Year/Job
Photographer at the Daily Prophet
Heaven help a fool who falls in love! |
Sol
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Post by Carmen Canek on Feb 11, 2024 9:00:23 GMT -8
Was Carmen's head pounding from the tumultuous weeks she'd had or from the four shots of firewhiskey she'd thrown down in the past few minutes? The answer to that question remained unanswered as the cool glass pressed against her lips, head tilting back, and burning liquid running down her throat. She hissed out in satisfaction, thick cup slamming down on the bar at The Leaky Cauldron. Part of her felt defeated, as if the same bullshit that had been happening at the Daily Prophet would continue until she finally was so tired that she quit. That was a feeling that was very unfamiliar for Carmen-- but after almost two years of her work being stolen time and time again, it was almost impossible NOT to feel like shite. Lachlan Greer was a cheat and a liar but she couldn't do anything about it. Not yet.
She looked down at the printed paper, feeling the fire running through her veins. MERLIN! She could've killed Lachlan right where he sat. How dare he steal her story?! "Valiant Rip Winstead Catches More Poachers!" The headline didn't even cover the breadth of the story-- there were more to be caught and he'd removed every bit of that, masking the story as a one and done fairytale ending. The paper crumbled in her hands until they fell in her laps, forehead pressing against the cool bar. "Fuck him... I'm gonna just start writing shite stories so he seems like an idiot..." She murmured, words slightly slurred thanks to the adequate amount of alcohol she'd ingested in the short amount of time. Sighing heavily, she lifted her head, turning her head to the patron that had been looking at her talk to herself for a few seconds. "What are you looking at?" She asked with furrowed brows and a look that dared them to pick a fight with her in the current state she was in.
Notes: Open for anyone to join Carmen in her misery! (Or maybe turn around her misery lol!)
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Year/Job
Wimbourne Wasps Chaser
you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl |
Werewolf
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Post by Olivia Moretti on Feb 12, 2024 11:30:22 GMT -8
Perhaps she should just avoid any and all media, Olivia thought to herself as she downed her fifth shot of firewhisky. The raven-haired witch winced at the burn as it traveled down her throat and warmed her from the inside out. "Keep them coming," she told the barkeep with a wave. It didn't matter to her that it was three in the afternoon and it didn't matter if people saw her. When Olivia read through the Prophet this morning and saw the story that was printed on it a whirlwind of emotions stirred up inside her. 'Riccardo Moretti Donates Millions of Galleons to Victims of Creature Attacks.' Was this supposed to make up for the way they all had treated her? The loneliness and isolation that she suffered after the attack was something that she'd never get over. Her father left her alone to foolishly hunt for a cure while her mother gave her the cold shoulder. And Michael? Well, he never spoke to her again. They threw money and gifts her way like that made up for the fact that they had abandoned her in her time of need. In a single bite, that werewolf took away her life and her family. Liv remembered how desperately she wished it had finished the job. Things were different now, but she'd never get those days back.
Olivia barely registered when another patron came to sit beside her, she just continued to drown her sorrows in yet another shot of whisky. Maybe she should switch to something milder. That would be the wise thing to do, wouldn't it? But the burn felt so good against the painful thrumming of her heart and Liv wanted to feel numb to the world. She didn't want to think any longer of her father and his weak attempt at showing her he cared. He could just talk to her. Send her a letter or come visit her at her new home. But no, he maintained his silence and did what he probably thought was his best from afar. It wasn't enough. It will never be enough. The young witch tossed back another as the crinkling sound of paper reached her ears. Liv turned her head to look at the mop of curly brown hair beside her. The witch mumbled something and Olivia's manicured brows furrowed slightly. Guess she wasn't the only one drowning herself in whisky today. The witch looked up and asked her what she was looking at. Liv vaguely recognized her, but she couldn't quite put her drunken finger on how just now. "Sorry, I just... I think I know you," she sputtered out, her own words slurring. Liv quickly turned to look at the barkeep, her head spinning at the sudden movement. "Another round. Her, too," she told him, slamming a few more galleons on the counter before glancing back over at the other woman. "Shit day, too?"
Carmen Canek
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Year/Job
Photographer at the Daily Prophet
Heaven help a fool who falls in love! |
Sol
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Post by Carmen Canek on Feb 12, 2024 14:37:37 GMT -8
As Carmen squinted at the dark haired woman, she knew exactly who it was-- Olivia Moretti. Her family was constantly in the headlines, and she was a rookie player for the Wimbourne Wasps. From what she could remember in her inebriated state, Olivia wasn't exactly media friendly. And if she had any idea who Carmen was, she had a very strong feeling their afternoon was going to turn into something sour. Thankfully, Olivia came as a good distraction from her lamenting about Lachlan. Her hands clutched the newspaper in her lap, searching the woman's eyes for any disdain or hint that she would become a problem later. She found nothing, and instead determined that the two women were likely both reveling in their misery on that fine afternoon. Misery loved company, didn't it?
"I'm a reporter--" She stopped herself. "A photographer," She corrected quickly, a scowl cast towards the paper in her lap. "For the Daily Prophet. You might've seen me at a few games snapping pictures for our sports column." Carmen tried to communicate elegantly, but her speech came out sloppy and slurred. Nice one. "I'm not a photographer or reporter or anything right now." She waved her hands, looking at the empty shot glass in front go her. "So no need to worry I'll do anything that will hurt your image or your career or anything." Carmen huffed, letting out a sour laugh. "All you quidditch players always think that I want to ruin your career! But I am a nice person. A good person. A person that likes seeing other people happy and healthy and thriving. I don't get why people think so poorly of people like me." She hiccuped a bit, patting her chest. "Sorry. We're actually kind of strangers but I'm really drunk, lo siento." She smiled sheepishly, looking down at the shot the woman had ordered for her.
She turned the fire whiskey up, hissing out in satisfaction at the burn in her throat. "Shite day is right." She huffed, leaning back in her chair. "I'm just so... Estoy jodidamente molesto." She clicked her tongue. "My shite editor is an arsehole liar and I don't have anything to prove it." She clenched her fist, waving the crumpled up news paper. "His family has a shite ton of connections... And I'm left suffering because he's too dense to write his own stuff." She covered her mouth, placing the crumbled newspaper on the bar. "Sorry. I'm not normally this... unpleasant. I'm Carmen. What's wrong with your day?"
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Year/Job
Wimbourne Wasps Chaser
you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl |
Werewolf
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Post by Olivia Moretti on Feb 13, 2024 8:48:24 GMT -8
Olivia would have no problem with the media if they would just focus on something other than her werewolf status. She couldn’t go a day without being asked how it felt to be the first werewolf to play professionally or about how she was turned. How did her family take it? Her friends? What’s the full moon like? Does Wolfsbane really taste as awful as they say? It was endless. She was a rookie player who was on the starting line! You’d think that would be more interesting to talk about. What’s worse was her teammates were getting asked about it, too. Liv just wished they’d leave it alone.
When the witch said she was a reporter, it suddenly clicked for Liv. She had seen her snapping photos at matches before, but this witch had never cornered her to ask her a million questions and Olivia was thankful for that. It seemed that she wasn’t going to cause Liv any trouble right now and Liv listened as she rambled on about quidditch players. A small frown touched her lips as she went on. She didn’t think that they were out to ruin their lives, but she did feel they pried too much into their business. Her frown started to relax into a smile as she apologized and explained she was drunk and Liv shrugged. “You’re not alone there,” she slurred out before downing her next shot.
So, Olivia was right. They both were drowning their sorrows this lonely afternoon. The witch listened as the other aired out her troubles. She felt a little guilty as she described her editor - Liv had such connections which caused plenty of speculation about her getting on the Wasps. She even wondered herself if her father or her name was part of what got her offers. Her chest tightened at the thought. Her dark gaze lifted from her glass to look at the witch as she introduced herself. Carmen was a pretty name, she thought. She asked about her troubles and a heavy sigh fell out of her. Liv waved for another round. “I’m Liv.” She probably already knew that. “I’m sorry about your editor. He sounds like a right prat,” she said sympathetically, reaching for the glass as the bartender slid it over. “It’s just family drama. My dad donated money to victims of creature attacks, but he can’t make time to actually talk to me or anything.” Her lips pulled into another frown as she tossed back another shot. She was feeling a bit legless, the room was spinning slightly, but there was that numbness she had been craving. “I just want people to see past the fact I’m a werewolf for once. I’m more than that, but it’s all people seem to care about, you know?”
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