Wind/wind, wound/wound, what?? on Library

Jean-Loup Arceneaux

May 25, 2020 4:28 AM

Wind/wind, wound/wound, what?? by Jean-Loup Arceneaux

Jean-Loup sat in the library, working the little token down from his index finger to his little finger and back again with deft, well practised movements. The token was charmed so that he could be called back to the hospital wing in case of… probably ‘interesting development’ more than ‘emergency.’ In an actual emergency, the real and qualified healer would just get on with it and not waste time callin him. If he was there, he would do his best to help but accepted that that might look like staying out of the way. Anyway, even outside of emergencies, Sonora had adequate health and safety that there wasn’t a constant stream of bleeding, hexed or otherwise injured children, and therefore he had been given some time out to work in the library.

Sonora’s library did not necessarily have much new for him to learn, especially in his chosen field, as it catered to high school level education. However, it did have all that information in English. It was probably easier to tackle the unfamiliar language by digesting familiar information, rather than by having new ideas thrown at him along with a language barrier - though that happened plenty in his conversations with Katey.

Currently, he was reading first aid procedures. There was a large French-English dictionary on the table which he had had to resort to several times already. It had been very confusing when the word ‘wind’ - which he recognised from learning about the weather - had been applied to bandages. Apparently the noun for ‘le vent’ was exactly the same as the verb ‘enrouler.’ Or rather, was written exactly the same. He wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse that they were pronounced differently. Wind and /wind/. It made it less confusing out loud but made him more angry at English as a whole for its utter irrationality. He had yet to discover the horrifying fact that the past tense of the verb was the same as the thing you covered with the bandage. Spelt the same. Pronounced differently.

Jean-Loup’s reading time coincided with classes being over for the day. It made sense to wait in the hospital wing during them, as that was the peak time for visitors - well, for accidents anyway. He supposed someone could fall sick with regular run of the mill complaints like colds or headaches at any time. Although he rather suspected that they tended to appear more in the mornings, when taking the trouble to report them and deem them bad enough for medical attention took up class time rather than free time.

There were several students he wanted to talk to. He needed to enquire with a Mr. Parker Fitzgerald, seventh year Pecari (and, according to Dorian, nice person) about whether he would like a first aider for the duelling club. Jean-Loup also wanted to spend time when he could with Dorian’s friends, because it was important to get to know them better. And, of course, he wanted to see Dorian. That part was already taken care of. The strap of Dorian’s satchel was slung across the chair beside him, although his boyfriend had disappeared off into the labyrinth of shelves behind them to find resources for a Charms essay. Much as the book in front of Jean-Loup was threatening to induce a headache worthy of him becoming a patient in his own place of work, he was looking forward to continuing his reading if it was something he got to do with Dorian’s company.

He had been glancing up whenever a movement caught his eye. Naturally, people were milling about the library, many of them minding their own business, but he wasn’t fully convinced that letting his guard totally down was a good idea, no matter how accepting people had been of Dorian. It only took one who wasn’t, and he was sure there were a good few more than that. His wand sat near him on the table, close to the hand that had been playing with the token from the hospital wing. Just in case.

He was just trying to puzzle out a phrase in the book when someone moved into his peripheral vision. He looked up. And this time, found that the person nearby was looking back.

13 Jean-Loup Arceneaux Wind/wind, wound/wound, what?? 1506 Jean-Loup Arceneaux 1 5

Parker Fitzgerald

May 26, 2020 2:23 PM

Ya... let's not talk about Hair and Hare or Flower and Flour by Parker Fitzgerald

He’d read his father's book cover to cover over the summer, and consumed a fair amount of magazines on how to build gardens. He’d even talked with his father about this, which his father thought was a delightful idea, though not as well paying and respectable as architect. Parker had nodded a long, but realized that though money in either society was important, he’d never be “respected” like those who had haute blood in their veins, so he might as well instead do something he enjoyed, and was good at. He’d realized it only last year, as he worked to grow Cleo’s present, that he had a knack for this kind of thing really. Plus it would be a job outside.

But all of those books and discussions with his father were focused on what Muggle’s could do with gardens. Not that it wasn’t helpful, but he could imagine it would be amazingly helpful if he could figure out some other things. Things only Wizards could do. Like how to do a weather charm over a garden. For a few days after the realization, he kicked himself for not applying himself at Charms or taken the CATS for them. After a few days though he realized that there was no reason to go another two full years in a subject he didn’t really like to learn just one aspect. That was something he could possibly work with Gray one on one, or conversely, work with someone else. Maybe Cleo’s dad did something similar and Parker could ask him?

But for now he would do initial research, so he’d gone into the library looking for books. This was a surprise even to himself, but he had found over the summer that he could read things on subjects he was interested in. So he might as well begin to read on the magic subject, if any books existed. What he found was, not especially helpful. He found a lone book titled The Magical Garden: Spells, Charms and Lore for Magical Gardens and the Curious Gardeners Who Tend Them that looked like it hadn’t been picked up for a few decades. There were, curiously enough, more than a few spells in the book, including one on helping divining what the garden should look like to begin with. Parker picked it up and put it under his arm, content that he could read this outside of this stuffy room. As he moved past some tables he saw someone he recognized, but it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a student or a teacher. He was staring at the young man when he raised his eyes. That’s when Parker realized who it was. It was Dorian’s date to the ball. Parker smiled and then realized he had no idea who this young man was or if he was now a student. It could be he was taking classes Parker wasn’t in.

“Hi, umm…” Parker started walking towards the man, “I don’t know if we’ve met, but my name is Parker. You are Dorian’s boyfriend right? What’s your name? Do you go to school here now?” He moved the book to be under his left arm and stuck out his right hand to shake this young mans hand.

41 Parker Fitzgerald Ya... let's not talk about Hair and Hare or Flower and Flour 1402 0 5

Jean Wolfe

May 27, 2020 2:42 AM

Where is the hairy warehare? I swear the warehare was really here. by Jean Wolfe

The person approaching was not much bigger than Dorian. He added evidence to Jean-Loup’s theory that one of the reasons Dorian felt so comfortable here was that there were so many other tiny people. Not that size was an indication of niceness. Matthieu was a little taller than Dorian but not tall by anyone’s standards. However, what he lacked in height he made up for in sheer vileness.

It would have been pre-emptive to grab his wand but he stopped playing with the token, and his hand hovered a little closer to it. Not in a way that was bluntly or rudely obvious. He was not reaching for his wand. But it was there, and he could. If needed. Hopefully, even if someone had ill intent, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to start something in the middle of the library, when Jean-Loup was clearly armed and alert, and ready to defend himself (or, more importantly, Dorian, should he reappear). Still, better that they noticed that and backed off rather than finding out the hard way. Prevention was better than cure, after all.

The question, the label, that got attached to him caught him a little off-guard. Dorian’s boyfriend. Jean-Loup didn’t get to hear himself referred to that way very often. There was no-one really that he talked to about this. He had said it a few times to himself. I have a boyfriend or Dorian Montoir is my boyfriend. He would whisper it to himself quietly in the dark. The phrase was uttered so casually by this complete and utter stranger, like it was just… a perfectly normal thing to say.

“Yes,” he confirmed, after a slightly stunned moment’s silence, reaching out to shake the offered hand. “I mean, yes I am… Dorian’s boyfriend,” he added, because the boy had asked more than one question. He hoped the pause would just be passed off as stumbling over his English, and that he hadn’t sounded quite so surprised as he’d felt about saying that out loud (he had, and his eyes had also got a little more animated as he’d said it). “My name is Jean-Loup,” he answered, “And I make - I do?- a medical internship here,” he answered. He could never keep which situations took ‘make’ and which ‘do’ right in his head. He knew that Dorian had corrected him a lot about whichever one he’d been saying by default but now he found he couldn’t remember what his old default had been and he was second-guessing and recorrecting himself until he was back to being wrong again.

“You are Parker of the duelling club?” he checked. He looked to be about a similar age to Dorian and he was wearing a prefect badge, so it seemed likely. He wasn’t sure whether it was a common name, although there didn’t seem to be too many people with the same name here from the files he’d looked over so far. “Dorian says you are good.”

13 Jean Wolfe Where is the hairy warehare? I swear the warehare was really here. 1506 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

June 16, 2020 2:30 PM

I hope you are here to heal and not be a heel by Parker Fitzgerald

He was right. He had recognized the other boy and it was Dorian’s boyfriend. Who apparently also had a medical internship.

“Nice to meet your Jean Loop,” Parker stuck out his hand. “ And you have a medical internship? How is the new healer?” Parker asked. He’d heard there was a new healer, but not a lot about what she was like. He should probably go talk to her at some point to help alleviate some of his mom's fears, and because he might need her help if the dueling club ever went wrong, terribly wrong.

Parker raised his eyebrows at Jean Loops question. If he thought about it Parker would realize that he was the only Parker in the whole school, and entirely possible that he was the only one that many people knew. That being said, Parker was momentarily hesitant about what this young man knew about him and could only hesitantly say, “Umm… yes.” Then Jean Loop explained that Dorian said Parker was good, and Parker felt a warmth in his chest begin to expand. He had always liked talking with Dorian and suddenly felt sad that he hadn’t done so more often.

“Oh. That’s nice to hear. I try to be good, but you can’t always be, you know? To answer your first question again. Yes. I am Parker, I run the Dueling Club. I could check with the professor if you’d like to join. I don’t know if interns are allowed to join clubs, but I’ve always found the club a good place to practice your magic, so I can ask if you want to join.”

41 Parker Fitzgerald I hope you are here to heal and not be a heel 1402 0 5

Jean Wolfe

June 16, 2020 10:48 PM

And for the dual purpose of dueling (and jewelling?) by Jean Wolfe

"She seems nice," Jean-Loup acknowledged with a neat, even smile when asked about the new healer, doubting that he was being asked for much more than the traditional social pleasantry on the matter. That she was… très vivante, sortante, bavarde... He could put it into English but not elegantly and he was sure these kinds of evaluations of someone’s personality were the sort of thing where the nuance of the word mattered. ‘She talks a lot’ sounded like it might not be the most complimentary thing to say, and it was the closest he could get to an accurate description…

“It can be complicated,” he acknowledged, slightly surprised at Parker’s admission about being good being difficult. Not because he found that problem surprising but just that Parker shared it so willingly. It was sometimes difficult to do the right thing, and also it was difficult sometimes to determine which things were right, as that depended very much on opinion and values. He held back from trying to articulate that more complex thought though, both because it was personal and because the two most obvious examples he had were subjects he was not keen to get into - namely his parents’ opinion on his dating choices, and his own opinion on the relative moral arguments for and against slamming his fist repeatedly into Matthieu Montoir’s face. The last thing he needed was to put that clumsily into English, and have it get back to Dorian in some way that sounded disagreeable to him and rekindled that argument.

“Ah, no. I think I may not. But thank you,” he acknowledged, when Parker asked if he wanted to join the club and offered to enquire on his behalf. “I want to offer help. I know you have also Professor Brooding-Hawthorne,” he decided not to bother defining that concept any further - it was only necessary when it was ambiguous, and presumably Parker knew that he had the Defence professor. “But I don’t know… Her role is maybe to help that you run safe? To give technical information? I am sure also she is very useful at accidents, but… more help can always be good? For more serious, it must still go to Ms. Katey but I have first aiding certificate,” he explained. He tried not to mind that he probably sounded like a stupid child in the way he made his sentences. Parker was good, Dorian had said so. And Jean-Loup was neither stupid nor unqualified, even if he couldn’t articulate himself well.

“What is the style of the club?” he enquired, hoping this question made sense. There were different ways of running duelling clubs after all - sometimes they were fairly hectic free for alls, pushing people to learn and think on their feet. Other times, they were more carefully controlled environments which encouraged honing technical skills. “Always fighting each other, or also… technical practise?” he tried clarifying, hoping he was making it clearer rather than more confusing. He supposed there was a professional interest there, in how busy he could expect to be, but he actually had a totally different priority in mind. One which hoped that the accident rate at the duelling club was not very high at all.

13 Jean Wolfe And for the dual purpose of dueling (and jewelling?) 1506 0 5