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 Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2020 4:52 am
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 ✶☁DUANAIRE LIANE AINDRIAS-EVERAthird year || Gryffindor || halfblood
Art Club mapmaker || Cooking Club snacker || Quidditch reserve
irregular attendee of any club events
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Aire slowed down to stay in pace with her captor. “Uhm. Just. Rearranged a few things…. The whole storeroom.I was just...seeing if everything had been changed back, ” she replied vaguely when asked what they’d done.
Aire wasn’t sure what to think about this new information about Professor Whitethorne. It was kind of awesome he knew her as his mum’s best friend. That was just what happened when you were a Masters though, she guessed. Was Austen saying that perhaps Professor Potions this year had a temperament amenable to pranks? But he had said not to prank her, no matter what? As long as she didn’t get the professor mad. Which wouldn’t happen if she didn’t get caught! For now, Aire simply nodded; she’d just have to wait until Monday to see for herself. Or whenever they had potions.
Aire shrunk a little under Austen’s scowl. Obviously, trying to assure him that jumping off the staircase was perfectly fine didn’t work. She didn’t want to make him mad after all. Especially now. Honestly if she saw someone else jumping off the stairs at Hogwarts, Aire would have been very excited: Maybe they’d have ideas on how to get up and down the Astronomy Tower without a broom! If it were off the deck of the ship or off the outside of the building...okay, that gave her more pause. Granted Aire generally checked her surroundings before “swan-diving” down or parkouring up anything. Or just...did any kind of climbing around. Occasionally she’d startle someone appearing out of nowhere, but Aire preferred not being seen or known. If anyone had seen...maybe they’d just rationalize they saw a ghost? ”I’ll...be careful?” not to get caught anyways.
She nodded sheepishly when he rolled his eyes about being recognized as James Master’s kid. Austen said he was used to the attention by association, and even mentioned it was worse for his cousins. Being recognized by other Gryffindors she didn’t know anything about was freaky enough. Being recognized everywhere sounded like an actual nightmare. Aire found herself simultaneously wishing she had pretended to not know him or paid even more attention when her crewmates gossiped about Quidditch celebrities.
In a whisper she added: ”Also your mum is my mums’s editor?”, hoping that would somehow make it better. Alysanne Park and Annie Aindrias had published four art books of their adventures at sea: paintings and sketches, with a few poems and short short stories woven in. Aire didn’t really know much about Lyre or the editing/ publication process, but she knew her mothers respected Lyre as much as the rest of the ship idolized James. There was just...less cheering and screaming at the radio and more contemplative discussion and editing creative work.
Still, listening to Austen talk about these people so casually still brought a giddy little smile to Aire’s lips and a small flush to her cheek. This was exciting! He was talking about Andrea Masters, chaser on the Harpies! (Holy Harpies? Hollywood Harpies? No, that was somewhere in America. Maybe they copied the Welsh team.) Aire wasn’t sure why, but she was worried that Austen didn’t like Quidditch at all, and felt an odd sort of relief when he said he simply didn’t care about it. She would just...not mention she played on the Gryffindor team and liked broom stunts as much as stair stunts. ”I... like picture books?”
And that’s ten points for the idiot theory. Why?!
”A-and poetry! Aire added after a solid few moments of panicking. She hadn’t added that on too late, had she? Was that awkward? Poetry was cool, right? Duanaire was named for Irish poetry anthologies -- it only made sense that she read the quarterly book of poems.
Either way, sighed in relief when Austen said he wouldn’t say anything. Aire finally tucked her wand away, and threw her shoes over her shoulder, still holding them by the tie knotted to them. “Nothing nefarious,” she assured with a grin. “Just some fun. We were just reorganizing the ingredients so that the labels read “rickrolled” down the side. And turning all the bottles so they faced label-out. It took me months of scouting to design the prank, then we moved the bottles around row by row with the levitation charm. Couldn’t get fingerprints anywhere, right?” She grinned, almost a little proud of the whole thing.
_______________
setting 1 September, 2051. Stairs up/down from the Dungeons. || with Austen Masters
appearance 4'7", 90 lbs || wearing robes and uniform, missing a tie
status I'm an idiot + Whew! _______________//OOC: ----
_______________
  
Dig beneath the surface
Find the lessons there to learn
And then dig deeper
Feed your intuition
Don't leave any stone unturned
Be the seeker of the truth
☁✶~"Wonderful Life" from Smallfoot
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Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2020 1:12 am
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✖ ♥ ✖═════════════════════════════════════════════ hєч líttlє dαnnч, dσn't чσu crч
í αm чσu frσm much lαtєr ín чσur lífє
í knσw чσur hαír ís wíld, í knσw чσu hαvє nσ stчlє
чσu'rє stíll α vírgín αnd чσu wíll вє fσr α whílє═════════════════════════════════════════════
spaceAs she spoke, Austen fought to keep his expression neutral. He honestly wasn't sure how Ada would respond to that particular prank. On the one hand, it was potentially harmless, as long as people were looking at labels. On the other hand, the school was full of children, who might not exactly be looking at labels. Ugh. "That... might not be so bad. Or it might be terrible," he said slowly. "Everything's still in the right bottle or jar, right? 'Cause that's probably not that big a deal, except making finding what you're looking for a nightmare if it's not where it's supposed to be. But if you switched ingredients, something could, you know. Explode." Not that things didn't already explode on a regular basis in potions class, but one kid making a mistake was very different from every kid in class making the same mistake because of a mislabeled bottle.
spaceHe had to fight not to make an incredibly rude noise at her halfhearted reassurance. He supposed she didn't owe him anything, since he hadn't even known her name until now, but still. "I guess at least now I know, if I see something," he snarked. "Oh no, I'll think, what was that? Oh nevermind, it's just that crazy girl jumping off a building again." That was probably rude. "I shouldn't have said crazy. That wasn't nice. Sorry." Of course, he didn't have a better word to substitute it for, so his own apology was sort of halfhearted.
spaceAlso, now he felt like a bit of a p***k, for assuming she knew him because of his dad. Of course, that was a reasonable assumption to make. James Masters was a very well known name; Lyre Masters was mostly known for being The Wife of James Masters, not for her editorial work. Were there famous editors? His mum should be one, if there were. "Oh," he said, feeling dumb. That wasn't a feeling he had often. He didn't like it. "Well, that's good. I mean, for your mum, that my mum is the one editing her books. She's very good at her job." A completely asinine response, but what was he supposed to say? He didn't think there was a socially accepted rote response for that.
spaceHer nervousness about her own literary preferences made him feel worse, since he couldn't help but think that she felt judged for not wanting to slog through, like, Victor Hugo. He shrugged. "I like poetry," he told her. "Although, depends on the poetry. Some of those old poets really knew how to drag on. Honestly I mostly like mystery novels." He liked reading, but there was only so much he could stand as far as flowery prose. Perhaps he had better imagination than some, but he required very little detail on the author's part to paint a picture. He didn't need a lot of extraneous information. That's why mysteries appealed to him; most of the time, a detail that appeared extraneous at one point, would later be revealed to be a clue. Form and function working together. Or, that's what he thought, anyway. "Do you have a favorite poem?" he asked, curious. Most people their age didn't really like poetry at all.
spaceFurther description of the prank only made him question it further. On the one hand, he was pretty sure that was the sort of thing Ada would find hilarious. On the other hand, it was sort of dangerous to go mixing up the potions ingredients. "Come to think of it, I do remember some people having trouble locating things that were suddenly not in the spot they were supposed to be in," he said thoughtfully. "As long as no one gets hurt because of it, you're probably not gonna get in any trouble." Lucky for her, Ada wasn't some kind of insane neat freak. Or, he didn't think she was. He was reasonably certain.
═════════════════════════════════════════════ dαnnч, dσn't чσu knσw thαt чσu αrє cσσl αs ******** σn thє ínsídє?
чσu'rє just gσíng thrσugh αn αwkwαrd phαsє frσm 12 tσ 29
dαnnч, dσn't чσu knσw thαt єvєrчσnє fєєls wєírd σn thє ínsídє?
dαnnч, dσn't чσu knσw? dαnnч, dσn't чσu knσw? dαnnч, dσn't чσu knσw?═════════════════════════════════════════════ wнere - Dungeon Stairs
wнen - Sorting Feast 2051
wιтн - Aire
- ooc -
blah blah blah
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Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2020 10:25 pm
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✶☁DUANAIRE LIANE AINDRIAS-EVERAthird year || Gryffindor || halfblood
Art Club mapmaker || Cooking Club snacker || Quidditch reserve
irregular attendee of any club events
_______________”Of course! We didn’t take anything out. Just moved the bottles around!” Aire assured quickly when Austen mentioned it might be dangerous. ”Any explosions weren’t us. Explosions are dangerous,” she agreed with a fervent nod. Granted, Aire managed to explode things in potions anyways, but that was usually because she’d gotten a “genius idea” that wasn’t actually so genius. She’d never jeopardize the entire class. Although...switching an ingredient so that everyone’s potions did something unexpected would be pretty funny...but it’d have to be something harmless. LIke throwing off extra sparkles. And she’d have to know which potion they were doing so the interactions would work. That sounded like a lot of Potions theory. She shelved the idea for later. She wasn’t quite sure if Austen accepted her attempt at reassurance, but he seemed to be a good sport about the whole thing, replying with something probably-sarcastic. “It’s okay...” she said, more distracted thinking that in this scenario, she’d have been caught again. She’d been called worse before during summer camps on shore, and besides, he’d been so nice to even apologize, so she knew he didn’t mean it hurtfully. ”Um. You’re welcome to… I mean…please don’t be u--...um, thank you for worrying about me.”She couldn’t quite read his expression when she whispered he was famous through his mum’s association too. Surprise? Unpleasantly so? He hadn’t been wrong about the Quidditch. ”Sorry.” She nodded. She wasn’t too familiar with the whole publishing and editing thing, but her mums respected Lyre Masters’s editorial abilities, so she did too. She was relieved he seemed to brush over the picture book thing--if he ever talked to her again, she’d try to find a copy of one of said “picture” books and explain herself properly. Maybe. She couldn’t imagine he’d talk to her again. Even so, Aire brightened when Austen also said he liked poetry. She took a moment to contemplate her answer, not really used to being asked this by someone her own age. Really, she wasn’t used to talking about herself at all. Sure she talked to people, but not about herself really. “I….I think my favorite would be a Korean poem called ‘The Sea and the Butterfly’. I just know the translation. It’s really short too, so you can really get into how every word fits into the image.” she answered with a bright smile, agreeing that the longer ones could drag a little. She cocked her head a little. He liked literature, right? So maybe he would understand: "Really I have different favorite poems for different moods? Like when I want to actually read a poem, I’d say ‘On Deck’ or something all descriptive that you can break down and analyze or just leave alone and take at face value. Or there’s this poem my ami likes and the meaning is whatever and I don't know the language, but I like listening to her read it. So not just...one favorite.” Hopefully that made sense. She did not need another idiot point. “Um. But, do you have a favorite poem? Or a favorite mystery? I only read a bit of the Demelza Howe series when I was younger but...” So she probably wouldn’t know whatever he mentioned, but she still wanted to know. Maybe she could find it in the library. Aire didn’t even bother hiding the smirk and giggle when he mentioned people having trouble finding things. She and Harmony had kept a hilarious tally on confused expressions. They’d never been confronted by a professor or prefect or student--until now-- though. “Did you get mixed up?” She recanted the question immediately. This was Austen Masters she was talking to! He had to be one of the smartest kids their year--how much of that was the celebrity fangirl in her. She wasn’t sure, but obviously he’d never be more than mildly inconvenienced by her little crime. ”Ah, never mind! Forget that too!” _______________
setting 1 September, 2051. Stairs up/down from the Dungeons. || with Austen Masters
appearance 4'7", 90 lbs || wearing robes and uniform, missing a tie
statusHe likes poetry too? / More :O than O_O _______________//OOC: Demelza Howe is a series about “a witch who specializes in potions and enchanted food who solves all sorts of mysteries with her cat. He's actually her ex-lover who was cursed into that form for thirteen years, but it's funny. Kind of cutesy and some of the plots are really predictable but they put recipes in the end of the books."
-- Taken from one of Weasley’s posts. Brought back here because I love little threads of internal worldbuilding cropping up again.
_______________
Dig beneath the surface
Find the lessons there to learn
And then dig deeper
Feed your intuition
Don't leave any stone unturned
Be the seeker of the truth
☁✶~"Wonderful Life" from Smallfoot
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