she was born wild and curious. a cage is no place for someone like that. "i play with the fire of my own truth," she told me, "i will burn for the things i love." AILYN YAXLEY. former slytherin. she/her. twenty six. historian & history teacher. pink enthusiast.
[tw for body horror, injury & gore, animal mercy death all in italics]
His breaths come ragged, past swollen, bloody lips. Gasping. His cheek is scratched. He’d fought dirty. He’d lost. Cornered, now, he shifts his weight against the wall, big grey coat falling from his slight shoulder like a broken wing. He heaves a breath, straightens up, tries to yank the coat up onto his shoulder. It slides down further. He shakes his head, hair a mess and matted to the wound at his temple. His grandmother’s favourite drapes are in tatters on the floor and for some reason he cannot tear his eyes away from them.
Claws sinking deep into the meat of his bicep. His mother staring at her hand like she doesn’t recognise it, eyes wide with terror and then the whirling, hurling feeling of unexpected apparition and he can’t help the rough yelp that wheezes past his lips. The claws are gone. His mother is gone. Instead something shreds at his flesh, flaying up parts of his skin that flake off into scarlet red petals that are whipped away from him. He can’t stop watching. He was never very good with flowers. He is being thrown into a corkscrew of flips as magic and places he’s never seen roar past his ears, tumbling through space and nothing with no concept of which way is up.
He peels himself suddenly from the bark of a great old tree, the sounds of life fill the air around him. The Forbidden Forest, he knows. His mother is screaming and screaming and he snaps the bark that has grown into and up his arm, splintering and cracking as he hurls himself into a sprint. There’s a fox, in a clearing, there are three moons though the night is black as pitch around him he just knows. A glittering constellation of fourteen stars. Roots pull at his boots as he stumbles to the animal, it is heaving in guttural and mortal breaths. Twitching in pain. There’s a heavy, hard edged stone suddenly in his hand. No his wand. The rock. Something metal and sharp. He brings the flickering object over his head with tears streaming down his face, under his chin down his neck. The fox’s eyes glow yellow, then white over. Quicker than he can see there are jaws at his throat, tearing-
Scor snapped open blue grey eyes to the drum of light drizzle against his face and the bleak light of the rain clouds rolling over the mountains. There’s a sudden emptiness to the silence that can only mean that screaming sound had torn from him. The tome he’d been reading had fallen open, pages raised and bared to the sky, spine cracked wide. The pitter patter of rain drops on its pages. Everything hurt for a moment, the hard planes of the rocks at his back leaving an awful ache, even cradled by them his joints had been forced into strange positions. He grunts as he forces himself to sit up, leaning down to grasp for the book and cast a hurried drying charm.
When she heard the scream, she didn’t know if she should approach, freeze or turn on her heel and go. Before, she wouldn’t have even asked herself this: she would have just gone. Who was she to impose, to seek out the source of a scream? She wasn’t nosy ( usually ), nor interested in heroics, and yet she moved towards it, now.
She’d found her ability to be empathetic, it seemed, finally ----- had it been buried before, all those years? Or had she developed it when she traveled north, when she faced the death with people she hardly knew, when she found comfort in their presence and they in hers? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure she liked it: before, Ailyn had felt ambivalent about most others, and now part of her cared about people she had only known for months. ( Not too deeply, though --- she knew that if push would ever come to shove, she would choose for herself again. She cared, now, but she still cared about herself most --- and if you asked her, that wasn’t a bad thing, in this world. )
But either way, she approached the source of the scream, still unsure of what she should do when she found the person it had belonged to. That person was, apparently, Scorpius Malfoy, who looked mostly fine ( as in, not bleeding or on the brink of death or fighting with an inferi or any of the things that Ailyn had, for a moment, considered --- had the scream even be his? ). On his lap was a book, though, that looked less-than. “You ought to do that with more care, if you don’t want any lasting damage,” said Ailyn. She then frowned, mostly at her own words. Yes, it was a crime to damage books in her eyes, but even she knew her words were misplaced. “Sorry. I heard you --” She just heard him, she decided, not finishing her sentence. “Are you okay?”
the makeshift “intake” desk the healing division had set up at the entryway of the hospital wing was empty at this hour, save for rose, who was sitting with a mug of lukewarm tea and a bottle of midnight blue nail varnish. they enjoyed nighttime shifts — it was quiet, with only three recent arrivals to hogwarts and one injured guard sleeping at the far end of the medical hall. the other folks staffing the hospital wing at this hour (a healer, one muggle doctor, and another young trainee) were playing cards with a salvaged deck in what used to be the matron’s quarters and now served as a break room/healing space for the more seriously injured folks. ro had opted not to join them — not only to keep a watchful eye on their current patients, but also because they weren’t feeling up for idle chatter.
they never were up for it, nowadays.
the heavy doors to the hospital wing creaked open. ro paused the steady, repetitive strokes of nail polish to greet the visitor. they smiled, a hollow, practised action that had served them well over the last few months. “hi. do you need medical attention? if not, i’m also offering manicures.”
It was as if she was a student again, at times. Ailyn found herself spending her free hours and minutes in the library, devouring obscure books, reading as if her life depended on it, jotting down notes until her fingers cramped. This time, though, she was older, and more desperate to lose herself in knowledge than she had when she was a teen, and so it came as no surprise that her headaches came more quickly, too. ( It could also be because she suspected that she needed reading glasses, but she’d postponed getting her eyes checked --- and now there was no way to get her eyes checked any more. )
And so, on her way back to her dorm from the library, she made a pitstop at the Hospital Wing, hoping to get some kind of pain killer in her system before she went to bed. With soft footsteps she entered, approaching Rose Granger-Weasley. “Well, medical emergency might be a bit of an exaggeration. I was wondering if you maybe had some kind of pain killer for me? Just a mild one --- I have quite a head ache.” And then she considered their other question. “Do you just have blue, or other colours too? Blue isn’t usually my colour, you see.” A pause. “But I guess I can’t be picky --- I haven’t had a manicure for so long, I wouldn’t even mind if it was in blue.”
i am strong but also destructive. i’m restless and harsh and hopeless.
though i have love inside myself. it’s just that i don’t know how to use love.
AILYN ZANELE YAXLEY really is the spitting image of ANTOINETTE ROBERTSON, right? For someone only 26 years old, AILYN has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that PUREBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary since JULY, 2028, working as a HISTORY TEACHER in the DIVISION OF CIVILIANS. SHE is a CIS WOMAN and is known to be INDIFFERENT and SECRETIVE but also INTELLECTUAL and ADAPTABLE. Best of luck surviving through this.
LINKS – pinboard, stats. playlist.
CHARACTER PARALLELS – elle woods (legally blonde), allison reynolds (all for the game), michaela pratt (how to get away with murder), sun bak (sense8)
TRIGGER WARNING – sexism, alcoholism, abuse, trauma, death (all have a trigger warning in-text too)
pre-outbreak
sexism tw || ailyn was born as the first child to andre and thandi yaxley, the first granddaughter to corban yaxley (who, at the time of her birth, was still rotting away in azkaban). she was wished for, kind of ----- her parents didn’t wish to raise children together, but did wish to have children so they could further their legacy. and then, of course, there was the fact that ailyn was a girl, which was a bit of a disappointment for andre yaxley, who wanted his firstborn to a son, because --- well, he’s instilled with traditional values that make no one happy (except him, i guess). || end of tw
andre yaxley is not a good man. he grew up in the shadow of his father ---- a successful death eater, who pulled the strings behind a ministry coup once, filled with a bitter wish for justice for him, angry that his father is imprisoned when he was so good at what he did, constantly hoping that the day will come where he can prove himself to be as good at scheming, plotting and cruelty as his father
spoiler: he’s not. he’s a useless piece of stale bread.
alcoholism tw || ailyn is raised in a web of lies. her father had inherited the once successful family company and had let it go bankrupt due to his incompetence, the shame that followed the family name and again, his incompetence, but did not speak of this: every day, he’d kiss his wife goodbye and go to work. but his workplace was the pub, and his work was drinking more beers than good for a man. her mother, who acted as if she was happily married to andre yaxley, smelled of other lovers when she came home from shopping or tea dates with friends.
ailyn is a smart child, an observant one, and figures out all the lies her life is built on quite early on in life. she learned how relative really truth is, how easy lies come. she confronts her father once, when he’s intoxicated and half asleep, and he tells her that he doesn’t have a job any more, that all the money they have comes from his parents-in-law, and he’s angry and disgusted and ailyn thinks he’s angry with her at first, but later understands that he just hates himself. (she would too, if she were him.)
abuse tw || but while he is mostly angry at himself, he does sometimes direct his anger towards his wife, towards his kids. mostly verbally, sometimes physically. || end of tws
her brother is born when she is five. he is a boy, and her dad prefers him, and she would like to say now that she never cared about her father’s useless opinions, but she did, and she hated it. but she loved her brother, even though he wasn’t as critical as she was, and kept truths from him because of it.
hogwarts rolled around, and ailyn was sorted in slytherin, though she was nearly a ravenclaw. she would have thrived in both, to be honest, but the sorting hat saw her ambition and self serving nature and thought her a slytherin more. she didn’t care either way. at hogwarts, she kept up her family’s façade, pretending that they were indeed like many other old pureblood families --- rich and thriving, despite controversy.
she was bitter, though, didn’t want feigned success and richness, wanted something to be really proud of -- not just those fucking lies. ailyn’s hunger for her own success was born then.
hogwarts was where she learned --- where she learned about her own power, and her lack of it. because here’s the thing: ailyn isn’t a good witch. she’s no good at wand waving and spells and any kind of practical magic besides potions. she understands magic --- delves into the theory of it and understands the tough texts --- and writes stellar essays, but when it comes to charming or transfiguring things, she’s shit. and honestly, ailyn has always had her doubts about blood purism but never pushed herself to actually doubt those ideals (because that’s what she was learned, and sometimes she’s scarily indifferent, and it puts her on a pedestal, and she didn’t mind that for a while), but when she sees that she -- a witch with so-called pure blood -- is no good at magic when others with so-called lesser blood are ten times better, she understands: it’s fucking bullshit.
she’s vague about her stance on it, mostly keeps her feelings hidden under layers of eye rolls and cynicism --- part of her is scared of word getting back to her parents, she supposes. another part of her likes being vague, too. an enigma.
ailyn also found her love for history at hogwarts. not because of binns, of course --- she wishes she could kill a ghost multiple times during her years in his class --- but because of the work she does herself. obscure parts of history are devoured by her in the library. she learns about muggle history, shamelessly, intrigued by the ethics and morals of humans.
ailyn might be a shit witch, but she’s very, very intelligent. she’s booksmart, able to read tough books with ease, able to write stellar essays and retain a lot of information at once. she likes learning theoretical stuff, likes getting her head dirty rather than her hands, and it’s because of that that she keeps passing her classes.
besides, she thinks that it’s more valuable to have a good set of brains than to be good with a wand.
after graduation, ailyn got an administrative job at the ministry, just to make a bit of money, not because she wished to kickstart a career there. she started interning under a historian, and once she had made enough money from her job to have a bit of a safety net, she moved out of her parents house.
and then she didn’t look back. she didn’t cut ties, not really, but she started sending letters less frequently. her relationship with her parents had only worked when she had been dependent on them, and now that she was no longer, she no longer had any interest in being close with them --- she hated her father, thought her mother a coward, knew that they didn’t care about her, not really, not as they should. and so a wedge grows. ailyn shows up for family dinners every now and then and keeps in touch, but she focuses more on her own life, her life outside of her family.
ailyn gained the title of historian when she was twenty two, and started writing essays, starting doing research, comparing patterns in muggle and wizarding history, writing for magazines and reveling in her own success. she builds her own life, in her small apartment in cardiff and does what she loves, and does it well.
outbreak
ailyn is working on her first book when everything goes to shit. she is in talks with obscurus books about a publishing deal, and is working on her first draft --- it’s a dream come true, and then everything goes to shit.
sexism tw || a bit of background on her family: her father and brother rejoined the death eaters, her father so fucking desperate to live up to his own father, her brother in his turn desperate to make his own father proud. ailyn isn’t even asked to join as well, because she’s just a girl, and she’s a bad witch at that. she doesn’t care. she doesn’t even want to join, anyway --- the death eaters are stupid, just as blood purism, and she doesn’t care that her father underestimates her because of her femininity. let him underestimate her. || end of tw
cardiff is overrun when she’s at home. she barricades her doors, her windows, everything, thinks that she can survive in her small home, sit it out, but it doesn’t fucking end --- there’s no government to fix this, no one is coming, no one is fixing this --- and ailyn is terrified. she can’t stay at home, but where can she go?
away. and eventually, hogwarts. she travels by foot -- and sometimes by car, or another muggle vehicle -- with a small group, made up of muggles and wixen alike. she doesn’t dare apparate, because she was never very good at it and she’s unable to get in the right headspace to even try. besides, she feels a sort of loyalty to the people she’s with. which ... is odd, because ailyn has always only felt loyal to herself, and maybe her brother, and maybe some of her friends --- and yet it feels good, amidst all the bad, so she sticks with them.
trauma and death tw || ailyn isn’t built for an apocalypse. of course, no one really is, but her weapon of choice is wit and words, and she can’t fight inferi with those. and so she fights with a bat, at times, rather than a wand. it’s not an easy journey --- of course it’s not --- and ailyn sees things that traumatise her; death and decay, and the inferi in general, and she’s not sure how she’s able to keep moving because she’s not built for this, she’s not, she’s not
she arrives at hogwarts in july, and has to prove that she’s not a death eater --- which she does with an eyeroll, even if she understands. she’s filled with trauma and grief, but she’s not the only one at least --- which is a strange comfort, but a horrible thing, too. she’s not sure how to deal with these emotions, though, because they’re overwhelmingly real, and before she was always able to choke her feelings down and ignore them, but now she shakes with them at times, and she doesn’t know how to talk about them, or what to do with them ---- theyre just there, these traumas and memories and feelings, and she can’t do shit about them. end of tws
ailyn becomes a history professor, teaching kids and teens, an infinite times better than binns ever could have. and she loves that. she finds comfort in that, that she can still do something with her passion. she returns to the library with warmth in her heart --- that’s the only good thing about this, she supposes, that she has unlimited access to the hogwarts library again (ye - she is a nerd)
it’s all ... a big learning experience, mostly. a way for ailyn to learn about the danger of her own indifference (which is fading more and more), a way for her to learn how to be compassionate without feeling like she’s weak, a way for her to open herself to people she wouldnt have looked at twice before
the circumstances suck though lmakldfhsjdf
personality & details
ailyn is a true neutral, powder pink lipstick lesbian who will drag your ass through the mud while speaking to you sweetly with a :) smile :). she has a mean streak and her nature isnt necessarily malicious but she can be when she chooses to. this streak most often shows itself in front of people that ailyn thinks lesser of/people that annoy her
she’s just … tired. tired of humanity and all the people around her and the ruckus theyre causing. ailyn just wants people to Chill Out and use their heads in stead of whatever’s motivating them ( their genitals, hearts, stomachs, whatever ). she feels very … Genius LMAO because she’s such a realist and she thinks she has the world all figured out when, obviously, she doesnt.
ailyn is very sure of herself, incredibly confident — sometimes too confident ( though she’s of the opinion that girls can never be to confident ) and in turn she can be condescending and haughty. she’s self aware, though, about most things. she knows where her strengths and weaknesses lie and has made peace with it, even knows that she’s arrogant and harsh, but doesn’t care much.
ailyn is hyperfeminine, believes in lethal femininity and the colour pink. very much elle woods in that sense — she loves fashion and make up and velvet high heels and looking good, but has a ready mind that she’ll apply to reach her goals at any given moment in time. will Not be underestimated because she’s girly (or, well, youre free to underestimate her, but you’re wrong and she cant wait to let you see that). a firm believer in the matriarchy. lover of womanhood.
she also … just thinks lowly of men a lot. like — her dad’s a deadbeat idiot alcoholic broke dude and he Sucks, and then there’s people like grindelwald and voldemort and a long string of ministers, prime ministers and presidents that just proof that men shouldnt be in power to her LMAO. her interest in history is mostly just ailyn sighing at the deeds of men and how they continue to disappoint her.
LOVES greek mythology and medusa is her #1 fave
emotionally constipated but less so than usual???? whew
she’s .... a nerd ... .... we stan
tbh she can be quite charming and fun to be around but she also can be all sharp edges and iciness ... depends on the mood, and who you are
idk i just love her and she’s ... rly living up to her potential here whew!!!
