Substitute prof. Roy Snughardt
September 28, 2010 2:16 PM
Dude, your wife is hot! [Third, fourth, and fifth years!] by Substitute prof. Roy Snughardt
Roy Snughardt was going to have a good day. When he woke up, he had discovered his daughter’s owl sitting on his suitcase, which was open, sitting on the floor in a corner where he had left it. He didn’t intend on unpacking since this wasn’t a permanent job. Giggling inside like a child, Roy threw off the blankets and crossed his room in his purple pajama pants to the pure white owl. Reasoning that he was imaging things, Roy thought the owl looked disgusted as it eyed his shirtless self over. “Thank you, Powder,” he said to the owl, but it had turned its head away and seemed to be ignoring him. Pulling the letter out of its envelope, Roy read the following in his daughter’s handwriting.Dear Pop,
You’ve been at that school for some time now! When are you coming back? Don’t they have a permanent professor yet? Shiloh keeps asking for you, and I don’t know what to tell him anymore. We miss you, Pop!
Love, Susie.
P.S. Did you shave that ridiculous goatee off of your face yet?
Roy laughed and placed the letter down on his dresser, next to the pictures of Susie and his grandson, the only things he had unpacked, mentally noting that he would need to reply in his free time. As he dressed, he remembered that today was the day his class got to meet Sorrell and his wife; oh, those lucky children! There was no doubt in the balding man’s mind that they would love his friend, and the boys would definitely love Sorrell’s wife…
After quickly consuming a small breakfast of waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, chased down by a cold glass of milk, Roy was off to his outdoor “classroom”. No one was there yet, as expected. With a wave of his wand and a few whispered incantations, stumps sprouted from the ground, smooth and decently softened by a top covering of moss, for his students to sit on when they arrived.
Before any students came, Sorrell and his wife came. Roy hadn’t actually met her before, but what he had heard about her radiance had not done her justice. The woman on his friend’s arm had explosive ice blue eyes that were rimmed by delicately applied eyeliner, not that she needed any make-up. Her mess of blonde waves framed her right cheek softly and fell just above her right hip as it was tied in a sideways ponytail. Her lips were wide and red with more unnecessary make-up.
“Roy, my old friend!” Sorrell smiled as they approached. Since their school years, Sorrell had definitely aged, but he had aged more gracefully than Roy had, all of his dark hair exactly where it belonged, and Roy didn‘t doubt he had maintained his school-day weight, a feat Roy could not brag of. When they got to him, Sorrell’s wife stuck her hand out delicately to shake Roy’s, and ask he accepted the dainty, feminine hand, he noticed her perfectly painted nails. Indeed, she was radiant. If he dared think it, he would have observed that her beauty even surpassed that of his late wife. “Roy, this is Sylvia. Sylvia, my friend Roy.”
“Sorrell and I caused quite a bit of trouble in our own day,” Roy admitted, which got them on track to take seats on the stumps provided for the students and tell tales of their days in school over thirty years before. Sylvia pointed out that thirty years before, she was being born, which at first made Roy uncomfortable about his age, but the conversation didn’t allow time for awkwardness. Sylvia had such a soft, nearly-hypnotic voice that enticed him involuntarily. Roy was in the middle of telling Sylvia about the time he and Sorrell snuck into the Headmaster’s office, snatched six pairs of his underwear, and subsequently tied one to each of the six rings on the Quidditch pitch when students began arriving, at which time Roy stopped dead, not wanting to give them any ideas. “Er, take your stumps, kids! We’ll just wait for the rest of the class.” Uncomfortably shuffling his feet to the front of the “room” and being followed in such action by Sorrell and Sylvia, their conversation was dead, and they glanced over the students as they continued arriving.
“Okay,” he began once everyone had arrived. “By now, you know that my name is Roy Snughardt, and I’m the substitute professor, but allow me introduce to you our guests. This,” he gestured to Sorrell, who waved, “is Sorrell Hendrix. As you hip young things might word it, we’re B.F.F.s!”
“And this,” he continued, motioning to Sylvia, who curtsied gracefully. “This is his wife, Sylvia. As I expect you’ve noticed, she’s strikingly beautiful. There’s a reason for that, on which we’re going to elaborate.”
“Sylvia is not a human. She’s what’s called a Veela,” Roy elaborated. “Veelas are technically not creatures and prefer to be characterized in the Beings category as opposed to Beasts. They appear to be beautiful women --though sometimes, males can be part Veela, but never full who attract men with their beauty, voice, and graceful movements. Often, these movements are dances.”
“However, Veelas have an ugly side, too,” Roy continued hesitantly. “When they are angered, their faces become bird-like, they throw handfuls of fire, and, if it’s serious enough, they sprout scaly wings. Still find her appealing?” he added with a laugh at the end, directed at the males of the class.
“So, to find out more about Veelas, you can do one of the following,” he concluded. “You can talk to Sylvia about life as a Veela and ask her things like how she keeps her temper, if she ever wished she wasn’t a gorgeous Veela, and things like that, or, and I highly recommend this, ask Sorrell about life married to a Veela. Both will be interesting.”
“If you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine, too. Just sit on your stump and waste time. No homework except pondering the advantages and disadvantages of being a Veela. Don’t think I’ll know whether or not you ponder? Yeah, I’ll know. So, ask questions if you want, but otherwise, just kind of hang out.” He glanced over at Sylvia and Sorrell, both of whom were sitting on the ground beside the students on their stumps. Both smiled to him and looked eager for students. “Okay, commence!”
OOC: All right, kids! Standard rules, but I'd love twenty-sentences at the least! It'd make for one happy substitute! If you want to talk to Sylvia, tag her. If you want to talk to Sorrell, tag him. If you have any questions for Snughardt --you guessed it-- tag him. Or you can just hang out and talk to each other. Be aware that the most that can talk to a given adult here would be three students, so post quickly! I expect Mrs. Hendrix will soon have many boys who wish to speak with her ;)
Subthreads: More like beautiful. Hot suggests she's overheated (Sylvia) by Quentin Melcher, Aladren with Mrs. Sylvia Hendrix
*Sigh* fantastic, my nightmare come true. by Adelita Garcia (Crotalus) with Adelita, Mr. Sorrell Hendrix
Not really my type. (Professor) by Alessa Hinckley, Aladren with Snughardt
She is pretty. by Pippa Brockert, Teppenpaw
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Substitute prof. Roy Snughardt
Dude, your wife is hot! [Third, fourth, and fifth years!]
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Substitute prof. Roy Snughardt
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Quentin Melcher, Aladren
October 01, 2010 1:50 PM
More like beautiful. Hot suggests she's overheated (Sylvia) by Quentin Melcher, Aladren
Unlike most of his classmates, who were probably unhappy about having a substitute or just plain didn't care, Quentin was thrilled about Professor Snughardt filling in until a permanent COMC professor could be found. It had nothing to do with the man himself, Quentin just had a tremendous respect for substitute teachers given they had to be able to teach many different subjects, the way Professor Fawcett had before he got hired to teach Potions full time. Quentin wouldn't be surprised if Professor Snughardt ended up staying around and filling in when another professor inevitably left.When he reached the clearing,Quentin's attention was automatically drawn to the beautiful woman who was standing there. She had to be at least thirty but while Quentin was an intelligent and exceedingly pedantic guy, he was still a guy for Merlin's sake!
Actually though, Quentin was not usually the type to be distracted by such things. He did find some of the girls he knew attractive physically but it was usually not the first thing that he thought about. Intelligence and kindness were far more important to him than beauty. Those two things tended to make a girl seem more beautiful to Quentin, which he didn't quite understand. Furthermore, he certainly didn't let that distract him from his studies.
Right now however, Quentin wasn't really thinking too clearly. All he wanted to do was impress the beautiful woman with how intelligent he was.
Which meant, the Aladren realized, that he knew what today's lesson was. The incredibly gorgeous woman was a veela . That made him feel slightly better though Quentin still couldn't help staring at her. At least he understood why though and that was good. He liked understanding what was going on. He just wished he could feel more in control.
As the professor gave the lesson, Quentin's theory was quickly confirmed. He was right. That would totally impress the woman, Sylvia, if she had only known. Quentin made his way over to her. "So how do you keep your temper? And do you ever wish you weren't a gorgeous veela?" There. Those were the questions Professor Snughardt had told them to ask. Now he just had to come up with an intelligent one of his own to impress her.Unfortunately, Quentin still wasn't thinking too clearly and couldn't come up with one.
It was something of a miracle.
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Quentin Melcher, Aladren
More like beautiful. Hot suggests she's overheated (Sylvia)
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Quentin Melcher, Aladren
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Mrs. Sylvia Hendrix
October 01, 2010 3:46 PM
Oh, you flatter me! by Mrs. Sylvia Hendrix
Sylvia was enjoying this experience. Most of the students --or at least the males. Weird…-- seemed to be paying attention, and she felt like this was a good class. She had been highly flattered when Roy invited Roy and her to come be subjects in his class. Sylvia had no problem with being a Veela or being studied, even in a Care of Magical Creature class. Sure, as a Veela, she was still considered a Being, but maybe having her in as a subject would enlighten students who had difficulty understanding the difference between Beast and Being.After moving to the front before Roy began addressing the class of teenagers, Sylvia sat gracefully on the ground with perfect control of her body and a sense of grace that alluded even most ballerinas. Once she was seated on the earth, her legs crossed as she leaned to one side, she sent smiles towards the students, and she felt multiple eyes on her, despite the fact that the students probably should’ve been paying more attention to what Roy was saying.
She felt cheeks redden when Roy said that she was gorgeous. Personally, Sylvia didn’t see herself as very attractive, and though she was aware that others did, it was always highly pleasing to hear someone say it. Glancing at Sorrell when she felt his hand on her shoulder, Sylvia smiled at the protective grip he had on her. However, now was the time for students to approach with questions, and soon, Sorrell let go of her and stood up from his resting position beside her, hopefully leading the students that would want to talk to him a bit away. That way, if Sylvia and he were separated, they could possibly answer more honestly.
Sylvia carefully swung her legs into a more formal sitting position as the first student approached her. This boy had an air about him that she quickly picked up on, telling her about his intelligence; he seemed like a very smart boy. "So how do you keep your temper? And do you ever wish you weren't a gorgeous Veela?" Sylvia giggled femininely and lightly when he asked the exact questions Roy had suggested. Clearly, he was intimidated by her beauty, a pretty ordinary experience for the blonde.
“Often, it’s very difficult to keep my temper,” Sylvia answered honestly, patting the crowd beside her to suggest that the boy would sit beside her. “I take classes, actually, to make sure I do. I have anger management, therapy, and even yoga lessons. It keeps me a lot calmer. I guess practice makes perfect, like anything else. I mean, imagine if I threw a fireball at my husband? That wouldn’t go well,” she finished with a smile.
“As for wishing I wasn’t a ‘gorgeous Veela,” she continued, her side ponytail beginning to irritate her. As she continued, she took the ponytail down and fluffed her hair with one hand. “It does get tiresome of being gawked at day in and day out by strangers, but I guess it’s just part of the territory. A lot of men treat me like a piece of meat; I bet you’d never treat a girl like that, right?” Sylvia smiled at the boy. “The only thing I really dislike is being judged as just a pretty face. I had some excellent grades in my school days.”
“Though,” she went on, “I personally wouldn’t call myself ‘gorgeous’ like you and Roy did. Like any other woman, growing up, I really thought I was ugly or something and maybe that was why everyone stared. It was a great shock to find out I was considered beautiful.” Sylvia sighed; maybe she just had low self-esteem.
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Mrs. Sylvia Hendrix
Oh, you flatter me!
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Mrs. Sylvia Hendrix
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