Asher and Michael Tallow
November 16, 2006 4:10 PM
Scratch off another year by Asher and Michael Tallow
Despite Sonora's seasonal blandness (read as forever obnoxiously pleasant excepting when magicks go awry and all hades breaks loose), summer had managed to make its presence known: More daylight hours, less brooding hours; more noise in the common room, less solitary sulking in common room corners; more prancing about in the Gardens, less melancholic sighing between the Gardens' flora-ed walls. And of course, the arrival of two letters addressed to herself and Mikes.One of the letters had all the trademarks of a normal letter: creased envelope, cheaply bought parchment, unpractised handwriting. The other letter was drenched in an oddly off-setting scent that might have been lavender at some point but had evolved into something far less appealing. The second letter bore all the markings of one fully entrenched in Wizarding Society. Even its wax seal was marked with a Wyrm- a far from creative attempt at being original. Asher almost wished that the seal was the far more typical and popular Wyvern that most of Montreal society seemed so taken with.
There was no need for exceptional intelligence to deduce who the letters were from. Michael hardly glanced up from his second helping of chicken pot pie when Asher tossed the two down beside him. She landed into her seat with ragged sigh and sat poking at her uncared for hair gratingly.
"What'd they say?" he asked after his third forkful.
Asher sighed again, the sound a little less dramatic than her first. "Just what you'd expect. Momma's trying the guilt plug; she claims she moved into a townhouse and no one has to share bedrooms this time. She also spent like four pages going on and on about her new job and some big party she's been invited to in July. Wants us all to be there."
Michael nodded, squinting at his plate. A small headache was forming around the backs of his eyes, but that was par for the course. His sister might be trying to act unbothered and unconcerned, but he knew that she was already prepared to spend half her summer stuck in Montreal being petted and fussed and emotionally manipulated, all because she felt some sort of filial duty or whatever. Michael did not suffer from those sort of pangs. He planned on spending his summer at home, with his Dad, and his mother could just scr-
"Dad's didn't really say too much, just that he'd be waiting at the portkey junction. He did mention something about the Council having decided to finally put in that river they've been talking about forever." Asher's eyes brightened momentarily as her mind sprung on a comforting thought. "Which probably means we'll get to go tubing and fishing finally."
"Sounds just super." Michael managed to drain his words of any possible inflection; he was rather proud of the result. Complete and utter disinterest- which suited him perfectly.
Asher fingered the edges of her mother's rolled parchment gingerly. A plate had been pushed in front of her at some point, but the food didn't interest her. She was thinking about the end of her third year, the summer that waited in front of her, and what would become her middle year for Sonoran education come autumn. She'd managed to spend the large part of the past year on the fringes of her classmates. Her reconciliation- if it could even be called that- with Gwen had evolved into something far too superficial to be called a friendship. And as much as Earl Valentine had been a good friend to her, she still shied away from his contact. She didn't like to feel vulnerable, and he read her far too well for her liking.
"I know girls are supposed to be moody and melodramatic, but I was under the impression that that was only supposed to be once a month."
"Shut it, mutant," she snapped in immediate retort.
Michael managed to hide whatever good humor prompted his rousing of his sister from her brooding behind yet another helping of the chicken pot pie. He chipped a large chunk of the flaky crust into his mouth, and gave his sister a baleful look. She smiled despite her self. "I'm not brooding or anything. I'm just thinking. It's this thing people tend to do when considering options."
Michael shrugged. "That's because you think of things other than yourself. When you only have yourself to worry about, there's not much to brood over."
"Oh sure," Asher replied sarcastically, "so says the miscreant who threw himself in the middle of a duel."
Michael eyed his plate peevishly. "I didn't throw myself into the middle of anything. They were the ones who interrupted me." He was, of course, referring to his escapade in the Labyrinth Gardens in which a she-beast first year and Morgaine Carey attempted to have a duel and he somehow got caught up in it. It hadn't at all helped matters that Professor Kijewski then found him standing with the two girls, fully armed, and looking just as culpable.
The whole event annoyed him in retrospect. It wasn't that he got in trouble; that was always happening anyway. Adults had issues with his attitude or whatever. What annoyed him was that he had (technically) helped Carey out. That wasn't the sort of thing Michael Tallow was known to do. He generally avoided people outside his family, and had little tolerance for them when he had to have contact.
"Whatever." Asher waved her palm and then gave the two letters another glance. "Here's to summer, I guess."
Michael nodded his silent agreement and polished off his third plate. The glutton.\n\n
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Asher and Michael Tallow
Scratch off another year
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