rules, but she was also quick to break them. Perhaps there was a similarity between Riliane and him after all.
"I know of someone who would be interested in your potions. Riliane Langlois, just a few compartments down." Matter of fact and straight to the point. Idle chatter tended to annoy him. There was no point in speaking if there isn't any use of it. If it is for purely noise or amusement, then he had better things to do. Len wasn't one to mess around, at least, not with chatting. He didn't feel like there was that much of a reward for using words that often.
His demeanor changed immediately when she showed interest in his cat, however. "Ouji-sama." The Japanese phrase for "prince", whether meaning the word directly or in reference to a prince in a fairy tale. It fit the small cat that perched upon his shoulder. Allen had always found the black cat strange, but then again, everyone was unique and special in their own way. The feline had a large ego, he had quickly learned, but also a strange sense of loyalty and want for companionship. When he had met him as a kitten during his third year, previously just having a simple Barn Owl, the kitten had actually climbed up to his shoulder and just stayed there, as if it was his perch.
Once his name was mentioned, the black and white cat rubbed his head a little against Allen's, butting their skulls together a bit. This not only caused the seventeen year old to smile, but to give such a thing as rare as a soft chuckle, more than an observant stare being on his face. He definitely cared for his familiar, having quite a bond to the little furred creature. His blue gaze was warm for a few seconds before he composed himself and looked back at the girl across from him.
"Allen Langlois is my name, if you should need information on someone." There was almost a dismal tone to his voice, as if he were done with the slight conversation. The formality and politeness was still there, after all, he tended to be able to blend in with quite a lot of areas to observe and get to know someone. If he was paid, he could get you all sorts of information. Which could go well with a certain potion. Perhaps there was a reason to befriend this girl. Nonetheless, maybe at another time.
After all, he still had yet to put on his robes, which he would probably delay until Hogwarts itself was in sight from the train's windows. Ouji-sama moved from his right shoulder to his left one, finding a way to lay down on his shoulders, almost draping around his neck. He was a very strange cat indeed. Even so, Allen adored him.
━ ϟ ϟ ϟ ━
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Oct 14, 2017 21:35:12 GMT -5
{{ here }} { there's 2 things Rhyne would demand in return for being a Warden : revenge for his parents or a cool pet xD }
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 21:41:47 GMT -5
(Cicuta can only offer him the satisfaction of protecting his school...or school related rewards like not having to do an assignment xD)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Oct 14, 2017 21:45:16 GMT -5
{ xD }
{ "are you sure I can't have a cool pet stay on the grounds " }
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 21:48:24 GMT -5
(Well I guess that depends...what kind of cool pet?)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Oct 14, 2017 21:49:44 GMT -5
{{ *shrug* I dunno, it would depends on Honey's limitations xD }}
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 22:15:37 GMT -5
(Yes the train is moving. I think Honey wants to keep pets limited to the usual wizard pets owls, cats, rats, toads, and perhaps a snake. That sort of thing)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Oct 14, 2017 22:24:16 GMT -5
{ hmm, okay. then Rhyne would probably settle with being left alone by the administration xD and perhaps his own room }
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Oct 14, 2017 22:24:56 GMT -5
Klaudie crossed her arms, as if to disguise the pang of loneliness she felt with scalding indifference. Since when did she care what her family did? Anyway, she was beginning to return to her normal cynicism, when she sensed someone entering. Her light brown gaze snapped over to the glass doors. In walked a stranger, a boy who looked several years older. He even had a prominent streak of white-gray in his dark hair. Must have been held back a few years. She watched as he set down his own owl’s cage and then proceeded to make himself comfortable on the bench across from her. Her mouth formed a harsh line. On her left, Yorick squawked at the newcomer, flapping his enormous gray wings. His downy feathers scattered from his cage and onto the train’s carpeted floor.
“Sure, welcome,” said Klaudie sarcastically. “Thanks for asking.”
The stranger didn’t acknowledge her comment. She wondered if he was deaf and hadn’t heard her, thus resorting to presenting her middle finger. It was then that she realized he looked old enough to pass for a professor and gave up, leaning back against the seat. “What’s your name anyway?” she asked. It was then that she noticed his robes, which were embroidered with the gryffindor seal. Not a professor then, just cursed with premature graying. Knowing he was a student made her relax, and propped up her feet on the opposite bench, slouching.
The stranger was reading a book. She couldn’t see the cover from the way he was holding it, but she felt the need to engage him in some sort of conversation.
“Our new friend certainly isn’t a man of many words,” she joked to her owl. Then she direct her attention back to the young man. “My name is Klaudie Margolies. Maybe you know one of my older siblings. They look like me only taller and not nearly as attractive. Anyway, you can call me Klaudie, but I’m considering changing my first name to something more interesting. How do you like the sound of Sloane? Or Juno?”
Ever since she was informed she shared a name with her great grandmother, Klaudie was determined to change it. Over the summer, she had poured over various books and newspapers in an attempt to find something that suited her better. Mostly she was drawn to the monikers of famous criminals and vagabonds. She would try them out in the mirror whenever she was alone. For a few days over the summer she had insisted her family call her “Dodger”, but that one didn’t stick. Needless to say, she was still on the hunt for the perfect thing. The train was moving now, although Klaudie hadn’t felt it start. She looked out the window to see the families of her classmates sliding by, as if the platform had become a giant conveyor belt. Again she looked for her parents faces and again she failed to find them. This time, however, the pang of loneliness never came. No matter how much she complained about it, she was always excited to return to Hogwarts. It was more of a home than her parents had ever provided. Besides, each school year ushered in a brand new selection of adventures. What awaited her at the end of the track was familiar and unexpected simultaneously.
Besides, now that the train was on the move, the trolley would be making the rounds. Things weren’t all bad.
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Post by ᴏᴡʟ on Oct 14, 2017 22:31:23 GMT -5
( -wheezes- I'll try and respond tomorrow, Serv. I can't tonight- BUT TOMORROW, HOPEFULLY, IF THINGS WORK OUT FOR ME. Sorry for holding you up. Oh gosh. )
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 22:47:10 GMT -5
{ oh my god i love klaudie what even is she????
edit: also, for the wardens serv is rping cicuta so i'm gonna leave everything up to her but for the most part everyone is getting kind of the same deal that being that some of the established rules don't really apply to them }
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 23:02:45 GMT -5
{ klaudie is something else xD a new name for klaudie to consider: al capone }
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Oct 14, 2017 23:06:57 GMT -5
( sounds good )
( Rhyne might called her little demon xD )
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 23:07:05 GMT -5
(It's cool owl! I wouldn't have been able to respond to another post tonight anyways xD
for Cicuta's wardens they're kind of like...ruthless hall monitors who get to hang out in the teachers lounge. For the most part a lot of her rules will still apply to them except maybe like curfews and a few other things. it will start to come together a little better when we come to that part of the rp
i don't know. i think Dodger suits her)
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 23:12:34 GMT -5
{ dodger's alright but hear me out! she calls herself al capone and wears a little bowler hat no one would mess with her }
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Post by ᴏᴡʟ on Oct 14, 2017 23:21:36 GMT -5
( dodger capone )
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Post by 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗋 on Oct 14, 2017 23:33:08 GMT -5
{ so when/where do you guys wanna have some dementors show up? 'cause it would be fun to have that happen on the train but that's also something we could save for later after some build-up }
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Post by servalstrike on Oct 14, 2017 23:41:26 GMT -5
( I personally think dementors on the train would be awesome!)
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Oct 14, 2017 23:42:04 GMT -5
[ i honestly wouldn't mind it whenever. it could do something wicked for everyone to get a little closer, but it would also make it even better for the school-grounds. ]
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Oct 15, 2017 0:10:40 GMT -5
For a moment, Rhyne was able to ignore the other passenger in the compartment. He put her presence to the back of his mind, continuing to read, until that damn owl of hers announced its displeasure and snapping his wings open, squawking loudly. Rhyne’s mouth tightened in annoyance, but he remained silent, trying to stay focused on the book in front of him. It was certainly difficult, with the owl’s feathers floating about in the compartment before they settled on the floor. The girl spoke then, snapping off a sarcastic comment. The corner of Rhyne’s mouth twitched in amusement, but he remained silent. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her flip him the finger, and he chuckled silently to himself. She had no fear, did she?
Still, he remained silent and continued to ignore her. Or at least he tried. She tried to talk to him, to draw him into a conversation, but he said nothing for a moment. She asked his name, to which he looked up from his book for a moment. “Rhyne,” he told her, voice clipped. More often than not, he’d ignore her, but his mother had taught him to answer any questions directed at him. He returned to his book until she extended her legs and propped them on the bench next to him. He scowled at that, navy eyes shifting from the girl’s feet to her face. As he furrowed his brow, the scar that ran across his right eye puckered and gave him a bit more of a menacing look. He snapped his book shut and used it to knock Klaudie’s feet away as she introduced herself. “Charmed,” he commented dryly, shifting his gaze to study her expression for a moment. It looked like he wouldn’t get any peace on this trip to Hogwarts. With an over-dramatic sigh, he placed the book back in the bag that leaned against his leg, sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. Klaudie continued to ramble, mentioning something about changing a name – her name, Rhyne surmised.
“Pluto,” he told her, voice dry and sarcastic. “Ruler of the damned and the Underworld.” With that, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, jarring a tad as the train lurched and began to move, clicking along the tracks with a high-pitched tone at first, before it eased and deepened. Rhyne allowed himself to relax a bit – as much as he could, at least. He remained silent, breathing steadily, doing his best to ignore anything else the Little Demon talked about. Sometime later, there was a soft knock on the door that announced the arrival of the trolley. Rhyne’s gaze snapped open, sliding from Klaudie to the trolley. He raised a brow, reached into his bag and withdrew a good amount of money, shifting the coins between his fingers. After the death of his parents, Rhyne had inherited quite a bit of wealth. He hadn’t had access to it until he’d turned eighteen, so until then an accountant hired by his parents prior to their death. The man had managed to the money well, investing it in different funds to increase the amount of money to Rhyne’s name. When he’d come of age, he kept the accountant on to manage the money for him.
He waited for Klaudie, to see what she would do.
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