So... on Cascade Hall

W.A.I.L. (and a little bit of Geoffrey S.)

March 08, 2006 9:48 AM

Down with Depravity - Women out of the League by W.A.I.L. (and a little bit of Geoffrey S.)

OOC: Those addressed in this post are: Acting Headmaster Bulla, Coach Fox, Tally Adams, Tyranthia Boyd, Kaylie Brockhert, Morgaine Carey, Lily Collins, Nicoletta Dupree, Tipona Grisandole, Elizabeth Lavine, Chrysanthemum Mathers, Catherine Raines, Izabella Santoro, Violet Springs, Alexandria St Martin, Lila St Martin, Anne Wright and Jennifer Zucchero.

To get the full impact of what has been happening here you might like to also read the initial reaction, the discussion which leads to W.A.I.L., the campaign so far and the post that leads directly to this. If at all in doubt, please take note of the disclaimer in the userinfo. BIC:

Geoffrey had been a little on edge ever since the first letter from his mother had proven to him that she could reach him even here (although not quite so thoroughly as she might have, thanks to Professor Dione), so, when the familiar looking flock of owls started to come into the Cascade Hall, he at once turned pale and ducked under the table, sticking for a moment between his seat and where he wanted to be. He didn't see them flying in perfect formation around the Hall, although he knew that there were capable of doing so from having seen them in training. He shut his eyes and hoped to Merlin that they wouldn't find him there, but, as it happened he needn't have worried quite so much.

The owls were an almost uniform pale grey (each had been chosen in particular for this feature) and each carried a rolled up parchment which was sealed with blue wax and an insignia featuring the letters ‘W’, ‘A’, ‘I’ and ‘L’. They flew three times around the hall at a steady pace, and then one by one dropped out of the formation to deliver their letters to the correct recipients.

First to move down was Blodeuwedd the most senior owl of this group. She took a sharp turn over to the staff table and landed neatly in front of the Acting Headmaster. Another owl followed closely behind, deviating only to land on the table before the Quidditch Coach’s place. Five more dropped, searching out and finding the Aladren students who had been deemed worthy of approach by the letter writer. Seven others left the rapidly dwindling group and approached students from Crotalus. Of the four left, two neatly turned and made for the addressees from Pecari, and then the final owls approached two Teppenpaw girls.

Most of the letter’s followed the same basic formula; they greeted the recipient formally, politely enquired as to their health, and that of their families. Lily Collins' father and stepmother were enquired after while her mother's existance wasn't so much as hinted at. Elizabeth Lavine recieved glowing praise of her brother Brett's recent successes. Jennifer Zucchero had her father asked after, and her mother too, although the later seemed much more formulaic (entirely because Jennifer's mother was foreign and therefore not hugely important in American society except for her marriage alliance). Morgaine Carey was warned to be careful not to follow the disgraceful example of her 'sister'. Anne wright had perhaps the shortest of these, where the introductory paragraph was very brief indeed. Coach Fox's letter congratualated her on her sensible decision to leave the game (Cecilia hadn't really understood much about the situation except that Amelia no longer was a professional Quidditch player), but suggested that she might like to get to the next move - stopping association with anything to do with the game entirely - very soon.

Then the letters got down to business.

I am writing to you in the interests of a return to good values and morals in society. It has utterly disgusted me, and I assume you as well, the way degenerates like Rosaline Penn have been flaunting themselves and their depraved ways in the media, trying to influence young girls to join in their foul practices and to accept their freakish ways as being normal. It seems to me that the only answer is to see an end to girls and women playing sports like Quidditch, leaving them to the men the way things were always meant to be. I ask Sonora Academy to join the fight back. To boycott Quidditch until such time as good sense and sanity return to the world. Is it not bad enough that we have all this trouble with the Muggles without freaks starting to snatch the spotlight as well? Stand up for a return to pureblood ideals! Encourage girls to not participate in Quidditch! Write to the ministry! Write to the Quidditch clubs!

We cannot allow their depravity to win.

Witches Against Immorality in the League\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

Subthreads:

Why did I get one? by Tally Adams with W.A.I.L.

How about 'Down With Anti-Feminist Stupidity' instead? by Anne Wright

A perfectly good morning ruined by Jennifer Zucchero with CHRISSY MATHERS, not Chrysanthemum...

Oh my Oh my... by Izabella with the appearance of Jake

oh, great by Elizabeth Lavine

So shocked I failed to respond and pressed enter by mistake. by Lily

Too early to deal with this... by Amy Fox with Kiva Kijewski

So confused... by Allie St.Martin

So... by Lila St.Martin

Daydreaming by Morgaine Carey

Pre-Christmas days in Cascade Hall will be the death of me. by Catherine Raines

0 W.A.I.L. (and a little bit of Geoffrey S.) Down with Depravity - Women out of the League 0 W.A.I.L. (and a little bit of Geoffrey S.) 1 5

Tally Adams

March 08, 2006 7:09 PM

Why did I get one? by Tally Adams

Tally sat down at the Teppenpaw table as usual. She had been studying like mad recently and had finally gotten around to starting up researching healing magic or medicinal magic as it is often referred to as. She kept herself so busy that she often fell asleep around the commonroom fireplace with an open book on the subject matter and would be woken up during the night by the Prairie elves who went about cleaning the place up.

So, to actually see her in the Great Hall was something of a shock. Food became the least important thing in Tally's life, she usually only came down before or after the meals had formerly begun or ended. Today, however, Tally had overslept and was in a rush to get a million things done and so, didn't worry about what time it was and headed straight to the hall. It was a good thing she did as she received her usual Magical Newspaper as well as a letter from her brother. As she read her letter from her father, Tally failed to notice the strange owls that flocked into the hall. In fact, any disturbances these owls caused were lost on Tally until a rolled up parchment fell from the ceiling straight onto Josh's letter.

"What the-" Tally jumped in her seat and looked around confusedly for someone to explain to her what was going on. She notice then that others were getting the same letters as her. She picked up the letter, "Wail?" She questioned. She had never heard of anything like it. She opened the letter and read through the pleasantries. The letter asked about her brother before going into full about the famous Quidditch player, Rosaline Penn. She was one of Tally's favorites and one of the greatest players they had. Why on Earth would this WAIL group be so against her? And why were they calling her a freak? Tally didn't understand what any of that meant.

She placed the letter aside for the time being and picked up her paper instead. It was there when she made the connection to WAIL. "Oh..." Tally muttered for a moment, unable to quite get her mind to work with her. She had nothing against any of that sort of thing. It didn't affected her in any way possible, so she didn't see the point in worrying about it...but then, why were these women so against it? It wasn't like Quidditch made her that way...was it? No, that was ridiculous...right?

Tally thought long and hard for a moment...she had many friends who were boys, but she had lots of friends who were girls too...she wasn't really interested in boys, but...no, that was a lie, she was interested in boys, but they were far to interested in other girls to notice her. So, then she wasn't possible...she didn't like girls like that

Tally let out a frustrated grunt. What a stupid thing to get a girl all worked up for nothing. Quidditch wasn't some catalyst to make girls like other girls. If that were true, wouldn't it do the same to boys? Tally liked Quidditch, it allowed her to vent her frustrations and she would be damned if she suddenly had to stop playing because a group of middle-aged women living in the stone age were to tell her that she couldn't play because she was a female.

She cruppled up both the WAIL letter and the paper into a tight wad of parchment and threw it down the table. She should have just stayed in her dormitory if she were to receive such rubbish as that.

OOC: I have no idea why Tally was selected for this as her mother was disowned for marrying a muggleborn. But, I suppose what's done is done. I mentioned her brother simply because he is a half blood like her and thought that they may mention him in it.\n\n

6 Tally Adams Why did I get one? 41 Tally Adams 0 5

W.A.I.L.

March 08, 2006 9:41 PM

OOC by W.A.I.L.

Sheer exhaustion? I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure where I got the idea from, but I guess I thought that Tally was a pureblood... don't mind me, I'm going to try sleeping and see if that helps.\n\n

0 W.A.I.L. OOC 0 W.A.I.L. 0 5

Anne Wright

March 08, 2006 9:52 PM

How about 'Down With Anti-Feminist Stupidity' instead? by Anne Wright

Anne was in an uncharacteristically good mood as she slid into the chair next to Geoffrey at the Aladren table, nodding to a few people she recognized as having gone out for the team the previous year and shaking her head in exasperation upon realizing that Geoff was so intent upon his Transfiguration book that he hadn't registered her arrival. She knew for a fact that he didn't have a test, because she'd asked the last time she'd seen him like that, but had given up on trying to convince him that he did not have to kill himself trying to become the best at his worst subject. He wasn't half as bad as some of the people in her year, but being better than someone was not and never had been enough to keep Geoff satisfied. He had to be better than anyone.

The formatted entrance of about fifteen or twenty near-identical owls was sufficiently unusual to halt her midway through serving herself from the dishes spread in front of her, watching their progress for a moment before shrugging and going back to her food. Nothing to do with her. Now that Geoffrey was at Sonora, she never got any mail; Helena and Lavinia found it more convenient to send most of their greetings to her in letters to their brother. The family had yet to try to establish contact, a development that left her feeling both relieved and as if she were being lulled into a false sense of security. Her grandmother's bus might not have been entirely on the highway anymore, but Eileen St.Martin was still a sneaky, manipulative, backstabbing pureblood idiot, and her stepchildren were worse.

She had no more than begun to eat when one of the gray owls landed squarely in front of her. "Geoff, I think you've got mail," she said loudly, to pull his attention out of his book, before realizing that every single owl, with the exception of the one delivering a letter to Bulla, was destined for or in front of a girl. Unless there was something going on that she didn't know about, Geoff didn't fit that requirement. "Sorry," she said, more quietly. "I think it might be mine." Geoffrey shook his head and shut the book hard enough that the resulting crack made a nervous-looking fifth year jump.

"I can't work," he muttered tersely, then looked at the (probably irritated) owl with something like curiosity. "Who'd be writing to you, anyway?"

"No idea," she said promptly, taking the letter as carefully as she could and managing not to get any scratches or pecks. She raised an eyebrow at the acronym, then locked eyes with Geoffrey just long enough to determine that he had no more of a clue what this was about than she did. "Cheerful sounding bunch, aren't they?" Breaking the seal with a shrug, she proceeded to the letter.

The opening paragraph was enough to make her want to smash something properly, but she restrained herself. There was an entire table full of teachers watching. She'd get in trouble for that. The snooty-sounding introduction, the sickeningly fake inquiries about her health, the vague and extremely brief allusion to her grandmother's...the whole thing reeked of pureblood politics. The only reason she hadn't torn it to pieces was because the writer, whoever she was, hadn't had the gall to ask about the surviving donator to her genetic code. That would have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but John Wright was a complete nonentity in the pureblood world, as was his entire family. The only reason these crybaby people had decided to get all chummy with her was because the St.Martins had found it in their hearts to take her in.

Geoffrey suddenly swore under his breath. "Wright, don't read the second paragraph." It was only then she realized he'd been reading over her shoulder; she'd worked herself into a borderline-furious oblivion. "I'm serious, Anne. Don't. You'll freak and do something stupid, and then I'll have to fish you out of it. It's too early in the morning."

"I'm a big girl, Jeffie," she snapped, already wanting to, as he so eloquently put it, 'freak and do something stupid'. "I can take them tossing mud at Mama and the person formerly known as my father." That was what it had to be. Some pureblood association warning her of the consequences of following in Mary and John's unfortunate footsteps. Dodging her friend's attempt to take the missive from her, she read on and found herself rendered temporarily speechless.

She'd heard of Rosaline Penn, but her source made her rather favorably disposed towards the woman. The Aunts had had a field day with the news that she was, apparently, having an affair with another woman, and would bring it up any time there was little newer gossip to dissect. She'd been caught off-guard in the garden several times over the summer by them and reduced to hiding in the rosebushes listening to them trashing any and everyone, ranging from nonentities like herself to Rosaline Penn to the President. What, though, a Quidditch player being a lesbian had to do with an effort to undo the progress the witch's rights movement had made in the past century or so was incomprehensible to her. The worst part was that it was women writing it, or at least naming it.

The subject was never one Anne had thought much about. Her mother had been the quiet dominator of her marriage, and the St.Martin women were every bit as nasty as their menfolk, so she'd never been given a reason to think about it. Now that it had come to her, though, she was beginning to feel increasingly worked up about it. The last time she'd checked, she was a girl, captain of the Aladren Quidditch team, and as horribly suited to a standard pureblood marriage as anyone she had ever met, never mind motherhood. What kind of woman in her right mind would actually support something like this? "What kind of whacked-out nutjob - " she began indignantly to Geoffrey, then shook her head violently. The look on his face said he was more than relieved that she'd stopped talking. He wasn't going to stay calm long, though.

"Whose idea of a sick joke is this?" she asked loudly. "Dunno about all the others who got this load of crud delivered to 'em, but I'm not finding it very funny. Offensive's sort of what I'm thinking, but it's a little too undescriptive..."

"Anne," Geoffrey hissed, looking alarmed. "For God's sake - "

"Shut up!" she barked. "Just shut up!" Geoffrey looked as startled as if she'd slapped him. She was finding it hard to care. "I'm sick of these people. I'm sick and tired of their stupid rules and their stupid parties and their stupid viewpoints. I'm sick of it!" She threw the letter down onto the table. "They never put a lid on it, none of them. You ever really listen to Mama and Mark talking, Geoff, when she was still alive? That whole world's a bunch of whack jobs. Wait, I forgot, you've got some kind of sick thing for it, don't you? Well, you can forget about it if you're expecting to marry me and have passel of brats."

"Never asked you to, Wright," Geoffrey said, looking angry himself. "It's all in your head, Anne, I don't know why -" he stopped. "Yeah, I do. I know what it's about. Your pa - " A pitcher of orange juice suddenly exploded. Anne wanted to break it again out of sheer frustration. She still couldn't control it when she got angry...and she was still angry...

"This has nothing to do with me! These people think they've got a right to tell me and all these other girls how to live our lives, and they don't!" She threw a napkin at the spilled juice. "I don't care what they say, they don't. Help me mop this up, I have to be in Charms in ten minutes." \n\n

16 Anne Wright How about 'Down With Anti-Feminist Stupidity' instead? 59 Anne Wright 0 5

Jennifer Zucchero

March 08, 2006 11:36 PM

A perfectly good morning ruined by Jennifer Zucchero

Jennifer had felt pretty stressed out over the past few weeks. She wasn’t sure why exactly, since it wasn’t entirely coursework that was keeping her up, while that was a major problem. Third year just seemed so much harder than second or first had, even though it was entirely illogical. The only way she could explain it was that, at the beginning of the year, an entirely new aspect of life had been thrown in. Guy/girl things always made everything more complicated.

Firmly deciding to push that from her mind, she sat down at the Crotalus table, but didn’t bother getting food, instead folding her arms in front of her and resting her head on them, fondly recalling how five minutes before she had been lying in bed dozing. A firm peck on her head recalled her from that fantasy, and she looked into the eyes of her mother’s owl, who always seemed like a mini version of her mother. After another firm peck, the barn owl deposited a letter and flew off, narrowly missing colliding with a true flock of owls entering the room.

After giving them a fast glance, she concluded that she really didn’t care, and so opened her mother’s letter. For a piece of correspondence written by Christine Noire, it really wasn’t all that bad. There was no badmouthing of her father’s influence (making friends with Liz, Chrissy, and the others had ensured her mother’s relative happiness). Nor was there any mention of returning to England for midyear or the summer, a topic that she also really didn’t want to think about. Her mother’s main concern in this particular dispatch was boys.

And what did you expect? she thought to herself as she crumpled the letter, filled with not-so-subtle hints about mothers who would just love to introduce her to their sons. This is her job as a Pureblood mother. This is what she’s been living for ever since you were born.

She conveniently ignored the last section of the letter, asking about any potential boys here at Sonora. Yeah, she had friends who were boys, Stephen, Jake, T.J, Earl, etc., but she wasn’t interested in any of them like that (She also conveniently ignored any and all thoughts that she had had upon seeing Jake at the beginning of the year. Yes, he may be really cute and really nice, but he was also her friend, and that meant certain things couldn’t happen. Besides, she was still entirely too shy to ever actually say anything non-platonic to him, so it didn’t matter in the least.)

She was distracted from her first letter by another appearing on her plate. It appeared that the owls had broken off from the pack to deliver individual messages, and she was one of the recipients. She didn’t recognize the owl or the handwriting, and so gave the envelope a quizzical stare as she pried it open.

It seemed standard enough in the beginning, what you would get from a distant relative, or something. However, after the required questions about her parents, the letter took on a different tone. Jennifer’s jaw dropped as she read the last few paragraphs. Was this organization out of its mind? Did they really think that the girls here would go for that?

Maybe some of the more uptight girls in Crotalus, but not most people. And Jennifer was quidditch captain. Ther was no way she was going to stop playing, and if anyone tried to make her…well, then there would be a serious problem. She wasn’t sure quite what Rosaline Penn had done to upset this organization, but whatever it was, there was no need for this blatant sexism. It was enough to make one want to hurl.

Her dad had spent years teaching her how to mask her emotions. It had become second nature to her now. It said a great deal about Jennifer’s emotional state, and the intensity of her anger, when the mask slipped away to reveal one enraged thirteen year old girl. She looked down at her plate, still completely barren of food, and decided that she probably wasn’t going to be eating very much this morning.

She looked around for Chrissy or Lily, desperately wanting someone to talk to about this, but neither of them was in sight. She sighed, pushed back her chair, and got up. She wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by people who would without a doubt approve of this action, and she wanted to find one of her quidditch playing friends. Either that, or just be allowed to be alone and think about things. Since she also didn’t want to leave Cascade, since she had a feeling things were only going to be getting more interesting, Jennifer headed over to a section of the wall that could partially hide someone standing by it, and leaned back against it.

If someone noticed her and decided to come talk, that would be fine. If nobody spied her, and she was left alone, that would be fine too. It would be a shame if she had to bash in someone’s head because they didn’t recognize the anger so early in the morning.
\n\n

0 Jennifer Zucchero A perfectly good morning ruined 48 Jennifer Zucchero 0 5

Izabella with the appearance of Jake

March 11, 2006 4:27 PM

Oh my Oh my... by Izabella with the appearance of Jake

Bella Santoro was and will always be a morning person. She felt that if she slept in too late, she wouldn't have enough time to do everything on her pre-made 'To Do' List. Of course, her family never let her live it down, always telling her if she didn't get her nose out of her books, she would miss everything around her. This was something Bella chose to ignore. She knew the world around her, she often found herself observing instead of reading. People amused her.

So, today, Bella sat down at the Aladren table with a book in hand. She opened it to her marked spot and kept it open as she started eating, except, her eyes weren't on the book, but rather, on everyone else. Bella had a diary where she liked to write down what she observed for the day. Sometimes at the end of the week, she would look back on her notes and be surprised by all the things she had forgotten about. One day, she hoped to write a book about it all.

Bella noticed the strange flock of owls almost immediately. She watched them with interest as they flew around for a few moments before soaring down to deliver their messages. Surprise registered on her face when one of the owls flew to her and dropped the letter in front of her. She stared at the owl for a few seconds trying to deliberate whether or not he had her mistaken for someone else, but when the owl took off again, Bella looked down to discover her name written across the parchment in unfamiliar handwriting. "W.A.I.L?" She had never heard of it. Quickly breaking the seal, Bella went to reading.

Jake had entered the hall shortly after breakfast had begun. His dark hair (still growing longer as he refused to get it cut) was sticking up oddly about his head and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had stayed up much of the night trying to think of good Quidditch strategies for the game next term. He had no time for practice and felt wary of the new team. But, he had faith in them all the same.

As he sat down, the strange owls started to fly around the hall delivering mail to people. Jake watched in curiosity as a few of the owls landed in front of some of his friends...and his little sister. Intrigued, Jake tried without success to read his neighbor's letter and decided to go to the one girl who couldn't win against him.

"Hey Izzy, what's that?" Jake asked, plopping down beside his sister.

"A letter." She said irritably. She couldn't believe what she was reading. What did it all mean? What had Rosaline Penn done to get an organization against her and all the other women in the Quidditch league?

"I see that, but what sort of letter? I mean, everyone seems to have gotten one. What does it say?" Jake pressed.

"Mind your business, Jake. If you were to have gotten one, you would have. Besides, it's for girls." Bella said, slapping the letter down on the table. She was so confused by it all. Morals and values? Flaunting? Foul practices? Freakish ways? Bella couldn't piece it all together. During Bella's internal sturggle, Jake had gotten ahold of her letter and started to read it. The first part was asking about the family, strange, almost like they were family friends, but the last part of the letter caught Jake off guard.

"What have they got against Rosaline Penn?" Jake asked his sister, who only shrugged in response, her mind still reeling. "I mean, sure she likes girls, but that isn't because she's a Quidditch player, that's just who she is."

"She likes girls?" Bella asked in surprise, looking at her brother.

"Yeah, didn't you know?" Jake asked, smiling at the look on Bella's face. She looked both disgusted and surprised. Bella shook her head in reply. "You know, for someone who reads a lot, you sure miss a lot." Jake teased. "This is rubbish, throw it away." Jake said, giving the letter back to Bella.

"Jake, is it true?"

"Hm?"

"Can Quidditch...I mean, does Quidditch make a girl...like other girls?" Jake sat there for a moment looking at Bella. She was a smart girl, but she was also very naive and dense at times.

"If that were true, then us boys would be in trouble." Jake said after a moment. "¿Bella, usted ama Quidditch, verdad? ¿Le gustan muchachas?" Bella shrugged.

"Me gustan muchachas, pero no de esa manera."

"There you go. You don't have anything to worry about. Besides, if Quidditch did that to people, then us boys would like boys, right? And, I like girls, so, I think these women are just confused. Old-fashioned and dumb. Don't worry about it so much." Jake smiled and messed up his sister's hair. Jake stood, and turned to go back to his seat.

"Gracias, Jake"

"De nada." He said with a wave of his hand before reaching his table and returning to his food. Jake was right, there was nothing to be worried about. Bella liked Quidditch and she didn't want to give it up. Still...she worried about how her mother would take all this.

OOC: Translations

¿Bella, usted ama Quidditch, verdad? ¿Le gustan muchachas? =
"Bella, you love Quidditch, right? Do you like girls?"

Me gustan muchachas, pero no de esa manera. =
"I like girls, but not in that way."

Gracias, Jake =
Thank you, Jake

De Nada =
You're welcome\n\n

6 Izabella with the appearance of Jake Oh my Oh my... 42 Izabella with the appearance of Jake 0 5

CHRISSY MATHERS, not Chrysanthemum...

March 12, 2006 4:06 PM

Oh joy, something else my mother can bother me with. by CHRISSY MATHERS, not Chrysanthemum...

Chrissy had slept in...again. It was a newly formed habit that she really had to get out of. If this continued, she'd sleep right through her classes and then the owls from her mother would surely come flying in one after the other with no end in sight. When she entered the hall, her short body gave a long stretch for a pause as she looked for a place to sit. She spotted a empty seat at her table and headed over to it.

As she sat down, a letter dropped from the ceiling onto her empty plate. She looked up confusedly for a moment and spotted a strange owl flying away. Looking back down at the rolled up parchment, Chrissy wondered briefly if her mother could read her mind and knew she was about to stuff her face with pancakes. But the writing on the letter wasn't one she was familiar with, so she thought it safe to pick out some nice giant sized pancakes and pour a decent amount of maple syrup upon them. As she took her first bite of her breakfast (her mother's voice echoing painfully in her mind of how fat she'd be if she continued) Chrissy unrolled the parchment and began to read it through slowly.

The first part of the letter made her eyes roll heavenword. Anyone who asked how her parents were could stuff it in Chrissy opinion and anyone who called her Chrysanthemum didn't deserve her respect. What a horrible name she was cursed with...went right well with her life as it was. However, the second half of the letter caught her attention...for a brief moment at least.

Chrissy enjoyed Quidditch, so, she would never give it up even if it did make her a lesbian. Boys didn't seem interested in her anyway, so why should she care? Of course, this was the exact sort of club her mother would join just to spite Chrissy and make her life absolutely miserable. Oh the joy it would bring Chrissy is she were to tell her mother she played Quidditch so much it turned her towards women. That'll give the old hag a good choke. That vision alone brought a snort out of Chrissy as she imagined the look of horror on her mother's face. Oh, what a splendid moment that would be.

Chrissy sighed and looked back around the hall to see what everyone else was doing. Most didn't seem all that effected by the letters, so maybe it wasn't such a big deal. She spotted Jennifer standing off alone and gave her a smile and a wave. Did she get a letter? Heh, who knew. The whole thing made Chrissy want to laugh, but she had her own personal reasons for that, the situation with Rosaline Penn, well, Chrissy could care less for that.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

0 CHRISSY MATHERS, not Chrysanthemum... Oh joy, something else my mother can bother me with. 0 CHRISSY MATHERS, not Chrysanthemum... 0 5

Elizabeth Lavine

March 14, 2006 5:15 PM

oh, great by Elizabeth Lavine

The day had started out like all other days at Sonora- Lizzie had woken up, showered, gotten dressed, and headed down to breakfast; all at least 10 minutes later than she kept saying she would. It wasn't like she intentionally was late; it was just part of being Liz. So arriving in Cascade Hall, she was greeted by those ever-lovely smells of breakfast as well as some things not-so-expected. Well, only one thing in particular. A certain letter was dropped at her seat just as Lizzie was taking a bite of her bagel. The "W.A.I.L." insignia looked up at her with an air of knowing that it was bearing horrid news to its recipient.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lizzie muttered to herself as she opened the letter. She had heard about the organization via her cousin Helena and her Aunt Rose, and how it was so hell-bent on the 'proper things'. The only mystery left in Liz's mind was why these people were contacting her. Well, if she had to, she could probably guess, but the question still remained as to what the real business was all about. Lizzie sighed, and broke open the wax seal, revealing a letter that looked to be formal in construction with just a hint of personalization. Her brother Brett was brought up and congratulations on his election as a Senator. Lizzie noted that Javon was not mentioned, but she hardly expected him to be included since he was not in the family business: politics. Which was all that purebloods really cared about- society, politics, and if you were a wealthy man, owning and trading sports teams. A perusing of the letter ascertained what Lizzie had expected to see out of this organization.

"Stand up for a return to pureblood ideals! Encourage girls to not participate in Quidditch! Write to the ministry! Write to the Quidditch clubs!" the letter proclaimed. Like she would ever do such a thing. Elizabeth Lavine had been pushed around into doing the proper pureblood thing for long enough, and would have none of it's anti-half-blood and muggleborn nonsense, so why in the world would she start conforming to their little molds now? Her mind was resolute: there was no way she would EVER quit playing Quidditch, and it was a ridiculous thought that every woman in the league was becoming gay just because some of the players like Penn were. It was simply medieval in nature to think that playing sports was a male only activity. Elizabeth tried to conceal her emotions about the whole thing, but Lizzie was never good with keeping that sort of thing under her hat. She was clearly angry at the whole thing, and after re-reading the short letter, she had half a mind to tear the thing to shreds or toss it in the nearest fireplace. Lizzie resisted the urge, however, and just put the letter on the table next to her, crossing her arms in disgust.

After a few moments passed, Liz concluded that she had completely lost her appetite due to this nonsense. With a frustrated sigh, Lizzie just sat there thinking as she stared down moodily at the folded up letter.
\n\n

0 Elizabeth Lavine oh, great 53 Elizabeth Lavine 0 5

Lily

March 15, 2006 12:05 AM

So shocked I failed to respond and pressed enter by mistake. by Lily

Lily sat randomly at a table in the hall. She didn't care if she were sitting at her house table or not. She didn't see Chrissy or Jennifer and didn't care for any of the others in her house. Well, she didn't know about the first years. They seemed to be a quiet bunch. Therefore, it didn't matter where Lily sat.

She took some milk and a breakfast burrito. Sonora had even better ones than McDonald's. Lily was just taking a bite when a letter dropped in front of her plate.

She picked up the letter and opened it. It looked unfamiliar, Lily hadn't heard of WAIL. She scanned the opening paragraph, her eyes narrowing. What kind of cruel group of people asked about a father one hadn't seen in 7 years and a stepmother....wait a minute, STEPMOTHER? What stepmother?

Lily balled up her hands up into fists, the letter still clenched tightly within one. How dare they.....and how dare HE! How could he just start all over and forget about her? He'd gone and started a new family!

No ! Lily thought, angrily. It's not HIS fault, its HERS. Mother kept him away all that time. I HATE her.

She stood up, throwing the crumpled up letter on to the ground. Lily didn't even care what the rest of it said, she wanted to know about her dad! That's all that mattered to her.

\n\n

11 Lily So shocked I failed to respond and pressed enter by mistake. 45 Lily 0 5

Amy Fox

March 16, 2006 1:03 AM

Too early to deal with this... by Amy Fox

It was morning and mornings never sat well with Amy. In school, she had been the student that had the tendency to miss her early morning classes. Of course, her professors hadn't been exactly proud but at the time, her bed seemed much more inviting than their classes. Now that she was a professor, she supposed that she should be more sympathetic to her professors plights; however, as the prospect of being awake early in the morning was so dreadful, she found herself quite the opposite.

Sporting the I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-don't-mess-with-me-or-I'll-bite-off-your-head look, Amy's hair was messier than usual, its bun loose and lopsided, strands of hair falling half-hazardly around her face or sticking on end. A pillow print was still quite noticeable on her cheek, the pinkish-red lines etching irregular patterns. Her robes had been replaced by a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt, flip flops in place of her rather bulky combat boots.

Morning it most assuredly was and she was not in a good mood.

Resting her head on the palm of her hand, her arm balancing (although slightly wobbly) on the table, Amy’s eyes remained frozen on a bowl of what she assumed was cereal (it was too difficult to remember what she had put in it). A large yawn escaped her lips, her eyes tearing up and blurring.

It wasn’t until the owl was practically on top of her bowl that she realized that it was there; thus, she failed to note the similar missives. Lifting her head off of her hand, Amy cocked her head to the side in confusion. Who had written her? Of course she had been at Sonora for a while now, and she still received fan mail from time to time, but this was no fan letter. It was too early in the morning for fan mail, she decided. After that article in the Quidditch Times stated her extreme dislike for mornings, fans had begun to send letters at a more convenient time of the day.

There was always the possibility that it was hate mail; however, those types of letters generally came in the form of a rather loud, red envelope. Howlers were not her friend. Thus she was at a loss. Who had written her and, better yet, why had they written her?

Sensing the owl’s impatience (Why did owls have a tendency to act so snooty?), Amy retrieved the letter, yawning heavily once more. Pausing only for a moment, she soon opened the letter and began to slowly scan the contents of the letter.

Amelia’s jaw tightened in reflex as her eyes locked with the word Amelia. Obviously, the writer of the letter knew very little about her. Amelia she most certainly was not. Only her parents called her Amelia, and that was only when she was in trouble.

Her brow pinched into her hairline as she noted the reference to her former Quidditch career. As the subject was quite a touchy one, Amy found herself angered by the obvious ignorance on the writer’s behalf. She hadn’t chosen to leave the Quidditch League. The decision had been made for her as the other teams had refused to get on the field with her.

Finishing the tedious attempt at small talk, Amy moved on to the next section of the letter. Amy’s hands flexed in fury; wrinkling the sides of the letter and causing the once neat parchment to take on a crumpled appearance. Always relying quite heavily on her feelings and emotions, she found herself instantly at odds with the writer of the letter. It was difficult to like a bigoted and ignorant freak who through her misguided beliefs around as though they were widely accepted.

Quit Quidditch? Was WAIL joking? Did they honestly believe that Amy would switch her position, drop flying and Quidditch? She was not one for appeasing frumpy old ladies who had nothing better to do with their time than make up pointless organization to divide the public further than it already was.

Fully awake now, Amy turned to the professor nearest to her. “Have you seen this crap? Some idiot thinks it’d be a wise idea for all females to return to their “barefoot in the kitchen” days and give up flying? This is ridiculous.”
\n\n

0 Amy Fox Too early to deal with this... 0 Amy Fox 0 5

Allie St.Martin

March 18, 2006 11:53 PM

So confused... by Allie St.Martin

Allie's days at Sonora had become fairly routine. Get up, get dressed, check her bag in a very-likely vain effort to ensure she hadn't left out something that needed to be there, offer polite 'good morning's to the girls in her dorm, go to breakfast. Look for Lila, find her almost always strategically placed with someone on all sides, sit down at her own House table, eat a helping of the first thing she saw, repeat the process with the second, go to class. Botch a few spells, go to lunch, start it all over again until dinner and curfew. This morning was offering no signs that it was going to be any different from any other as Allie slid into her accustomed place at the table.

The owls caught her attention as much as they did anyone else's, but her surprise underwent a significant increase when one approached her. Looking around the Hall, she saw some of the others approaching girls she vaguely recognized from parties or classes, Morgaine (it had to be something awful if Morgaine was involved), Anne, and her twin sister. It couldn't be anything too horrible if Lila was in on it...maybe it was a mass invitation to some social event by someone who wasn't overly-familiar with reputations. Seeing no other viable option, she broke the seal and began to read.

That was nice of them, to ask about Alban. People usually forgot about him because he was so shy and didn't go to any parties yet. And they'd asked about Mama and Daddy and Lila...Aunt Anna, but not Uncle Julian, and only sketchy mention of Uncle Taylor and Aunt Emma...nothing about Eileen or Uncle Alasdair or Aunt Lorena, but she supposed they'd ask Morgaine about them...they'd even asked about her health, though they'd gotten her name wrong. She knew, of course, that it was all formality, but it was still a good sign that the point of the letter wasn't something overly-traumatic.

She found herself at a loss when she reached the meat of the letter. What freakishness? Who was Rosaline Penn? What did any of it have to do with Quidditch? She knew she was hopeless enough on the ground without dragging a broom into it, but she'd heard some girls were really good...the only Quidditch players she knew were her cousins, and Anne was the only girl-cousin she'd ever seen willingly approach the broom, though Little Julian could sometimes talk Lydia into it. Lydia wasn't a freak, and Anne was really just a bit eccentric, so she was no further than she had been when she'd started as to what these people were on about.

She looked around the hall at the other letter recipients again for guidance. Most people seemed to be taking it lightly. Anne stopped shouting at the boy beside her and helped him clean up the ruins of a pitcher that had abruptly exploded. Lila was in conversation with the girl next to her, letter in hand. Allie considered approaching her twin for advice, but felt somehow sure Lila'd have a field day over them calling her 'Alexandria' instead of 'Alexandra' and miss the point.

Maybe she could work up the courage to ask Mama over the holidays, Sarah would know what she should do if anyone did... \n\n

16 Allie St.Martin So confused... 76 Allie St.Martin 0 5

Kiva Kijewski

March 22, 2006 10:26 PM

Can't think of anything witty by Kiva Kijewski

Kiva had to be up early to make sure that her creatures had been fed, watered, and weren't in any need of any kind. It actually took quite a bit of time simply because she had to walk to different places to do it. But now that that was all done and over with, she was starving.

She entered the hall shortly before the mass of students arrived and was able to settle into her chair and already have a plate full of warm eggs, french toast, and a goblet of orange juice by the time those strange owls arrived. Her eyes trailed the birds momentarily, looking them over with a keen eye and judging their whereabouts as best she could. They weren't the normal owls that passed through the school. She hoped they wouldn't be any trouble to the Owls in the Owlry if they happened to stop off there for a rest. She didn't need any more trouble.

Kiva went back to her food after the owls stopped circling and went to deliver the letters. She had almost forgotten about the whole thing until the professor beside her spoke out to her. “Have you seen this crap? Some idiot thinks it’d be a wise idea for all females to return to their “barefoot in the kitchen” days and give up flying? This is ridiculous.” Kiva was rattled for a moment at being addressed and having no idea what the new professor was talking about. "Give up flying? Sorry?" \n\n

6 Kiva Kijewski Can't think of anything witty 5 Kiva Kijewski 0 5

Lila St.Martin

March 24, 2006 10:57 PM

So... by Lila St.Martin

Lila's days at Sonora had become routine. Get up in the morning, get dressed, do her hair, greet or wait on Two depending upon the time, and go to breakfast. She would read any mail she received as she ate and indulge in a little gossip if there was any. She would then go to her classes, where she would try to keep up the innocent-and-sweet act while avoiding Allie (she hadn't forgotten the incident in Transfiguration, and made sure to think of it whenever she thought she might be on the edge of missing her sister). Lunch and her second set of classes would go much the same, and after dinner she would go back to the common room to answer letters, do a bit of homework, study for any tests, worry about midterms without seeming to, and, of course, be social and charming if the need arose. It was to bed after that, to ensure she got enough sleep to do it all again the next day.

There had been nothing about the morning so far to suggest that anything out of the ordinary would happen as she primly settled herself into her usual chair in the Cascade Hall and began spreading a thin layer of butter onto a slice of toast. Emilie, Clarissa, and her parents had all written, the second sounding much more strained than usual but not mentioning anything specific being wrong. Emilie's letter made her miss her old group of friends for a moment when it reminded her of just how stupid Emilie and her fellow "replacer" Cassie were - worse than the real Gwen and Allie, in some ways, and that was saying something. Nothing to do about it, though. Her mother had written the parental letter and they both had signed it. It was when she reached the last paragraph that she got the idea this might not be a good day.

Finally, darling, you know none of us here can wait for you and Alexandra to return home for the Christmas holidays. We've all missed you girls dreadfully these past months, but your education is, of course, our top priority. That part was all right, though the bit about her education was clearly her father's influence. She knew how to get 'round him on most things, but Roland St. Martin could prove unmovable on certain others. She wondered if he knew Allie had set her on fire. It was the next two sentences that was a problem, and that her mother's handwriting grew abruptly smaller, as if she were trying to squeeze the information in as unobtrusively as possible, said that she thought the same. Your Uncle Alasdair has decided it would be best if your cousin Anne came home as well. Kindly relay that to her.

Uncle Alasdair really had gone mad. Morgaine had said it ages ago, but somewhere between Morgaine's sentimentality about her - her - sort-of-almost-not-quite-but-still sister and the Savannah Carey penchant for melodrama, Lila hadn't known whether or not to believe her and had, in the end, decided against it. Here, though, was the final proof. He was deliberately going out of his way to ruin Christmas by having his precious niece there to, well, ruin it! There was no question that she would, somewhere between her persistent lack of proper manners and apparent love of humiliating their family. Maybe it was some kind of disgrace-to-disgrace bond, but surely even Alasdair was still enough in touch with reality to realize that he was accepted for the same reason Anne was not: money. And it wasn't as if she had looks to recommend her by, either, with that odd way of looking at people and no care whatsoever given to her hands -

Her thoughts were broken in on by an unfamiliar gray owl. She looked around the Hall and saw them approaching other girls, including her sister and cousin and younger stepcousin, though they all steered conspicuously clear of Gwenhwyfar. Lila took a minute to survey her ex-friend, wondering if it were some kind of elaborate hoax, but decided it wasn't. Gwenhwyfar liked Anne, or it seemed logical to think that she would. They were both blood traitors, after all. She broke the seal and began reading the letter.

The inquiries about herself and family seemed a bit general, but they'd probably sent the proper ones to Allie on account of those three and a half minutes. She nearly laughed in spite of a flutter of indignation, though, when the writer asked about her sister Alexandria. She'd always known that Allie lived in her shadow, but she'd had no idea that her twin was such a nonentity that people wouldn't even bother to get her name right...she read on, getting to the point of the letter.

She knew, of course, who Rosaline Penn was. She'd eavesdropped on the Aunts too many times not to. It was also through them that she knew exactly what Miss Penn's freakishness was, though she had trouble figuring out exactly why the woman would want to do that, since it was apparently useless for providing heirs, which was the whole point of being a grown-up woman, if her mother was to be believed. She had no reason to think that Sarah would lie to her about her purpose in life, which made the whole thing a bit of a puzzle. Oh, well, it was still unnatural. Even mad Great-Aunt Paulina would agree to that. Even Eileen would.

She was stopped from finishing the letter when, almost as if she'd been listening for it, she heard Anne begin yelling something at a boy in Lila's year. Based on the bit of parchment in her cousin's hand and the fact that Anne never got mail, it seemed likely that the letter was about the same thing as Lila's and her tirade about it. At the Teppenpaw table, Allie was looking confused. She'd have to explain when they got home for Christmas...she finished the letter and sat back in her seat, frowning slightly. She could agree with the basic idea behind it all. It was the tactic that confused her. Wouldn't it have been more effective to send this to her mother instead of her or Allie? There were at least a million reasons why a good daughter of a pureblood family would refrain from becoming involved with anything blatantly political without the permission of her family. Why had one of these gone to Bulla? He was, well, a he, as far as she knew. Was there some kind of alterior motive?

She was overthinking it. She was a girl, a daughter, a secondborn daughter at that. Her job wasn't to play politics or speculate. Her job was to do what she was told and marry someone appropriate. She'd ask her mother what to do about it when she got home for the holidays, and then she would do what Sarah advised. If it suited her, of course. \n\n

16 Lila St.Martin So... 80 Lila St.Martin 0 5

Morgaine Carey

March 25, 2006 12:17 AM

Daydreaming by Morgaine Carey

Morgaine hadn't come to Sonora to make friends, and she'd done wonderfully at it. It was nearly Christmas break, and she'd successfully antagonized every person, staff or student, she ran across. Father would be proud. She'd done what she'd come to do, which was attend a series of classes, and hadn't let emotional ties lead her to that place her sister had gone to in any sense of the word. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be so pleased he wouldn't make her come back, but she wasn't holding out for a miracle. Waste of time, that was. Best-case scenario was that she conveniently managed to forget to mention anything about school and he managed to forget she existed. Not that he remembered very often, of course, with the other two stealing all the spotlight. Gwenhwyfar had been the golden girl, and Edmond was the heir. The only thing that had changed was her sister's part in overshadowing her.

It wasn't midterm yet, though, so she could daydream about a miracle for another few days. That was the thought at the top of her mind as she selected a seat as well-removed from her classmates as possible and began absent-mindedly eating the first apple that came to hand. Pass a few more tests and she could pretend it was all over and things were going to go back to the way they had been before everything got turned on its head. Just a few tests, nothing too hard, and she could imagine she didn't have any practical examinations, too -

The owl, made conspicuos by its part in the formation she'd vaguely registered flying around the ceiling, wasn't a breakfastime visitor she had expected. Father wasn't the writing type, Mother was in the insane asylum, "Carey" was the only word Edmond could write when she had left home, and no one else was sufficently closely related to feel obliged to write her. She saw all of her relatives at the school were on the list of recipients, all except Gwenhwyfar, and concluded that it must be something people like that were unwelcome in. The insignia brought the closest thing to a smile anyone at Sonora would have ever seen on her face as she tried to suppress the amusement it caused her. The greeting was passed over without interest as she got to the body of the letter.

Her health was enquired after in the formal style she'd been taught but had never bothered to master. Her father, too, was asked after, and Edmond, but no mention was made of her mother. No one would have forgotten the...accident...at that dance, even a year later, when it came to writing formal letters. She was beginning to think the letter might be just stomachable this early in the morning when she got to the next part of the opening paragraph. Whoever'd written it knew the formal style, but lacked the tact of a rock. They'd mentioned Gwenhwyfar.

The caution against following in her sister's footsteps brought up the tangle of emotions she had to deal with every time her sister was mentioned, thought of, or seen. Just yesterday, they'd passed in the Charms corridor like complete strangers. Two days before that, they'd had it out in the downstairs girl's bathroom. It was always Gwen, too, who dictated the tone of their little encounters. Even when she seemed too disorganized to pick a strategy and stick with it, Gwenhwyfar knew how to play her like a lute, and did. How her sister's mind worked was beyond Morgaine's comprehension, but she had as many variants on the same themes as there were colors of oil-based paint. There was frustration and anger - those she understood - a fair quantity of hurt - that she denied - and, still, a kind of affection she'd sooner hang than acknowledge. These people had no right to stir all that up and disturb her daydream about never having to come back.

She forced herself to scan the rest of it and, discovering that she had no idea what it was talking about, went back to the offensive suggestion. Everything was about Gwenhwyfar. No one gave a darn about her, she was just a figurine to be taken out of the closet and called 'Miss Carey' while her perfect sister was out of favor and they needed a Carey girl at a party. It was infuriating. Even when Gwenhwyfar was so completely out of the picture that their father wouldn't allow her name to be mentioned in the house, she still got all the attention. It wasn't fair. What was the point in her even trying to be good when it didn't amount to jack in the end?

Something subtle, that only a few people living would have recognized, changed in her eyes. This once - just this once - she could make her point before going back into her pleasant dream of staying at home, comfortably ignored by everyone but Trinny forever. She could make her point, and her father would never have to know. She could quit dancing in her sister's shadow for a few minutes, at least. She tossed her hair back in a saucy sort of gesture she didn't have quite enough hair for and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of her bag.

Ladies of the W.A.I.L. Organization,

The Savannah Careys hope to find you in good health and thank you for your consideration of ours, which is as well as it ever is.

Your concern for my reputation is appreciated, but my family and I would appreciate it more if you'd leave Gwenhwyfar out of any future correspondances. My sister's problem is Carey business, and the family's handling it. However, I am not my sister and have no intentions of taking up her eccentricities. Sharing parents doesn't make us alike.

As for your organization's aims, I couldn't do anything without the family's approval even if I had any idea what you're on about. You might try the adult women.

Morgaine Carey, of the Savannah Careys. \n\n

0 Morgaine Carey Daydreaming 81 Morgaine Carey 0 5

Catherine Raines

March 25, 2006 9:17 PM

Pre-Christmas days in Cascade Hall will be the death of me. by Catherine Raines

Only a few more days until the holiday begins, Catherine thought to herself as she entered the Cascade Hall, and the thought cheered her up so much she was actually smiling when she reached the Crotalus table. Though careful not to let anyone catch on, she had been counting off the remaining days until she saw her father again since mid-September. She'd barely had time to see him at all in the two days between her return from Louisiana and her return to Sonora, and it seemed reasonable to expect that Charles might eat a few meals with the family, and he'd definitely be at the Christmas party. It wasn't much, admittedly, but daughters of important men had to take what they could get in some departments.

Most remarkably of all, she wasn't failing anything. Last year she'd been just failing Defense Against the Dark Arts when she went home and had scrambled to drag it up afterwards, but this time she was passing every subject, by however little. Thank Merlin for written assignments. Even she could plausibly copy information out of a book and find synonyms for three or four of the words. Her charms mark was the best, surprisingly enough, and a respectable one by anyone but an Aladren's standards besides. She'd written home about it almost a week earlier, and Lorenzo had told her he, at least, was proud of her. Her father'd signed the letter, but she wasn't so stupid she couldn't tell the difference between a letter Charles had dictated to Lorenzo and one Lorenzo had written himself. Lorenzo's grammar was much more strictly correct than any of the family's, and he could never remember to throw in incorrect bits when trying to impersonate on of them on paper.

Just a few more days of not failing anything, and she could go home. She tried not to let herself imagine it too much, because it generally depressed her to visualise the mansion and think about the pleasant things she was missing out on while she was here. It was easier to convince herself that she liked the never-ceasing acting and scheming and jealousy that seemed to be the inevitable consequence of putting a group of rich pureblooded girls into a dorm and expecting them to live together. The hard part was the 'convincing herself' bit, especially just before and just after visits home. It was simpler, though, to simply think about going home without picturing anything specific.

She was slicing an orange when the small flock of gray owls entered the Hall and began circling around the ceiling in formation. She paused, knife hovering, to watch their progress and the directions those that fell out of formation took. The only ones that didn't approach a pureblooded girl were the two that went to the Acting Headmaster and the Quidditch coach. One of them was approaching her. She pushed her orange aside just in time as it landed to give her the letter it carried. She paid its departure little mind, breaking the wax seal and unfolding the letter.

Was there any stiffness in the inquiry about her mother, or was it just paranoia kicking in? Most people knew about the old scandal, the old rumors, but few knew for certain that there was any truth at all in them and there was no way to tell how many people believed them regardless. Was the question about her father's health a little too formulaic? Was the question about her health both? Did whoever-it-was think she was a - a - well, it didn't bear mentioning and so wouldn't be - and had only included her in all of this because her father had made her his heir the previous year? Only with the bit about Amelia did she have any certainty that things were all right. Her grandmother, curse her, was the ideal pureblood widow in public. Society had no reason whatsoever to look down on Amelia Forwynt Raines.

She wasn't going to think about it. The formal inquiries weren't the point of the missive, though they would have to be answered. She was mentally composing the replies when she absorbed what she was reading in the next paragraph and found herself, for the first time in a long time, at a loss for words.

She'd never attended a sporting match in her life or had any desire to do so, so the boycotting business was irrelevant. The 'freakishness' of Miss Penn and people like her was something her parents had both instructed her to ask the other about and that Gemma had finally, with a very fake reluctance, explained, but what did it have to do with a load of schoolgirls, half of whom, if Catherine's memory and judgement were any good, weren't exactly prominent members on any level of society? She could understand warning people not to, well, do that, but to phrase it all as a request for aid...she knew perfectly well that she didn't dare do anything without getting some kind of definite stamp of approval from her father on, and, since the only letter-receiver she saw writing anything was Gwen Carey's cross imp of a sister, most other people seemed to be taking it the same way.

She'd ask Daddy when she got home. Mama too, of course, but her opinion didn't really matter. It was just protocol that said she should at least pretend to care what her mother thought about anything. Lila Raines was too freak-friendly for the results of the illusion to carry much weight. Daddy, though, would know what she should do about all of this. If anything dilemma-inducing happened just before Christmas holiday in her third year, Catherine thought it would be safe to say that she was cursed. At least this year didn't involve very melodramatic roommates and very annoyed fathers. \n\n

0 Catherine Raines Pre-Christmas days in Cascade Hall will be the death of me. 66 Catherine Raines 0 5

Amy Fox

March 28, 2006 3:42 PM

You aren't the only one by Amy Fox

"Give up flying? Sorry?"

Amy looked at the other woman. Obviously, her statement had made perfect sense to her when she was making it and she couldn't understand it wasn't quite as clear to the others. That...that WAIL thing was trying to say that women were inferior. It was trying to say that flying wasn't meant for women.

It was trying to take away the one thing at which she was honestly good.

She was furious.

Amy stared dumbfoundedly at her co-worker(she had, as of yet, been unable to remember which one was which). Breathing in deeply, Amy paused for a moment, trying to desperately think of an adequate way to respond, one that didn't imply that the other woman was inept.

"Here," she finally decided, shoving the letter in the woman's direction. "Read. They're trying to get women to give up Quidditch and flying on a broom. Just...just read." \n\n

0 Amy Fox You aren't the only one 0 Amy Fox 0 5