Year/Job
FOURTH YEAR
I dare you to say it again! |
BLAKE
|
Post by Poppy Carmichael on Feb 14, 2024 20:01:06 GMT -8
Poppy sat alone by the fireplace, several sheets of parchment strewn out around her. Anyone looking on from a distance would have assumed she was doing schoolwork. This would be an incorrect assumption. Poppy was never the studious type. She did just enough work to pass her courses, but never enough to garner praise. Before Professor Elsie Greer had come along, she'd excelled in CoMC. Now her grades were sinking like a ship with a whole in the hull. The red headed was writing news articles that would never get published. All of the things she wrote, she sent to her father, and he gave her feedback. No one wanted Poppy Carmichael writing for the Hogwarts Times. Not that she'd ever asked to join their stupid little group. Poppy wasn't the friend making type, so no one had really ever asked her what she liked. The list was short, but oddly sweet. Kneazles and Pygmy Puffs, the color pink, strawberry ice cream, and writing. The last being a trait she shared with her twin. She briefly wondered where Parker was, but didn't stop writing to consider it. He was probably off being the good child.
The red headed was almost through with a column about the Quidditch Teams and their star players when her quill ran out of ink. Poppy dipped it in the quill, but it seemed that too was out of ink. Irritation welled up inside of her, but she wasn't going to mess up her work. Poppy sat up slowly, sliding her legs in front of her so that she was sitting cross legged. It looked like she was done writing for the day. If she went to her room, she wasn't coming back. She glance around out of curiosity, searching for someone that might be willing to share. Poppy was familiar with her housemates, but she'd burned many bridges. No one was going to want to share willingly. She frowned and turned back to her work. If they didn't want to share, she'd make them!
Graysen Phillips
|
|
Year/Job
Sixth Year // Gryffindor
|
Post by Graysen Phillips on Feb 15, 2024 19:11:59 GMT -8
Graysen stared at the parchment in front of him, seeing all of the strikes from his quill from the misspellings. It bothered him, but not enough to start again. Not when it was a letter to his parents. They had received plenty of owls with misspelled words, striked words, angry scratches, parchment crumpled where it was barely unreadable. This was one of the better ones, if he was being honest. There was only one hole in the paper from him scratching through it from frustration. An ink stain was already blotted into the wood table. The quill etched into the dark wood. The ink stain didn't make the scratch as noticeable.
His words read through the letter, thinking his life was so boring. He informed his mom that he had passed the Potions exam - just barely - and what he liked the snacks she had sent, enjoying her biscuits most of all. For his dad, there was nothing more than just a simple greeting. The last letter from his parents was his dad going on about how he would need Gray's help in the shop for Spring Break, resulting in the letter being formed into a ball and thrown into the fire.
He knew that his sixth year was trying to figure out more what he wanted to do with his future, or so what his friends were telling him. For example, what classes that had to be done well in to proceed into N.E.W.T. levels. He didn't need to worry about that. His future had been written for him the moment he was born. Graysen would join the family business and be the loyal son he was raised to be.
The letter felt bare. He didn't have any extracurriculars to write about, no sports, no clubs. He only had a few number of friends that his mum would inquire about. No developments of possible careers. Just the norm with an update of his health, which might be a cough or runny nose, depending on the weather.
There was nothing else to add, and Graysen was satisfied with it. He took the now dull quill and signed his name, placing the feathered quill down to let the ink finish drying before he would send it with his owl either that night or in the morning.
|
|
Year/Job
FOURTH YEAR
I dare you to say it again! |
BLAKE
|
Post by Poppy Carmichael on Feb 15, 2024 19:33:25 GMT -8
The closest person to her was an older student. If she remembered correctly, his name was Graysen. Poppy rose to her feet and sauntered over to him. She took a moment to look at his work, her brow twitching at the multitude of mistakes. She was a trash student, but he had her beat. How could anyone think that such a letter was worth sending off? She could have sworn there was more mistakes on the parchment than there were proper words. Her own mother ought to be grateful for Poppy's ability to spell correctly. Maybe she'd steal a sample and send it to Maeve Carmichael for emphasis.
Because Poppy was not one to hold her tongue, she voiced her disapproval openly. "I know first years that write better than that," she told him. Her blue eyes were fixed on the paper, reading over the words. She didn't care about his privacy. "Could you have wasted more ink on a more boring letter, yeah?" She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I know who isn't the life of the party. Maybe I'll switch places with you so my darling mother can have an ideal child. Parker gets the job done, but she'd kill for boring ole you." Poppy had forgotten her own papers. She was more interested in why this sixth year was living a mundane life.
|
|
Year/Job
Sixth Year // Gryffindor
|
Post by Graysen Phillips on Feb 17, 2024 21:06:14 GMT -8
He noted someone moving towards him. He looked out the corner of his eye as the figure continued to make their way in his direction. Unfortunately, the stopped at him. Graysen didn't greet the hot-tempered fourth year. He felt her eyes on him, but he didn't say anything, hoping that his disinterest would encourage her to go away. That was what normally happened when people came up to him. But few people came up to him now. It was easier now that few did. Graysen didn't want to deal with people. Everyone had their own agenda and wanted something. Graysen just relied on himself. It was easier that way.
At her words, Graysen finally looked up at the younger student, seeing her eyes continuing to flit over his letter. Graysen snatched it close as he gritted his teeth so tightly, it felt like he was going to crack several. "Could you mind your own fucking business," he retorted in an irritated tone the redhead.
He felt the anger begin to rise as she continued to speak, calling him boring, and that she hadn't cared one bit about his privacy. The Gryffindor was extremely private. The less people that knew his business was better. Now there was this child looking over his shoulder and reading a letter for his parents.
"Maybe your 'darling mother' should have taught you manners," he snarked back, mocking her at her nickname for her mother. Graysen shoved the letter into his bag, removing any sign of the parchment's existence.
|
|
Year/Job
FOURTH YEAR
I dare you to say it again! |
BLAKE
|
Post by Poppy Carmichael on Feb 18, 2024 12:30:15 GMT -8
Poppy had the audacity to feign innocence. "No need to get your britches in a twist. I was just curious about all the scratches." She crossed her arms behind her back. "That's probably one of the things I find strangest about witches and wizards. They're all so old school. In the muggle world we have this thing called Wite-Out," she told him. "You slap it on over a mistake, let it dry and write over it no problem. Oh, and of course there's pencils with erasers and what not. I think there's even pens with erasable ink these days." She didn't care that she'd made him mad. She needed ink to finish her stories. Poppy outright laughed at the mention of her mother teaching her manners. "She tried. Didn't work out too well, as you can see." She shook her head when he shoved the letter into his bag. "Now why would you go and do something like that. The ink isn't even dry on it and you'll ruin it." She frowned. "That was a stupid thing to do." Why were people so irrational at times? That was rich coming from her. "Now you're going to have to write it all over again. I mean, at least you can fix your mistakes, but that's besides the point." Poppy smiled as an idea came to mind. "How about we make a trade," she offered. "I give you one of my muggle pencils and you let me borrow some ink. If there's even any left," she added as an afterthought. Poppy couldn't hold her tongue to save her life.
|
|