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“Look, I’m trying to be really polite and friendly about this.” He promised, a sincere look on his face as his multicoloured eyes stared into the eyes of the student he spoke to, “But I really can’t talk about the murders anymore. It’s really tragic and I feel really badly about it all, but there’s just nothing more I can say about it. I have nothing left to offer. Is that OK?” He was trying his best to be polite about it all, but at this point, he was ready to get up and walk away.
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“—don’t touch that!” Quickly as the boy scrambled to spit out the words, the other who’d entered the greenhouse was already reaching for the pulsing boils of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia on the counter. Before he could so much as blink, every surface within a five foot radius of the plant was covered in a thick layer of stinksap. Almost at once, the confines of the small building were flooded with the stench of hot manure. Topher wrinkled his nose and took a step back, already reaching for his wand. “S’no big deal, really. Happens more than you’d think. But, uh, I will say you’re gonna have a hell of a time tryna get rid of the smell.”
( @merclful )
‘’-- and it was SUCH a close call, Leo! you should have seen it,’’ Evan bounded eagerly at his side; smiles brightening her features as she, once again, talked about qudditch (qudditch training, more so, which wasn't as exciting as the ACTUAL game, but she still got excited, ) it’s all she really talks about, and when she was with Leo, that was even more so. He seemed to like it too, or atleast she thought so; either way she continued to ramble on to him about it. ‘’There’s another game soon! next week, or atleast, I think so -- everyone’s still caught up about the, y’know -- ‘’ deaths, ‘’-- but you’ll still come anyway, right?’’ the thought that he wouldn't was disheartening -- Leo was her friend, and she more than appreciated when he put up with her overly enthusiastic chats, let alone when he came to her games. ‘’Oh! I didn’t ask how you’re day was! -- how was your day?’’
soft; oona sayer, a girl of just sixteen years old, is nothing but soft. her heart is guarded only by shards of broken glass — half lodged into her flesh, half warning off unwanted thieves. either way, she’s vulnerable. oona is soft… but oona is not WEAK. as she walks, tiny fists are balled together, nails digging themselves into her palms. she’s late ( she’s always late, but it’s not her fault! the slytherin prefect blames this on her ridiculously short legs ) and her little jog towards the potions classroom makes this evident.
“—AGH!” the sound that escapes her lips is unnaturally high and her stomach is doing flips in her abdomen, her heart pounding against her ribcage. the shriek isn’t unwarranted – she had just COLLIDED with a figure ( that’s what she gets for not paying attention ) but she’s drawn the attention of a few scattered students nonetheless, each morbidly curious if she was the next victim. ( she very well could be. ) slowly, her breath begins to regulate and she looks at the figure she had run into. “sor–sorry…” her hands are tremoring, but she hides this by clamping them together in front of her, her head ducking down to view them. “i didnt… i wasn’t paying attention.”
( @ancrchist )
‘’---- Nah, it was the girl that sorta resembles a creepy girl scout? stepped too close to those funky freaky lookin’ fuzzy things in Creature Feature class -- it just had a nibble; rumor has it she lost four of her fingers or somethin’,’’ RUMORS; was exactly what the school of witchcraft and wizardry was built on -- bullshit. Briar had also heard most of the Slytherin house were secretly a bunch of lycans, ( Briar’s bet on there being atleast three hidden werewolves in the school STILL stood, but unfortunately not in her house,) she had also heard that the murderer was Voldermort’s long lost child, or hell; maybe it ACTUALLY was him back from the dead -- rumors were what kept this place alive; as stupid as some of them were. And gossip was what attracted Briar -- like moth to a flame.
She collected it, storing it; future blackmail, she’d say -- but Briar was too lazy to actually threaten people with things like that, ( she was more straightforward. The ‘shut up, or I’m going to break your nose,’ technique was much quicker.) The only time she actually had use for what she had gathered was during these study session with Huan; although study sessions was a term that was used loosely; the times she ACTUALLY glanced at her book were occasional, she wrote a few lines at the max but overall, she just liked the serenity of it -- even now she had barely looked at her open book sitting in front of her -- her eyes settled out the window rather than the gibberish that was written against the pages in front of her; cue dramatic staring into the distance. ‘’So this killer, huh?’’ pencil twirling between the fingers and across her knuckles, Briar couldn't help but bring up the topic; the talk of the school; how could she not? ‘’What do you think about the whole thing now? I mean, they slaughtered a pureblood; sorta’ throws the whole situation out of whack, don’t ‘ya think?’’
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“Merlin’s beard this place is so heavy lately. Makes me want to drink.”
‘’Well -- ‘’ Marlee began to explain; nimble fingers rubbed at the black stained shirt she was wearing; a mistake, that quickly became apparent as the stain expanded. a frown plastered across her features, and her nose wrinkling up in disgust at the black substance that now inked her fingertips, ‘’I just-- well...I just finished potions class,’’ THAT could easily be used as an explanation to why her shirt had black splotches all over it; potions were not her forte, and walking out without a casualty was like walking out of a fire with no burns -- there was always a casualty when it came to mixing Marlee and potions together. especially when combined with the constant worry over the murders that were taking place leaving her slightly emotionally unstable. a jittery mind that wasn't focusing on the task at hand, and next thing you know, kaboom! ‘’And the pot -- it sorta exploded -- but its fine! nobody was hurt this time!’’
“I don’t particularly like feeling like someone is following behind me.” Adalene twirled to face the figure, her hand dangerously close to her wand. Being Muggleborn, Ada wasn’t taking any chances. She refused to be a victim; would fight until it became impossible. “So either I’m paranoid or you’re wanting something.”
