Headmaster Brockert

August 03, 2014 2:09 AM
Last year, his first term as Headmaster, had been extremely difficult to say the least and it wasn't anything to do with day to day running of the school or even students making trouble. No, it was totally due to external circumstances and though Mortimer was ticked off at those imbeciles from the charms facility-story of his life, he found himself ticked off at imbeciles quite often-he had to admit that he was glad that the fault lied with them and people couldn't blame the school. Like he actually wanted to be trapped in a room with his colleagues for four months! Nobody wanted to be trapped with anyone that long! Especially someone like Mortimer who wasn't generally a fan of people.

He also was no optimist but there were few ways that this year could be worse than the last. Oh, he was sure he could imagine some if he tried, he had that sort of imagination. However, at the moment, Mortimer really didn't feel like it. He had to focus on the Opening Feast instead, even if he would prefer imagining the heads of those from the Charms facility on iron spikes. Honestly, giving the speeches was the least favorite part of his job. He wasn't at all shy or afraid, but he had to be reasonably pleasant and that was not something that came naturally to the man.

The Headmaster stood up to deliver the repetitive words. Honestly, it was basically the same speech every year. "Welcome to Sonora for the new first years and welcome back for all older students. In just a minute, you first years will be receiving a goblet distributed by Deputy Headmistress Skies, in order to sort you into your houses. You will turn the color representing your house which are blue for Aladren, yellow for Teppenpaw, red for Crotalus, and brown for Pecari. Afterwards, you may join your house table." He seriously didn't care if they did or not really, he wasn't about to keep track of something so petty as sitting in the wrong place.

"Now I would like to call James Carey and Melanie Lennox up in order to receive their Head Student badges." He couldn't say this didn't please him, a Carey and his aunt Caroline's granddaughter. Two families who were not only pure, but that rarely got badges going by school history. "In addition, I'd like to call up Francesca Wolseithcrafte, Julian Umland, Virginia Bellrose, and Adam Spencer up to receive their prefect badges at this time." This lot pleased him immensely, all purebloods with the exception of Miss Umland.

Once they'd sat back down, Mortimer had just a few more announcements. "I'd like to welcome our new COMC professor, Richard Tallec. Please make him feel welcome and show him the proper respect." He couldn't be more thrilled. Aside from Quidditch Coach-which hopefully Florence would continue with and if not her, Jera-they now had a full staff.

"This year's Midsummer Event will be the ball." Honestly why did he have to announce this when only the first years needed to know? Shouldn't most students have figured out the rotation by now?

Now was time for his least favorite part, the pointless and potentially degrading singing of the school song. As sheets of music appeared in front of the students and the potential public humiliation began,

Every day we strive
Learning to survive
Life’s hardships and to solve its mystery.
Learning to defend
Our honour and our friends,
Flying high to meet our destiny
We will stand and face those who want to harm us.
We won’t let the world transfigure, jinx or charm us
I won’t fight alone, as long as you are with me.
Sonora be my home, my tutor and my spirit
Vasita quoque floeat; Even the desert blooms.


"One more thing," Mortimer added once the singing (finally) ended. He was tired of all these announcements and he was sure the students were as well. "First years please don't leave the Hall unti your Head of House calls for you." Finally he was done speaking and now the students could finally eat-as well as him.
Subthreads:
11 Headmaster Brockert Opening Feast 6 Headmaster Brockert 1 5

Makenzie Newell

August 04, 2014 2:46 AM
Heels clicked. Toes forward. Shoulders back. Head high.

Makenzie's posture suggested none of the nerves raging within her small body. She was not entirely sure why she was so nervous, considering no House was particularly better than any other so it hardly mattered, and she had already been accepted and sent to Sonora, so this ceremony, in the grand scheme of things, did not really matter. But she was nervous anyway. She did not like this feeling that everyone would be staring at her. Really, they would be looking at all of the first years, but there were way more second-through-seventh years than there were first years. That meant statistically there would be far too many eyes on her. Makenzie was not shy, but this was not attention she wanted.

Luckily, it did not take Headmaster Brockert too long to get things going. Makenzie sipped from the goblet provided by the woman identified as Deputy Headmistress Skies, and she was both amused and startled to see her skin change to a redder shade than her hair. Crotalus, then, she thought, her feet guiding her to the House of the people with whom she would evidently spend the next seven years of her life.

The whos and whats of the student government system did not seem particularly important, but as the Head Boy, Head Girl, and new Prefects were named, Makenzie committed their faces to memory, just in case she would ever need assistance or something. Then the evidently new professor was introduced, but given that she knew none of the old professors, this made little difference to her.

The Headmaster then mentioned something about a Midsummer Event, a title which Makenzie did not understand, being a ball, which was something she knew very well. The redhead had been to many in her time, although as a child her experiences were more limited than an adult's, dulled and diluted to be more compatible for a younger crowd. Still, she looked forward to the celebration if for no other reason that it would get her a new dress.

She tried to follow along during the song, but her attention could not help but wander, and with it went her eyes. There did not seem to be many boys at Sonora, or at least not in her grade. It almost seemed like it had once been an all-girls' school that was just now integrating, but nothing in the history of Sonora that she had read seemed to suggest this to be truth. Instead, her next guess was that for whatever reason her generation had randomly been saturated with females. This would complicate her aspirations of meeting a boy she could one day marry, but she would just have to try harder to win one of them. She hoped they were of good standings.

As food became available, Makenzie heard a voice that seemed to belong to a neighboring Crotalus and also seemed to be directed at her. She was fairly confident it was an inquiry about her first impression of the school and chose to answer that question. "I like Sonora very well so far," she smiled. "It seems like a nice place."

"My name is Makenzie Newell," she added a bit later. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Curtsying was obviously impossible from a seated position, but Makenzie bowed her head a little to fill that void.
12 Makenzie Newell Ready to take the world by storm 291 Makenzie Newell 0 5


Olivier Westley

August 09, 2014 4:16 AM
OOC: Disclaimer: The opinions and views expressed herein by Olivier Westly are not those of his authors who would like to take this opportunity to apologize ahead of time for his behavior.

The school year had arrived much too soon for Olivier’s taste. He would have liked to stay in Wales, and tried hard to slip the thought into the forefront of his parents’ brains, but was unfortunately forced to return to this hellhole of unreliable teachers, self-assured egotistical students, and eager to please, subservial praire elves. Olivier’s face had been on the verge of souring into a scowl the entire ride over save for (of course) when he was talking to Lena. The only thing keeping him from scowling was that someone might notice and ask him if something was bothering him. For this, and this alone, he kept his face neutral. He wasn’t sure if Lena knew his feelings about the situation, and he wasn’t going to tell her- he didn’t need nor want her to worry. It would be better to let her stay in her ignorant bliss than for him to point out to her all the reasons they shouldn’t be returning.

Stepping through the doors of Cascade Hall and seeing the new first years lined up was enough to send a brief, caustic smile to Olivier’s lips. Although having to sit through it again as a bystander was almost as painful, the only thing that made this year a slight bit better than the last was the fact that Olivier didn’t have to participate in the annual degradation of students more commonly known as, ‘The Sorting’. The first years being sorted now meant absolutely nothing to him, less than nothing even- if such a notion was possible. They were just maggots like the rest of the student body, and definitely people he did not want to associate with. Unlike others of pureblood status, he hated Mudbloods, Halfbloods and Purebloods equally- with the exception of Lena of course.

Fortunately, with the torturous ceremony finally over, Olivier would only have to last a little longer before he could retire to his room for the evening. Unfortunately, with the torturous ceremony finally over, he might have to actually talk to these lowlives.

“How was your summer, Jane?” he mocked quietly, to himself. "Oh, Dick, my summer was lovely, thank you ever so much for asking. How was yours, if I may be so bold as to inquire?” Olivier rolled his eyes. “These people are nuts,” he mumbled lowly to himself, not loud enough to be heard. “How do you find Sonora?” He added, directing his attention to the salt-shaker, envious of the inanimate object that had the fortune to not have to talk to anyone at all. Then he realized that it had to be manhandled by grubby fingers who didn’t know how to control their caloric intake and instantly felt bad for the salt-shaker. Regrettably, however, one of the new first years seemed to think he was addressing her.

“I like Sonora very well so far. It seems like a nice place."

Olivier closed his eyes briefly, wishing he were anywhere else so that he wouldn’t have to interact with some bright eyed and bushy tailed first year. He took in a breath before bestowing a brilliant smile at the younger student. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!” he responded, enthusiastically, thinking it was ridiculous for this child to have already formed an opinion of a place she’d only been in for less than an hour. “A lot of people do seem to share your opinion,” myself not among them, he added snarkily in his head.

“Olivier Westley,” he said, declining to offer his hand as he didn’t want to catch whatever disease was most likely festering on the fingertips of the his unsought out companion. Not that it was anything personal- none of it was. It was just that she was a snot nosed child and it was a well-known fact that all children, save Lena and himself, were filthy and cared not for personal hygiene. “Of Wales,” he added, remembering that he was in America and that the Purebloods here did things differently than back home.

"My name is Makenzie Newell," the ginger responded, obviously thinking he cared. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

“And yours,” he lied through his teeth. “I do hope you enjoy your next seven years in this-” torture chamber “-fine institution.” He gave the first year what could be construed as an encouraging smile, and nodded towards the professors’ table. “All the teachers here really care about us.” His smile widened, though this time it was genuine. Not because he really believed that, but because he was quite pleased with the joke he had just made.

Olivier brushed an imaginary strand of hair out of his eyes, knowing full well that his sandy brown hair was neatly in place. However, the action gave him something to do while contemplating his next move as well as serving as a tactic to soften himself to his conversation partner- something to show that he, too, was human. He gave Newell a brief, calculating look that probably came off as a sign that he was interested in her (in a grown-up way), but he didn’t care. He took in her attire while grabbing a roll and decided. “So, you’re a witch. You’re probably excited about this ball that the school is having for Midsummer.” His tone sounded light and teasing. Bordering on playful. Olivier wanted to throw up.

There, the damage had been done. Newell could ramble on about the ball all she liked- if she was so inclined (which most females were) and he could sit there and eat his unbuttered roll and corned beef, nodding as though he actually cared what it was she had to say.
10 Olivier Westley You wouldn't happen to be named Iselle or Julio, would you? 282 Olivier Westley 0 5