Paul Tarwater
August 07, 2007 11:32 AM
The author is back :] by Paul Tarwater
Paul walked onto the Pitch early in the morning. He had woken up early, and instead of going to the library (which he had been doing for weeks now awaiting the end of this term at Sonora) Paul decided for a change he'd come here. Last time he had, Paul met Elly Eriksson on the pitch who wanted to use his book. Needless to say, Paul still disliked the girl for being slightly stuck up and also for Cissy using her as an excuse of anger to draw three cuts along his stomach (they left fairly painful scars that hurt whenever he woke up with Lussni on his chest). He'd thrown the book at her, intentionally hoping it would hit, told her to keep it, and hadn't been on the pitch since. Not wanting to meet another unwelcomed guest, after all there were many of those at this school. And they all liked Quidditch.But Paul figured now would be okay. After all, it was early morning. Who wanted to be down here so early? It was just getting light, surely no one had thought of coming down here now. And sure enough, when he got down, no one was there. Which didn't mean that no one would be there once it got fairly light out. So Paul just had to practice for a bit. He had his hand-me-down broom and bat from his father, and his wand for enchanting the rocks to fly after him so he could Beat them away.
The black haired boy mounted his broom and clutched tightly to the bat as he looked up. He kicked off and rose at least fifty feet above ground before pulling his wand from a little bag attached to his waist. Paul enchanted some of the larger stones on the ground to fly after him, and once they started to rise he got his wand in the bag and his bat ready. Paul tried through dodging the stones and hitting them towards other stones, but he was hit more than a few times. Perhaps he charmed too many? His head was starting to hurt from the impact, and Paul decided it would be safer for him to stop. He would have a few lumps and bruises on his head and back, but it wasn't like people looked at him anyway. After another hit to the nose, Paul discharmed the rocks and flew back down to the pitch holding his nose.
"Chit..." he murmured nasally when he pulled his hand away and saw blood. Paul's nose was bleeding, he put his hand to it again. At least that was the only thing bleeding, he felt around his head and it was only sore (a lumps was forming too). His back was just sore too, nothing to alert the suspicious Medic about. His nose would heal. For now, Paul sat at the stands holding his nose and trying to breathe through his mouth. His broom was sitting near his feet and his bat next to his broom. Paul wondered if any of the spells he knew could fix the bloody nose so he could clean it. He'd healed a cut on his cheek successfully after all.
But Paul wouldn't take the chance. He would just sit on the stands until his nose felt good enough so he could try again. Blankly, Paul sighed at his luck and stared at the trees.
0
Paul Tarwater
The author is back :]
0
Paul Tarwater
1
5
Red Aarden
August 19, 2007 7:47 PM
Is s/he? Who's front, then? by Red Aarden
Red woke up, gasping, from a deep sleep. Her heart was racing, and even though she didn't remember being scared, she realized that she must have been having a nightmare once again. She grumbled a little and turned on her side, tugging the blankets up to her chin and trying to go back to sleep; the light outside was so pale it barely even qualified as gray. Try as she might, though, she couldn't get her eyes to stay closed; they kept fluttering open to peer around at the sleeping forms of her roommates. She curled in on herself further, and wished for the thousandth time she was back home, in Salem, with her Sal Salis friends.The purring cat at the end of the bed looked up violently, ears perked, as her owner threw back the covers and quietly slipped out of bed, scowling. Without even changing out of her pajamas--an old nightshirt of her fathers, which reached down to her ankles and sagged rather ridiculously--she put on a pair of shoes and her knit, dark blue cap over her unbrushed, wavy, auburn hair and headed out of the dorms. It wasn't until she reached the common room that she let herself breathe, and not until she was out of the building and on the grounds that she let herself give a shriek of frustration.
It--wasn't--FAIR! Sure, the twelve-year-old had promised to do anything her dad needed to recover after the accident, but Merlin's balls! Did that really need to include dragging her the whole way to the middle of the thrice-damned desert? Couldn't she have stayed with Godewyn on Long Island during holidays, and kept attending Sonora?
She growled her frustration again, and stormed out towards the Quidditch Pitch, which was far enough away not to risk waking anyone. Of course, she wasn't expecting to find someone there--someone who apparently was as frustrated (or more) than herself. You had to be pretty damned frustrated to let a bunch of rocks beat you up, after all.
She watched, goggle-eyed, as he flew calmly down, took some sort of enchantment off the rocks, and headed up into the stands. It looked like there was a Beater's bat with him, too. Was that some sort of bizarre training ritual, then? Oh, Merlin--if all the Sonoran beaters trained by getting their arses kicked by rocks, Red was done with it! Still, he looked thoroughly miserable, from the hunch of his back and the way he moved stiffly and awkwardly.
Awkward. What a wonderful word, she thought. Once again, she was drawn into an awkward situation--approaching a complete stranger to ask whether or not he'd meant to beat himself up with rocks--like a moth to the flame. No wonder Godewyn always looked at her incredulously and shook his head.
She clomped up beside him, her sneakers--which had come untied during the run--flopping clumsily, and sat down on the bench nearby. "Hi," she said. "You're bleeding, you know."
0
Red Aarden
Is s/he? Who's front, then?
0
Red Aarden
0
5
Paul
August 20, 2007 6:42 PM
...front? by Paul
Paul winced hearing feet pad on the soft Quidditch ground. More people. All the time people. When would he start to realize the Library was the only place he'd be alone (though he'd completely fail as Beater is he never came out here). It seemed that Quidditch freaks came out here everytime and all the time. No matter the time or weather. This annoyed Paul to no end, like they'd rather be good at sports then have a descent education or sleep (though he was the fool who came out here early to get away from everyone).As an annoying habit, Paul's nervous, bloody hand found his hair when he noticed how close the girl was. Of course he immediately drew it back as his nose started to run slightly, and cursed that his hair now had blood in it (though his hair was black, and it wouldn't show since there wasn't too much on his hand). If he was at home, he would be working as an apprentace in the afternoon, and practicing Quidditch and his studies in the morning and evening.
Of course here it was always studies (school and job) and the occasional Quidditch practice. Oh, and hiding from his little sister and making sure no one saw the few cuts he had left (or if they did, pretend his cat did it), those were important parts of his life here too. And at home, though there his parents were and she couldn't practice on him too much (though for some reason she always managed to get away from the underage wizard crap and practice when mom or dad was using magic, ande even when she couldn't she'd make potions though she was horrid at best at that class being better at wandwork).
Paul rubbed his nose lightly as the girl was closer now, and delighted in finding that the bleeding was slowing and it was just a normal running that was starting (still bleeding a bit more than slightly though, stupid rocks). The girl (he hadn't seen her before, was she one of those transfer kids?) had mindlessly told him he was bleeding. As if the boy couldn't tell that there was blood under his nose, and mucus drawing it down his face. He looked her in the eye and raised a brow. "Really?" he said, sarcasm dripping. "I really couldn't tell you know," he held out the hand with the blood drying a bit on it.
0
Paul
...front?
0
Paul
0
5
Red
August 21, 2007 4:25 PM
*exasperated sigh* Yes. Front. by Red
Well, he certainly didn't seem that much friendlier than most of the people here. Though to be fair it wasn't that they were unfriendly--just that Red had had the misfortune of not only being a transfer student, but also coming in halfway through her second year. She recognized him from some of her classes, she thought--Aladren, maybe? She eyed him curiously, leaning out from the bench to better peer into his face in the dusky light. His eyes, she noted, were very cold, despite the fact that she could barely see them. That combined with the blood gave him a morbid appearance that sent delicious chills through her. He looked like something out of one of the movies that Godewyn and she used to watch when Dad was out of town.She looked down, feeling a pang of homesickness for the gentle werewolf who had been an older-brother-meets-uncle to her for as long as she could remember. She missed his light Dutch accent and the way he called her "Rood-liefje." Most of all, though, she missed having someone to talk to. And Godewyn had pale eyes--maybe not cold, like this boy--but pale. Resolution grew within her.
"Well, yes, I figured you did, but I thought maybe one of the stones might've hit you too hard upside the head, yeah?" she grinned a little. "Anyway--here." She pulled a balled-up (but clean) handkerchief out of the old nightshirt's chest pocket. "Dad always said I should carry one. Never know when it comes in handy."
She handed it too him, then looked back out at the brightening field. "So you're a Beater? I was Reserve Beater for the Sal Salis team in Salem, but I never got a chance to play..." she said, more than a little ruefully. "Then I had to transfer all the way out here. I hate this school." She kicked with a sudden, violent petulance at the bleacher in front of her. "...Sorry. Didn't mean to insult your school."
Oh, at this rate, they'd be best friends by Ragnarok.
Red sighed.
0
Red
*exasperated sigh* Yes. Front.
0
Red
0
5
Paul
August 21, 2007 9:50 PM
heh... I didn't mean the spelling by Paul
"Well, yes, I figured you did, but I thought maybe one of the stones might've hit you too hard upside the head, yeah?"Paul smirked alightly and shook his head as his hands found their way back up there. This time though, he searched for the small lump, where the rocks actually did hit him upside the head. Or at least, on the head. He chuckled a little and sighed. "You have no idea how right you are," he said, pressing the small bumb and feeling the little soreness of it before taking his hand back away to take the balled up cloth.
Paul did need to get this blood off his face.
"Your dad is right," he said evenly, rubbing his nose and lip hard to pull off the drying blood as well as the new blood. "I suppose I should thank you for this?" he said, the words coming out through his nose. Pulling the cloth away, he inspected it, noticing it was probably stained. No, it was stained. "It's stained, you might want to learn a good bleaching spell, or detergent or something," Paul shrugged, handing the thing back as he listened to the girl.
Nodding in the right place, when she asked if he was Beater. Then saying she was the reserve at Salem (ahah, new transfer, Paul was right). Then smiling more when she said she hated this school. Oh, she just had to not be a Pecari and he wouldn't really mind anything else. "I don't care," Paul waved the apology away curtly. "I hate this place too."
To be honest, it was the people. Not that Paul really like people in general. Just here, those in his year and the year under, they were just awful. He had decided that already. Especially his sister. Paul hated her more than any of the others. And with the cuts to prove it.
Paul sat down and wiped his face, there was still a little blood left on it. He frowned slightly, but he was taking a shower when he got back anyway. "I'm Paul," he said, packing his broom away in it's ancient case, and tying the Beater's bat to the handle. "Aladren." He looked up at her. "Now you introduce yourself."
Granted he was the one who was terrible around people, and he didn't know that this girl was as anti-outgoing overly perky people as he was.
0
Paul
heh... I didn't mean the spelling
0
Paul
0
5
Red Aarden
September 07, 2007 9:45 PM
#_# I'm alive, I promise. by Red Aarden
"Thank me? Oh, no need at all, I'm sure," she said with an amused but not unfriendly smirk. The expression morphed into one of muted horror as he passed her the handkerchief, which she folded as cautiously as she could, careful not to touch the blood, with the stains on the inside. Red tucked it into the breast pocket of her father's old nightgown. "I'm sure there's something in one of the books, and if not, I'll just ask the librarian or somethin'. I'm sure someone'll be able to help me."She smiled relievedly when he said that he hated Sonora too. "Want to start a Sonora-haters club, then? Like in that movie, Little Rascals, they had the He-Man Woman-Hater's Club. Only, um, we couldn't have a He-Man Woman-Hater's club because first of all it's sexist and mynosigistic," she said, stumbling over the word she'd heard from Godewyn, "and secondly because then I don't think I'd technically be allowed to join." She grinned a little.
"I mean, I guess it's nice enough here... but I miss, you know, seasons. And nymphs. And Baron's Hollow." Her grin widened. "There's a magical town around here somewhere, though, isn't there? Thought I saw one on a map in the library.
"Oh, Paul! Right," she said, smacking the heel of her hand against her forehead before straightening her skully. "Sorry, I knew I'd seen you in classes, but I couldn't remember your name at all. I'm Red, Red Aarden. Like Bond, James Bond, only cooler." She grinned again and stuck out her hand for him to shake.
0
Red Aarden
#_# I'm alive, I promise.
0
Red Aarden
0
5
Paul
September 08, 2007 5:18 PM
I was about to give you CPR O.o by Paul
Paul had to say it was extremely funny, the expression this girl gave him at the sight of his blood. It was as if she'd never seen blood before, and anyway, Paul was fine. A little sore, he certainly was overdoing it with all those stones. Next time he'd just tone it down a little. Maybe two larger stones wouldn't be as bad as billions of little stones.Paul rubbed his black hair a little harder, trying to get the small bit of hardened blood out. He probably looked awful, sweat dirt and blood on him. And even worse confused, as Paul's puzzled looks were far different from his normal expressions. So far different, Paul believed it marred his face horribly. But he couldn't help it. He had no idea what the hell she was talking about. Little Rascals? Movie? He knew movie was a Muggle thing...
"Uh..." Paul ended up saying. She just kept talking, this Red girl. Was she sure she wasn't a Pecari? He looked at her hand and briefly took it, wondering if she was Half-or-Mudblood. Which else could she be? No truly proper pureblood would know Muggle things that well to use as allusions. Though... Paul himself wasn't a "proper pureblood", being both poor and against the "proper" ones. Though the Tarwaters did used to be a big name...
Had the money not been wasted away on gambling with Goblins.
"Excuse me," Paul said, pulling his hand away. "As much as a We-Hate-Sonora Club sounds fine, especially seeing as we do hate Sonora... what the hell is a little rascal?" Paul blinked a bit, his face still confused. "Are you a... Muggle or something, because I barely understood a word you said."
0
Paul
I was about to give you CPR O.o
0
Paul
0
5
Red
September 08, 2007 7:44 PM
No mouth-to-mouth? Thank <i>Merlin</i>--er, no offense. by Red
"Are you a Muggle or something?"Oh Merlin. Not this again. It was such a balancing act--really, she wondered if half-bloods who had been raised in the culture were aware of the fine line heritage created. She wasn't Muggle enough for the Muggleborns, having a wizard father and a wizard best friend, but the purebloods never seemed to think she was magical enough, thanks to her dead Muggle mother. Half-bloods didn't seem to consider her a real half-blood, either, since her magical father had raised her in a thoroughly Muggle way--in fact, it hadn't been until she'd received her acceptance letter to Salem that he'd told his daughter the truth. So here, at Sonora, Red had been avoiding the question--now she couldn't really avoid it though. The question was, what was Paul? Definitely not Muggleborn, and probably pureblood, since he seemed to have no knowledge even of basics like James Bond... Safer, then to go with Invented History #1--
"Pureblood," she said. "But my uncle raised me, and he's a Squib." From what she could tell, that story was just sad enough to prevent further questioning, and probably garner her some sympathy, too. Really. Lying was so much easier.
"And the little rascals were--oh, never mind, really." She shrugged. "You're pureblood then, too?"
Please let this work! She'd really do anything for just one person to wave at her when they passed in the hall...
0
Red
No mouth-to-mouth? Thank <i>Merlin</i>--er, no offense.
0
Red
0
5
Paul
September 10, 2007 6:30 PM
*deadpan* Oh... thanks by Paul
Pureblood. Raised by a squib. Paul had been under the belief that most squibs were raised in purely magical environments even if they couldn't be magic. Most didn't know much about Muggles, and if they were lucky enough to have children or take care of them their children were raised in a magical environment as well. At least, that was what he knew from his own poorly sheltered life. Perhaps some squibs did lead Muggle lives. They were more like Muggles anyway, it made more sense.Red didn't explain what the little rascal people were, nor did she say who James Bond was. Whatever movies were, Paul supposed that must be what they were. His mother had explained that movies were moving pictures made by Muggles. But then, why didn't they use that for every picture, like Wizards did, and not have stationary, boring pictures. Paul had guessed his mother hadn't been specific enough, though she didn't have to force him into Muggle Studies just to learn a few basic things.
"Uh, yeah, I'm pureblood too," Paul said, unsure of how to judge that. Most purebloods didn't know about the Tarwaters, mainly because people didn't care enough for such a fallen family. And even if his was a big name, would someone living with a Muggle-like Squib even know most pureblood names? "So, what house are you in?"
Please not Pecari. Please. "You gonna go out for Quidditch." That was the best conversation starter he could think of.
0
Paul
*deadpan* Oh... thanks
0
Paul
0
5