I refuse to crack. on Potions

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

May 22, 2020 12:44 PM

Let's get cracking! [Intermediates] by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

So far, the start of the new year hadn't killed Mary. It certainly seemed to be trying, but classes had been going well, students were being student-y, and life was looking a bit more normal. If nothing else, it was becoming its own new normal. Mary was not under any delusion that her life would ever look the way it had six months before, but she'd almost given up on wishing it would. Now, she was just taking one day at a time and trying to make class interesting enough to make sure neither she nor her students fell asleep during the lecture.

When the intermediate students arrived - which always required a period of adjustment at the start of new years, when second years were third years and fifth years were gone off to be sixth years - they were greeted by a room that was decidedly warmer than usual, with dim lights and a quiet, subdued sort of environment. The last of these traits was due to the rather large amount of substrate that lined large crates where student desks usually were, mounds of shining eggs visible in each. Today, the desks had been pushed aside and cushions were set up around the crates, indicating unambiguously where students were meant to be sitting for today's lesson. If any of the students had been into a muggle pet store before, or a farm, they might recognize the classroom for its similarities to where lizards and chicken eggs might be kept.

Mary greeted students in a low, soft voice, setting the tone for a class day that was going to be a bit hushed. Perhaps she wasn't doing a very good job keeping everyone awake, but she was exhausted and the best she could do was make her classroom as much like a big warm blanket as she could manage. She reminded a few of the long-haired students to put their hair up as they took their seats, and when everyone was finally sat down, Mary took a seat on her own cushion. She sat on the floor as well, her legs folded neatly underneath her dress - one of the reasons long skirts were so helpful - and scooted close to her own crate.

Since everyone's box was the same as Mary's, she didn't tip it forward so much as gestured to the partitions that separated the box into three equal-sized squares. "Doxy eggs," she said softly, pointing to a pile of shining black eggs in a nest on the left, "ashwinder eggs," she pointed to the dull orange and red eggs in the middle, frozen in time to prevent them from catching everything in the vicinity on fire, "and occamy eggs," she pointed to the gleaming silver eggs in the right-most nest. "These are viable eggs. Anyone caught intentionally harming any of the eggs or baby creatures inside will be put in detention as long as I am allowed to keep you there. We treat animals as humanely as possible in potions, particularly since the nature of our work means it is not always possible to keep them alive."

This was, she knew, a controversial topic and one she was the least proud of her field for. Someday, she did sincerely hope that vegan and vegetarian potions could be figured out that were as effective as the ones with animal products and byproducts, but that day was not this one. She paused long enough to let that sink in and then continued.

"Part of our work in brewing potions means selecting ingredients responsibly, with as little waste or cruelty as possible. While you can usually find out enough about your ingredient sources to find trusted suppliers, particularly if you buy in as large a bulk as I usually do," she added with a wry smile, "other times, you must learn to tell for yourself. Today, we will be assessing the health and quality of each of these three types of eggs. Please remember what we've been talking about and your reading as far as how dangerous doxy eggs are, and the fact that ashwinder eggs have been frozen.

Beside each crate is a set of tools. You'll find a scale, calipers, and various other items. You and a partner or two partners will be writing notes to turn in, indicating to the best of your ability the weight, size, density, surface structure, and health of the eggs in your crate. Not every crate has eggs with the same properties." She knew for a fact that there were some not-so-healthy eggs that she had been very upset to receive in some of the boxes. "Remember that we can gently scratch the surface of an egg and feel it with our hands to consider texture and structure, and we can gently tap the egg with various instruments to measure apportionment shell density, quality of yolk and albumen, etc."

Satisfied she had covered the gist of what she wanted to, Mary waved her wand at the chalkboard to reveal bullet-pointed directions of what she'd discussed. A copy of these in German had been available on Mary's desk when Hilda came in, up to the girl to take them or not as she saw fit based on their previous discussion. She wasn't about to float them over to her in front of everyone when she might not prefer that sort of attention.

"Please let me know if you have any questions. Otherwise, go ahead and get started. The rest of today's class period will be used for this activity."

Subthreads:

I'm being good! by Felipe De Matteo with Lyssa Fitzgerald

I am not good with fragile things (tag Johana-Leonie) by Malikhi Hill with Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

I hate everything about this. by Jessica Hayles with Evelyn Stones

I refuse to crack. by Jezebel Reed-Fischer

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Let's get cracking! [Intermediates] 1424 1 5

Felipe De Matteo

May 22, 2020 11:26 PM

I'm being good! by Felipe De Matteo

Felipe was not a bit opposed to holding hands until notetaking or wandwork required they let go, and basically just working with Zara all the time in every class. That being said, he also was a big fan of not smothering her, so they often worked with others in class and didn't even hold hands under the desk or anything. Which was good for today's potions lesson, because there were no desks. Felipe took a seat at one of the crates across the room from the door, as he didn't mind the heat and suspected many of his classmates did and would prefer to sit nearer a source of cooler air. Also, he didn't really want to sit in the middle because that was way too much eye contact with the professor and she looked exhausted and he didn't think he was quite up for being super helpful and understanding about an exhausted professor; being helpful and understanding with his peers was a challenge in its own way and he was perfectly happy to stop there. Besides, professors probably didn't want to be cross-examined by students, however good their motives were.

As the professor explained the lesson for the day, Felipe found himself nodding along, excited. Humane treatment of non-human life was very important to him and he appreciated a lesson focusing on that, even if not in so many words. Eggs were by far one of the weirdest parts of the life cycles of animals. And . . . well humans sort of technically had eggs but that was too weird to think about so Felipe stopped thinking about it.

That aside, these were the sorts of lessons that made Felipe excited about his future. Herbology was certainly his favorite class, but learning about the quality and qualities of animals and creatures who lived amongst the flora was a close second. That put COMC and Potions really high on his list of favorites. He knew he didn't need to be thinking about his exams just yet, and he knew that he definitely didn't need to be thinking about his career post-Sonora, but he also had never done so before and thought he had some catching up to do. If just living in a little house with window boxes of plants and an extensive garden was a career, he'd be set. As it was, that was not super likely to happen.

When the professor told them to begin, Felipe turned to the student sitting next to him and smiled. "Shall we work together?" he asked.

22 Felipe De Matteo I'm being good! 1434 0 5

Lyssa Fitzgerald

May 25, 2020 11:03 AM

Congrats. Do you want a cookie? by Lyssa Fitzgerald

The warmth, pillows and lighting made Lyssa think of some sort of bar in the Middle East. Not that she’d ever been to one, she’d just seen a fair amount of television in her days before Sonora. So knew to expect some kind of poison attack or skullduggery. Not really, but that’s what it felt like, when she entered so she found herself on the other side of the room, facing the door with her back towards the wall. Safest position in the room really. Really though, Lyssa was thinking about Ness and the Consent Campaign. She was trying to figure out the best way forward with both. Did she ask Ness out on a date, how did people even go out on dates when there were no balls. And how could she raise money for the Consent Campaign during the festival that was many months away.

She casually strummed her fingers on her chest while she waited for the class to start. A little later than she’d wanted did she realize that the class had already started. Professor Brooding-Hawthorne, now the more tired one, seemed to be speaking quietly, and so Lyssa turned her head slightly so she could hear better.

“Hmm..” Lyssa grunted as the professor described how part of potions making was cruel. Lyssa nodded. It wasn’t something she’d necessarily thought of really, but upon the discussion it made sense. It was something she could try to look into as she continued in this world of witches and magic.

Lyssa made some notes as the professor finished, making sure to take down the points on the board. She turned as the voice next to her seemed to direct itself in her direction. It was Felipe. Lyssa mentally went through her mind quickly about what she knew about him. Fight last year on some pretense around her new friend Jessica, though now Felipe and Jessica were no longer talking. He was nice to Cleo and Parker at the ball last year, though a bit stiff and awkward. He was obviously dating and smooching Zara a lot this year. Maybe that’s why Jessica and he weren’t talking?

Lyssa contemplated saying no to his request. If he wasn’t talking to Jessica, or more difficult the opposite way around, and Lyssa began talking with Felipe, did that mean Jessica would get upset? If Lyssa turned him down, would she have to get up and move? She smiled politely.

“Sure,” Lyssa said, “Which eggs shall we start with? The bitey ones,” Lyssa said, pointing a quill to the Doxy eggs, “the fire ones” she said pointing to the Ashwinder eggs “or the lucky shiny ones?” She said pointing to the last of the trio.

41 Lyssa Fitzgerald Congrats. Do you want a cookie? 1421 0 5

Felipe De Matteo

May 25, 2020 11:13 AM

Nono, good is the bar over which I try to jump. by Felipe De Matteo

"Left to right works for me," he said, agreeing to the order that both the professor and the girl - Lyssa Fitzgerald, he was pretty sure - had gone in. That meant bitey eggs first. Felipe thought that was a great way to refer to them and would probably be a helpful memory trick. Black Bitey eggs. Alliteration helped. Really, anything helped when one had to memorise as much as he'd once been expected to.

He considered his partner out of the corner of his eye as he reached for the toolbox and adjusted himself on the cushion to be more comfortable. If he was right about her name, she was Parker's younger sister, and consent was all shades of important to her. He was pretty sure he was right because he'd seen her helping man-- wow, 'man' the table. What a terrible phrase. And not a very fitting one. He'd seen her. . . . standing at the table doing stuff at the Ball. That was as good a topic as any to discuss while they worked, particularly since Felipe thought he owed Parker and Cleo especially a debt of gratitude for helping him not be an accidental creep. Also, he still hadn't been able to make his donation to the cause as he wasn't sure where to send it. It was difficult to ask about such things without it being traced back to him, which defeated the purpose of an anonymous donation.

"You were at the booth with Cleo and Parker last year, right?" he asked, laying out the tools they had to work with. "At the Ball?"

22 Felipe De Matteo Nono, good is the bar over which I try to jump. 1434 0 5

Malikhi Hill

May 25, 2020 1:48 PM

I am not good with fragile things (tag Johana-Leonie) by Malikhi Hill

Malikhi enjoyed his potion classes because his teacher was nice and the lessons were often interesting but when it came to making potions and understanding the theory, he was distinctly average. He wasn't always accurate with his measurements and he also wasn't the most careful. He had spilled many things more than once on the floor or across his desk. He never did it intentionally, he was just a bit clumsy when it came to handling vial or a ladle. So, when he walked into the classroom and found a box of eggs on the surface of his desk, he tried not to look too appalled, especially when his teacher threatened them with detention should the eggs that were apparently still homes to some tiny creatures be harmed. This did not make for a good lesson. He was going to need help.

There were two people who sprang to mind when he thought of help. The first one was Evelyn but he quickly dismissed her. They hadn't worked together in a long time and it seemed more than likely that she'd work with Ness or one of her other friends. It'd be too weird and awkward to work with her and make a not-good lesson turn into an awful one. The second one was Hana and Malikhi smiled softly. She came from a family of healers so she'd understand the need to be gentle and she was far more likely to be careful in the handling of the eggs than he was. Also, he liked her. He liked her a lot. He would have a lot more fun in a difficult lesson working with someone he liked. So, he walked up to her and greeted her with one of his classic grins.

"Hey," he started, always happy to speak to her. "Do you want to work with me? I'm worried about dropping my eggs but I can make notes and... somehow help..."

It was clear that he hadn't really thought through how they were going to work together without it seeming like he was trying to get Hana to do all the work but he hoped they could figure it out. He really didn't want to end up in detention.

20 Malikhi Hill I am not good with fragile things (tag Johana-Leonie) 1423 0 5

Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

May 26, 2020 2:31 PM

I'm feeling fragile. by Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

Johana Leonie liked potions. It was good practice for her future career goals, and the professor wore pretty clothes, and it was a lot of manual work most days. That being said, she had also been having a hard time focusing recently and a room full of comfortable cushions and warmth didn't make that any easier. She sat nearish Hilda but had an empty seat on one side until Malikhi approached and she nodded mutely when he asked to work together. She hadn't been paying nearly enough attention and wasn't sure what it was they were doing.

She felt a lot of guilt talking to Kai because she hadn't told him what had happened just a few short weeks after he'd left her house over the summer. How to even begin telling him? On the bright side, Friederike Albert seemed appropriately contrite and she doubted he'd told him either, so that was good. Johana Leonie could have a hand in this one.

Between what Kai was saying and what she had in front of her, she was pretty sure she understood what the point of today's lesson was, and she shook her head a little to clear it as Malikhi took a seat.

"Do not you worry," she told him softly, smiling a little. He did make her feel better by being nearby, although she wasn't too sure how she felt about him. She didn't know him that well yet. "We can in the box eggs keep," she said, putting her hands up to show that she didn't intend to pick up the eggs if she didn't have to. At some point, she would have to, but that was not this moment. "Have you good writing?"

22 Johana Leonie Zauberhexen I'm feeling fragile. 1432 0 5

Jessica Hayles

May 26, 2020 9:24 PM

I hate everything about this. by Jessica Hayles

One of the things which had surprised Jessica as a first year was how very almost-normal the classrooms had general looked here. The slightest examination, of course, rapidly revealed all the ways in which they were far, far from normal, but on the surface...desks in rows. Blackboards (a little old-fashioned, sure, but not outrageously so). In science class, burners and lab tables and stools. The details were all wrong, but at a glance, the classrooms almost looked normal. Most of the time, anyway.

Today, it seemed, was one of the times which were exceptions to the rule.

Jessica skirted around the crates of wrong eggs warily, her mouth twisting and her nails digging hard into her left forearm at the sight of the many, many heaped, shining black eggs in one-third of each crate. No, she was not touching that, she'd take a bad grade first. If she was expected to touch that, she thought she would actually lose her composure, or at least have to excuse herself so she could go puke a lot and also meticulously remove every single bit of skin from her hands and arms afterward. As vomiting was revolting and self-mutilation wasn't really her thing, she thought it was best that people just get out of her way and let her go to eggs that were less wrong....

Unfortunately, every crate seemed to have some in it, so the best she could do was find a cushion where neither side was adjacent to a clutch (the word made bile rise in her throat; she had not wanted to look at pictures when they had discussed what doxy eggs were in a previous lesson, but the reality was so, so much worse) of the black masses. She was so anxious to avoid the doxy eggs that she sat down with a crate so fortunately position without even looking to see who else was there, and swore under her breath in Spanish when she realized her error. Once scooting her cushion as far away as it could reasonably go, she deliberately fixed her attention on removing her notebook from her bag, not looking at anyone, now, because moving on account of anyone else - whether that person was someone who had simply ceased to exist about a year ago, or whether that person was such a smug, manipulative, lying, two-faced lump of foot fungus on the least-washed toe of humanity that Jessica wouldn't spit on her if she was on fire, never mind move one inch to accommodate her in any way - was no more than option than public vomit was.

Her face twisted up completely with disgust as the professor tipped one of the loathsome crates toward them, and without her noticing it, her right hand went back to digging its nails into the side of her left forearm, heedless of the pen now trapped between her palm and the top of her arm. She only became aware of what she was doing when Professor Brooding-Hawthorne said something so infernally stupid that she only just managed to turn an involuntary scoff into a throat-clearing in time. Okay, so ashwinder eggs were enough like human embryos that they could survive being frozen, whatever - if they were in this room, they were kinda living on borrowed time anyway, because they were almost certainly going to end up in cauldrons for one of the other classes (Please God, she prayed, with long-unaccustomed fervor, let it be for one of the other classes) by the end of the week. Literally all the teacher cared about was her supplies budget, and while surely anyone who wasn't actually literally brain dead would realize this, the frou-frou hoity-toity moralizing tone still felt like a cheese grater being drawn across Jessica's already irritated nerves. Not that listening to someone admit out loud that they would kiss Skies' feet for an extra buck to buy those hideous things with was exactly tasteful, but....

It was just all so freaking stupid! she thought angrily. Anyone with two functioning brain cells knew that the baby animals, as B-H here was sick enough in the head to refer to them, were gonna be chopped up and boiled soon. The professor even admitted it - in the abstract, of course, but what the heck were they supposed to think? Did she legitimately think that everyone in here wouldn't notice this?

She did not want to do this at all, but desperate times called for desperate measures. As they were set to work, she said, "I will literally do all the rest of the work if I just don't have to touch...those," she said, with a jerk of one hand toward the doxy eggs.

16 Jessica Hayles I hate everything about this. 1442 0 5

Jezebel Reed-Fischer

May 26, 2020 10:44 PM

I refuse to crack. by Jezebel Reed-Fischer

CW: Internalised homophobia, implied reference to suicide.

With the advent of the new school year, Jezebel was an intermediate student at Sonora. Having reconnected with Dathan had been great and she'd been feeling great about it at the Feast, but now she was worried. In retrospect, she probably should have considered the fact that she had essentially "come out" to someone with all the tools to take what she cared about away from her. That being said, Dathan would never do that. It was especially unlikely that he would since he hadn't yet, as evidenced by the lack of angry letters from home. That didn't mean Jezebel slept any better though, and she was generally just tired. Part of the problem was that she was largely on edge.

Dorian and Ness - the most obvious LGBTQ+ representation in Sonora's student body - weren't in her House, which helped. But that wasn't to say they weren't around. Jezebel even had classes with Ness now. Add to that that Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts class meant however many hours a week with one or the other of a married pair of women and Jean-Loup's loitering bouts in the library, and Jezebel was always a bit afraid of what was showing up on her face. She wasn't a fool; there were folks who were furious that Dorian had made Head Boy when him having outed himself to the school occurred after the vote. She heard the whispers and she tried to ignore them, but she couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to be whispered about. What did the other professors say about the Professors Brooding-Hawthorne? Or was idle gossip and judgment a thing of youth? Jezebel doubted it and her own mother was a case-in-point.

This year, Defense Against the Dark arts was the first class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and Potions was the last. It was nice to have both classes relegated to the same days, but it was also sort of terrible to start and end those days with the professors Jezebel most hoped to avoid. On the bright side, today's potions lesson seemed to include a particularly sleeping Professor Brooding-Hawthorne and a lot of student work. That was the best Jezebel could hope for and she tried to relax as she took a seat on a cushion that was not near Ness.

A horrible thought struck her then, and she had to resist the urge to look around the room at her classmates. She was pretty sure - and desperately hoping - that these things weren't visible to others. Certainly Jezebel couldn't point anyone out but Ness that she knew of as not . . . uh . . . straight? Or cisgender? She wasn't sure. She'd looked up some of the terminology and stuff, but she wasn't really comfortable using it yet. Unfortunately, Ness was probably the best person to help with that. That aside, she couldn't tell whether anyone else was whatever Ness was. That meant that either Jezebel was the only one and she was even more alone than she'd thought, or that there were others who were in the same boat as she was. She wasn't sure which was more terrible, but she knew that the latter wasn't worth the risk of being wrong.

The professor began class and Jezebel took notes. It was a habit now, and she can take notes without really hearing what she was taking notes on. Good thing, because she would definitely have to study them later when that was the case. Today, however, the professor's brief lecture was going to be immediately applicable, so Jezebel paid extra close attention. She also found herself glad that she had previous notes with her, as well as the textbook for class, because she would definitely have to look up these weird little eggs again. Or not so little in some cases.

Eggs were sort of a horrifying concept to her. Sure, she liked a good breakfast skillet and stuff, and Easter eggs were a thing, but her research into LGBTQ+ terminology had also led her to . . . body terminology. She had thought that this was important to just get through because if she really wanted to understand sexuality, she needed to understand . . . uh. Bodies. She'd only just recently started that whole gross thing that happened once a month and eggs were suddenly way more relevant. Now she felt like a walking omelette machine, and it made her think about a thing that happened with chickens when you fed them eggs. It was a gross idea somehow anyway, even though there wasn't really anything health-wise to make it not acceptable, but the bigger problem was that chickens liked eggs. If they were fed them and developed a taste for them, they would start murdering their own little baby chicken eggs just to get at the taste. Jezebel wasn't sure exactly how to put it, but she thought she might be a bit like a chicken, gone rabid with a taste for something that she shouldn't be wanting at risk of self-sabotaging if she acted on it. The solution? For chickens, owners had to smash the eggs before giving them to the chickens, to keep them from recognizing the product for what it was. That would probably be a bit like dating a guy. What if she never dated though? Could she just . . . not? If she didn't date anyone, then no one would have to know and she wouldn't have to break any eggs.

Ugh. Professor Brooding-Hawthorne was going further down in Jezebel's estimation, although it wasn't exactly the woman's fault that eggs triggered such a spiral for the Crotalus. She felt sick. Not like puke sick, but like she was a leper or something. She didn't want to talk to any of the girls in her class because they might catch on and she wasn't yet sure what kind of monster she was, but she also didn't want to work with any of the boys for the same, if opposite reason. It did raise the question though . . . what would she do if someone came on to her? At thirteen, she doubted this would be something to worry about for a while yet, but still. It was a possibility, right? Or . . . maybe it wasn't. Maybe if she never put herself out there and no one ever knew, she wouldn't be the chicken or the egg. She'd be the farmer who opened the hen house door in the morning. Or maybe a vegan farmer, since farmers probably ate the eggs their chickens produced. There was seriously no winning.

Today was going to suck. But it was almost done! Just two hours of this stupid class and then she could be done. She would get food - not eggs and not chicken - and go to the library somewhere Jean-Loup probably wasn't going to be, and then she would sit alone and study all the things she'd drifted through unthinkingly during the day. She'd do what she had been doing everyday since the start of the new school year and, if she was honest, since much longer ago than that.

Which brought her to the box of eggs. They were horrifying and disgusting and looked a bit like horror movie props. The occamy eggs were the least terrible but they were still much bigger than she thought eggs had the right to be, shy of an emu having laid them. Emu eggs would have been much more fun probably. Eggs aside, there were the tools. Measurement tools of all sorts and they looked a bit too much like horror movie props themselves. Or like the stuff the ghost hunters find in old asylums and stuff. She knew that wasn't the case here, but still. It brought her back to thinking of these eggs for the little babies inside. At least, there were probably babies inside, right? She wasn't totally sure whether potions which called for eggs generally called for them fertilised or not. It probably depended on the potion. She should've paid more attention to that before.

These little babies were going to have their shells scratched and measured and weighed and tested to see if they were good enough. They hadn't even been born yet and they were already being judged. What would happen if the class found "bad" eggs? Would they be just tossed out? What if someone wasn't careful enough and they killed a little baby? Sure, Professor Brooding-Hawthorne could dole out punishments to offenders, but what did that do for the babies? Nothing, that's what. It was like anything else in life: reaction was always too slow. But if prevention was impossible, then what was there to do? Just not try? That seemed like the safest bet, but you couldn't not ever try anything because you wouldn't ever move or anything. The question was how to know which things to try and which things not to try. Like dating. That seemed like a good thing to try but also a good thing not to try.

She felt a bit like screaming. For fear of crying in class whilst staring angrily into a box of nasty eggs, Jezebel shook her head a little and forced herself to take a breath. Notes. She had wanted her notes. And her textbook. She was sure to have those on her, so she went about getting them from her bag, making each movement as careful and intentional as possible. Paper and ink were easy. It was people - and eggs - that were hard. Perhaps being dropped and cracked open and just done would be preferable to having to figure out how to be human.

That was a frightening thought. She didn't want that thought. That thought was a dangerous thought, and her mother had almost as strong opinions about those thoughts as she did about gay people.

Jezebel had to do something. She couldn't keep going like this. Who was her prefect? Maybe she could go to them. Professor Skies was why too serious for that and she didn't want anyone trying to get involved or ask her questions. She just wanted to be fixed. That had to start with something small. Like talking to her classmates? Working together? Her classmates were people. She could learn to people. She could be just one more egg in a room full of them, shining and smooth and covered up with a shell so that none of those soft bits got out and made a mess.

With that, she forced another breath and tried to clear her mind. She was a Crotalus. She was one of the prepared ones. She was one of those who played by the rules and made life work for her by working for it. She was ready. Looking up at the student nearest her, one who was sharing her crate and also did not seem to have a partner yet, Jezebel forced a smile. It was a prepared smile and it was easy. Being prepared made everything easier. That, she knew, was one of the positive inspirations her mother and father had left with her. Of course, her mother had not been prepared when she'd had Marcus by accident, or when her next kid turned out to be a witch, or when everything else after that seemed to go wrong and Jezebel couldn't be there to make any of it better and when, even if she could've been, there wasn't anything she could've actually done to make it better because she just had more secrets to keep inside that would've made it all worse instead. A messy, cracked egg.

"Hi," she said to the student, forcing herself to be in the moment and putting her previous notes out in front of her where they could be easily referenced while she worked. "Do you want to work together? Two heads and all that. Or four hands in this case, as I think that might be the most helpful part in this case." An easy, prepared smile. She was ready.

OOC - "There were folks who were furious that Dorian had made Head Boy when him having outed himself to the school occurred after the vote." This isn't actually the case, as Dorian and Jean-Loup did the smoochie-smooches in Tumbleweed before that. However, Jezebel is not very observant.

22 Jezebel Reed-Fischer I refuse to crack. 1454 Jezebel Reed-Fischer 0 5

Malikhi Hill

May 27, 2020 12:38 PM

I promise not to break you. by Malikhi Hill

Malikhi mostly forgot about the lesson, his clumsiness, the box of fragile eggs and the help that he wanted with said eggs because Hana didn’t look like her happy, pretty self. Well, she was still pretty because Hana always was regardless of how she was feeling but she didn’t look happy and that worried Malikhi because he didn’t want Hana to be anything other than happy. Sad meant something was wrong or someone was upsetting her and Hana didn’t deserve that. Good people didn’t deserve bad things to happen to them.

“Is everything okay?” he asked her, concern etched all over his features. He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, hoping that a comforting squeeze would make her feel a little better. He’d have rather given her a hug but that didn’t seem particularly appropriate in the middle of a lesson. Maybe, if she wanted one, he could give her one later. “If something’s wrong, maybe I can help.”

Putting that aside, he returned his attention to the lesson and listened to her explain how she was going to go about doing the lesson and smiled, knowing that it had been a good idea to ask to work with her. Hopefully, they’d make a good team in practice.

When asked about his handwriting, he handed over his most recent pages of notes so she could see. His handwriting wasn’t the tidiest, comparable with chicken scratch. His mother had tried several times over the years to teach him to write better but all she had managed to do was make it legible so, at the very least, his words could be read. “Is it okay?”

20 Malikhi Hill I promise not to break you. 1423 0 5

Lyssa Fitzgerald

May 27, 2020 12:51 PM

A Good bar? A Mr. Good Bar? by Lyssa Fitzgerald

Lyssa nodded. Left to right. Right.

She rolled up her robes so her sleeves wouldn’t move any of the eggs in the boxes as they worked. It felt like Felipe was staring at her, or more looking at her sideways as she moved to get the utensils ready. It felt like she had done something wrong and it was raising her hackles up. No wonder Jessica wasn’t talking to him anymore. He seemed awkward and rude. Which was odd, cause he was from a fairly high class house hold. Did they just not teach subtlety in his family?

She was about to turn around and ask him what his problem was when he asked her a question instead that made her pause. She knew that he’d been nice to Cleo upon their first meeting, and Parker said that Cleo had turned down holding his hand in front of Felipe and Felipe had thanked them. Now he was asking about her role in it all. She squinted at him as she played with the calipers in her hand. If he was going to yell at her or get angry, she could always drop the Droxy egg on him. If he was going to be nice, she might as well be nice back. A smile spread across her face slowly.

“Yes I did. Cleo and I worked on how best she could use her voice and came up with the consent campaign. Since I helped create it, and since I wanted Cleo to still have fun, I figured I should at least help out by staffing the booth. Also, Cleo chose to go with my brother to the dance, so it gave me some bargaining chips over summer. Did you end up buying a pin?”

She knew he hadn’t. Parker had mentioned that he had bowed (who does that?) and left. Then again, Lyssa could count the number of pins and sashes they’d sold on her left hand.

41 Lyssa Fitzgerald A Good bar? A Mr. Good Bar? 1421 Lyssa Fitzgerald 0 5

Felipe De Matteo

May 27, 2020 1:25 PM

I . . . don't know what that is? by Felipe De Matteo

Felipe was impressed. He wasn't sure what exactly Lyssa's story was, but he'd heard enough about Cleo's to know that such a task couldn't have been easy for her. Not that it would really be easy for anyone. And if Cleo and Parker went to the Ball together and she'd said no, then he had to assume that was okay. He'd been pretty sure at the time, but it was nice to have reassurance.

He shook his head to answer her question though as he set up the scales. "I didn't," he admitted. "I wanted to . . . well I wanted to donate or buy something, but I wasn't sure where to send it? Since I didn't have anything with me at the Ball?"

Guess the cat was out of the bag now. At least he could play it off as only wanting one or two pins or something. "Will you set up again for the charity fair?" he asked, remembering that that was a thing that was happening. He wondered if they needed more helpers, or whether there was anything else he could do. "I don't know what that will be like or whether you would need anything, but I'd like to be involved if you wanted me to be. I'd really like to help."

He surprised himself by how sincere he sounded. And he was, of course, but there weren't that many things in life that got Felipe actively passionate like this. In fact, there were probably only three things, and one of them was a person so it was a little bit different. The other was plants. . . . so . . . that was not the same at all. So then this was the only thing that had gotten Felipe so excited. Did he sound like a crazy person though?

He took a breath. "I was the heir for my family's . . . for my family. But my sister is now because she was better suited." He wrinkled his nose, remembering how hard she'd had to fight for a voice, even if she didn't pay attention to it. "I don't like how the men in our village talk to her and I think part of that is about consent. They don't think that she's her own person. I don't like that." Not that he would ever tell Leonor such a thing.

22 Felipe De Matteo I . . . don't know what that is? 1434 0 5

Lyssa Fitzgerald

May 28, 2020 7:09 PM

It's a candy bar. Peanuts and Chocolate by Lyssa Fitzgerald

Lyssa’s mouth literally fell open as Felipe was talking to her. Just for a moment, before she was able to catch herself and close it. They hadn’t had much in the way of conversation before this, but he was quite literally opening up. Though Lyssa was glad, she wasn’t fully prepared for… well all of it. She was about to speak and then stopped herself. She was pretty sure Felipe was firmly in the supporter camp, but she didn’t want to say anything to push him away so she took the calipers and brought them down to the Droxy eggs and measured them and making notes while listening to Felipe and nodding.

It seemed that he needed to speak. There were things on the young heir, strike that, former heir’s mind that he needed to get off his chest. If she could be someone who wasn’t always trying to chime in, he might open up more to her. Always good to have powerful friends. So she kept quiet for a bit. Nodding.

The last bit hit Lyssa a bit close to home. She didn’t know Leonor beyond recognition in the halls or that she was one of the younger Pecari house members. But the part about older men not thinking she’s her own person. Lyssa felt that. It poked her in a spot that was sore.

“It is aggravating to experience, so I could see how that would get aggravating to see. Thank you for your kind words and offers,” Lyssa said. Then she remembered, specific gratitude. “It is nice to see a man, especially one with power such as yourself, who understands the issues and wishes to help out, while not drowning out other voices.” She smiled at him. She wasn’t actually sure where the money should go if he wanted to make a donation. At the ball they’d been raising money for two organizations, One that dealt with sexual assault and one that supported veelas and half-veelas. Lyssa thought the first one was more likely what Felipe was interested in donating to and could direct him to if he wanted.

“We were raising money for two different organizations actually. I’ll let you know where you can send money if you’d like, but,” she reached into her canvas shoulder bag, “you should also have a pin.” She pulled out a pin and gave it to Felipe. This guy seemed to get it, at least was trying to get it. That was a lot more than many of those she’d met, so what was one pin. “Just donate your money to the organization in exchange. You can say it’s because of Cleo’s Consent Campaign if you want, but as long as you donate, you get a pin. Deal?”

Lyssa went back to measuring the eggs for a few minutes and thinking. She eventually put down the eggs and turned to Felipe.

“What ideas do you think might be a fun way to raise money at the fair? As someone who is muggle born, my ideas are still in the...non-magical category.”

41 Lyssa Fitzgerald It's a candy bar. Peanuts and Chocolate 1421 0 5

Felipe De Matteo

May 28, 2020 9:17 PM

Oh, I've had candy a couple times! by Felipe De Matteo

It made Felipe's skin crawl when Lyssa thanked him. He hated it. It was despicable that something like noticing his sister was being treated badly was worthy of gratitude just because so many other men were jerks. At the same time, what was he supposed to say? Just stop her from thanking him? That didn't seem helpful, and she had the right to be grateful if she wanted to be. He just wished she didn't have to be. He was a fourteen-year-old former heir of an estate that was relatively small on the world stage, although admittedly they did have a presence there, and he was someone with power in this world because of that? Because he was a guy and because he was born into a wealthy family? Then there was the fact that Lyssa could apparently relate, and that sort of made him want to hex a lot of people. He thought of people like Jeremy, who were in remarkably similar social situations as himself and who were generally just crappy people. Did Jeremy treat women badly just because they were women? He knew he treated Jessica badly, but that was a matter of blood status. Or was it not just that? He thought, not for the first time, that he should've gotten another punch in on him.

He muttered something between "You're welcome" and "no problem" and "yeah," clearly uncomfortable, and tried to focus on the doxy eggs as he took a turn weighing one a few on the scale, to see whether they were all the same weight.

His discomfort faded when she offered him a pin and the promise to get him more information. He grinned at her and promptly attached the pin under his Crotalus-colored Sonora badge. It felt brave, and Felipe wanted to be more brave. "Thanks," he said, more confidently this time.

They worked in silence except for the sounds of others working together around the room and the occasional tinking and tapping of their work to measure the eggs, and then Lyssa spoke again. Muggle-born? He wondered again how much that played a role in the way people, especially men, treated her. Also, he was absolutely the wrong person to ask about fun.

"I think Muggle games could be fun," he said, trying to think of whether he had anything actually solid to contribute here. "A lot of people probably wouldn't have played them before." He wracked his brain trying to think of anything, whether or not it was related. "There was a game children played in Ireland when we visited. I think it was called shadows? It was like tag, but you tagged people by standing on their shadow. No physical touching allowed." He was pretty proud of himself until he realised that that basically was useless as a charity fundraiser game. "That . . . might not be very helpful for a booth actually. Sorry . . . " He blushed. "I'm not really very good at 'fun.'"

22 Felipe De Matteo Oh, I've had candy a couple times! 1434 0 5

Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

May 30, 2020 12:34 AM

Danke schön. by Johana Leonie Zauberhexen

Johana Leonie smiled softly and with more than a little surprise when Malikhi reached out to touch her shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, one that she would've normally gotten from Friederike Albert. She thought again of her conversation with Miss Katey, and wondered whether she was right. Maybe there was help to be sought. Malikhi was even offering, although Johana Leonie doubted he'd actually be able to help much. At least he was a proper boy though, so there was that. He was flesh and blood and he was present. She couldn't ignore that, even for her grief. Reaching up, she rested her hand on top of the one on her shoulder. "It goes not not okay." She shook her head, confused. "Will be fine," she tried again.

The moment passed and Johana Leonie realised that as much as Friederike Albert was on her mind, so was Malikhi. She'd really liked seeing him over the summer, and for all the worrying she did about what that meant, she couldn't help acknowledging that his simple kindness made a world of difference to her. That was the sort of thing that mattered.

He showed her his handwriting and she put a hand up in a "so-so" gesture before grinning mischievously at him. "I can read," she assured him. "We measure?"

22 Johana Leonie Zauberhexen Danke schön. 1432 0 5

Evelyn Stones

May 31, 2020 1:26 PM

It's awful for sure. by Evelyn Stones

On the whole, Evelyn was glad when the potions professor covered ethics and her lessons. It was important, and having a best friend who didn't eat meat made Evelyn all the more aware of the lives lost for the sake of a good brew. Still, discussing it and fixing it were different things and Evelyn was not at all sure how to do the latter. She supposed the best she could probably do was "do the least harm possible" instead of "do no harm," and try to help promote ethical potion-making in the future. She wasn't even sort of sure how to go about doing that.

Luckily, today's lesson was primarily about the sort of thing that Evelyn could do, practically, to make things a little bit better, so that made her happy. That was about all she could hope for these days. Humans were not powerless, far from it, but she'd been feeling a bit like she was and it was nice to have something to distract her hands with. Unfortunately, she might've been one of the few who felt that way. Jessica, the living breathing reason Evelyn wore a bit more "normal" colored makeup most days, looked like she was about ready to scream, cry, or leave. Evelyn couldn't really blame her. The eggs were a bit gross, although she generally liked potions and didn't mind as much as Jessica seemed to.

"Okay," Evelyn said, surprised by her offer. "We can work together, and I'll do those ones," she said, smiling gently. Everyone, she figured, had their thing. Everyone had something. Evelyn wasn't really sure what hers was but she was sure she had one. Lucky for her, it didn't seem to have come up in a classroom yet. "Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to turn the box so those ones aren't near you?"

22 Evelyn Stones It's awful for sure. 1422 0 5

Jessica Hayles

June 03, 2020 3:16 PM

Must we really, then? by Jessica Hayles

"I'm fine, aside from wanting to claw my skin off whenever I look at that," said Jessica, starting to glare at the eggs but quickly averting her eyes again. "Ugh. I don't know why they are like that with me. I didn't like the pictures in the book when we were talking about them before, but - ugh!"

She shuddered, but could already feel her face heating up with embarrassment over this gratuitous display of weakness. Nobody took women with weak stomachs seriously, everyone knew that. She was supposed to be better than this. Her anatomy gave her no choice other than being better than this, or so she had been taught all her life. It hardly mattered now, of course, just as nothing in particular really did now, but it was still hard-wired into her brain that she was not supposed to behave like this.

"Sorry," she said, a bit more calmly, collecting herself. "Believe me, I know I sound kind of stupid. I don't know why those are bothering me so much, I'm not normally like this." She squared her shoulders. "But it's fine," she said, as firmly as she could. "As long as nothing starts hatching, it's fine." And so long as she didn't have to touch the black masses, tumbling over each other, touching each other, straight out of something's....

She had to stop thinking like that. If she didn't, she was actually going to claw at her skin, and that was not a good look. Her parents and nanny had not spent so much time wrestling her into hats and sun lotion when she was small just to have her go and ruin her skin now that she was old enough to know the importance of maintaining it properly.

"Kind of weird that we're doing this in this class, don't you think?" she asked. "It seems more like a Care of Magical Creatures thing, if they're viable eggs, since I'm pretty sure everything's kind of...dead by the time we use it to make any of our potions." She examined a silvery occamy egg. "At least, as far as I know. I hope I'm right about that," she added with a nervous chuckle.

16 Jessica Hayles Must we really, then? 1442 0 5