ohailyn

[ohailyn]

cassandra‌:

where:  the library. when:  march 1st, 2024. who: open to anyone @ hogwarts

              ❝ – no i – wasn’t –  ❞           messed brown hair thrown back over her shoulders as her back snapped up straight,   the sound of body slamming against the back of the hardwood chair enough to garner the attention of everyone on the right side of the library.  cassandra’s  eyes quickly danced around, mentally calculating the possibilities of landing in detention for three weeks before continuing to form the sentence swirling in her mind,     ❝ pssh– i wasn’t asleep,      i was just … closely inspecting the words.     ❞        as if the line of ink trailing down the left side of her face from where it had been smushed into her journal helped to bolster her fibs.

Ailyn looked at Cassandra with an unimpressed look, annoyance clear from the slight roll of her eyes. The library was for studying, for reading, for learning ---- a sanctuary in the loud mess that was Hogwarts. She didn’t care much if someone was sleeping in the library, in all truth, as long as they didn’t bother her. And that wasn’t the case. “I preferred you when you were sleeping,” she said, twirling her quill in her hand, eyes longing to return to her essay. ( Ailyn still cared deeply about academics, holding onto the idea that good NEWTs would be her saving grace upon graduation ----- and in all honesty? They just might be. ) “At least then, you were quiet. A little advice, though? Upon arrival at Hogwarts, all of us were given a perfectly comfortable bed that you can sleep in way more peacefully.”

[ohailyn]

sebastian‌:

Furrowing his brow, Sebastian took Ailyn’s words into consideration before shrugging. “Still way too dramatic, in my opinion, and those people simply don’t have the flair for good dramatics,” he responded, raising an eyebrow as he looked towards a fifth year boy farther away who seemed far too distressed. “People don’t know how to carry themselves in society; it’s that simple. If you’re going to cry in public, you have to make sure you look good doing so, first and foremost. Which, unfortunately, is not the case for most people at this school. I swear, it’s like they’re all trying to compete for ‘world’s ugliest crier’. That would be a fun competition, actually,” he trailed off, before looking back at Ailyn. “I’ve got to say, though, it is quite entertaining to watch some of them run around like headless chickens.”

“Oh, you’re quite right. Dramatics don’t look good on everyone,” said Ailyn, nodding with a slight smirk on her lips. Sometimes it startled her, how easily apathy and indifference came to her --- how she could look at someone weeping and feel no empathy, only a hint of intrigue, maybe. ( Though, it did depend; she didn’t much like seeing her friends cry, but that thankfully didn’t happen often. ) “A competition for the ugliest crier ... that sounds interesting. What do you reckon the prize would be? Eye drops, to help their red eyes? Or a box of never-ending tissues ...” She thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “You may find it entertaining, but I think it’s mostly annoying. All the blubbering and snot and dry skin ... it’s kind of icky, really.” She reconsidered her words for a moment. “I do have to say that I like seeing what people do in moments of sheer desperation. Some really show their arse when they don’t know what to do.”

[ohailyn]

ariadne:

open starter: for hogwarts students location: great hall date: march 1st, just before dinner.

            the brightness of ariadne’s smile seemed to fall in deep contrast to the more sombre air in the atmosphere of hogwarts as of late.    in reality,   it was because ariadne knew she personally had very little to be scared of as long as she kept playing her cards right,  but to everyone else,  her smile should be a constant.    even when she fell off her broom into the great lake the radiant grin didn’t shift one inch, and if she didn’t flinch then, flinching now could give everything away.           

 such smile was the most notable thing about her as she almost jumped on the only open seat she could find / desperate for some kind of human connection after spending almost all day helping madam pince tidy the library ( after being caught trying to take several books out in her bag ).                       ❝   you want some fizzing gobstoppers? ❞   she hoped the offer of sweets would stop the person whose space she probably collided into from complaining,                ❝   i want to try and clear out my stash before easter, you know ?   it’s like .. godric this term is moving so fast ! oh,    you weren’t saving this seat for someone, where you ?  ❞     she ends her sentence with soft puppy dog eyes and a hopeful smile,     trying to twist empathy round her little finger.

Ailyn had a head ache. She seemed to have those more often these days --- she blamed other people for her pains; it seemed like Hogwarts had been caught by a wave of emotions and opinions that she didn’t care much for. War was tiring, it turned out. As an aspiring historian, Ailyn had devoured plenty of books on war in the past, and now that she was caught in the middle of one she simply wanted to leave. Mainly because she could hardly look at this situation without judgement, without a hint of emotion, even ( she kept these for herself, though, as she didn’t want to cause others head aches, too --- at least she was considerate ). And so dreams of faraway cities teased her mind more often than not, her entire being longing for obscurity and distance. To catch eyes only because of her appearance, to be a soft-pink ghost in passing, nameless, beautiful, strange.

But in stead she was stuck in the Great Hall, tuning out the general chatter, eyes focused on a book that was due to return that day, hoping to finish it in peace -----

And then there was Ariadne Diggle, all smiles and kindness and softness. Ariadne Giggle, as Ailyn referred to her in her head, somewhat endearingly. “Hm, don’t you have anything else? I don’t like how they ... fizz.” She closed her book, keeping a finger between the pages. “Besides, isn’t eating candy before dinner somewhat ... controversial? You’ve got to eat your veggies before dessert, and all that. And you’re fine,” she said, soft smile on her lips. “Sitting next to Slytherins all day does get a bit tiring. Less tiring than sitting next to Gryffindors all day, I imagine, but still --- some of us are so dramatic.” Ailyn grinned guiltily, aware of the fact that she did belong to that category.

[ohailyn]

sebastian:

WHERE: A corridor somewhere in Hogwarts. WHEN: A sunny afternoon, a few days after Lily was taken. WHO: Any student who’s not a “blood traitor”, a muggleborn or a known M.A. member. 

“Congrats on making your shirt and pants match, buddy. Didn’t think you had it in you,” Sebastian said in a way that was impossible to consider serious due to the enormous grin gracing his features. Leaning back slightly, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling. Frowning in disgust, he looked back down. “Anyway, what’s everybody so upset about? Sure, there’s one less Weasley around, but don’t they have back-ups or something? Wait, is it the hot one that got, uh… That ran away?”

Ailyn merely rolled her eyes at his comment on her outfit --- she knew she looked fucking good, even if she preferred skirts to trousers ( though these jeans did make her arse look stellar, so she couldn’t complain ). The rest of his words were met with a shrug, at first. Ailyn thought, in all honesty, that what had happened with Lily Potter was heinous and cruel and, above all, very much unnecessary and a waste of everyone’s time. She didn’t voice those thoughts, though. “Lily Potter is like the Weasley’s very own crown princess, Sebastian --- of course some weaker-minded people will weep. It’s how people respond to .... ah, tragedy. Still --- I hate watching people cry.” She scrunched up her nose. “They get so ugly. We have dorms for a reason --- I wish these people would just keep their dramatics inside their four poster beds.”

[ohailyn]

[ohailyn]

analise:

with: any student or professor where: the owlery when: weekend

She had been in there for a total of two hours and thirty seven minutes - not that she was counting. Sitting herself down on the dirty ground, the hay was starting to itch her thighs and she awkwardly pulled her skirt back down to her knees. Approximately six and a half letters had been written to her mother, all of which she was promptly discarded of with a simple vanishing charm.

The mother should not have bothered to write in the first place and Analise felt her chest clench the moment she’d received the owl that morning - the handwriting was a mess and firewhiskey stained the envelope so that only three quarters of the message was actually legible. She understood though - it was another nonsense rant from Jennifer Kim, scolding her daughter for being an ungrateful brat and for not caring enough for her dear, sick mother.

Only her mother was not sick, her mother was merely pathetic. “Ergh!” she tossed her things aside in frustration, her ink well spilling over the barn floor and soaking the leftover sheets of parchment, “Stupid, useless bitch.” Analise didn’t realise until after that there was someone in there with her - most likely having arrived during the time she was concentrating on her failed letter writing - and that the ink had leaked towards the sole of their shoes.

“Ah dang it,” she sighed, looking up at them from the ground,��“Sorry - didn’t see you there.”

Ailyn was still blessed with the absolute privilege to contact her parents. She wasn’t all too glad about it, though --- her mother was insistent about her bi-weekly owls, despite ( or, perhaps, in light of ) her and her daughter’s dying relationship, and Ailyn dutifully wrote back. At least she was skilled with words and sweet lies, she thought. Her letters were written skillfully but quickly, always sprayed with a hint of perfume and a heart above the ‘i’ in her signed name at the bottom.

And so her bi-weekly climbs up the stairs of the owlery had become a chore, but she did it, still. With an annoyed expression on her face, she moved up the slippery stairs, eyes trained on the steps before her, feet balancing skillfully in pink heels. She just hoped she was alone --- Ailyn despised spending more time than necessary among owl droppings and pellets. Besides, the place was cold and musty and all the hooting seemed to be enough to give her an instant migraine.

Of course, she wasn’t so lucky. Ailyn heard the cursing before she spotted Analise, and she settled in the doorway. “Cursing out the owls now?,” she inquired, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed, a hint of a smile on her lips. She didn’t feel any need to pry, figured that if her dormmate wanted to talk, she would. She assumed that Analise’s frustration had to do with family, though, which made her feel some sort of kinship, at least. “Do you mind if I send my letter? I’d prefer to get it out in the world and myself out of here as soon as possible. You know, ‘cause of the owl-esque stench.” 

[ohailyn]

anthea‌:

“That changes everything then.” A certain hint of satisfaction took over their words and Anthea spent a nice moment imagining what it might look like to leave with Ailyn. They weren’t so attached to England that a change in location would be heartbreaking and truly, going away with Ailyn was a lovely thought. They put a hand to their heart with a pleased smile as they watched their companion, trying not to be too obvious or obnoxious about it. “Well, it’s worth the wait when you’re such an impeccable dresser. I can forgive you for that.” They turned their own attention to the menu, hoping to find something that wouldn’t be overly sweet; as much as they did have a sweet tooth, they wanted something a little more substantial at the moment. “Have you been enjoying your holiday?”

“Where should we go, then? I would love Egypt or Greece, or maybe some faraway island ... anywhere without a proper winter,” she mused, thinking about their options. If only they didn’t have school tying them down --- then Ailyn would travel far away and see the world. Anthea being on her side was a nice addition to that fantasy, she decided. A laugh curled her lips, and Ailyn flipped her hair. “What can I say? It takes time to looks this good. And a bunch of good genes.” Ailyn, too picked up the menu, scanning the sweet-sounding options ( both due their ingredients and their cheesy names ) with one eye half on Anthea, still. “It’s been alright,” she answered. “Good, really. A bit dull, though. And yours?”

[ohailyn]

#dorks

[ohailyn]

dandelion & rose

DANDELION: Do you think you’re important?

“That’s a ... big question. What do you mean --- in the grand scheme of things? To myself? To my loved ones? I think it’s a bit early to say in my life whether I’ll be important in the grand scheme of things, but I do plan to be. And, you know, I’m the most important person to myself --- though that should be everyone’s philosophy, I think. Self love is the first step to anything great, after all.”

ROSE: Are you currently in love with someone? 

Ailyn couldn’t keep herself from rolling her eyes. “What, are we twelve? Do you want me to tell you my crush so you can calculate if we’re compatible by dissecting our names?” Her thoughts jumped to Anthea --- she liked her, sure, and maybe one day ... though there was no use in thinking of one-day’s with all that was going on ( especially within her own being ). She shook her head. “No, I’m not --- though that’s none of your business.”

[ohailyn]

gemma:

“What else do you expect? My father loves to hear himself talk, and my mother learned a long time ago it’s easier to pretend to be interested. She may be vapid, but thank fucking Merlin she married for money and not for love.” Gemma raised her glass in a mock toast, before downing what her cousin had poured her. “But—-doesn’t make your point any less valid. Christmas dinner sober? I think the fuck not.” Gemma poured herself another generous cup, “Want to take bets on how many glasses of brandy Grandpa has before they try to take the bottle away?”

“Men usually do, and they usually have nothing to say. Not to shade your dad, but --- to absolutely shade your dad,” said Ailyn, taking a long sip from her own glass. “My parents are the same though; if I ever end up like that, please be sure to end either my life or that of my partner.” After finishing her drink, she refilled her own glass again, too. “No fucking way, indeed. I’d rather pry my nails off, one by one.” Ailyn laughed, then. “What’re the stakes? I’m thinking four, but that’s probably me being optimistic.”

[ohailyn]

anthea‌:

Anthea would ordinarily never be caught in Madame Puddifoots; it was not their sort of establishment by any means and they had never really been the romantic type, or even interested in romance generally. But there was Ailyn and Anthea had to admit, they were very interested in everything when it came to Ailyn. So here they sat, early for the … date didn’t seem quite the right word, but maybe it was. Maybe that was just Anthea’s wishful thinking. They were early to the meeting and everything, unable to mask the bright smile as Ailyn joined them. “Oh but you can’t leave me, Ailyn. What will I ever do without you?” Her words were equally as dramatic, although she had a definite undertone of truth to them. “Hi,” she said, reaching out to take Ailyn’s hand and squeeze it gently. “I’m better now that you’re here. I was afraid you would stand me up.”

“You’ll just have to come with me,” decided Ailyn, giving Anthea a cheesy wink that matched her words. If she would have heard anyone else speak those words, she would have most likely gagged, and while they made her slightly nauseous, she didn’t hate them as much coming from her own mouth. ( Of course, most things sounded better coming from her --- that was just a simple fact. ) She returned Anthea’s squeeze, her lips curling into a more genuine smile then. “Me? Stand you up?” Ailyn shook her head gently. “I would never. I’m just fashionably late, is all!” A chuckle. Ailyn grabbed a menu, looking over her options for a moment, before returning her gaze to Anthea. “You know, it’s not like I can help it --- I’m so horribly fashionable, I simply have no choice but to be late. I am sorry, though.”

[ohailyn]

@ambitiousxanthea

And now for my favorite part.

[ohailyn]

[ohailyn]

She burst into madame Puddifoot’s, cheeks flushed and her bag banging against her leg ---- Ailyn Wilkes looked unnaturaly wild, as if she’d survived a storm and then more. If you asked her, she had: Scottish winters were harsh and cruel and something straight from hell. And yet, despite her mussed up hair and the frustration in her eyes, she smiled when she spotted Anthea, dropping her bag on the floor and sliding in the seat across from her. “Pardon my lateness --- the winter winds have cursed me from coming anywhere soundly and easily. One day I’ll leave this wretched country and move nearer to the sun and never be late again.” Her voice was laced in dramatics, half genuine, half played up. “I’ll treat you to make it up to you. Anyway --- hi. How are you?”

@ambitiousxanthea

[ohailyn]

Ailyn twisted off the cap of her bottle of vodka in an almost impatient matter, a smile curling her lips when it came off. She took a ceremonial swig before putting it down and producing a set of tumblers, offering one to Gemma. “Fina-fucking-ly,” she said, letting her shoulders sag -- if only slightly -- as she leaned back. “I know we ought to respect the elders in our family but could they be more ...” She trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe how utterly boring her and Gemma’s family members were. ( Being dull was the least of their flaws, in all honesty. ) “Mind-numbing?I can feel the brain cells leaving my head as they blabber on. We at least have a good meal to look forward to.” She filled up her glass and held it up in the air. “Cheers, to another Christmas nearly over.”

@gemmagamp

[ohailyn]

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[ohailyn]