Marian Connell
May 05, 2005 4:06 PM
First Lesson (Both years) by Marian Connell
Marian Connell stepped into her potions classroom for the first time in over 3 months, eyes darting everywhere to make sure that nothing had been broken, misplaced, or destroyed. She had been meaning to come down here before her first class, to make sure that everything was all right, but she just hadn’t had the time, and the heat that seemed to be settling in had been making her feel exceptionally lethargic. But since the students were going to be storming into the class in a few minutes, she knew that she had to come tidy up.Luckily, everything seemed to be in place. None of the potion ingredients seemed to be out of order, no surprises seemed to have been left by any vengeful students. All was good in her classroom. Well, except for a small smudge of green on the back wall. She recognized it as being a mold of some sort, and she made a mental note to have Paul Simon to get the prairie elves back into some kind of order. Honestly, those things couldn’t do the simplest tasks without going into hysterics about the joy of serving, or something similar.
She returned to her desk as the first students began to amble in. Some of the students looked somewhat skeptical, a few fearful, some bored, some eager. She merely looked on as they all entered and sat down. Finally, after the last stragglers found seats, she stood up, but remained at her desk.
“Hello, and welcome to your first potions lesson of the year. For those who do not know me, my name is Professor Connell, and I am going to be your potions teacher this term. This semester will be mainly focusing on some of the simpler mood altering potions, such as cheering potions, calming potions, etc. Next semester will most likely be focused on various healing potions and antidotes.
“Today, we will be working on the easiest of the cheering potions, the acclamazioni draft. You will find the instructions on page 37 of your textbooks, and you may work in groups of two or three to complete it, made up of any combination of houses and years you should wish. It should take about 45 minutes to make, if no grievous mistakes are made, and so the rest of the period will be yours after you turn your sample in. You can find the ingredients, daisy roots, fluxweed, ginger, and root of asphodel, on the table in the back of the room. Please be careful about the amount of fluxweed you put in, as too much may cause the potion to combust. You may begin.”
She sat down as the students began finding partners and skimming through their books for the right page. So far, the lesson had gone relatively painless, with no major incidents. Of course, they were still in the first five minutes of the class, so the odds weren’t good for it to stay that way.
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Subthreads: me and you and a dog named Boo by Zack Dill with Asher Tallow
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble by Dalila with Jenna Howard, Dalila B
In the interests of science (Stephen!) by Who else would it be? with Stephen, The Cravens
Oh yeah, more classes by Tally Adams with Fawn Summers, Tally
Like chemistry? Or like cooking? by Robbie Bates with Mia, Robbie
Oh why, why, why? by Rachel Tibbs with Earl Valentine, Rachel
The magic of volatile ingredients by Laura Keaton with Dillon Welsh
Well, what have we here? by Gwenhwyfar Carey with Jennifer
Oh, I was supposed to be in class? by Elizabeth
Things that go BOOM in the lab by The Cravens and Stephen
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Marian Connell
First Lesson (Both years)
7
Marian Connell
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5
Gwenhwyfar Carey
May 18, 2005 9:01 PM
Well, what have we here? by Gwenhwyfar Carey
Gwenhwyfar's walk was unususally confident and her expression unusually remote as she entered the Potions room. This was beginning to inch into the world she knew something about. Her other classes so far had been completely foreign, but potions were all over the place at home, whether they were legal or not. It was also one of the few forms of magic she had been allowed to properly study, as not even Alasdair Carey was quite paranoid enough to believe that his eldest child would seriously attempt to poison him. The idea was tempting, but her tutors had kept a close rein on her.She sat down, brushing the ever-present stray lock of blonde hair out of her face and glancing quickly around the room. Not many people she knew had arrived yet, but she didn't let herself be bothered. Classes, in the doctrine her mother had recited the day she left for Sonora, were really just social opporotunities, especially if one was good at the subject. Her father had defined classes as strategic points in the day, but there wasn't that much difference between the two in her mind. If she didn't end up working with any of her friends, then she would improvise and make new ones.
She listened attentively to Professor Connell's introductory speech. She seemed competent, and Gwen could remember hearing somewhere that Connell was the Head of Pecari. One to walk softly and carry a big stick around. Gwen felt herself beginning to smile a little as she flipped through her textbook to find the proper potion, and, though she didn't know it, for the short moment she was smiling she ceased to look like an ice princess and began to look passably normal. She thought she was going to like this class.
She read over the potion slowly, taking in all the ingrediants and directions, then moved to the store cupboards to get the various materials she would need and checked everything against her book before sititng back down. "If you care to work together," she said to the person sitting next to her, not looking to see who it was, "I have no objections. If you don't, then say so and I'll look elsewhere for a partner." That had sounded pure snob, but there was little she could do about it. If whoever it was had a problem with Gwen Carey, whoever it was could get over it or get out of Gwen Carey's way.\n\n
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
Well, what have we here?
63
Gwenhwyfar Carey
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5
Jennifer
May 24, 2005 3:37 PM
Isn't it obvious? by Jennifer
Jennifer hadn't been paying attention much since the class began, and so she was jarred out of her thoughts rather abruptly when the girl sitting next to her said something about partners. Fortunately, she managed to hide her shock rather well. As the girl's words began to sink in, she inwardly rolled her eyes. Jennifer had thought that she recognized the girl, and her words proved it. This was one of the new Crotalus first years. Jennifer hadn't met any yet, beside passing in the common room. Well, no time like the present, she thought, bemusedly."No, I have no objections," Jennifer replied, attempting desperately not to copy the younger girl's snobbish tone simply to mock her. Honestly, who did she think she was? That was the problem with the pureblood way of life, one that Jennifer had always tried not to conform to. Everyone always thought that they were better than everyone else that they saw, and their words and actions conveyed it.
Jennifer had a feeling that she and this other girl might not get along so well, but for now, she bit her tongue, and looked up at the girl. "My name is Jennifer Zucchero," she said politely. "Pleasure to meet you." If the girl was one whom blood purity mattered to, then she would recognize the name. If not, then it wouldn't matter.
"So, do you prepare the ingredients, or begin mixing them?" she asked, looking at the book. She enjoyed potions, so what she did didn't really matter to her. She glanced back at the girl one more time. This lesson might get a little interesting, to say the least.\n\n
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Jennifer
Isn't it obvious?
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Jennifer
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
May 24, 2005 9:57 PM
It's a matter of opinion. by Gwenhwyfar Carey
Gwen nodded to herself when the girl agreed to work with her. That was one thing checked off the list. She knew she had probably made the wrong impression from the way her partner responded, but fences could be mended. With a little patience, they could. She smiled, taking care to seem as if it were natural and perfectly friendly. She had always believed that if you held up a mask of feeling long enough, it would eventually become reality. Even if it didn't, she had mastered the art of making it seem real."The pleasure's mine," she said. "I'm Gwenhwyfar Carey." She decided against mentioning her branch of the family and her father. She recognized Jennifer's name readily enough, and she didn't want someone with that name to associate her with Alasdair Carey as easily. The fact that girls named Gwenhwyfar Carey were few and far between made it a bit of a pointless ruse, but she could always hope that Jennifer didn't get out much or something.
She studied Jennifer for a moment. She was having trouble reading the other girl, which she found faintly annoying. It wasn't as if she had much room to talk, though. She went around smiling and playing her part of the silly little Southern belle without letting on what she actually thought. Only once had she cracked, and that incident would not be repeated.
"I'll handle the ingredients, if it's all the same to you," she said. "If you want to, though, then I'll do the mixing." She wasn't sure if a Savannah Carey necessarily had to defer to a Zucchero, but a first year usually had to defer to a second year. Deference was not one of her outstanding qualities, but she would try. For now, anyway. "You've been doing this longer, so I'll go along with you." Unless you're completely off the mark, she added mentally, though she had a feeling it wouldn't become an issue.
Working in groups could provide interesting insights into people. She was interested to see if the second year purebloods were as...divided as the first years, at least on a surface level. She noticed Jennifer glancing in her direction and kept her face determinedly blank as she studied her textbook. She couldn't make another mistake like the one during her snotty opening speech, or things might start to unravel very fast and put her tentative ambitions six feet under.
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
It's a matter of opinion.
63
Gwenhwyfar Carey
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5
Jennifer
May 31, 2005 10:45 AM
What isn't? by Jennifer
OOC- Sorry it took me forever to respond. I had fianls, and then went on a trip for a while without internet access. Hopefully it won't take so long next time.BICJennifer smiled slightly. THe girl hadn't tried to bring up her family overmuch. That implied one of three things, that she, like Jennifer, didn't really care about the blood issue, that she didn't want to be associated with her family, or that she wanted to finish the potion quickly, so didn't want to get into a long conversation about blood. Jennifer didn't care which it was.
She was glad to forgo the pedigree comparing conversation as well. It was obvious to her that the girl had recognized the Zucchero family, which didn't bother her, but she hoped Gwenhwyfar would not remember or have heard of the scandal with her parents and the other side of the family, the Noires, who were, in essense, the poster family for the snobby, arrogant, backstabbing way of life of wealthy purebloods. In fact, if what she had heard was true, they were just like the only Careys she had heard of, from Georgia.
"So, are you from the South?" she asked, politely. "I know one Carey family, in Georgia. My father knows the head of that family, Al-something or other. I've never met him, but he never sounded like a very kind person." She added without thinking. WHen she realized what she had said, her eyes widened. "I'm terribly sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. If he's your father, I'm sure he's nice enough. After all, you seem very nice so far," she added with an apologetic smile.
"And I'm perfectly find with mixing. I'm pretty adaptable, I can do almost anythng in most circumstances. Parties and social gatherings in particular." She grinned slightly. Gwenhwyfar should know what she was talking about. Pureblood parties were famous for being exclusive, snooty, and full of matchmaking mothers.
"So, you're in Crotalus with me, right. Gwenhwyfar? Actually, is it okay if I call you Gwen? Gwenhwyfar is a bit of a mouthful. But I'm pretty sure I've seen you around somewhere, probably the common room.
"So, are you going to try out for the quidditch team? The other second years are pretty good, but there's not enough of us to have a full team, and we need everyone we can get. I'm a seeker, so I don't need counterparts, but I know that we always need chasers, beaters, and I don't think we have a keeper yet." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry for babbling. I sometimes do that."
Gwen seemed really nice, and it seemed that, the slight snobbishness aside, they could get along well. Even become friends.See, Mother, she thought to herself, I can do just fine on my own. I don't need you standing behidn my back threatening me unless I make friends with respectable purebloods. I can do just fine on my own.
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Jennifer
What isn't?
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Jennifer
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5
Gwenhwyfar Carey
June 02, 2005 9:19 AM
You've got me there. by Gwenhwyfar Carey
Gwen flinched inwardly when Jennifer asked if she was from the South and mentioned that her father knew the head of a Carey family in Georgia. So much for hoping she could escape her father's reputation. "That's us," she confirmed. "The Savannah Careys. There's other branches of the family through the South, but the Virginia Careys are in charge. The Savannah Careys are just...infamous." That was one way to put it.She tried to imagine what her father would do if anyone ever had the guts to address him as 'Al'. They might live through it, she decided, but they would regret it. He hated it when people mispronounced or attempted to shorten his name. Of course, any man who would marry her could do whatever he wanted, in Alasdair's book. He probably wanted her gone even more than her mother did, given how vocal he could be about how embarrassing it was that she, his eldest living child, was a girl. "His name's Alasdair," she said reluctantly. "Don't apologize, though. No point in denying the truth. He's not a kind man and he never has been." She couldn't help but wonder how Jennifer's father knew Alasdair. She knew her father knew important people, but not to what extent.
Oddly enough, it was that remark about her father, one that would have put her sister Morgaine on the warpath, that made Gwen decide that she liked Jennifer and to let down her guard a little. It seemed that they were alike. She began chopping the daisy roots, taking great care with how she cut them. The precision of potion-making had always been one of her favorite things about it. There were no loose ends or uncertainties. It had to be just such-and-so and no questions asked. She finished the daisy roots and laughed at the mention of parties. "When my family has a party, I don't have to do much," she said. "Mother just surrounds me with a cluster of unmarried men and I clap my hands and say 'how wonderful you are!' so they feel smart." She began working on the root of asphodel. Dangerous stuff, asphodel, if misused. "When we're at other people's parties, then I have to watch my step. I have to work hard to dissemble well."
She was almost completely taken up with the ingredients, now. She had been taught that there was an art to everything and that she should strive to make everything she did a work of art, be it preparing a potion or lifting a fork. She didn't always do it, but sometimes it was easy, like now. She caught Jennifer's question, but it took her a few seconds to process it. "I'm in Crotalus," she said. "And you can call me Gwen. Pretty much everyone does. The only person who always calls me Gwenhwyfar is Father, and he gave me the stupid name. I was eight before I could even say it myself." She laughed, remembering her early attempts to say her own name. Welsh names and Southern accents didn't mix well.
"I don't think I really can try out for the Quidditch team," she admitted, a little embarrassed. "I don't know how to play. I've never even seen a game. Father thought I would get dangerous feminist ideas." She bit her tongue hard. She shouldn't have said that. If she had been paying more attention to what she was doing than to the ginger, she would have caught herself. Oh, well. It wasn't that uncommon of a viewpoint in the Deep South, and Jennifer already knew that Alasdair Carey wasn't exactly a prince of a man. "Good luck, though. And feel free to babble away. I do the same thing, sometimes."
All that was left was the fluxweed. She had left it for last on purpose. She didn't need to be worried about how many other things she still had to do while preparing this, because she didn't relish the idea of blowing the room to high heaven and she didn't think Jennifer would, either. "Just the fluxweed left to prepare, then the ingredients are done," she said. "I really hope I do this right."
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
You've got me there.
63
Gwenhwyfar Carey
0
5
Jennifer
June 05, 2005 4:09 PM
Yay, I win. by Jennifer
"Infamous, eh?" Jennifer asked, somewhat rhetorically. "Sounds a great deal like my mother's side of the family. I don't know if you've heard of them, the Noire family in England. Very much the typical upperclass Pureblood kind of people. I never liked them very much, and they never seemed to want me, at least until last year."Not want her was a bit of an understatement. The divorce between Daniel Zucchero and Christine Noire had been gossip fodder for the Pureblood get-togethers for several years, and still was occasionally used if the people conversing knew one or the other. It had been a long, drawn out affair, and had involved a great deal of backstabbing by her mother. Jennifer's father had taken her with him while he travelled as an ambassador, partly because her mother had, to quote a letter Jennifer had found once, 'not wanted to have to deal with a child, because it might mess up her social life.'
Jennifer had gotten over not feeling wanted, although it had been difficult for a five year old to grasp, and now it was she not wanting her mother, who looked at Jennifer as a potential alliance former between the Noires and some other pureblood family.
She sensed an unspoken question about how her father knew Alasdair, and so she decided, partly to get her mind off her mother, to answer the unasked question. "My dad's an ambassardor, and so has a lot of connections in places. He also has to know a lot of people, and attend a lot of state functions. I think he might have met your dad at one of those."
She nodded slightly at Gwen's insistences that her father was not a nice man. Here was someone like her, someone who knew about feeling unwanted, and trying not to lose your ideals and values when everyone else wanted you to do so.
She grinned at the summary of what Gwen did at parties. "If I can get out of parties, I try. Sometimes it works, but whenever it doesn't, I always kinda disappear into the background. I don't like being the center of attention very much. I think I've developed a reputation of being a bit of a wallflower, because I always prefer to just sit in the shadows and draw everything around me."
Her smile turned to slight indignation when she learned that Gwen had never been allowed to play quidditch. "That's horrible. That, that just goes beyond horrible. Honestly, dangerous feminist ideas? No offense, but that's just sick." She herself couldn't imagine not being able to play quidditch, the one time when she would step out of the shadows. She frowned thoughtfully, and then looked up at Gwen.
"You know, Gwen, if you want, I could probably teach you a little. Maybe me and a friend of mine, Liz Lavine. You look like you'd be good, and there's no harm in trying, is there? I mean, your dad wouldn't get mad at you, would he?" She kept stirring as Gwen put some more of the ingredients in. Stirring was a rather mindless job, but she enjoyed it, in a way. It left more time to think.
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Jennifer
Yay, I win.
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Jennifer
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
June 05, 2005 9:59 PM
Congradulations. by Gwenhwyfar Carey
Noire. That rang a bell, but she wasn't sure where it came from. Probably the people who had tried to send the founder of the Virginia Careys to prison or the people who had been scheming with him, if they were an English family. She had been required to memorized the family history, but she had found it too repetitive to bother with details. Move somewhere, kill the leaders, take over. Marry off daughters to cement alliances. Murder a few people for the heck of it. Blackmail the president.Scheme to rule the world. Repeat in the next generation. So went the story of the Careys-well, except the Charlotte Careys, who minded their own business and didn't meddle. She had always half-wished she was a Charlotte Carey.She studied Jennifer out of the corner of her eye when she said the Noires had never wanted her. It was just the opposite in her case; her mother's family had been the only people who ever seemed to find anything good about her. Her times with Grandma Vaughn were the best memories she had. Her mother had been so crazy by the time she was born that Lorena didn't have a clue who she was most of the time, calling her either 'you' or, for some strange reason, 'Nicole', and her father swore she would never make a lady. To Eileen,her Grandmother Carey-St.Martin, she was another pawn in the giant chess game of pureblood life. Only the Vaughns actually gave a thought to Gwen instead of Miss Carey of Bellevue.
She paused before answering. "I've often wondered what it would be like to not be upper class," she said. "The machinations don't leave much room for family affection, and I've heard that other kinds of people are less complicated. My mother's people are non-aristocratic purebloods, and they aren't like the aristocrats at all. Much simpler in their ways and easier to live with."
To Gwen's surprise,Jennifer answered the unspoken question about Alasdair and her father.An ambassador. A vivid image sprang into her mind: Her father, a tight, forced smile on his hawk-nosed face, shaking hands with Ambassador Zucchero while an assassin stood waiting for a signal from Alasdair if the Wolf thought he ought to get this particular visitor out of his way. Then, of course, there would have been Madeira in crystal glasses and well-mannered conversation about politics. It would have all been sickeningly Antebellum,the last remnant of a past the pureblood South could neither hold on to nor give up. She shook her head a little to dislodge the image.
"My sister is a wallflower," she said. "Morgaine. She doesn't get along with people, she likes scaring people, and she's likely as not to tell someone he's uglier than her pet Kneazle. So she stays in the shadows and Mother lets her. Are you an artist?" She hadn't missed the comment about drawing. It was a talent she had never possessed. Her art was with words, or so she liked to think. Poetry was her secret vice, though she didn't think anyone had ever read anything she wrote.
She was caught completely off-guard by the indignation over the fact she didn't know how to play Quidditch. So caught off-guard, as a matter of fact, that she looked up from the fluxweed. "Father's a chauvinist," she explained. "He'll tell you, quite loudly if he's had a few shots of Tennessee whiskey, that a woman's role is to cement alliances, look ornamental, have babies, and make men's lives more comfortable. He renounced Quidditch and Quodpot as soon as he found out women were allowed to play. His only sports these days are dueling and horse racing."
She finished the fluxweed just as Jennifer suggested giving her lessons in Quidditch with possible help from another girl. Lavine, eh? That was a name she knew. Major Louisiana family, very important. The Louisiana Careys had never liked them, but it was an accepted fact that the Louisiana Careys didn't like anyone, including each other and the rest of the family. She had decided not to put too much stock in names after the great drama of the first year Crotali started,so it didn't matter anyway. This could be an interesting expiriment. It couldn't hurt to make two more friends and learn how to handle a broomstick, if she learned nothing else.
She smiled wryly when Jennifer asked if her father would get mad at her. He'd be furious...if he found out. She had always liked sneaking around behind the Wolf's back, not to mention that he wouldn't be watching her very closely. "He probably won't have a clue what I do here for the next seven years," she said. "He's already got a man in Louisiana to sign a contract saying he won't marry anyone else unless I do, so I'm taken care of. Not worth a reaction unless I do something that could enable the Robinonds to withdraw from the contract. If he asked any questions, I'd say it was political. He'd believe me-he doesn't think I'm smart enough to lie." She added the fluxweed carefully and sighed with relief when there was no explosion. "So-all right, if it's not a bother. Even if I'm hopelessly bad, there's no harm in learning how to play the game."
She really was turning into a proper little rebel. She had started a war with the very people she was supposed to befriend, befriended those the Careys would consider to be of lower quality than her, and now she was going to learn how to play Quidditch. The only person she had talked to civilly so far that her father might approve of was Jennifer, and he would have died on the spot if he had ever heard this conversation. She was finding rebellion to be curiously satisfying.
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Gwenhwyfar Carey
Congradulations.
63
Gwenhwyfar Carey
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5