#Apolline-Preis

[lovelystarlings]

Chapter One - Goin’ back to Hogwarts, Hogwarts

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The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was a beautiful chateau located in the north of France, surrounded by majestic gardens, and crystal fountains that were filled with water as clear as the ice sculptures that surrounded them. The place practically oozed elegance, perhaps that's why the Delacour parents had insisted Camille's sister's attend.

The Delacour's had been attending the school for centuries, right up to their grandmother, Dominique Delacour-who had been a full veela in her time. Dominique had married a man by the name of Lancelot Delacour, the father of their mother, Apolline Delacour. Both their father, Monsieur Delacour and their mother had attended Beauxbatons, their father only for a short while before it became an all-girls school. Due to Fleur, Gabrielle and Camille's grandmother being a full veela, the two were ¼ veela; giving them a full scholarship to Beauxbatons as the school had a strict student body of only veela's or veela blooded students, other witches needing to pay a large amount of money to attend.

However, Camille despised the school with a passion. It wasn't the students that went there, or the teachers. Nor was it the headmistress, who she had visited many times on account of helping her learn certain essential spells before she started her schooling at Hogwarts, a school in Britain that her parents had decided to send her to instead of Beauxbaton's. The school just wasn't her type of place, she wasn't fond of all the perfection and balls and girliness, she just hated it. Hence why Camille was so glad her parents were the way they are, she was glad they were understanding and allowed to her to switch.

That lead to her to where she was now, stood at the entrance of Kings Cross train station in London, crying her eyes out with her arms wrapped round her sister, who was sobbing just as much.

"I'll see you soon, ok? Summer's only like what, seven months away? And I might come home for Christmas, who knows?" Her sister sniffled, and Camille was stricken by the realization that she wouldn't see her family for over half a year, which was a long period of time considering they would be in completely different countries as well. Parting from Fleur gently, Camille took a hold of her trolley which held her case and her snowy owl, who she had named Persephone, after one of her favourite Greek myths. Looking down at her ticket and up at the platforms surrounding her, her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips tilted. There wasn't a Platform 9 ¾ in sight. Hearing the ramble of a large family behind her, she turned her head and was reassured to see a group of red heads who looked slightly welcoming and had 'Hogwarts' written on their many cases.

"Excuse me," she spoke gently, her soft French accent showing as she tapped the woman on the shoulder and gestured to the trunk on her trolley.

"D-do you happen to know how to get to Platform 9 ¾ ?" She questioned, the woman who she had tapped jumping round, a wide smile on her face.

"Of course, dear! I was just about to explain it to Harry here," The lady spoke, her hand grasping Camille's hand in a comforting manner as she noticed the tear stains on her cheeks. A black-haired boy stood next to her waved, clearly out of place with the family. "You're a first year too I presume? So are Ron and Harry here." She pointed to the youngest ginger boy, who was staring at the brunette, almost entranced; Camille assumed it was her veela charm.

"Hi. I'm Camille." Camille spoke, her hand reaching out to shake Ron's, who shakily took the hand and shook it, his cheeks now blushing red. Cute, she thought, It matches his hair. "I'm Weasley-I mean Ron, Ron Weasley but you already knew that." Camille giggled slightly, letting the poor boy's hand go and grabbing her trolley as Mrs Weasley began to walk off, gesturing for her to follow.

"All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, Harry, you can go before Ron, and Camille you can go through with Harry."

Camille pushed her trolley round and started to walk towards the barrier, Harry by her side. Fear struck inside the young girl, she and the boy next to her were going to smash into the wall and get scolded by the muggles and then they'd be in trouble. Camille pushed harder on her trolley and ran faster, the barrier coming closer and closer and the trolley wheels wobbling as she began to lose control of it, her feet somehow still solid on the ground as she closed her eyes, ready to smash into the wall-yet the crash didn't come and she slowly opened her eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with families and children with trolleys. A sign overhead read Hogwarts Express in bold black writing and Camille let out a sigh of relief. She locked eyes with the boy beside her, both smiling widely. Peering behind her, Camille spotted another sign that read Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

They had made it.

Camille and Harry made their way through the thick crowd until they eventually found an empty carriage near the very end of the train. Both had agreed that they should stay together as the two were new to Hogwarts, and Camille had begun to inform on the Wizarding World, shocked that he had lived with muggles for so long.

"Hey, do you need a hand with that?" One of the redheaded twins from earlier spoke as he followed through the wall.

"Please," Camille panted, sending a look to Harry who was simply watching her struggle, having already loaded his trunk into the carriage and was waiting for her to load hers up so they could enter.

"Oi, Freddy! Come over here and help the pretty lady!" He yelped over to 'Fred', leading Camille to assume that he was George. With the two's help, Camille's trunk was finally tucked away in the farthest corner of the compartment; she didn't want to risk her personal belongings being stolen.

"Thanks," she spoke as she grabbed Harry's hand and began to pull him up from his slouched position on the nearby bench, when one of the twin's began to point at the boy's forehead.

"Blimey," he spoke, as he leaned closer to Harry, who seemed uncomfortable with the lack of personal space the older boy seemed to have. "Are you-?"

"He is," said George, "Aren't you?" he added, nodding Harry's way, and giving a strange look to Camille, who had no idea what either of them were on about. The French didn't pay much attention to the British wizarding world, even during the Wizarding War they kept to themselves, only fighting in their own country.

"What?"

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins, the name ringing a bell in Camille's mind.

"Oh, him," Harry spoke, nonchalantly shrugging at the statement, "I guess I am."

The two boys stared at him in shock for a few minutes, only leaving reluctantly when they were called by their mother, who gave the other two children a kind smile and wave. Harry took a seat next to the window, Camille flopping herself on the chair opposite, ensuring no one else would be able to sit next to her. The two watched as Mrs Weasley said goodbye to her children, the twins still whispering and glancing occasionally at Harry.

The door to the compartment slid open and the young red headed boy from earlier stepped in.

"Is anyone sitting there?" He pointed at the seat next to Harry, "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and looked over to Camille, who had now tucked herself into the corner with a book, the title reading 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. It wasn't that Camille was anti-social or an introvert, she just felt that the two boys would connect more without her input, and who was she to get in the way of a budding friendship. All she was interested in was her book and the food trolley, the latter of which she hoped would be there soon, as she had skipped breakfast and was dying for some chocolate.

Ridding herself of her cardigan, she tucked her legs underneath her and continued reading, ignoring the twins who had once again popped up.

"Hey Harry, Camille," They spoke simultaneously, ignoring their brother who simply shook his head at the pair.

"We didn't introduce ourselves earlier. Fred and George Weasley. Budding bachelors," They gave a joking wink at Camille, who simply flipped them the bird as they laughed, "And this is Ron, our brother." They gestured to Ron, who also looked fed up with their antics. "Well, we'll see you happy people later, then." And with that they left, a pretty meaningless visit Camille thought, but who was she to question the actions of people she didn't know, especially when she herself could be strange at times.

"So, is it true what they said then?" The ginger boy spoke, and it was only then Camille noticed the grey rat that sat in his lap, its beady eyes seemingly glaring straight through the French girl, like the eyes of a predator would its prey. Reaching above her she draped her cardigan back over her shoulders, which at the moment were only covered by the thin straps of her dress, as she hadn't changed into her school robes just yet.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

[craft2eu]

Grassimesse Leipzig 2017: Bewerbung bis 03.05.2017

Grassimesse Leipzig 2017: Bewerbung bis 03.05.2017

Die GRASSIMESSE wird alljährlich vom GRASSI Museum für angewandte Kunst in Leipzigveranstaltet: in diesem Jahr vom 19. bis 22.Oktober 2017. Sie ist eine internationale Plattform für Angewandte Kunst und Produktdesign aller Bereiche, gleichermaßen Forum und Verkaufsausstellung. Die GRASSIMESSE reflektiert die Ideenwelt und Vielfalt zeitgenössischer kreativer Gestaltung, befördert Entwicklungen und…

[frostsong]

SPLINTER.

apolline is grounded, rooted like a tree. and she has always been so, even before she could remember. 

her mother would often recount those moments--in which her apolline, tall even in her childhood, remained graciously still for the painter to finish his masterpiece, sitting perfectly poised and serene at the tender age of five--in which her apolline, took part in the choir of saint reymanaud’s cathedral, outdoing the other children in the solemnity and profoundness of the lyrics of praise for the fury--and of course, her apolline, at the fruition of her hard-earned efforts as a squire, dubbed as an official knight before a transfixed crowd. 

perhaps it was unexpected to some that for two people so different, they got along swimmingly. and they always had, for the lady dansereau couldn’t recall ever being disrespected by her eldest gem of a daughter. apolline was careful at treading within the finely drawn paths of their relationship, ordained by yet another definition of honor, a word that served as the intersection of what seemed like every fury-fearing individual within the city walls, and to those beyond them, as well--the burden of the devoted, the branded claim of an ishgardian.

apolline had few friends beyond those seeking the glory of knighthood as she. and even among them she seemed the most dull, the most reserved. while they strolled down cobbled, snow-dusted streets the others would weave tales of dreams, of felling wyrms and sending their leathery corpses plummeting to the coerthan snow--and of finding the rest of them, too, nonstop until the damned horde was diminished down to the last dragon. when they asked her what she imagined her prey to be like--a young, scampering thing like an overgrown summer bug, or a veteran, strong and abled and all the more promise of glory that came with slaying it--apolline simply smiled cooly and said she would take whatever she could get, whatever chance she was given. not the most creative of answers but an answer nonetheless, reaffirming her resolve, providing the foundation of the same belief all good knights were said to have--an unfailing, unwavering sense of duty, untarnished by selfish desires. 

selfless was said to be one’s devotion to the fury, and knightood was her chosen method of expressing it. though born the oldest, her father’s family insisted that only a male could take on the reins of leadership, and thus she was cast to the side on the first night she was born. apolline knew that her mother would have preferred a son, just as the rest of them did, but she was grateful nonetheless that the woman had a mind to look after her with the love and care that she would have given a boy, for whenever she remembered her childhood days she remembered wanting for nothing, and having everything. even when she was sidelined further with the addition of one, two, three sisters--apolline made do with the shrinking spaces she was given, ever selfless, ever devoted as she offered herself to the wet nurses to look after the older one as the younger was still swaddled and helpless without another to care for her. 

her sisters call her for many things--apple, pol, and polly--things that made her scowl like she’d caught whiff of a soured scent. but her sisters back then were much too cute, round and rosy-cheeked with eyes much brighter than her own--and she let it slide, and saved her ire for her peers who dared to do the same. 

she adored her family in a muted, subtle way--like the moon kept vigil behind the mountains, giving a light that guided, and never blinded. her piety, it seemed, extended to them as much as it did for halone--a comparison turned cause for concern. 

there were times during masses, flanked by her parents to the left and her sisters to the right, that apolline strayed from the fervent words of the man praying and crept along her own. she knew what a life of knighthood entailed--or at least, knew enough that it meant leaving her family for long periods of time. all in the name of duty, of course--but a thorn resided in her heart, nagging and tugging at the anticipated grief that would come with leaving a home she had become too comfortable with. this was a problem she kept to herself, for she feared being questioned about her faith as much as any other--and she knew she would have to choose for her own, but not without seeking the counsel of the goddess, of course. 

such an act on its own gave apolline her answer, and thus she aided their servants in undoing her bed for the last time, and made ready her goodbyes. her family had already been awaiting her in the hallway--her siblings all lined in a straight, mannerly row. to this day it makes her smile, remembering how well behaved they seemed that moment, that had a stranger walked in on the sight they would have believed them to be tamed. apolline remembered that scarcely a second flew by before the girls were on her, clinging and sniffling, trying to drag her knees to the floor with them, begging her not to go. their image of being perfect young ladies dressed and ready at an early morning hour, for their prayers and their lessons, fell apart in an instant, all because of her. and of course she laughed and patted their heads, already wearing the sturdy gloves their father had commissioned as one of many parting gifts--all practical to suit her needs, but it only meant that she would be reminded of him and of home all the more often. 

her mother had been the last to see her off. to this day apolline believes it’s because she had fought back tears as an effort to look her best, for what would be the last in a very long time, in front of her daughter, her apolline. there were traces of her struggle in the redness of her dewy, sky-blue hues--the ones her eldest and youngest daughters had been blessed with. she held back an embrace for a tight hold around both her gloved hands, clutching at the space between long, tapering fingers--a trait of her father’s--and uttering a parting prayer. her mother’s smile afterwards was full of pride, but not without a certain sadness that weighed at the corners. 

and she left. through the doors of the dansereau manor, down the steps of the pillars, through the gates of judgment, like a pine dragging its roots down under the ground, stretched but still sturdy, from where it first sprouted. 

[randomfallout4posts]

Actually my Dragonborn is hardly a necromancer, actually quite the opposite. I just like the idea of Mannimarco preying on Andromeda’s weaknesses and insecurities and taking control of her body. I was also planning for my Vestige Apolline to help her get rid of Mannimarco, and then they go publicly shame Talos, you know, just girl stuff.

Can someone send me that au post about being possessed by Mannimarco?