Freedom? on Labyrinth Gardens

Nathan Xavier

August 11, 2017 11:43 AM

First Year Orientation by Nathan Xavier

Nathan greeted the students as they disembarked from their wagons, helping anyone with the last big step who needed it, and telling them to leave their luggage for the elves. For the first years - or rather anyone he didn't recognize from teaching last year, though he hadn't heard of any transfers this year so presumably they were all first years - he then invited them to follow the signs through the Garden paths to Orientation. For second years, he welcomed them back and told them the library and Cascade Hall were open for use until the feast later that night, or they could go to their dorms. Prefects or staff should be in the Hall if they needed a password. Everyone else presumably knew the drill so he just welcomed them back and hoped they had a good summer.

Once the last of the wagons arrived, he followed the first years through the Gardens, collecting the "Orientation this way ->" signs along the way, as well as releasing the staff members or prefects posted at path intersections to prevent unsupervised wandering to go and enjoy the rest of their afternoons. The designated path led into a large clearing with a fountain and a banner exclaiming "Welcome to Sonora Academy!"

There were tables beneath the banner laden with snacks, both healthy and unhealthy, sweet and salty, light and filling. Cupcakes, cookies, breads of several varieties, pretzels, potato chips, cheese, crackers, fruits, vegetables and dip, small sandwiches, and more were all available. Cups of water, pumpkin juice, and fruit punch filled another table.

An additional staff member was posted within the clearing, encouraging new arrivals to get some food and collect a packet, and prevent anyone from wandering away or or swimming in the fountain or otherwise causing trouble. The packets the students were told to grab were thin green folders, the same shade as their uniform robes, that contained useful things like the first year class schedule, a map of the school, and a list of school rules they would be expected to abide by. Most of the later would be covered by the Head of House speeches later, but it never hurt to have it in writing.

He gave the students from the final wagon time to get food and mingle a bit before he cleared his throat to get their attention. It wasn't a notably large class this year, so he didn't bother with a sonorus charm to amplify his voice, but he did motion for them to gather closer so he wouldn't need to project to the far corners of the clearing or compete too much with the splashing of the fountain.

"Hello and welcome to your first year at Sonora Academy. My name is Professor Xavier and I'll be your Herbology teacher this year, and your orientation guide today. First, I'm going to tell you a bit about your new school," it wouldn't be anything novel or exciting for anyone who read the school brochures sent out with the acceptance letters, but there was no guarantee those had been read. "Then you'll have some time to meet your fellow yearmates, get more snacks, and ask questions if you have any. At five thirty, we'll start a tour of the school which will culminate at the Cascade Hall, where you will all be sorted into your Houses and then the Welcoming Feast will begin."

The first few times he'd done this, he'd had a whole speech planned out, memorized, and rehearsed in front of his cat. As this was now his fifth time running Orientation, however, and since he'd become more comfortable talking in front of large classes over that time, he was mostly winging it today.

"So, Sonora Academy of Magic is a seven year secondary school. You're expected to already be able to read, write essays, and do basic math. If you can't, or you have trouble with those things, we do have an academic support program run by Professor Skies, which includes language help for anybody who doesn't speak English fluently. Additionally, each professor holds office hours a few times a week in case you need a little extra help with their specific subject."

"As first years, you will be taking beginner level classes. The core classes Sonora offers are Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense against the Dark Arts. These beginner courses will continue into second year, and the two beginner year groups sit classes together. In third year, you will advance to intermediate classes and be permitted to pick up elective classes and independent studies if you so choose, in addition to those core classes that you will start this year. Intermediate classes last through fifth year, at the end of which you take your first major exam call the CATS - the Critical Assessment of Talents and Skills. Depending on how you do on those tests, you may move into advanced classes for your sixth and seventh years. At that point, you may drop the courses that are not of interest to you or for which you did not pass the CATS. At the end of seventh year, you will sit your last major exam, the RATS - the Ridiculously Anal Testing of Skills. You need to pass two RATS to graduate, and most colleges require a minimum of three."

He took a breath then continued, "Obviously, that's still a long way off, but that's the overview of academics here at Sonora. You should have your schedule for beginner lessons in the green folders you picked up. If you didn't get one, they are over there," he pointed to the appropriate table.

"Extracurricularly, Sonora has a number of student led clubs, including a Dueling club, an Orchestra, a Choir, an Art club, a Baking Club, possibly a Book club," they hadn't had a part in last year's Concert, so he wasn't sure if that was because they ceased to exist or because Book Club didn't lend itself well to a stage performance, "and a Sports club. If none of those tickle your fancy, you can always make your own. Depending on participation rates, we may also have House Quidditch teams competing for the Quidditch Cup. Quidditch is a wizarding sport played on broomsticks. Oh, on that note, as first years, you do have one more class beyond the core classes called Flying Lessons where you'll learn to fly on a broom."

That was the bulk of the information he was supposed to disseminate right now, so he began his wrap up, "As for living arrangements, you will be sorted into Houses, which each value certain positive personality traits: Aladrens value learning; Teppenpaws friendship; Crotalus believes in respectability and responsibility; and Pecaris are often adventurous. There are other traits each House seeks, so this is a bit of a generalization and not everyone fits neatly into one or another, so try not to put too much stock into House stereotypes. But you will be sorted into one of them, and you'll share a room with anybody else sharing your House and gender. Your Head of House will look out for you and serve as your adult guardian while you're here. Each House has three prefects who are also appointed to help you with any trouble you may encounter. And each student has the opportunity to gain House points for good behavior and exemplary class work. Likewise getting in trouble can lose your House points. The House with the most points at the end of the year wins the House Cup to display in their Commons for the following year."

He mentally ran through the important topics one more time and thought he'd hit most of them. "That's about it, the Cascade Hall serves breakfast from 6:30 to 8:30, lunch from eleven to one, and dinner from five to seven. Those times should also be on your schedules. Between those times, you can get light fare like sandwiches and snacks. It opens at six and closes at ten. Ten PM to six AM is curfew and you should be in your House areas during that time. Unless there are any questions, you are free to mingle until the tour."

OOC (Out of Character):
Welcome first years to Sonora! You can post a reply here to ask staff questions or meet your new classmates. This thread is intended for first year students to have a chance to try out posting and get acclimated to the site before we throw you into the big Opening Feast, which is open to the entire school population and can be a bit overwhelming. So post, enjoy, have fun! Everyone here is happy to help out, so if you've got a question, put it on the OOC board or try to catch somebody in the Chatzy and we'll try to get you an answer as quick as we can. Have fun and glad you could join us!

Subthreads:

I have arrived. by Jasmine Delachene with Parker Fitzgerald

Freedom? by Jehan Callahan with Dorian Montoir

As long as there is sugar, I'll be okay. by Tatiana Vorontsova with Gary Harper

1 Nathan Xavier First Year Orientation 28 Nathan Xavier 1 5

Jasmine Delachene

August 11, 2017 1:49 PM

I have arrived. by Jasmine Delachene

Jasmine looked out the back of the covered wagon, watching the ground pass beneath her. This was higher than her horses usually flew, but the height didn't bother her. What bothered her was that she couldn't see the ranch. She scooted back to a more interior seat and worried about how awful the homesickness was going to get it it was already this bad when she didn't think they'd even left California yet.

Or maybe they had. Her stop had been pretty close to the Arizona border and it wasn't long before they started another descent. No, it was just another boarding stop. Could be Arizona though. She wasn't sure what exactly the wagon routes were. She looked around the platform, not expecting to recognize anyone, but still irrationally disappointed when she didn't see her mom anyway. It just looked enough like the last platform, where she'd left her family, that it seemed like they should be here, too.

Soon enough the wagon took off again and then landed and took off until finally it stayed aloft long enough to reach the school. Jasmine didn't live terribly far off, so it was only about an hour and change since she boarded, but she was still glad to be done with the bumpy vehicle. Her dad had put a featherlight charm on her trunk but she still stared at in dismay because it was big and bulky and she was not. Fortunately, the guy helping people off the wagon told her the elves would get it so she happily abandoned it where it lay.

Following the signs, and being diverted from exploring the gardens by the older students and grown-ups guarding the crossroads, she found her way to the Orientation clearing. They hadn't had these during her parents' day, but the food looked delicious so she wasn't going to complain. She filled a plate with fruits and splurged on a large chocolate chip cookie the size of her face then went for one of the green folders as well. She popped a grape in her mouth and looked around at the other students, wondering if any of them were princesses like herself. Arianna was too old to be here at orientation, but Jasmine was looking forward to catching up with her friend sometime later. As their mothers were best friends, Jasmine considered the older girl the closest thing she had to an older sister. And they had more in common than she did with her actual sister. It would be good to be living in the same place now. Jasmine hoped to get into Arianna's House, and thought she had at least a decent chance at Crotalus. It was more likely than Aladren at any rate, but both her parents had been Pecaris so she really wasn't sure.

There, that girl was wearing nicer looking jewelry than Jasmine was. Based entirely on appearance, she looked promising. Surely nobody with such expensive tastes in accessories could be too unmannered. If they got into the same House though, Jasmine didn't want to monopolize her here and there, and it would be better to risk the uncouth now than over a meal where she couldn't make her excuses and move on.

Mom told her it was very important to make the right friends at Sonora, especially since she was technically a half blood (Mom being a muggleborn, thus giving Jasmine two muggle grandparents). Well, Phillippe, Mom and Dad's only biological child, was technically a halfblood. Only Merlin and Jasmine's biological parents, whoever they might be, knew what she was. She'd just have to prove she had the good breeding without having the pedigree that let it be taken for granted. Her mom had done it as a muggleborn, so it was definitely possible. With the right friends.

Jasmine just needed to find some Ladies of her own.

She was still analyzing all her options and culling them down to high and low likelihoods of being satisfactory friend material, when Professor Xavier interrupted her study to make his speech. Most of it she already knew, but there were a few details that were new to her and she committed them to memory.

He finished talking and told them to mingle. But before she could target a person of her choice, someone else targeted her. She turned toward the voice and smiled politely, giving a slight curtsey that was not in the least bit hampered by her green folder or her plate of food. Her silvery dress was unfortunately hidden by her uniform robes, but her coiffed hairdo (protected by preserving charms cast by her mother to guard it against the winds and bumps of the wagon ride) and delicate matching jewelry she wore around her neck and wrist should further indicate she was a from a good family.

"Hello," she returned, the very picture of good manners, "I am Jasmine Delachene, of the California Delachenes." That branch consisted entirely of her nuclear family, as her grandparents were living in France again now and Dad had no siblings, but they weren't unknown in pureblood circles. The Delachenes were a respected pure family (or they had been pure, up until Mom married into it) and Mom had more pure blood friends than Dad did. Her family was wealthier than Dad's was, too.

1 Jasmine Delachene I have arrived. 1397 Jasmine Delachene 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

August 11, 2017 4:44 PM

So much open space! by Parker Fitzgerald

Parker Fitzgerald got off the wagon with the other students around him. He heard someone talk about elves, and remembered the buying of school supplies and the new creatures Sullivan had introduced him to. The elves in some of the shops, the goblins at the bank they stopped at, some amazing looking creatures in the window of one shop they walked by.

A nice man pointed him to follow the signs to Orientation, and though he meant to stay with Tatiana, the only person he really knew, he was suddenly mesmerized by the place he was standing and walked through dazed. It was a giant garden with signs and other people about pointing him down the path.

Behind people he could see other paths that lead to who knows where, and the excitement of being able to explore those pathways and see what there was to see excited him.
Soon Parker found himself in a large clearing with a fountain and a banner that looked as if it had been hand painted.

Underneath the banner though was so much food that Parker's eyes went wide. He walked up to the table looking at the variety and seeing all the cupcakes and cookies for the taking. He often wasn't allowed to eat them since he already had "enough energy to pull a train", and so his parents rarely had them around the house. This table though was amazing and he wondered if any of the food was magical. It all looked like normal food, but as he had already seen, things that looked normal were not normal so he put some crackers and veggies on a plate and got a cup of fruit punch. He sat down on the grass to open this packet.

He was worried there was going to be a lot of reading, like the pamphlet Sullivan had given his parents. Soon though he had forgotten his snacks. Hiding behind the rules was both a map of the grounds and the list of classes. Sullivan took a deep breath in seeing the large Garden where he assumed they were in, and the Quidditch Pitch.

Sullivan had said something about Quidditch at some point he was sure, but Parker couldn't remember what.
The class schedule looked amazing though. Parker looked down at it and then back up around the other students to see if any of them were as amazed. They all seemed to not be as excited, some even seemed a bit bored.

He wanted to yell: "Flying? Did it say flying lessons?" He remembered seeing people on brooms when buying supplies, but he didn't know he was going to learn how to fly one so soon. And a class all about animals? And another all about plants? What kind of amazing school was this Parker thought. He pinched himself under his big robes to make sure this wasn't a dream.

Just as he let out a little yelp the nice man from the wagons cleared his throat and started talking. It appeared that he was the plant teacher, and his name, which caused Parker to laugh a bit, was Professor Xavier. He was going to have a hard time not calling him Professor X, even if this Professor X wasn't bald and in a wheel chair. Though for all Parker knew, he could read minds.

As Professor X went on, Parker grew a bit excited sitting on the ground and began to shake his right leg a bit. This school sounded radically different form the one he had left in June last year. Then again, in June of last year he wasn't causing lights to explode yet. Parker thought for a moment, "If he's Professor X, does that make me Jubilee?"

He shook his head and tried to pay attention again as the topic of food was being discussed. It seemed to him that unlike the school he came from no one would be hungry. As Professor X finished he said to mingle.

Parker looked around to see if he could see Tatiana, but everyone looked the same in their green robes. So instead he simply turned to the person next to him.

“Hi,” Parker said sticking out his hand like his father had taught him to do, “My name is Parker Fitzgerald, what’s yours?”

The young woman who turned around was what his mom referred to as hotey toity, and were often the people his father had as clients when he went away for a few days. Even her family name was of a specific family.

“Sorry,” Parker responded trying hard to match her poise, but failing as he took a step forward and onto his plate of food, “I don’t know them.”

He stepped off his food and made a bit of a face looking at squished bell peppers, or at least what he thought were bell peppers.

“Maybe my dad knows your family though. He is an architect for nice houses all over California. Where in California are you from?”

41 Parker Fitzgerald So much open space! 1402 Parker Fitzgerald 0 5

Jehan Callahan

August 11, 2017 5:02 PM

Freedom? by Jehan Callahan

Jehan was small for his age, with faraway eyes and hair that was cut a little too short for its natural curliness to really show. Of course, his curls were nowhere near as wild as his brother’s. He was dressed neatly, in slacks and a shirt, thanks to his mother – when left to his own devices, Jehan had an interesting sense of style.

He also had a tired air, but that was only because he hadn't slept well the night before. He had been too busy imagining things and creating stories of what his time at Sonora would be like. He’d eagerly heard all of the stories his older brother, Victor, had to tell, many times over, and had done his own research too, but nothing could really tell him exactly what it would be like.

Victor was worried about him starting Sonora. Jehan knew this. He could see it in Victor’s eyes, in his smile, in the way he ruffled Jehan’s hair as they stepped off the wagon (of course Victor wouldn’t hug him in public. Victor was funny like that). Jehan didn’t know why, though. He was away from his parents, and with Victor. Surely those were the two most important variables? Anything else wasn’t really important. People thought Jehan was small and young and different, and that he couldn’t cope, wouldn’t cope, or maybe just wouldn’t fit in. He didn’t understand why that was seen as a problem. Maybe he wouldn’t find any close friends here, but there were so many more people than at home. The odds (and also all the stories he’d read) suggested that he’d find someone he liked. And if he didn’t, if he ended up alone and sad, it would make the most beautifully tragic story. He thought he would quite like to sacrifice himself for The Sake of Art.

He was lost in his imaginings about dying a tragic death when he heard someone speak, startling him out of this thoughts. “Oh! I’m sorry, I was thinking about tragic deaths,” he explained politely, not having caught what they said. “My name’s Jehan.”

He didn’t bother with the traditional pureblood greeting. He knew his mother would be disappointed, but he didn’t really see the point. Unless someone asked who his family was, surely they wanted to know who he was? And the two things were hardly the same.

9 Jehan Callahan Freedom? 1398 Jehan Callahan 0 5

Jasmine Delachene

August 11, 2017 10:06 PM

Eh, I've seen more by Jasmine Delachene

The boy didn't recognize her family branch, but judging by the way he then stepped on his food and that she didn't recognize his surname, that was not indicative of any failing on her family's fame but likely the result of him not being from the proper circles. She relaxed a little bit, no longer trying as hard to make a good first impression.

He wasn't high class himself, she didn't think, but he brushed their edges if his remark about his father designing nice houses was anything to go by. "Well, my immediate family is from an area right near the Arizona border; we own a horse ranch out there, mostly winged ones, but a few muggle horses as well. Your dad may have also worked on either of my grandparent's houses, they're both in LA. My grandfather, Paul Greer, was a lawyer in the city and he's got a place in the Hills. My grandmother, Kathleen Burbridge - they're divorced - was an actress, still is if she can get a good role, but she's cut back a lot. She's got a place on Mulholland." If he was a muggleborn or half-blood, and ever watched any kind of movie, she expected him to at least recognize her grandmother's name, even if his father never worked on her house. In her heydey, Kathleen Burbridge been every bit as sought after as Julia Roberts. Nowadays, of course, she mostly played grandmothers and dowager Empresses and such. There just wasn't a lot of demand for leading ladies in their sixties.

Feeling she had sufficiently name dropped enough that Parker ought to be impressed, she dialed back and asked a more straight forward question, "Do you have any guesses about which House you'll be in? My parents were both Pecaris but my friend Arianna is a Crotalus, so I'm hoping I'll get to join her. It hasn't even been a whole day yet, and I'm already missing my family, so having a familiar face around would help, I think. I've never been away from home before." Well, she'd left the ranch before, of course, but not without at least having one member of her family with her. Merlin, even having Anya around would be better than being here by herself.

Well, no. That wasn't true at all. It would be so much easier to make proper friends without her sister around to cast doubt upon Jasmine's suitability. Once she had friends to support her, things would get easier. She just had to find some. If Mom could do it, so could she.

1 Jasmine Delachene Eh, I've seen more 1397 Jasmine Delachene 0 5

Dorian Montoir

August 12, 2017 12:50 AM

From older brothers by Dorian Montoir

Dorian stepped off the wagon and tried to tell himself that he did not feel... That word for when things were too much. He was sure there was such a word, a single word or maybe two word combination for it in English, but he could not call it to mind - a fact that only served to heighten said emotion. He had tried to spend the wagon ride here keeping his thoughts in English, for practise, but it had only made him more nervous and frustrated. He could function in English, this he knew, but Dorian was a person to whom sharing intimate thoughts and feelings was important. He wanted to get to know others on a deeper level than small talk allowed, and was worried that his language skills would form a barrier preventing that connection. A world without closeness to others sounded grey and cheerless.

Prior to actually having to go through with it, he had been feeling optimistic about starting Sonora. There had been a day late in the summer where the heavens had opened, and he had sat in the attic watching the rain drops running down the windows,placing silent bets with himself about which would merge with the static drops further down the pane, giving them the weight and momentum they needed to continue their journey, and which would fall short, either skimming around the others or grinding to a halt themselves. He had been in the attic because of Matthieu. His older brother liked to go outside and do things, and rainy days made him miserable. And, whilst Matthieu was generally not a generous person, given to sharing with his siblings, bad moods were one thing of which he made an exception. Even if Dorian and their sister, Émilie, stayed out of his way, taking their activities to one of their bedrooms, he would seek them out. When it rained, he had nothing to do except pick fights. Dorian and Émilie, armed with enough cookies and colouring books to while away the morning, had tried the attic as a retreat, and Dorian had started to think longingly of the freedom he would soon experience from his brother, who attended L'Institute Quebecois. Perhaps it was too much to hope that he could enjoy his rainy days, all his days, without some meat-head bully looming over him. He was sure Sonora had its share of Matthieus, none of whom would take kindly to someone like him. But at least they wouldn't have the deeply personal mission of making his life hell that seemed to go with being brothers. He tried to hold onto this hope and this optimism now as he disembarked. Many of the things he would miss, the familiarity of home, his sister and his parents, he would be without now had he gone to school in Canada. There would only have been the safety net of a familiar language, but the price to pay for that was living in Matthieu's shadow, and for Émilie to have come here instead.Since father had determined that one of them should go to America, to make connections either with the Americans or the increasing number of French students there, the possibility of him attending school with his sister had disappeared.

He wished he had a moment to compose himself, both mentally and physically. He had packed his comb close to hand so he could smarten up but not found an opportune moment to use it, it seeming a strange thing to do around other people. He supposed he would have to trust that his dark hair had not suddenly abandoned its genetic predisposition to absolute poker straightness, and nor had the anti-creasing charms that his mother had cast on his black slacks and pastel blue shirt let him down, and that he just felt ruffled rather than actually appearing it. First impressions counted. He had chosen the shirt specifically to compliment his skin tone - provided one ascribed to the Western ideal of a healthy tan. His mother couldn't quite let go of the Chinese ideal that pale was beautiful, and made many wasted efforts every summer to shield them from the effects of the sun. Even Dorian, who was more of an indoor boy, couldn't help but get a few shades darker. Upon meeting him for the first time, many people did not immediately twig that he was mixed race. Whilst he had his mother's straight black hair and dark eyes, his facial features took far more strongly after his father. The resultant effect seemed to be that he slightly puzzled people. He could see it, when they met his mother, that it answered a question that they might not even have realised they had. It explained why his appearance hadn't quite met their expectations but without being so obvious as to fall into the category of 'foreigner.' This was where they often then placed him, in spite of being Canadian born and a fluent French speaker. Pureblood society wasn't exactly used to diversity and the reactions ranged from the overtly hostile to, at best, a sort of accidentally patronising attitude, whereby people complimented him on how well he blended in in his own country, how good he was at speaking his native tongue, or how they had totally thought of him as white until that point, as if this was some grand and higher status to aspire to. He had realised early on that he was never going to meet everyone's expectations - he had failed by default for some of them, merely by existing, and everyone had a different version of what it meant to be proper. There was some shared doctrine, sure - sit up straight, learn to dance, marry well - but it was already apparentto him that he was never going to please everyone. Rather than try to jump through a set of contradictory hoops, he had decided instead not to set too much store by those whose versions of 'the rules' he didn't care for.

He occupied himself with a snack whilst waiting for everyone to assemble, and then tried to listen carefully to Professor Xavier. He understood the information conveyed but there were one or two turns of phrase that threw him, and his perfectionist streak, especially when it came to communicating, caused him to write this experience up as failure. Hoping he would have more luck with his classmates, he approached another boy. He was surprised to find they were similar heights - Dorian was pretty small for his age and used to being loomed over.

"Good morning. I am Dorian Montoir, of the Quebec Montoirs," he introduced himself. It was strange how even this incredibly familiar ritual felt odd. He wasn't sure he had ever introduced himself in English outside of lessons. At least though, to start with, any conversation would likely be on safe, predictable territory, as they worked through introductions. He tried not to do a double take at the boy's response.
"Someone is dead?" he asked, his accent quite obvious in the way he spoke, which would explain both his poorly constructed question and confusion. "I - I am sorry to hear this," he stammered out, struggling to remember the correct English expressions of condolence. Formal expressions of grief were not something he had expected to need on his first day of school.

"I am Dorian," he replied, dropping the formal introduction as the other boy hadn't used it. The other boy's name registered. "Jehan?" he confirmed. Then added, in a mixture of hope, but also doubt and confusion because Jehan's accent was decidedly American, which prompted him to ask the question in the negative. "You are not French speaking?"

13 Dorian Montoir From older brothers 1401 Dorian Montoir 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

August 12, 2017 5:49 PM

A Subject I know! by Parker Fitzgerald

The girl was talking about California bordering Arizona, and Parker imagined his grandfathers house and trips to the Salton Sea. He was thinking about this that he almost missed her comment about Muggle horses. He was about to make a comment about horses, but Jasmine barreled on about her grandparents.

He recognized her grandmothers name, she was an actress his parents enjoyed, and Parker always wondered why she wasn't in movies like a female Taken or Die Hard, she seemed the sort who would be great at that, but Jasmine didn't really look like her.

Though his father probably was too young to have worked on their houses, Parker knew that his father sometimes went to LA for work, though was unsure of who he worked with there.

Suddenly Jasmine's voice changed to that of an actual child. She was asking about houses at the school. Now this was something that Parker had thought about and knew about! Since Sullivan had mentioned specific houses and point systems and how each house had similar character traits Parker had been trying to think about what house he might be put in. When he wasn't marveling at the sights around him, he had been thinking about houses.

Jasmine had mentioned two houses. The first was Pecaris, which was about being active and spontaneous Parker thought. It sounded like a lot of fun actually. The other was Crotalus, which Parker remembered as the house that saw themselves as respectable members of society. From what Parker had already seen of respectable society in his world, he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of it.
He knew there were two others, one was Teppenpah Parker thought. That was the one Parker wanted to think he was in, but probably wouldn't be.

"Pecaris I think," Parker responded so he could get a word in. "I am fairly active and though some may call it stupid, others call some of my actions daring, so I think I'll probably be there. I don't have any friends here though that I'd want to be with. They all stayed behind at my other school back in Nevada, and Sullivan told me I wasn't allowed to tell them about where I was going. Sounds like you might know more people here than I do, and judging by your jewelry, you might like Tatiana, though it might be hard to hold a conversation unless you speak Russian."

Parker hesitated for a minute before asking the question he really wanted to. "Umm...because I'm umm... well, I've only ever ridden Muggle horses. What's it like riding a flying horse? I think it would be magical."

Parker laughed at his own joke, but he really wanted to know more about these flying horses. They sounded awesome, though he wouldn't want to be standing under a flying horse when it pooped.

41 Parker Fitzgerald A Subject I know! 1402 Parker Fitzgerald 0 5

Jasmine Delachene

August 12, 2017 8:42 PM

A subject I love! by Jasmine Delachene

Jasmine nodded as Parker stated he expected he'd be a Pecari. "My father loved it there," she encouraged. Her mother had mixed feelings; Mom had loved having a room to herself, and being with Dad, but most of her female friends had been in Crotalus. (Though Arianna's mother, she thought, might have been in Aladren. One of the Ladies had been.) Neither had Mom exactly been a typical Pecari and, honestly, given the description of the House, Jasmine really didn't know how Mom had gotten put there.

Jasmine further gathered from his comment about needing to keep his friends in the dark that he was most like muggleborn or half, which she had mostly already guessed, but it was good to have confirmation. She'd been spared that difficulty. Her family mostly kept to the wizarding side of society, aside from the Greers and Grandma Burbridge. Being homeschooled meant she had no muggle friends, and most of the other kids she did know were mostly the children of her parents' friends. And since dad had no siblings, and Uncle Danny on her mom's side had no kids, there weren't any cousins in the picture, except Aunt Molly's two, and they were both younger than Philippe. Well, Uncle Luke had a few as well, but they mostly lived with their moms, so they barely counted.

She nodded in acknowledgement of his assessment that she might like Tatiana - whoever that was - based on her jewelry (maybe the girl with the beautiful pearls) and then frowned slightly at the remark about speaking Russian. What did that mean? Did the other girl not speak English then? Father had needed to speak English when he came to Sonora, and surely French was more likely to be known than Russian was.

Then Parker changed the subject to the passion of Jasmine's life: Flying Horses. She smiled brightly and genuinely, perhaps her first real smile of the conversation. "Oh, it is magical," she promised. "My favorite is the Abraxon. Those are huge, it's like riding Dumbo. We have a few other breeds, too, and all of them are wonderful to ride. Sadly, no Thestrals though. Mom doesn't like those. They're invisible. I saw one once - well, I guess I didn't see one once. They'd probably be hard to take care of if you couldn't see them, though. But flying a winged horse - oh, it is glorious. I'm honestly kind of worried about Flying Lessons, because I don't think a broom is going to measure up at all."

1 Jasmine Delachene A subject I love! 1397 Jasmine Delachene 0 5

Jehan

August 13, 2017 5:14 PM

Well, mine isn't too bad by Jehan

Jehan was a little thrown off by Dorian’s assumption, not really having considered that as a possible response. Still, there was logic to the other boy’s question. It was a big world, and who knew what was going on out there?

“Probably,” Jehan confirmed. “Though I was thinking more about the idea of death, rather than a specific person. It would make a wonderfully sad story if someone died of loneliness, wouldn't it?”

He smiled hesitantly at Dorian as the other boy introduced himself, a little shy but not wanting to discourage his new acquaintance, even if it took him a step further away from martyrdom for the sake of literature. He supposed there were advantages to remaining in the land of the living, starting with the snack table that he'd have to investigate before they left the gardens. But there was time for that later, as Dorian was opening an interesting line of conversation.

“My grand-mère is French,” he explained, as she had been the reason for his name. He automatically slipped in the French word, that being the way he mentally differentiated between his two grandmothers. “So I can speak some of the language- I don't suppose you read any Baudelaire, do you?”

About a year ago, Jehan had discovered the world of poetry. Despite being an advanced reader for his age, some went over his head, but he still found enjoyment in the crafting of words to create feelings that expressed just what he couldn't. Realising that Dorian was French (or so he presumed), his brain immediately leapt to one of his favourite French poets.

One of the exciting possibilities about Sonora was that he might find others who shared his interests. Victor was a pretty amazing older brother, but he just didn't understand some things. Victor preferred to get wet and muddy rather than curl up in front of a fire with a book; he ate meat rather than realising that he wouldn't like it if someone ate him (Jehan was still debating whether or not eating plants was potentially cruel too, but was aware of the fact that he needed to actually eat something); and Victor thought that his last name was the most important thing about him (it was actually his smile, that particular one he saved just for Jehan). But Sonora promised a wider range of people, with no parents to control who was or wasn't suitable. The next seven years had the potential to be glorious.

9 Jehan Well, mine isn't too bad 1398 Jehan 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

August 14, 2017 9:39 AM

As long as there is sugar, I'll be okay. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Tatiana could have gotten down from the wagon herself, but she accepted the assistance the fat man (some kind of servant, she assumed) offered because she knew that was what Mama would want her to do. Mama scolded her often about how she had never jumped about as much as Tatiana did when she was eleven, or even when she was younger still, because it was not pretty.

She could not seriously argue against Mama’s point about prettiness, but she didn’t think Mama could argue against her when she thought that however it looked, jumping about was quicker. While she was occupied with being a lady and thanking the fat man in her heavily accented English, Tatiana lost track of her new American friend and for a moment almost froze. It was one thing to hear English, one thing even to speak English herself, but now there were what looked like hundreds of people moving around her and they were all speaking it at the same time. So many voices together melded into a cacophonous babble, incomprehensible gibberish, and she wanted to cover her ears, but the fat man was saying something….

Follow signs. She understood that. She could do that, as said signs were clearly visible. She sounded the English letters on them out in her head: ore-ee-enn-tay-tee-on. Orient – that meant something about placement. Sounded like the place for her.

There, she saw two things: food and a sign with different English writing on it. The former was less complicated, so she went and got a tiny cake with a tall pile of what looked like whipped cream on top of it before she started reading the sign. To her delight, she didn’t have to sound it out. Happily, she used a fork to break off a bit of the tiny cake and then did a double take in surprise when she tasted the whipped cream. It was thick and grainy with sugar and yet not like a thick glaze at all - it was very dry-feeling - it was peculiar….

It was, however, good, she thought after a few more cautious, tiny samples. The cake itself was another story; it was crumbly and rather bland, with no fruits or filling of any kind, and she did not like it much, but ate it anyway because it would be strange to only eat the not-whipped cream. Looking around for something else that looked familiar, she spotted a plate of what looked like ponchiki and decided she had nothing to lose except her dignity if she spat out a poor imitation. To her relief, that did not occur; indeed, the ponchik, or whatever its makers would call it (she had not learned all the words for sweets; Anton Petrovich said that most of the specific dishes wouldn’t exist in the south anyway), almost tasted right. It could have used a dusting of orange rind in the glaze over the top, to be sure, but it was clearly some kind of fried, yeasted, fairly rich dough and it had creamy filling inside. Maybe, she thought, if these people had ponchiki, they weren’t so strange after all.

In her absorption with figuring out what American sweets tasted like, she almost missed the fat man beginning to speak to them and looked around in surprise when she heard his voice again. She was in for another surprise when he revealed his function; he was the Herbology teacher. She flushed when she deciphered the bit of the speech about English fluency, an embarrassment which was only compounded when she didn’t understand the word Anal, which seemed to be part of the name of a test. She decided she’d find someone to ask later, since it seemed this test was a long way off anyway. She brightened up when she heard something about Quidditch and flying; those were not only amusing, but things that she knew how to do.

Once the man – Professor Zay-vee-er, it had sounded like – stopped talking, he seemed to want them to talk to each other. Tatiana spotted Parker talking to a girl with a pretty necklace and, touching her own necklace to make sure the largest pearl was still centered and not resting on her collarbone or something stupid-looking like that, was about to go to speak with them when another person spoke to her first. “High,” she said, remembering that Parker had used this informal form and thus reminded her of its existence. At best, she imagined some of her classmates might be her own social equals, which did not entitle them to formal forms in Russian. She assumed some similar principle worked in English. “My name is Tatiana Andreyevna. How do you do?”

Tak mnogo slov! she thought. So many words! It was much quicker to get to the point in Russian. At least, she thought, all these words would make it apparent that she knew more or less how some of English worked….

OOC: The foods Tatiana describes are, respectively, a cupcake with American buttercream frosting on it and a Bavarian Cream doughnut.

16 Tatiana Vorontsova As long as there is sugar, I'll be okay. 1396 Tatiana Vorontsova 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

August 15, 2017 8:51 PM

Invisible horses? by Parker Fitzgerald

Parker was glad to hear that her father liked it. But the absence of her mother gave him pause. Did he mishear about both her parents being Pecari? Or maybe it was a male heavy house. Parker could see that maybe. His sister would probably be a Pecari if she ever went to this school. Maybe all the Fitzgerald children. For a brief second he missed his family, and then Jasmine's face lit up.
It was obvious in her change that she hadn't cared much for the conversation up until then, but now she was immediately interested. And the information she told seemed remarkable, a horse as big as Dumbo, an Abraxon he thought he heard. Then she started talking about an invisible horse...or something akin to an invisible horse.
At that Parker's eyebrows went high. He couldn't believe there would ever be such a thing as an invisible horse. Suddenly the questions came tumbling out.
"Dumbo? How did you learn to ride it? And how does one learn to ride one?" Parker caught his breath and then continued, "And how is the horse invisible? Are lots of things invisible? And won't riding a broom be a bit like riding a bike? I saw so many people riding them I thought it was easy."

In the back of his head Parker was glad there was at least someone else who couldn't ride a broom. He thought he comment though was odd.

For a second he thought, she's just overreacting because she's led such a sheltered life. Then he remembered she just mentioned invisible horses and that he'd led a pretty sheltered life too.

41 Parker Fitzgerald Invisible horses? 1402 Parker Fitzgerald 0 5

Dorian

August 16, 2017 11:20 PM

Lucky you by Dorian

"Oh, I am sorry for misunderstanding," Dorian apologised. "My English is terrible," this was a conclusion he had been forced to reach in the past ten minutes. Prior to disembarking the wagon, he would have said his English was passable, maybe even quite good - he was certainly the best speaker out of his siblings, but he was rapidly realising how little that counted for when thrown in amongst native speakers. Whilst he was, somewhere in the back of his mind, relieved that he was not having to deal with someone recently bereaved, this was largely eclipsed by his acute embarrassment at having misunderstood. Whilst only a slight blush coloured his cheeks, the remainder of his expression conveyed the emotion very clearly.

Dorian enjoyed good stories though. He prefered to read them, or to see them on stage, than to invent them himself, but now that Jehan had explained his comment, he didn't find it the least bit odd, and was indeed quite enthusiastic about the general subject.

"Perhaps I was thinking a similar thing?" he asked, phrasing it as a question because he didn't quite trust his interpretation of the conversation. "That maybe I cannot talk well to people here. Though for me, this is more the real worry than the story," he added sadly. He frowned slightly. "My explanation does not join up as well as I would like," he added. He felt like what he had said had missed a step somehow, but as he couldn't identify what it was, he could only acknowledge that he knew something was missing.

He was encouraged to know that Jehan had French family and spoke some of the language, although from the way he phrased it, they were not going to do better at sharing their deeper feelings by switching language. Still, perhaps Jehan would be interested to practise, and then Dorian would feel less horrible about asking for help with his hideous English because then he'd have something to offer in return. He was going to suggest this when Jehan took the conversation off on a different tangent.

"I think not," he searched his memory for the author mentioned. "He is the Muggle?" he queried, taking the fact he hadn't heard of him alongside Jehan's lack of a formal introduction. Literature was a strange area, with almost everyone disagreeing, or having their own personal version of 'acceptable.' Some Muggle authors readily made most people's cut for their brilliance, some with a Muggle section to their work had really been wizards dabbling in both worlds to increase their audience (opinions again varying on whether this 'tainted' them), whilst others with little known about their biographies were fiercely argued over by academics as to which group they belonged to. There stood next to this, if course, plenty of unambiguously wizarding literature. Perhaps Baudelaire would have made it onto Dorian's curriculum at some point with 'Le Vampire,' but his tutors had not deemed that appropriate thus far, either because of the author's questionable blood status or the poem's more mature themes.

He named a couple of authors he had enjoyed in French to see whether they rang any bells with Jehan, although having not recognised Baudelaire's name he had not made the conversational leap from prose to poetry, and so stuck with the former, even though the latter was something he enjoyed reading very much.

"In English, our tutor gives us the more modern work for the language to be more easy for us," he added, naming some works they had recently studied. Judging by this, their tutor regarded 'modern' as works produced up to around 1920.

"At the moment, I read the history of Serpentina. She is the Ancient Greek lady who is speaking Parseltongue, and many people are treating her differently. Sometimes she is loved and worship. Sometimes she is regard as evil," he explained, his tenses slipping a little as he got excited about the subject. "I enjoy this very much at the moment because for the birthday of my sister, we go to see 'Melody.' It is the musical show about a girl who can speaking Parseltongue, and it makes the very interesting subject to see how people are reacting to this," he explained, trying to make his interest sound like it was more vested in the story and the reading around this he could do, and not mentioning that the soundtrack was also simply breathtaking and that he and Émi had spent most of the summer singing it, draped in spangly fabric and him with a wig on. He had learnt that it was this sort of behaviour that tended to make people want to beat him up, if Matthieu was anything to go by. Being interested in stories and history was also dangerously nerdy but as Jehan had started a conversation about books, that part was probably safe territory. Admitting that he loved to sing and dance probably was not.

OOC: my explanation of wizards' treatment of Muggle literature follows on from discussion with Jehan's author. Whilst there is presumably a whole wizard canon, some authors prefer to reference Muggle work for ease, and have the head canon that there may be large cross overs. This was an attempt to explain Dorian's ignorance of the subject whilst leaving it as open as possible for everyone else. I may also start working on a wizard literary canon, if anyone wants to help. This will mostly be taking descriptions of Muggle authors and the main themes occurring in their works and then applying wizardly edits and new names. E.g. Oscar Wilde equivalent is either a half blood or disenfranchised society type who writes satirical pieces mocking society. Not widely read by Purebloods as it might give their children Ideas.

13 Dorian Lucky you 1401 Dorian 0 5

Gary Harper

August 17, 2017 5:52 PM

Sugar is good. by Gary Harper

Gary was grinning like a fool when the flying wagons landed on the school grounds. That ride was awesome! He'd never really though about what kind of magical transportation wizards would use. Teleportation sure when the resources were available, that was a no-brainer, but they had to have something other than that, why not flying wagons? The stocky boy stood and stretched his legs before pulling his haversack onto his back. He started to lift his trunk, but the man who had accompanied them on the wagons told him to leave it for the elves.

Elves? Right, the information page had said that there were 'prairie elves' that did much of the work around the school. He knew all about High Elves, Wood Elves, Dark Elves, and may other variants, but Prairie Elves was not a classification he was familiar with. The boy wondered for a brief moment what they were like, since none of the other groups he was familiar with were likely to help out with 'menial labor' without darn good cause. He shrugged and hopped down from the wagon, his pack jostling on his back. He'd meet them eventually and find out, for now the man was herding all of the first year students into the huge labyrinth Gary had spotted from overhead. This was going to be great!

It wasn't that great. There were signs pointing the way, and people standing at intersections to make sure he and the others made it to their destination. They had a huge labyrinth to do an initial test on the students right away to see what each one was made of, and they didn't use it? Strange. Perhaps there was some sort of deeper test going on here, he'd definitely need to stay alert. He was alert enough to spot the large welcome sign, and the tables of food and drink. "What sort of game are they playing here?" he wondered to himself.

The other kids were milling about, getting food and drinks. Another adult was encouraging them to do so. Alright, time to figure out this test, he walked up to the food table and carefully examined its contents. There was a wide range of variety and there didn't seem to be any immediately apparent pattern. Cupcakes, doughnuts, and cookies lay scattered among vegetables, sandwiches, and fruit. He had to hand it to them, they had hidden this test well under the disguise of a welcoming party. He'd expect no less from them though. What was the test? The other students were taking things without to much thought, the majority seemed to be selecting sweets over the healthy foods.

Perhaps part of the test was how long it took to take the test. When that thought struck, he decided on balance being the safest route. Gary picked up one of the little sandwiches and a creme doughnut, then wandered away from the table to see if he could observe any results of his selection. None of the adults seemed to be paying much attention to him directly, or any of the other kids for that matter. The evaluators must be scrying from afar. He ate the sandwich and picked up a cup of water from the drink table, that choice had been fairly easy, when the man from the wagons called for their attention and began speaking.

Gary almost spit out his water when the man introduced himself, but he caught himself. That may have been planned to weed out those who had read to many comic books. Still, he wondered if the professor's first name was Charles. He listened attentively, and only when it was mentioned did he notice the table of reading material. Nuts! How could he have missed that!? That was going to count against him. Well, he'd have to wander over casually later and pick them up. Try to make it look like he had known they were there and was just getting around the them now. Hopefully his bluff skill was up for that.

Gary noticed that the professor didn't list a 'gaming club', maybe he'd have to start one. He'd read about the houses in the brochure, it seemed like an odd way to run a school, but if it works, it works. Dad had guessed that Gary would wind up in either Pecari or Aladren, Gary said it hadn't really mattered to him. Then the professor told them to mingle.

That wasn't going to happen, he didn't know anyone here. Nobody. Something about that thought hit home, it pierced through his previous mindset and he looked around the garden again as if for the first time. There were lush green plants growing in the middle of the desert, kids of all types starting to mill about aimlessly, a few adults supervised, there was a fountain, a table of food and drink and a welcome banner. It looked so normal, but was completely foreign and bizarre. To top it off, there was no one around that he knew. What was he doing here? A wave of panic washed over him. He had rode here in a flying wagon, and according to the speech he had just heard from Professor X, he was going to learn how to cast charms, mix potions and fly on a broom! Was he actually going crazy?

A quiet voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to reign it in, get it under control. Still he glanced around wildly in all directions searching for a familiar face, a familiar anything. Then he saw his mother and that halted him in his tracks. With the momentary break in the negative feedback loop, the voice in his head solidly took control again. Reason had returned once more and it had something to investigate. Gary quickly composed himself once again, hoping the wizards wouldn't count the momentary panic against him to harshly, as he examined the girl.

Obviously she wasn't his mother. She was the same age as him and alive, but the likeness was incredible. It was mainly the hair, and maybe the nose. Her profile had been the thing he'd noticed. Her eyes were completely different and the more he examined the less similarities he actually saw. Perhaps it had just been a valiant attempt by his subconscious to break him out of the panic state. Regardless, they were supposed to mingle, another test perhaps to evaluate cooperation skills. She was as good as anybody else around here that he didn't... He quelled the thought as he could feel the panic begin to rise again.

Casually, he strolled over to the table holding the schedules first and picked up a folder. He opened it, doing his best to look bored at the contents, and moved towards the girl. The thing right inside the folder was the schedule, so without really looking at her he asked in her general direction, "So, what do you think of these classes?"

When she turned and introduced herself, he mentally kicked himself and dropped his presumed test scores again. Of course you start with introductions. No time like the present to make up for it though. "Nice to meet you Tatiana. My name's Gary, Gary Harper." He should really say something else, and he wasn't sure if she had caught his question about the classes, so he couldn't ask that again. "Are you from around these parts?" Then he once again mentally kicked himself because they're in the middle of the desert and no one was from 'these parts' except the teachers maybe and some wildlife.

2 Gary Harper Sugar is good. 1404 Gary Harper 0 5

Tatiana

August 17, 2017 11:44 PM

I'm glad you agree. by Tatiana

Tatiana tried to work out if this one had a patronymic or not. She finally decided it didn’t much matter. They were both children, which meant it was acceptable for them to call each other ‘Tatiana’ and ‘Gar-ee.’ Papa said being old enough to go to school meant she was old enough not to automatically allow people to call her Tanya or Tatya, though, so she would have to get to know these people better before she gave them permission….

It occurred to her, belatedly, that she didn’t even know if Americans used names the way she did. She knew they had no patronymics, but did they really use their full names all the time? What would such names as she’d heard today even reduce to?

She was distracted from this worry, however, by puzzlement over what Gary said. She frowned, trying to parse it and failing. “These parts?” she repeated. “What parts?” Parts were what her diamond earrings were, fractions. She was not around any parts that she could see…at least not that made sense in the question, anyway, she thought, looking around. She was one of the parts of the class, there were parts of plants and rocks around, and of course all the people and their things and everything else was made up of parts, but of course she was around those. All the parts were around each other, including him. She had a feeling she was missing something, some definition of the word ‘parts’ that Anton Petrovich had never taught her.

16 Tatiana I'm glad you agree. 1396 Tatiana 0 5

Gary Harper

August 19, 2017 8:23 AM

Rumors abound about the perils of excess though by Gary Harper

Tatiana's response gave Gary pause for a moment, then he remembered the part of the professor's speech about language assistance for those not fluent in English. Maybe Tatiana wasn't a native English speaker. Maybe he could salvage that question after all, without sounding like a complete fool. "Sorry," he began considering his approach. "I'm from Illinois, a little outside the city of Chicago. Where are you from?"

Something about the question didn't quite sound right as he said it. It was a bit blunt, maybe? What if she didn't want to tell him for some reason? What if she took offense? He sighed internally, why was charisma his dump stat? Well, according to the people that decided he needed to be here, he was a wizard, not a sorcerer.

2 Gary Harper Rumors abound about the perils of excess though 1404 Gary Harper 0 5

Jasmine

August 19, 2017 6:16 PM

Yes, of course, an invisible horse! by Jasmine

Jasmine smiled fondly in remembrance, "Well, the first time, I was probably only three or four, so Mom rode behind me to make sure I didn't fall off. Honestly, I don't remember not riding Flossie, so I don't recall the learning process, exactly. She was a yearling, too, so she was smaller at the time." Jasmine shrugged. "It's not too different from riding a muggle horse, if you've done that. Just bigger and higher in the air."

In response to his question about the brooms being like bikes though, she just shook her head in uncertainty. "That assumes I know I how to ride a bike. We have winged horses on our ranch. I've never bothered with either. And if I need to go into the muggle town, I take a muggle horse or Mom drives. She's muggleborn," she added as an afterthought, to explain why her entirely magical immediate family even bothered with muggles. Though, she had mentioned Dumbo already, so she guessed Parker had already figured out she had some kind of contact with that side of the world.

"Anyway, I'm good at riding large living things, but brooms and bikes don't have their own brains to handle things I don't specify or notice, and they can't be bribed with apples. And they're so skinny! I'm just nervous I'll fall right off and look like an idiot."

1 Jasmine Yes, of course, an invisible horse! 1397 Jasmine 0 5

Tatiana

August 19, 2017 6:23 PM

Eh, you only live once. by Tatiana

The second iteration of Gary’s question made more sense. Tatiana filed away this new meaning of parts - shorthand for ‘parts of the country’. She nodded her understanding.

“I come from Alaska,” said Tatiana. “From Volshebnaya Derevnya - wizard-village,” she added, though it felt strange to translate the name of a place. Things had names and those were their names, but English-speakers were peculiar and seemed to like to change them, as they had changed her family name on the paperwork. “We talk in Russian there, so - “ bah, English plurals - “it is real name is Volshebnaya Derevnya.”

She looked at the foods Gary had with him and pointed to the pastry he had that looked like the pastry she had eaten before Professor had spoken to them. “Those are good,” she informed him. “Better at home, though. We call them there ponchiki. What you say here?”

At home, Mama scolded Tatiana for asking people too many questions and seeming undignified at social occasions, but this was school and school was like lessons, where she was supposed to ask questions to understand things better. She could be a brilliant society hostess who was always in control of every conversation she was in later. Right now, she just had to communicate at all.

16 Tatiana Eh, you only live once. 1396 Tatiana 0 5

Jehan

August 20, 2017 8:01 AM

Lucky you, it sounds like! by Jehan

“No, I quite like your English,” reassured Jehan, not wanting Dorian to think badly of his language abilities. After all, people often said that Jehan didn’t always make much sense (even if Jehan himself thought the opposite), and he felt sorry for the other boy, having to talk to Jehan straight away.

He frowned as Dorian suggested that he may undergo a similar thing. No, two people of dying of loneliness wouldn’t work, unless perhaps they were star-crossed lovers and there was a huge and fatal misunderstanding. Unfortunately, suggesting such a thing upon first meeting another person probably wasn’t the done thing. It would make the whole story awfully contrived, too, which would remove all the drama and tragedy from it.

“My mother always says that I make no sense,” he offered, not wanting Dorian to feel embarrassed by his apparently unsatisfactory explanation. “I find that things sometimes work better in my head than out loud. Some thoughts are complicated to say.”

That still didn’t really solve Dorian’s problem, though, and after a moment Jehan came up with the answer. “You could always switch to French, when you need to,” he suggested, brightening. “I can’t promise I’ll understand everything, but at least you won’t be left with words you haven’t been able to say.” Jehan knew that it could be frustrating, wanting to say something but not being able to say it. Victor always told him to keep quiet when around guests or their parents, because he had a habit of confusing people, or saying things that annoyed Father. He found it hard, but he knew that Victor was just trying to help him.

And here was a prime example of why Victor was right. “Yes, he’s muggle,” replied Jehan quietly and a little apprehensively. Mother didn’t really like him reading Muggle authors, even the old ones. Dorian probably knew it was Not Allowed too, and Jehan was about to lose his first friend here. Well, he didn’t really want to be friends with someone if they scorned Baudelaire just because he was a muggle, but it would be a shame to have driven someone off already. Roll on the tragic death, and quickly, please.

But Dorian kept talking, and Jehan recognised a couple of names that he mentioned. They weren’t poets, but he’d have plenty of time during the school year to introduce Dorian to that side of literature. No need to worry about it now. Then Dorian started getting very enthusiastic about musical theatre, and Jehan very much wanted to keep him. Not only did the other boy like reading, it was also cute how enthusiastic he was, and Jehan liked cute things.

“Oh! I wanted to see that, but Father said it wasn’t a good idea to encourage me,” said Jehan, jealous of Dorian, even if he wasn’t sure whether the other boy was talking about a trip in the past or the future. “Have you seen it yet, or are you going to see it during the holidays? I bet the costumes are glorious. Do you think a story is more romantic with music or without?”

He paused, realising that was rather a barrage of questions, and not wanting to overwhelm Dorian and his English. Jehan just couldn’t help it, sometimes; his brain came up with one thought and then that quickly led onto something else, and he just had to get everything out.

9 Jehan Lucky you, it sounds like! 1398 Jehan 0 5

Dorian

August 21, 2017 6:35 AM

I'm starting to feel that way by Dorian

Jehan liked his English. Dorian was not quite sure whether this was just a way of saying that his English was fine, or whether it meant something else -that there was something special and different about the version of English that he was speaking, which Jehan found somehow enjoyable.

"Thank you," he replied. Whilst he didn't want his English to be especially individual and noteworthy, unless it was for composing beautiful works of verse with exceptional depth of feeling (something he was quite certain he was a long way off), he still recognised that Jehan was giving him a compliment, and the gracious thing was to accept it, not to ask for clarification.

"They are," he agreed, when Jehan stated that some thoughts were hard to explain. "I think this happens to everyone. You are making sense to me, when I don't get confuse anyway," he added, and was then forced to laugh slightly at the absurdity of what he had just said. "Here is the example. This makes sense clearly to me before I say but maybe it sound strange. I mean, when I can know and follow your words, your ideas are making sense to me. Only when I get confuse by the word I don't know then we have the problem. But not with the thoughts themselves. They are the good thoughts."

When Jehan suggested that he spoke in French so his feelings and thoughts were not going unvoiced, he found hinself st a loss. For a moment, he didn't think he could think of any words, in any language to express what that idea meant to him. Other than Émilie, he had never found someone who wanted to know what he was feeling, or who cared so much about the act and the importance of expressing his emotions.

"Thank you," he said, although it was obviously said with much more heartfelt feeling than his previous thanks. "That is maybe the nicest thing someone is ever offering me," he added. He wished he could hug Jehan, but he was fairly sure that a spontaneous display of affection to a virtual stranger would get him some strange looks and unwanted attention.

Jehan then brought the conversation back to the writer. Dorian was so focussed on what the other boy was saying that some of how he said it passed him by. He didn't pick up the drop in tone as Jehan admitted to reading Muggle fiction. Especially as Jehan had not introduced himself in the society fashion, so Dorian already assumed him to have some Muggle heritage.

"Wait, are you reading him in French or in English?" was the more pressing question that now occurred to him. "If you are reading the novels in French, I think you know it better than you suggest."

He had thought that Jehan might be interested in his reading material, and at best hoped he would largely ignore the source that had started Dorian off on that tack. He felt as if someone had hit him with a stunning spell when Jehan became enthusiastic about the subject of the musical itself. Although, sadly, before he could get into his stride with the subject, Dorian was lost again.

"He is not wanting to encouraging you?" He wasn't sure whether the question he was trying to ask was 'why' or 'with what' or to just have the phrase explained in case it had an idiomatic meaning, which it might. He knew that generally parents did encourage their children, but also that Jehan hadn't expressed any particular goal other than seeing the musical, with which he certainly didn't seem to need encouraging but which seemed a harmless enough wish. He returned the phrase as a question for clarification. Answering the other boy's questions was easier though.

"We did saw already," he clarified, mentally kicking himself for forgetting his tenses the first time, which he supposed he must have done. "The costume are not the most exciting part because a lot of it is set in the school. But there is a scene with the masquerade party... It is beautiful and ugly together. The mask and the outfit look very nice, but the song is about hiding what you feel, what you are, so it is the very negative symbol and sad part of the story. There is the very nice dress at the end also.

"Absolutely it is better with the music!" he enthused, scarce believing he was being given permission to wax lyrical on such a subject. "And not just the romantic but all the feeling. Sometimes when you read the song or an idea on the paper, it seems not so much. Its meaning can seem simple, but when the music is there it is a more complex expression, and so it can express a feeling more better than words alone. Also, if you cannot catch all of the words in a story, you can know straight away how the person is feeling because of the music - he is happy, her heart is breaking. You do think so too?" he checked.

13 Dorian I'm starting to feel that way 1401 Dorian 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

August 22, 2017 1:07 PM

Everyone looks like an idiot by Parker Fitzgerald

Parker was a bit spell bound. Stories of horses flying, and this seemed so mundane to the Jasmine.
He paused when she mentioned not knowing how to ride a bike. He had never thought that the people around him might not know how to do things that he knew, he just had assumed that everyone knew what he did, but more. Then she dropped a bombshell, her mom was muggleborn.
Muggle! That was the word he was trying to remember. So it wasn't just him and Sullivan. Parker wondered if there were completely different standards for those who had to live in both worlds. It seemed like it would be far more difficult since some of the rules didn't seem to apply in one or the other from his brief experiences in both.
Parker laughed out loud at Jasmines last comment.
"I'm just imagining me trying to feed a broom an apple to make it go faster," he said still giggling a little.
Then he thought of something and began speaking without knowing where it was going to end.
"Anyways," he continued, "I don't think you have anything to worry about. We all look like idiots sometimes." Parker pointed to his shoes which had stepped in his food to prove the point. "But most of the time, I imagine others are too busy worrying about how they look like idiots to notice me looking like one. You have the added bonus that you can distract them with your smile."
Parker was immediately embarrassed upon saying it, but knew that he meant it as well. When Jasmine smiled, like really smiled not her polite smile, she was quite distracting, and Parker realized immediately that he couldn't get distracted right now as he was still very confused about everything else going on.
"I'm going to go get some more food that I haven't stepped on. It was nice to meet you Jasmine of the California Delachenes. I'll be sure to bring some apples to our first flying lesson in case you need one."
With that Parker turned back to the food table so that he wouldn't be distracted by stories of horses, or smiles.

41 Parker Fitzgerald Everyone looks like an idiot 1402 Parker Fitzgerald 0 5

Jehan

August 23, 2017 10:55 AM

Yes, this is all going very well! by Jehan

Jehan beamed at Dorian as the other boy said that he made sense, and that he had good thoughts. No one had ever said that to Jehan before. His flights of fancy were seen as, at best, amusing, if not considered downright ridiculous. His tutor had often scolded him for having his head in the clouds. Even Victor, who loved him, thought he was a little crazy.

Apparently, he’d also said a Very Nice Thing to Dorian, not that he’d considered the suggestion out of the ordinary. It was simply that Jehan couldn’t think of anything much more important than being able to express what one wanted to express. Plus he quite wanted to hear what Dorian had to express. Whether or not he understood it, he loved the enthusiasm that the other boy was already showing. Dorian’s gratitude and the whole connection they seemed to have going on made Jehan feel happy and a little emotional inside. He rather wanted to hug Dorian, and almost did so, when he realised that it would probably make the other boy feel uncomfortable. Hugs normally seemed to make people uncomfortable, Jehan had found, unless the person in question was Victor, and no one else was around.

Dorian’s next question gave Jehan an idea. “I’ve read his works in English, although I have been trying to read them in French. Maybe we could read together?” he suggested. He knew his French wasn’t too good, but maybe with Dorian around it would improve more quickly, or at least give him the motivation to improve.

“No, Father doesn’t want me to spend all my time on useless things like musicals and poetry,” he explained. “Well, the things he thinks are useless. Apparently I need to prepare myself for society instead of reading and singing.” Jehan wasn’t about to start agreeing with his father on that front. To him, such things were far more important than reputation, and whatever else it was he missed when he zoned out during his father’s lectures. Unlike Victor, he didn’t care about what strangers thought of him, so long as he had people who loved him.
Dorian’s description of the musical made Jehan even more envious of the other boy, and he was determined that he would see it, somehow.

He nodded along with Dorian’s opinion, generally agreeing with the other boy. “Yes, music definitely adds a lot, and it makes things oh so much more beautiful. You can really understand the characters.” He found it hard to describe, but there was just something so amazing about listening to music, and feeling the emotions. “But what about poetry? Poetry can tell some wonderful stories, but it’s not always the same if set to music. Sometimes I read a line, and it’s so beautiful I want to cry, and I can’t imagine it being any other way than just written down in ink.”

9 Jehan Yes, this is all going very well! 1398 Jehan 0 5

Dorian

September 15, 2017 1:48 AM

Then let's keep going by Dorian

"Yes, that will be very good! And I can also read some more harder English with you to help," Dorian nodded, glad that Jehan had brought up the idea of shared language study so that he didn't have to. He was already looking forward to seeing what works Jehan would introduce him to, and thinking of other French authors whom he regarded highly enough to bring for Jehan's perusal.

"But they are not useless!" he protested, when Jehan talked about his father dismissing poetry. "This is the certainty of someone who speaks his language without difficulty. It is my goal to understand poetry, without help. Only then, I can say 'yes, I speak English completely.'And what is more important than expressing properly what is in your soul?" he was sure Jehan had put this agrument across already. He pondered the problem for a moment. "Surely though, even if you take his position that society is the most important, can you not from this tell him that he should find poetry important? To make your way in society well is to give good presentation of yourself. To give good presentation of yourself, you can only do with a brilliant command of words. They make me study this. They call it 'rhetoric' when it is making the good speeches to other people, but all of it requires to be the master of language. So study of poetry is study of language, which is the best preparation for making yourself good in society. There is a Chinese saying," assuming that the same rule applied as it did with French, even though Jehan would definitely not understand this, he quoted the saying in its original form first, before trying to search for the right words to explain it. "It is like... The greatest wizard is the one with the best... Li. The person who write about him? In French, le scribe. Not ecrivain,, not writer... The more old-fashioned one? All is meaning, the words and praise we give of people's deeds are what make the story of their life, not the things that we actually do. Words have power.

"Of course. A song is not just a poem that is... we cannot say 'singed'?" he checked. He knew it was wrong. It sounded wrong. But what did one say? "And the poem is not a song without music. Writing them is different skills."

13 Dorian Then let's keep going 1401 Dorian 0 5