Breaking rules (WotW) on Library

Edmond Carey

April 17, 2011 8:13 PM

Breaking rules (WotW) by Edmond Carey

In his corner of the library, one he’d known for a while saw little traffic but which he’d only occasionally visited for a book before midterm, Edmond sat down on the dusty carpet, put his bag down beside him, and pressed his hands over his eyes, concentrating on breathing slowly and counting backward from a thousand to calm himself down.

It is all right. I am safe. It is all right. No one saw. It is all right. It is all right.

Part of his panic, he knew, was from the fact he was supposed to be in Charms. He had missed a few classes since he came back, lessons where he couldn’t work up either the nerve or the energy to leave his room and go, but this was the first time he’d taken a good look at the activity of the day, deliberately waited for the professor to turn her back, and just left, using his ability to slip through narrower openings than most would think he could and close doors very quietly for rather more nefarious purposes than he thought Julia had ever intended for him to. He had been expecting to be chased down by a squad of enforcers in dark robes from the time he left the bathroom he’d gone into to straighten out his clothes to the moment he reached the corner of the library he’d claimed as his safe place, but that hadn’t happened, and feeling like a bit of a fool wasn’t helping his emotional state much.

Not that he hadn’t felt like that even as he left. He had known, intellectually, that the sudden change of his clothing and that of his classmates to things indecent for public viewing was just Professor Crosby being Professor Crosby instead of a hint that he was trapped in another illusion, just as he’d known that she wasn’t really likely to harm the poor person who’d been in his former place up front when she pulled that person up front and pointed a wand, and known that his classmates were not going to try to kill him while they were running around in a mock battle situation. He had known all that, and it hadn’t really mattered at all. Between all that – the heat, the chaos, the embarrassment of being in public in a bathing costume, the vociferating professor and students in the game – he had been struck by the overwhelming thought that he could not do this, and had given into it.

Because you’re weak, a voice in his head said. Shy, bookish mother’s boy – except you never had a mother.

His eyes opened as internal monologue melted into memory, then started the count back from a thousand again as he reached into his bag for a calming potion. Alasdair was dead. He might have been right about most of it – weak, shy, bookish mother’s boy; Edmond might not have phrased it like that, but he didn’t feel he could reasonably argue against it – but it didn’t matter now, because he was dead, and Morgaine swore on her name that he hadn’t come back as a ghost. He didn’t matter anymore, and neither did anything he’d said or done while he was still alive.

He wondered if this kind of thing was happening to Jane. No way for him to know. They hadn’t spoken since they came back to school.

Part of him missed her. The other part knew it was easier this way. Easier for both of them. Maybe even better. Neither of them could apologize for the things that had happened and been said in those first hours and days after their kidnapping and Julia’s death without making it all worse, but maybe, if they simply didn’t talk at all for long enough, they could let it go without having to.

That was what he hoped, anyway; if it was going to happen, it would have to happen before they went home for the summer. At home, they’d both been going slowly crazy. First there had been the events themselves, and then there had been the lying – the having to keep Julia’s death a secret, and therefore live in the house with her body, for days so there would be some chance that anyone would believe the story that she’d died of an aneurysm days after Gwenhwyfar came back and that no one in their household had been in any way associated with those events. It was, as Robert admitted, an unlikely tale, but it helped that Julia was known to have been on the delicate side, and that Thomas was known to have defended the house to the teeth to prevent more or less exactly what had happened from happening. And that Edmond’s biological father had more or less forgotten he existed by the time he was six and had given him up without much of a struggle then. No reason for the world to assume that indifference hadn’t persisted.

As the calming draught kicked in, Edmond reached into his bag again and took out a book. An Introduction to Conjuring. It was as good a replacement as any for the lesson he was missing, since Aguamenti was one of the earlier conjuring spells they learned.

Maybe he could just stay here for the rest of the day. He’d been thinking of going down to MARS later on, get in some sparring practice in the sports room – he couldn’t ask Professor Levy for extra lessons, as he very much wanted to, without risking having to explain why he wanted to know, but he refused to allow himself to feel as helpless as he had in that house ever again – but he didn’t like to be seen after cutting class, and it was nice here. The light was dimmer than in most places, the colors more subdued, and this corner was closed off enough that until that potion wore off, he wouldn’t even have to worry about the stabs of paranoia and flickers of movement on the edge of his vision that happened sometimes now when he was alone. That would be a few hours at least. Then maybe he could just go to sleep….

But not now. He had to make up his lesson. He opened to chapter one and started reading. He couldn’t let his grades fall. Not only would Robert realize something was wrong, but it would be to insult Julia’s memory.

0 Edmond Carey Breaking rules (WotW) 143 Edmond Carey 1 5

DiAnna Diaz

April 27, 2011 5:17 AM

Making rules by DiAnna Diaz

The two weeks over midterm had been sufficient for DiAnna to convince her family that she was content in her job as a school librarian, and that being in a place with lots of books provided opportunity for further study, and not having to pay for accomodation while she had a room here at the school in the faculty quarters, as well as her office in the library, altogether created the perfect situation for a recent graduate, really. It was difficult for them to understand the magic part of her life, so when they could get their say they liked to get in everything they possibly could, and DiAnna found it wasn't usually stuff she wanted to hear. Her Dad was less forceful these days, but then he had Liberty at home to focus on, and the non-magical daughter who lived at home was a great deal easier to be protective over than the grown-up witch daughter who'd graduated in fortune telling and then decided to become a librarian. Helen, her step-mom, was actually worse this time. DiAnna knew she was always trying to overcompensate because she wasn't the biological mother, but DiAnna had thought of Helen as her mom for over a decade now, so she really didn't need to worry. While DiAnna had been successful in claming their fears and soothing their worries by the end of midterm, she knew they'd only have resurfaced by the summer, and they'd have to go through the same thing again.

As she'd been away over midterm, the librarian's workload had somehow piled up in her absence. She knew most of the kids went away for the holiays, but some of those who'd stayed had borrowed books, and some had returned their books on the first morning they were back, and what was left was a small mess of books that hadn't been filed properly, and probably some missing that hadn't been filed at all. It wouldn't take her long to sort out, and having something specific to concentrate on to get her back into the swing of her occupation would probably do her good. Beginning by sorting the books she'd collected from her desk and the numerous scattered tables, DiAnna next set about returning them to their rightful places. She rarely used magic to return books, because so many of them were too old and delicate to risk damaging, and some of the older students who had free periods probably would be taken aback if a magically-propelled book collided with the back of their head. Instead she carried small piles to the requisite shelves, her black hair and velvet skirt both flowing behind her.

A short while into her work, DiAnna hesitated at the site of one of the Aladren prefects sitting not at a table, but on the floor, and reading a textbook. In the following second she realized he was a fifth year prefect, and should therefore be in class. "Is everything okay?" she asked Edmond Carey - she'd managed to learn the names of her library assistants and the prefects, and the Aladrens who spent a lot of time in the library. She knew that students ought not to skip class, but from the little she knew of Aladren prefects, they didn't tend to be the skipping class sort. She didn't want to jump to morbid conclusions, but if Edmond wasn't in class when he was supposed to be, there was probably a reason for it. She wondered what the rules were concerning making sure students went to class. If there weren't any already in existence, maybe she'd make up her own.

0 DiAnna Diaz Making rules 0 DiAnna Diaz 0 5

Edmond

April 27, 2011 9:36 PM

Filthy habit by Edmond

Chapter Four: On Permanence.

One of the first questions asked by many beginning conjurers is ‘how long will a conjured object last?’ The answer is not simple, nor does it usually involve a set number of minutes. Various factors contribute to the longevity of a conjured object, including the material complexity of the object, the size of the object, the use of the object, and the magical strength of the conjurer….

Edmond was deep in the material complexity section, a fascinating but difficult one to understand, when Miss Diaz spoke. He jumped, the book falling the short distance to the floor. He fumbled for it, but it closed as it smacked onto the carpet anyway, completely losing his place. “Drat,” he said, picking it up. He noticed his hands were shaking slightly. The pages wouldn’t come apart right as he struggled to find his place again. He had to finish. “Is this the day you’re all conspiring to – “

Then his brain kicked back in enough, through the moment of terror that had come from being surprised and the frustration of realizing the librarian was not a legitimate threat and that he couldn’t have done anything about it even if she was, for him to realize this was the librarian. Adult authority figure. Oh, drat. “I apologize,” he said, still getting back to his feet. He didn’t like it that she could loom over him. He felt a moment of pity for the majority of the people he was around on a daily basis. The feeling of disadvantage that came with not being able to look at someone head on without tilting his head back was enormous. Not that he was looking directly at her now anyway. “That was inappropriate, Miss Diaz. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

He noticed she had books. Of course she did. She didn’t look much older than his biological sisters, and he wasn’t accustomed to thinking of Morgaine, at least, as a real adult, but she was the librarian. He was going to have to try to find a new safe place. One that didn’t have a staff member directly attached to it. What had other people been doing back here, anyway? In five years, he’d never found anyone else in this place at the same time he was, and very rarely seen a book missing.

Or maybe what he’d thought was paranoia had really been right. Maybe they were tracking him somehow. He would have tried to discreetly check his watch, but he didn’t have it on. What kind of idiot went out without a watch? He didn’t even know which class it was that he was missing.

“Would you like assistance?” he asked, about the books. He had already been ill-mannered enough for one day. “I assume I can still find my way to the shelves correctly.” Oh, he was going to have to ask. He couldn’t miss Defense. “Do you know which period it is? I have no idea.” He recognized that he was near babbling now, jumping from line to line without any real connection. He couldn't do that. It was strange. People who insisted on doing it at all should at least have the pride of family to not do it in public. "I'm sorry."

0 Edmond Filthy habit 0 Edmond 0 5

DiAnna Diaz

May 04, 2011 11:04 AM

I beg your pardon? by DiAnna Diaz

DiAnna was thinking that perhaps she should have cleared her throat or something to make her presence known before speaking to Edmond, considering how much her speaking seemed to have surprised him. Perhaps unsettled him, too, but she didn't honestly think her appearance would cause that much of a reaction. His behaviour reminded her of someone who'd had one too many pick-me-up potions. Or, conversely, someone who hadn't had quite enough calming draught. he apologized for the way he spoke to her, to which DiAnna replied, "That's okay." He wasn't being directly rude or anything, and she still didn';t quite see herself as a real staff member, so if he wanted to have a moment of frustration in front of her then she didn't mind. She'd heard a lot worse before.

She was about to remind Edmond that he hadn't answered her question, but instead he offered his assistance. DiAnna remembered the small pile of books she was holding and was on the verge of answering when the fifth year asked what period it was, and followed this question almost directly with an apology. DiAnna frowned. "I don't need any help just now, thanks," she dealt with the utterances in order. "It's around two-thirty - I have no idea what period that is." She heistated just a moment, and said, "You're supposed to be in class. I think I'm probably supposed to mention this sort of thing to your Head of House." She shifted the books a little to rest partially on her hip. She was inviting a student to offer an explanation or reason to prevent her from getting him into trouble, but unless Edmond was habitually this jittery anyway then perhaps referring him to his Head of House was in his best interest anyway.

0 DiAnna Diaz I beg your pardon? 0 DiAnna Diaz 0 5

Edmond Carey

May 04, 2011 11:52 PM

You would define 'making rules' differently? by Edmond Carey

Two-thirty. Two-thirty. Funny number. The humor of it, however, was irrelevant. He tried to remember what time different classes happened at, but he couldn’t. He simply went from one to another, day after day: first, second, third, fourth, and so on. It didn’t require any thought or attention.

Life, it occurred to him, was the most pointless thing. He supposed there were some people who did something meaningful, but what did most of them do, really? Go from one class to another. Do assignments. Walk out. Get a paper with some letters on it in the summer. Take more classes. Inherit a few properties that cost more to keep up than’ in the bank account one inherited at the same time even when one’s genetic father wasn’t a drunken fool who’d decimated the family fortune before he became a psychotic murderer. Keep the properties up anyway. Marry a rich girl you can’t stand, scheme and plot and hurt people, all to get more money, keep up appearances. And then die at your own daughter’s hand because you turned into a drunken, psychotic murderer fool….

She didn’t require assistance, but she seemed to require something. She had said what she should do...wasn’t doing it…oh. She wanted him to say something. “Of course I’d rather you didn’t,” he said, breathing, reminding himself that he needed to be rational. Speak like himself. Keep up that appearance. He didn’t give a damn anymore, but Robert and Jane – he couldn’t ruin his sister’s life because the thing that sired him had made such a very thorough attempt at ruining his. It was bad enough already. “But you will, of course, do as you see fit.”

He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t do it,” he said, as though this logically followed. “All the noise, all those people – for goodness’ sake, the girls were all half-naked, and the rest of us weren’t much better. It was indecent. I can’t even think of people seeing my sister that way – “ He forced his jaw and his left fist to unclench at the same time. If anything like that ever happened to Jane, he’d use every connection he could find or make up, work the Carey network he found distasteful at best after a lifetime of learning that all achievement should be based on merit, to have that woman or any other professor here fired. No one was allowed to risk Jane’s reputation, or put her in a position where it would be so easy for boys to disrespect her. It was beyond merely tempting to attempt something similar on Cassie’s behalf, but the only way he could have gotten away with it would have been if they were engaged, which they weren’t. They were simply friends, one of whom happened to be attracted to the other on multiple levels while knowing she would never feel the same way. Which made his life that much more fantastic.

“I’m not my best today,” he finished. “With all those people, running around, making noise, attacking me from behind, I was afraid I’d – “ he stopped himself before he could admit that it had been possible he'd hurt someone. No one could ever know anything like that about him. Morgaine had said so, and until he was at least twenty-two, Morgaine was the family. She couldn't be wrong. “Well, you see how well I handle being surprised,” he said. “So I left. I apologize.”

0 Edmond Carey You would define 'making rules' differently? 143 Edmond Carey 0 5