It's one of the many things that could be useful. on Potions

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 15, 2020 1:57 PM

A degree in potions? [Advanced.] by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Mary rubbed her temples as she waited for her students to arrive. On the whole, she didn't let them see her stressed. It helped that she rarely was stressed. However, between Tabitha's... whatever it was that Tabitha was dealing with, Dorian and the entirety of his situation, and the building pressure to help students plan for life after Sonora, Mary was stressed. She had also been bitten by a flobberworm recently enough to be irritated by that still. Really, she'd been bitten, burned, or scraped up by a number of things recently. Some of them weren't so hard to heal, others took more time. Normally she was very careful, but the bandages on her hands would belie her otherwise calm exterior once the students arrived.

As they did so, Mary pushed herself away from her desk. The students stopped and huddled by the door as they entered, because the room was completely rearranged. The desks that would normally be used for student work had now been pushed around the room so that Mary and her desk were in the middle, chairs sat around the edges of the room for students to sit in should they wish to discuss something or take more notes on something, and the desks were each set up for different stations.

"Hello," Mary greeted them simply. Her large pointy hat and ornate sapphire dress indicated that today would not be a practical lesson, although the bandages once again suggested that Mary herself had been working more hands on very recently. "You are undoubtedly sick of hearing about exams and careers and furthering your educations at this point, so I won't talk long. Today will be a career fair as such. Each booth has information, some about a different career that utilises potion-making, mostly as a central part of its work; some with information about post-Sonora education programs, internships, etc., courtesy of Mr. Row; and some have information about the sort of practical, daily use potions that are helpful to know at home or throughout your life, regardless of whether you choose a career in this field."

As she spoke, she gestured around the room, loosely indicating a booth with information about a study abroad program, a college with various potions-related degrees, a booth about healing, cooking, teaching, becoming an Auror, and more. "We don't have any representatives from any of these programs, but I am here to answer any questions you have, and Mr. Row..." Where was Mr. Row? He said he'd be happy to help with the lesson . . .

Just as she thought of him, the guidance counselor appeared from behind the students, his own mask a little more transparent than Mary's as he adopted a sheepish smile over a more tense expression. It seemed to be a common thing at school just now. "Sorry I'm late," he apologised, making his way through the students and up to stand near Mary. "I . . . well I guess there's no excuses." He looked around the room and nodded when he saw the booths related to specific programs, already thinking about the notes he should take, the questions he'd be asked, and the follow up he'd want to do at the next Study Hall session.

Mary nodded kindly, agreeing that there were no excuses and also understanding that sometimes there were things that felt very much like excuses. "We're all fallible, Mr. Row. Don't worry." She smiled at the guidance counselor, who returned the expression and seemed to relax a little. She was glad, because "we're all fallible" seemed like a really harsh turn of phrase, but she'd been actively trying to weed "we're only human" from her lexicon, aware that that was neither true nor helpful for everyone.

"In any case, feel free to explore with someone else or on your own, take notes, collect information, etc. Today will be fairly laid back, but you will be expected to turn in a reflective essay next week, with information that you learned from at least three booths." She nodded again, did a quick mental inventory, and decided that she had covered everything she wanted to. "Alright. On with it then! Let myself or Mr. Row know if you need anything. Feel free to put your bags in one of the cubbies along the wall, but I recommend you keep a notebook with you to take notes."

Mr. Row nodded as well, and went to stand nearer the education side of the room while Mary made her way nearer to the career side in case there were any specific potions questions or logistical questions about this work. They would, she knew, both be meandering about anyway.

OOC - Welcome to potions! Mr. Row is also my character, so no worries on the god-modding front. Feel free to meander about, work with each other, and have fun. I left it fairly vague so if you have ideas for careers or specific programs, feel free to write about those. If anyone has questions for Mr. Row or Mary, just tag them and they would be happy to thread with you, or pop in and out of threads between students. Happy wizarding!

Subthreads:

I need a plan by Dorian Montoir with Ivy Brockert

It's one of the many things that could be useful. by Tatiana Vorontsova

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne A degree in potions? [Advanced.] 1424 1 5

Dorian Montoir

March 27, 2020 7:57 AM

I need a plan by Dorian Montoir

Professor Brooding was hurt. Dorian eyed her bandaged wrist with concern as he entered, whilst his brain went spinning off down a more personal track. An injured wrist. Broken, in fact. A set of strong hands helping him up…

He had to talk to his boyfriend. Dorian knew this. But it was rapidly becoming specific and concrete. And now, he too had something to apologise for. He had messed up.

The 14th February had seen Choux arriving at his windowsill with a box of chocolates and a hand-drawn card. It depicted a bowtruckle hugging a tree, which he felt was all too accurate. When he’d picked the nickname for Jean-Loup, he hadn’t considered the eye-gouging side of a bowtruckle’s nature. Still, it had been his first Valentine’s Day with someone, and he had forgotten. He felt horrible over not having sent anything. That had at least moved him to admit that they had a viable means of live communication at their disposal and, along with apologising profusely, he had asked whether Jean-Loup wanted to talk. His boyfriend had written back to confirm the times he was available. That was coming up at the weekend.

He couldn’t stop going over it in his head, imagining all the ways it might go – from blazing row to perfect reconciliation. And even though he cried his eyes out every time he made it go badly, he still wasn’t sure which outcome he actually wanted. Whilst it had been a huge relief to find that Professor Brooding and Tatya weren’t mad at Jean-Loup, it hadn’t made it that much easier to know how he felt about the situation. A part of him had wanted to argue back, make them agree with him that something Wrong had happened. He wanted everyone to agree that he was right but also not be mad at each other for doing bad things. And to know what the future held.

That, apparently, was on the cards in Potions today as well, which seemed specifically geared to push his buttons. Things had settled down in some ways. The number of classes where he was just silently crying in the back row or excusing himself part way through was gradually reducing. Things did not feel ‘better’ per se, but he had got used to feeling like his life was up in the air. The raw edges were healing. It did not sting like a fresh cut. But it was far from healed. It was feeling like it was flaring up again though, with the call looming at the weekend.

And potions class wanted him to dig into the very subject that was causing him so much anxiety. The looming sense of The Future. He had done so much to bring that into his control. He had spent time with Mr. Row learning how to budget and balance a bank account. He had even opened one in Tumbleweed and started sneaking money from his account back home into it however and whenever he could. And now all that… He had no idea where to go with it. The future felt more like hurtling blindly towards a cliff than it had ever done. He had wanted to get there, to have the freedom of adult choices, and he was now reliving the cautionary tale of being careful what you wished for. Were those choices walking away from his family? For someone who’d done something he couldn’t stand?
It really took only the slightest provocation from real life to send him reeling. Not to the extent that he broke down or had to leave the room, but to set his mind firmly back on the track of everything that was worrying him. This was more than slight. There was also one of the booths which he was having trouble keeping out of the corner eye. The one that asked if he wanted to be a healer. He did not. But someone else did.

As they were set to their task of looking over the information provided, he chose his booth not based on interest but on what would allow him to keep his back firmly turned to that. Research. Right. As in, not only was that the subject of the class but of the booth he had found himself standing at. Things about advancing the knowledge of potions. A life surrounded by books and thoughts. It didn’t sound bad. At least not until he flipped over the page of the leaflet, and it pointed out how frequently this came in useful to support the work of healers. And everything else just slid away.

He had to talk to his boyfriend.

This weekend.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood frozen, simply staring into the empty space an inch or so above the leaflet. But he guessed it had been noticeable when someone tried to get his attention in a way that suggested that hadn’t been their first attempt.

“Sorry,” he said with a start. “My mind was wandering… I am in your way?” he added, realising he was slightly blocking the access to the table, and hoping that was all they had wanted.

13 Dorian Montoir I need a plan 1401 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 27, 2020 12:51 PM

It's one of the many things that could be useful. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Tatiana tried to pay attention to the Potion lecture. She distinctly heard the ominous word 'exams' in the introduction, after all, which meant it was important. However, the professor kept using words she was less familiar with, and between working through the sentences and continuing her vigil of trying to keep an eye on Dorian without being obvious about it. She did not think Dorian wanted her to literally hover over him every moment of the day that she could, and it was not a terribly practical thing to do anyway, but the problem was, hovering over him every moment of the day that she could was exactly what she wanted to do.

She had entered a correspondence with Jean Loup almost immediately after her conversation with Dorian and Professor Brooding. A lot of things had become clearer - for both of them. She had received assurances that Dorian and Jean-Loup were in correspondence, but she had not noticed that Dorian seemed appreciably better. He was not himself, and she almost flirted, at times, with the idea of being angry with Jean-Loup along with Matthieu, though she ultimately always came back to agreeing with herself that she and Jean-Loup were essentially on the same page. Not entirely, because she had not told him exactly how bad Dorian seemed some days and had focused instead on reassurances about how she was taking care of Dorian, but essentially. Plus, Matthieu was the one who had started it all, so he deserved the brunt of her wrath and frustration, and it was easier just to give him all of it. She enjoyed math, normally, but nothing combined well with stressful personal matters. She had had a mild aversion to the necklace she had been wearing on the first Potions lesson after Christmas ever since the conversation had concluded.

Now, she fiddled with a long, kite-shaped aquamarine and diamond pendant in white gold as she glanced between Dorian, their teacher, and...what was Row doing here? And why was he excusing himself, then unexcusing himself? And what did 'fallible' mean? She supposed she could look it up, but first, she would need to know if it started with the English 'f' or if it was one of the many f-words in English which actually started with 'ph'...

Her attention shifted, finally, mostly to what was going on, and not a moment too soon, as it involved the homework assignment. Reflective essay. Reflect was what a mirror did...no, they had had assignments like this before. It just meant they were supposed to talk about what they thought about...three booths, apparently. Lovely. Tatiana supposed she could pull together something very to the point, anyway - not least because it did not have to have a lot of sources underpinning it to work, and there were no comments about how long it had to be. The word 'essay' implied that Brooding might want an introduction and a conclusion, but on the whole, not the worst homework assignment she could imagine - though she might ask just to make sure she had to bother writing an introduction and conclusion proper, rather than just a sentence, or better yet, nothing at all. After, of course, she saw these booths.

At least, she thought as she looked around and gathered a greater understanding of what she was supposed to be doing, this might be something that cheered up Dorya. He seemed to like to think about the future, about some time when he would no longer have to live with Matthieu, and would have children and true love - though how he meant to combine those two things if his true love was Jean-Loup, she had no idea. She knew what sex was, of course - her mother had explained it to her when she had begun her monthly dreadfulness - and the description had not left a lot of room for how babies happened if there were two husbands or two wives instead of one of each.

Indeed, it did not allow for sex happening at all if there was not one of each, because in her mother's description, the event was strictly about producing babies - the idea it might serve any other purpose had not been introduced. Mama had talked about romance and even kissing separately, as feelings Tatiana might have that were perfectly natural, but which she must not let get out of hand, lest she made a fool of herself in front of a boy and in so doing embarrassed their family, or allowed the boy to say nasty things about her behind her back. The idea that this could be tied to what happened after marriage had not been discussed and so had not really occurred to her yet. Sex was simply something which was required after you got married, like giving up one's own name if one happened to be a woman, and living with one's husband, and learning how to keep accounts in order to run the estate properly. None of these things were especially interesting, just...things that were necessary, whether one much liked it or not. Marriage could happen for true love or convenience, but procreation was simply a duty, and it did not occur to Tatiana to question that - not when she had every reason in the world to take what her mother said on the subjects of love and procreation at face value. Her mama had married her papa because they had come to love each other when they were young and Papa had gone to Russia for to work for a few years, and then they had gone back to his village and had six children because that was just what one did after getting married. This was why - despite how increasingly interesting kissing sounded, especially in the summer, when she was taken to casual parties where there were handsome young men who spoke her language fluently and tripped over themselves to compliment her and walk with her and dance with her and go riding with her and sit beside her at picnics - Tatiana dreaded the thought of marriage; she did not want to go far away from home essentially forever, as Anya had, and she certainly did not want to look the way Anya had at Christmas, sick and misshapen because she and Rodya were going to have their first baby soon.

She meant to stick to Dorya's side, but he went off on his own rather quickly, which she took as a deliberate request for solitude. Instead, then, she carefully just went to the next booth over, where she could keep an eye on him from the corner of her eye and play the part of the loud, oblivious idiot if she deemed a distraction in order. She would not allow him to be held up to public disgrace, she thought fiercely as she turned over a pamphlet talking about studying abroad in China to learn about Eastern potion-making.

Dorya seemed absorbed in his own pamphlet, so she glanced at another student, lest someone notice she was not really focused on the lesson. "It is hard, studying where you are not...one of people there," she commented. "I know this. I know a little China-tongue, but it would be much difficult to study there."

16 Tatiana Vorontsova It's one of the many things that could be useful. 1396 0 5

Ivy Brockert

April 14, 2020 2:28 PM

I already have one by Ivy Brockert

The ball was getting closer and Ivy was getting worried. She was Head Girl, and while she was proud to have the honor, it meant that she would have to do the opening dance. And the Teppenpaw had nobody to dance with. It would be inappropriate to dance with her brother or Connor who were related to her-and besides, the latter was taking Peyton, as they were not related to each other and the other seventh year very clearly had been crushing on Peyton for quite a bit. And she knew Brett was going with Eden and Gary was going with Jasmine and she had no reason to think that any of the remaining guys would want to go with her either. Unless Dorian would as a favor to Vlad. It would just be that one dance and he wouldn't have to even talk to her the rest of the night.

The Tepppenpaw also knew that opting out was a possibility, but Ivy didn't want to do that either. It would be embarassing, it would look like nobody wanted to even dance with you. Like you weren't good enough and Ivy had already had to deal with those feelings enough.

On the plus side, her future was mostly planned. She was planning to go to Dofmore and study journalism. Then she was going to work as a journalist until she had children. The only thing Ivy didn't know was who she was going to marry. Yes, unlike at Sonora, she usually danced with people at society balls but she had no specific plans in that department.

Sometimes, she wished she did have someone, even if they couldn't dance with her at the ball here. It would be nice to have that special someone, to be in love. To feel chosen and wanted and desired, the opposite of how the ball and the opening dance were making Ivy feel. The opposite of how she felt when Eden got prefect over her.

The seventh year would have been happy to sit with a book or other homework since she already knew what she was going to do and did not really need to look over options at this point. However, in order to do the assignment Ivy had to go look at the booths, so she headed towards one that was talking about Potions research. That sounded interesting enough. Maybe someday she'd be covering this topic for a newspaper.

Unfortunately, just as she approached the booth, Dorian Montoir walked in front of her though Ivy was certain he wasn't being rude. From what she knew, rudeness wasn't in his character. He probably just had something on his mind and didn't notice her. Planning for the future could be stressful "Excuse me." Ivy said. Dorian didn't respond. He seemed very intent on some leaflet. She cleared her throat and repeated herself a little louder. "Excuse me."

This time he replied. "It's all right." Ivy said. "Find anything interesting?" She asked.

11 Ivy Brockert I already have one 394 0 5