| Do I have to do this?; That's what she said... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 28 2011, 04:04 AM (259 Views) | |
| Shale Cross | Oct 28 2011, 04:04 AM Post #1 |
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It was late in the evening after most students were finished having anything to do with the Great Hall. Sitting at the far end of a table, Shale was pouring his thoughts onto paper. In particular, a letter to his dear sister. He didn't really want to write it. He knew they could have gone on forever with her sending, Shale receiving the letters, reading, and then storing without replying. If it hadn't been for that bloody howler that she sent. With a sigh, he scribbled down something that looked barely legible and then started to nod off. It had been a long day, and after being woken up by a disgruntled howler at two in the morning, it wasn't getting any shorter. For anyone reading the letter passing by, it read; "Dear Sam, thanks for sending pictures of Jacob. They were cute. I'm doing well. There's a lot to do here. My cat had kittens. They are fun. Love from your brother, Shale." |
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| Laurent E. Griffith | Oct 28 2011, 05:00 AM Post #2 |
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The evening had caught him off guard. With the school day already at its end, Laurent had a few free hours before he would have to start his prefect duties. A thrill shot through his breast. His prefect status was still all too new and ambiguous for him to have come to grips with it yet. Taking a breath, his fingers shivered while sinking into his white blonde hair, roaming slowly over his skull. A yawn sprawled across his romantic features without any preamble or forewarning. Taken by surprise, Lark froze in step and covered his mouth, finishing the yawn after a few moments. A creature trotted smartly past him, white as glacial ice and neatly furred; turning her angular head and flicking an ear, Laurent’s half-kneazle, half-cat companion yowled at him softly as though to urge him onwards. Luana, as she was named, didn’t have a cage or carrier unlike most pets attending Hogwarts with their owners. She simply couldn’t be contained in one. He had tried during his first year; afterwards, Lark had discovered the wire and plastic carrier half-melted away and crumbling. Since then, she roamed freely at his heels, unpretentious and mild mannered as a dignified magical feline could be. “Coming…” Laurent murmured, rearranging his school bag under his left arm. Entering the Great Hall, murmurs brushed against his ears from all sides. Figures were scattered at each of the four long dining tables, but the room was mostly empty since dinner had ended. Taking a seat at one of the Gryffindor benches, Lark dug out a scroll and his ink well. From his pant pocket he pulled out a scraggly quill he'd absently shoved in there earlier. Weighing down the scroll corners, he started his letter with his usual greeting. "Mum, Dad, tell the Sis's that I don't need homemade cookies every day..." Beneath the table, his rubbed his ankles together. He wore his school robes still and beneath he'd donned a plain blue sweater, khaki pants and a new pair of white trainers. This year he had gone with his mother to buy new robes as well: a full inch of growth had made the old ones too short. Hair awry, bent over his work, Lark scratched out a recollection of his day, adding enough detail to subdue his nosy sisters. He loved them, he did, but Merlin it was embarrassing to get five separate owls at breakfast! |
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| Shale Cross | Oct 29 2011, 04:06 AM Post #3 |
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Right before he ended up with a forehead splat of ink, his eyes opened again and with a start he jumped back into awareness. He definitely didn't care for writing letters, and the chore of having to build a resume of his life's work at that time every other week tormented him internally and made him appear aggravated externally. After glancing over his current piece (of thestral crap), he decided to crush the letter in one hand and then pound it in his other palm. With one toss he chucked it behind him and it landed dangerously close to where Laurent had taken a seat. With a dramatic pause, Shale stared directly ahead of him and then his head dropped forward and banged loudly on the table. With an audible groan, he let a few thoughts drift through his mind. Maybe I can pay a student to write a generic letter to my sister and her family. Maybe I can pay a homeless hobo wizard to write a generic letter to my sister and her family... "I want to sleep." He stated after awhile and banged his head again. The pain infliction on himself was a clear sign of sleep deprivation, because he usually wasn't so masochistic. |
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| Laurent E. Griffith | Oct 29 2011, 04:51 AM Post #4 |
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This was only his fifth year. Comparatively, the Weasley family were likely the only ones that shared Laurent's issues. Female siblings, older ones especially, were the clingiest creatures he knew of outside of octopi and goblins around their riches. Still, Laurent wrote them. A yard each week, at the very least. Over the years, he'd begun to treat it like permanent homework. His parents appreciated it anyways - it kept the heat off their backs the more Laurent responded to his detail-loving sisters. Kherrington, Jolene, Isabelle and Florence. Two taller than him, two shorter than him. Two reds, two brunettes. He was the only blond, like his uncle Othello. They all had variations of the same eyes: some were bluer, some were grayer. His were the lightest of greens, like winter heather. A smile crossed his face and he jotted down a note about his class selection, blotting with a rag. The family owl, a big grey male named Claudie, could take the letter in the morning. Crackling noises reminded him of a fire just beginning to burn. Inhaling, he smelt traces of turkey and treacle tart. He preferred minty sweets, but it was hard to turn down any of the desserts at Hogwarts. The crackling ceased. Laurent jerked suddenly: something fell at his feet, breezing past his ear beforehand. Reaching down, he collected a wad of paper, crushed beyond recognition. Eying it, he opened it - call it curiosity, but it had been thrown in his direction. Skimming the letter, he pondered the name "Shale" written at the end. Peering over his shoulder, his stare eventually settled on one man. Professor Cross. Shale Cross. 'Writing too? I guess it's pretty common...' The head banging, however, wasn't normal. Since he was done writing, Lark collected his belongings and rolled up his now-dry scroll. Bag over his shoulder, he rose and quietly moved toward the teacher's table. "Ah... Professor?" 'You seem a little stressed.' Not that he would say as much. Setting the wad down on the table, he cleared his throat. "Sorry... I don't want this to wind up in the wrong hands or anything." He explained. Lips pursed, Lark chanced a question. "Can I get you something, Professor Cross? I have time before my rounds." Maybe a remedy for the headache he was likely going to get from headbutting the table? Edited by Laurent E. Griffith, Oct 29 2011, 04:53 AM.
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| Shale Cross | Oct 29 2011, 05:14 AM Post #5 |
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"Who would it end up with? You Know Who? I doubt he'd be interested in the sexual antics of my cat," Shale said rather sullenly, though his voice was muffled by talking into the table. There was a pause as he thought about Laurent's offer - 'can I get you anything, Professor?' Yes, yes he could. Could he write? No, Shale thought, Sam could tell the handwriting... Or would she? He raised his head and stared at Laurent for a moment, as if judging him. He was slouched a bit and had his hands resting on the table in front of him. Then he proposed a very odd proposition. "Would you forge my handwriting?" The request was an odd one, but it was the only thing Shale needed right now. Ever since they were kids, Sam was always the more wordy one, and more expressive on paper but quiet in person. Shale was the opposite. Words were hard to put down on paper, which made it impossible for him to write letters. That, and he hated writing anything anyways, and the less he had to hold a pen the better. Back when he was a student, it was amazing he passed with his excellent procrastination skills, and a hard work ethic to not work at all. As far as being a professor, it was good that his class was mostly hands on- or he would be out of work. "I'll pay you." |
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| Laurent E. Griffith | Oct 29 2011, 11:18 PM Post #6 |
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Laurent suppressed a laugh, hand pressed up against his mouth to hide a smile. Professor Shale taught Care of Magical Creatures, a class Lark had taken every year. What he knew of the instructor, personally, was very little. His current antics made him believe that Shale was having a hard time of his letter writing, although he couldn't guess why except that Shale might dislike letter writing. Light green eyes met Shale's. Under the professor's stare, he smiled faintly. It was a bland expression, formulated to appease and imply a simplistic curiosity. What was asked of him, however, stole all his normal, stock responses right out from under him. He cleared his throat, expression mingling an awkward squint with a thoughtful frown. Forgery cued a stream of memories from a few summers back. His youngest of older sisters had still been attending Hogwarts with him. At the time, she'd been dating a boy named Jeremy Welling, and all her free time had been devoted to excessive snogging. To her and his shock, Laurent had discovered a rather handy talent when she'd asked for his help, one his mother had explained to him later on. In the end, his sister had finished all her assignments without touching a single quill. Resting his hands on the table, Lark rapped his fingers on the hardwood surface. "...Alright." It was out before he could stop himself. Pausing, the white-blonde prefect glanced back, checking for possible eavesdroppers. Masking the seriousness of his voice with a second smile, he continued. "On three conditions. Since you're a professor, I'll assume this is a personal matter and nothing illegal. Two, I can only help you during my free hours. Prefect duties and all... Also, you cannot speak of how I help you, even in passing. ...does that suffice?" |
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| Shale Cross | Oct 30 2011, 12:02 AM Post #7 |
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Great! He found someone who was morally sound, so he wouldn't have to worry about the word getting back to Sam that he was having a student write her letters. It was her fault anyways - ever since they were younger she went on and on for hours on end only to Shale, because she was socially a recluse to anyone else. It seemed to have gotten worse with age because now she talked all the time about her kids and it was dirty diaper after dirty diaper tales, all of which Shale was a bit squirmy about anyways. He wasn't exactly the fatherly type - he was barely out of his 7th year of school in his mind. "Great," He clapped his hands together enthusiastically and then went to business. "You'll be writing letters to my sister. There's only three things you need to know about her - she's a hermit, she's a mother, and she likes gossip. So when you're writing just think, 'What would I write to a gnome?' That's pretty much her." He held out his quill to Laurent, and then added, "I need one page written tonight, because if I get woken up one more time by a howler I think I might take a dive off the Slytherin tower." His plain expression made the previous sentence seem all that more serious. There wasn't a joking line on his entire face. "Samantha Cross, that's her name. Call her Sam on paper. Oh, and here's the letter I tossed, you might need that." He picked it up with one hand and held out the wad of paper with an insistent look. "I don't tell secrets by the way, so as far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened." Edited by Kaleb Austin, Oct 31 2011, 01:51 PM.
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| Laurent E. Griffith | Oct 30 2011, 02:53 AM Post #8 |
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Laurent wasn't the type to commit to wayward ideas. His parents had taught him all manner of right-from-wrong lessons throughout his childhood. As it was, he wasn't opposed to helping out a friend in need. It was one of his better traits, actually, and the reason he'd been appointed to the Gryffindor house by the Sorting Hat. His professor's request was peculiar, but not outlandish or demeaning or even remotely dangerous. Still, it was amusing to see Professor Cross's enthusiastic response to his compliance. "Alright." Laurent agreed, retrieving the quill when it was offered. His gaze flicked from the crumpled scroll to Shale's face. It was strange that the man wanted someone to write letters to his sister. At the same time, Laurent could sympathize. After all, he had four older sisters and all of them liked to hear from him on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. Sighing under his breath, Laurent tapped the quill point on his palm. "A gossip loving mother whom keeps to herself. Got it. I don't know any gnomes personally, but I think I get the idea." A small chuckle escaped him. Brows high, Laurent gave a short nod. "'kay then." He chose not to comment on the suicide threat. He didn't like to joke around with stuff like that and he couldn't tell how or what the professor really meant. Pressing on, he took the discarded letter and unfolded it. Skimming it once, he sent Cross a wry expression. "Well, Professor, that's fine and dandy. However, I'll need to keep in touch. Y'know, ask what's new, what creature you showed in class..." Laurent's head tilted as he considered the extent of his new "project." "I'll send a house elf with the letter. If it's not agreeable, he can find me in the Gryffindor commonroom later tonight. I've my rounds, Professor. Have a good night." Lark shrugged, boyish in that moment alone, and stepped back to leave. He folded the letter as he went and slid it in his pocket. The blond paused to confiscate some joke products an unwary second year was toying with and then continued on. The school year had just begun and already he was neck deep in responsibilities. At least he'd make a sickle or two along the way; he might have been a Gryffindor, but he hadn't forgotten Shale's offer. |
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| Shale Cross | Oct 30 2011, 06:24 PM Post #9 |
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There was something familiar about Laurent that Shale couldn't really put his finger on, but he liked the boy- even though he was in a completely different house. If it had been a student in his own house he would have bribed him with house points, but really he hadn't even thought of it until now to look at the student's house badge. Damn, Gryffindor. No wonder he was so sincere and polite. If he had been in Slytherin, he would have cursed him twice over and kicked him in the jewels and run away. Well, maybe not something so drastic but it was in the same ball park. Shale removed himself from the bench and stretched, relieved that he had gotten out of the having-to-write-his-sister weekly curse, with a minor bump to his paycheck. He really despised writing, it seemed like a great way to waste time when he really would rather have her show up on the grounds every other week. But no, she was focused with her housework and the kids - they were all under ten. "Thank you good sir. About details," He paused, and then started rattling off, "My cat spawned last Friday with some random alley cat, they're really cute but really gifted if you know what I mean. One thinks it's a dog and chases its own tail. I named them Buttons, Zipper, and Fly." There was a hint of a smirk, but then he continued on hurriedly, "Classes are going well, and I'm thinking about bringing in some Kappas, but I'm really leaning more towards hippogriffs because they're easier to find and they're fine in a shed whereas I'd have to find some sort of swimming pool to toss the Kappas in...being water sprites and all," He stopped abruptly, staring at Laurent, "Did you catch all that? Oh well. You look like you're in a rush, thank you for your services and send the amount you'd like to be paid with the letter. Yes, I will be SLEEPING tonight!" |
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| Laurent E. Griffith | Oct 31 2011, 01:55 AM Post #10 |
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Laurent hadn't realized the Care for Magical Creatures professor had followed him across the dining table. But there he was all of a sudden, appearing at his elbow as if he'd Apparated to catch up. Before he had a chance to ask if he'd been too presumptive, Cross began speaking. 'Oh.' So maybe Shale didn't want to be rid of him so quick, then. He turned to address the professor with his full attention, sitting his hands on his hips. "Were you dressing when you named them?" Oops. His sense of humor had awful timing. Honestly, though, who gave kittens those sort of names? It was the first thing that popped into his head and it took a dragon's will to hold back a laugh. Then again, it was kinda cute. The kittens bit. The look on Shale's face told him that his guess might not be too far off either. Canting his head, he gave the professor a quick nod. "Got it, professor." Kappas? Those sounded fun. He liked water creatures, seeing as he spent quite a lot of time illicitly swimming in the school's monstrous lake. Not that he would be admitting that any time soon. Hippogriffs would be fun; he'd heard they could be dangerous if insulted. Magic creatures with a sense of pride: a Gryffindor's best friend in the making? He did chuckle at Cross's excitement, fair locks drooping over his brow. "Always happy to help. Oh, and I'm Laurent, sir. Griffith." Laurent replied. As an afterthought, he handed Shale his quill back - it wasn't like he was using it and Laurent had his own set up in his room. "Have a good night, Professor Cross." With a last, warmer smile, the short prefect set out to start his rounds. He'd stop by the commonroom and drop his belongings off first. He kind of wanted to run up to send his letter with Claudie... but later. |
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