follow in the footsteps

Carmen Wild. Ravenclaw. 5th year.

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For I Can't Help Falling In Love With You...

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The punch has been spiked with love potion! And by the way I'm anonymous, thanks dear silly professors and your anonymity spell ♥

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Insanity is taking over ~ I don't feel a thing ~ You see it in my face and drink it through my fingertips | Carmen & Georgina

It was the night of the ball and Carmen had just received her dress from Lily. The moment she had heard that Lily would be making dresses for people she had been the first to put her name down for one. Being from an excessively large muggle family, she was unlikely to get any better. But the dress she had gotten Lily to make her was really quite lovely. The entire thing was a metallic silver which reflected a lot of light. A small spell from Carmen had it sparkling as she moved. Heels, jewellery, mask. Carmen had gone with a robin theme, simply because it appealed to her. A robin was her animagus form, chosen because the bird was tiny, very common, and could fly. This had spread out to her picking out jewellery with robins on it. She'd worn these pieces a few times before, but those occasions had been with her muggle family, not among her Hogwarts peers.

To top it all off she had a simply mask of a diving bird which she had fashioned herself because she was no way she was going to be able to afford a mask. A spell had turned it the same shade of blue as the clutch purse she had owled one of her sisters for (and probably wouldn't return), and along with some light makeup and blue nail polish, her outfit was complete. And she was late. This was done entirely on purpose. She wanted everyone to be inside and busy dancing by the time she got there. Oh how foolish the professors had been to grant the whole school the gift of anonymity while Melaina was walking among them.

Inside her clutch handbag she had two firewhisky bottles... but there was only firewhisky in one of them. In the other she had replaced the entire contents with love potion, set with the hair of Nathaniel Hargrove. She had collected the hair of a number of different students, though how she had obtained those hairs was for her to know and no one to find out. Then with her eyes closed she had picked at random, and so Nathaniel had become her unlucky victim, because she cared just that little about who she messed with. A sock padded the space between the two bottles. It wouldn't do to have them clunk around in her purse and raise suspicion. She'd placed an undetectable extension charm on the beaded clutch purse, the same as she had done to her usual bag, but with less space this time. She only needed enough to fit the bottles snugly.

Done with her preparations she went down to the great hall. She was nearly an hour late and only a few people looked her way as she had entered. As she expected, she couldn't recognise a single face once she was in the room. She smirked. It was perfect for her. Even if she got caught she could get away with it. She'd be long gone before midnight. Casually, she walked around the edge of the dance floor, refusing a request to dance from a boy she was pretty sure was younger than her. Then she reached the buffet table. Perfect. There was no food yet because it wasn't nine. The eating part of the evening hadn't started yet. But there was one grand bowl of punch in the centre and several jugs of what Carmen presumed was lemonade sitting around the table. The punch bowl was clearly was people were most likely to go for, so Carmen discretely slipped around the back of the table, picking up a cup for herself and made a pretence of filling her cup while tipping the contents of her love potion into the mix. It wasn't entirely subtle, because really there was only a certain degree of privacy one could have while at the buffet table, but at least the adults in the room seemed to be occupied enough to have not noticed.

She put the love-potion bottle back and took out the real fire-whiskey bottle. With this she started topping up the jugs of lemonade with less discretion than she had done with the punch. A boy in a mask approached the table and winked at her, nudging her to give him an extra measure of the fire whiskey. She leaned over the table flirtatiously as she did so, showing off the cleavage she barely had as she returned his wink. She blew him a kiss as he moved off, then moved on to fill the last jug.

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quean

quean /kwēn/

Noun:

An impudent or badly behaved girl or woman.

A prostitute.

~

Wait, why was this sent to me? I don't get it.

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Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

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Rose didn’t look at Carmen while she spoke, instead choosing to frown at the opposite wall. As the blonde spoke, she creased her forehead even more with every word until it resembled a piece of paper that had been scrunched up and then somebody had attempted to flatten it out again but it refused to be straight. One the one hand she was sure that her own frustrated dilemmas were influencing how she was responding to Carmen. On the other, it had honestly scared her that she could cast such a horrific incantation. Moreover, it was seemingly an impulse reaction type thing, in which she panicked and cast it because of Lowe coming on to her. Not in a billion years would she ever ever agree with that slimeball’s actions being okay, but… but wouldn’t something a little less harmless have done?

Still frowning and unable to come to a conclusion, she opened her mouth and hesitated - a hesitation which she then let turn to a fairly long pause, before finally speaking. 

“One bad thing doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person,” she started, her words lacking the confidence that was usually present in her voice. “Maybe just a person who needs to be careful.” She turned to Carmen then, still frowning but giving her more of a questioning gaze, as if to ask if she had said the right thing or not. Had she known how and been less creeped out by what had happened, she might have better comforted the girl. However she didn’t and she was and the only comfort she can offer Carmen is another frustrated sigh to add to the huge number of frustrated sighs she had already sighed that one day. And it wasn’t as if the sigh would actually offer comfort - it was just her being consumed in her own problems once more, which led her to wondering if her self centeredness was why she couldn’t see past what Carmen had done to see the apologetic, innocent little girl that… she hoped (and presumed) was definitely there. Surely anything otherwise was a bad headache paired with a trick of the light. 

Pinching and massaging the bridge of her nose, she apologised, “Sorry. I just want people to be aware of how dangerous spells like that are. But — yeah,” she finished lamely, annoyed that she couldn’t even focus enough to form a decent sentence. She didn’t consider herself a master wordsmith at any level, but liked to think she was a bit better than having just ‘but — yeah’ as her reasoning behind something. (Except she wasn’t doing particularly well with reasoning as of late.)

“Then again, I suppose Wynters is thrilled that one of his students can actually produce something, even if it isn’t strictly defense against the dark arts,” she chuckled, and treated herself to a tiny smirk; pleased at the fact that she could at least manage some humour. And picking fun at her least favourite teacher too. (Oh how she longed to actually do some proper work in his class.) 

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Rose had looked away, and this had left Carmen to slip into a neutral, unreadable expression while the girl wasn't looking. What was the point of acting if no one was going to see it? The passersby certainly didn't know what their conversation was about. The redhead seemed to be thinking so Carmen kept her mouth closed and waited patiently for her reply. It wasn't like her to interrupt with more useless words anyway. When Rose did finally talk, Carmen had a hard time picking out what the emotion in her voice was. Complex emotions, they always seemed to escape her. Emotions had a big impact on the meaning of words, so for a moment Carmen was left scrambling to try to figure out the meaning behind it. Was Rose doubting her story more than she had anticipated. Anyhow, Carmen had to quickly arrange her face back into the troubled expression as Rose turned to look at her again. It wouldn't do her any good to be caught out on her act.

A sigh from Rose. Was it to do with her? Carmen wondered. She never really understood the inner turmoil of regular people, but boy did she like messing with them. Unfortunately her lack of understanding left her unable to provide real comfort. Not that she actually wanted to comfort people, but it would have helped her act. At least she had avoided making friends, because if she had those then she would really have to put in a lot of effort. Friends were supposed to know everything about each other, or something like that. If she ever found someone like that she'd have to kill them. Literally.

Well Rose had continued with an apology. No matter that the bit she had said before meant, Carmen deducted that an apology was a good sign. There was still empathy in Rose, and willingness to forgive and hopefully forget. Carmen had wanted that at the very least. "Oh, I know they're dangerous." she replied, going for the 'regretful' tone of voice, though in her head it was more like 'I know they're dangerous which is why I use them'.

When Rose chuckled at her own comment about Wynters, Carmen joined in with her own small chuckle. She hadn't even known it was a joke, but she always laughed along with people to play it safe, taking her cue from her peers for when the right time to chuckle was. Oftentimes if the person who had made the joke did not laugh first, the fact that it was supposed to be funny would go right over her head. She supposed she now had to reply to the content of said joke. "I agree, he probably is." Then to hopefully ease Rose's concerns about her she added, "perhaps he can show me a more suitable defence spell in case Lowe returns and tries again." As if she actually wanted to learn this silly harmless spells. She knew how to tie people up in ropes with the flick of a wand and could easily had done that to Derek Lowe if she had wanted to. And perhaps she would have, had they been someplace private, but where she would have gone with her Ravenclaw hottie in magical bondage was best left for those without weak stomachs. As for impressing Wynters, knowing sectumsempra was nothing compared to being fully capable of the unforgivable curses.

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Sam's reply to Nathaniel | IN WHICH WIZARDS SMOKE POT

A look came over Adriana's face and suddenly she stepped up to Nathaniel and put a hand to his chest. "I'll show you what the story's about, hun," she whispered with a sultry smirk. Her feet arched onto the tips of her toes, her wet shoes pressing into the muddy ground. The added height let her lean her parted lips to Nathaniel's ear where she whispered, "But you have to play the wizard." Her breath grazing his cheek, she withdrew and gave him a coy wink. The Wizard and the Hopping pot, how much fun she could have with this one.

Slender fingers dipped into her pocket and from it she withdrew her wand. With a flick and a muttered incantation. Sparkled soared from the end and twisted around in a whirlwind until it solidified into a pot. "Once upon a time there was a pot," she began in a sing-song voice. "The Wizard wore it as a hat." On its own accord the pot jumped onto Nathaniel's head, sitting upside down and almost covering his eyes. "But it was a magic pot," she continued with a hint of glee in her eyes. "And it had teeth AND ATE HIM!" and the pot bit Nathaniel's head off and he died.

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I hope what he did to you isn't scarring. It wasn't your fault.

Why thank you anon, you're so sweet ♥

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Like Sugar And Cyanide | Carmen and Janie

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No matter how much she loved Hagrid, right now she was a little irked. Cold wasn’t meant for Janie Willingham, not at all. Sunshine and rainbows and no wind were good. But there was none of that during this gloomy day, much to her dislike. The only good thing was seeing the hippocampus. Now that was pretty awesome. She was one of the brave ones to step into the water to get a closer look, but after a few minutes it felt like her toes were going to fall off.

Stepping out of the water, she picked up her shoes and backed up, trying to use the other students to block the cold wind. She dug her toes into the dirt, trying to warm them up even if it was just a little bit. The ground was icy and now she had mud in her toenails, so maybe that hadn’t been the smartest thing to do.

While she huddled with the other kids, her arms tucked around herself to keep warm, a small light caught the corner of her eye. She glanced over to see a girl, her face recognizable but she couldn’t think of her name, using a bluebell flame charm. Now why didn’t she think of that? She didn’t want to copy her, so she decided to go join her. No harm in doing that.

“I don’t know why no one else thought to do that,” Janie said once she was close enough without hovering. “I’m Janie, by the way.”

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Carmen noticed Janie approaching, realising a little too late the drawbacks of enchanting a little warmth for herself. Like a moth to the flame. She waited until Janie spoke before turning her head to look at her. A small, friendly smile seemed best for this occasion, so she painted it across her lips through the introduction. "I'm Carmen," she replied softly. Carmen had never been the type to seek out social interaction. Mostly that came across as shy, and possibly a little cold though she tried to avoid giving that particular impression. She knew her class-mates better than they knew her thanks to years of observing their behavioural patterns. Half of them she hadn't even spoken to, but she knew their names. She knew Janie's too, and who her brother was, but for the sake of appearances she didn't say as much.

Now she had to play social. She hadn't come to this class with any agenda other than avoiding detention, or any intention of causing mayhem. Sure, she'd like to set something on fire for the thrill of it, but if she was going to cause mayhem she was going to claim credit for it under her alias Melaina. The façade of Carmen would remain sweet and innocent for as long as she could manage. Therefore it was time to play nice with Janie.

"Here, why don't you take this?" Carmen offered, extending her handful of bluebell flames to the Hufflepuff. She could make more easily enough, and the move would make her sound like she actually cared. "Maybe the others don't know the spell," she offered, and concluded that after that statement she had appropriately responded to everything Janie had said. Now it was Janie's turn to continue the back and forth of conversation.

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Easy Sympathy And Sugar-Sweet Abuse | Carmen & Deacon

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“Oh, no problem! It’s nothing,” It wasn’t - there wasn’t like there was a queue or something lining up to sit next to him. If he were being honest, most of his friends probably had forgotten about him for the moment. But that was okay, he wasn’t very important. 

Deacon fiddled with his quill, twirling the feathers between his index and thumb. He had grabbed a decent amount of paper out of his bag and laid that in front of himself.For the most part, his notes weren’t extensive but were decent. He could never manage to get a complete set of incredibility detailed notes, which he’d attempted to do several times. In almost all of the cases, he had to go back and finish things straight from the book. It was more of a hassle, but okay, it was okay, he didn’t need to be the very best student. He would try his hardest but somehow or someway, the paper wouldn’t make it to the teacher and he would have to do it again very quickly just to get a grade. At best, he was average.

He’d expect her to be quiet, like the lot of most Ravenclaws, and he was okay with that. He didn’t expect much conversation with her - something he didn’t do much during class,  because he didn’t want to disturb the professor or distract the person he was trying to talk to from the lesson. And weren’t Ravenclaws studious or something? So, her question was a bit of a surprise but not really. The lesson hadn’t officially begun yet. “Yes, of course you can.” Was it her housemates stares again? 

“Uh…no?” He furrowed his eyebrows together and looked at her quizzically. “I mean, no! I don’t think you’re scary, not at all. I’m sorry but…” Her explanation made it unnecessary to finish his question, but he continued to stare at her curiously, his mouth a little agape. “I’m sorry,” Deacon repeated. “But I don’t get why they’d think that either,” Had it been something with that…thing he heard about happening between her and Derek Lowe? He was in her house, from what he remembered. But he didn’t want to drag that up - it was traumatic, if this was what he was thinking it was, so  bad no, best not do that. “I mean…well, er, maybe they’re just grumpy?” Most of the Ravenclaws in their years were the types that enjoyed being left to their own. But there were a couple of ones that were friendly. 

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"Right... yes... that must be it." The perfect tone of insecurity. Insecurity was an easy one for Carmen. Teenagers were full of it and all she had to do was mimic them. A pause, then another troubled glance at the Ravenclaw boys and girls. There had to be a thought process. Then before the pause could get too long she continued, "I think maybe it's because of what happened between... between Lowe and I" Intentional faltering, use of the last name to avoid the impression of familiarity. The story of her and Derek Lowe had gotten around, simply because stories of students being suspended were fodder for the gossipers. Everyone liked a good rumour about their peers. The fact that the story had appeared in Ace's fliers had confirmed this for Carmen. Deacon had to at least have seen what Ace had written, unless he really made an effort to avoid reading them.

Professor Wynters was now in the room, but instead of calling the class to attention he was chatting to a small cluster of students. Several of them were laughing. The chances of the conversation actually having something to do with the lesson was minimal. The chances of him starting the class any time in the next five minutes was also minimal. Carmen knew she had picked the class well. "I'm sorry for annoying you with my complaining, it's just that I don't feel that I can talk to anyone in my house about this." That sentence had come out better than she had intended. It had started as if she actually cared for Deacon's feelings, and had continued on to imply her non-existent feelings once more along with an excuse for why she was talking to him, aside from the very obvious reason that she was sitting next to him.

The next bit would be more difficult. Her intention was to blurt out a few sentences as if she could not contain her feelings on the matter. She knew blurting well enough, she shared a dorm room with Adriana Wood after all. But it would be difficult. Blurting nonsense was practically an art-form as far as Carmen was concerned. Blurting troubling thoughts could be a masterpiece if done right. "Every time they look at me I feel like I've done something wrong, and I already feel horrible about what happened. I accidentally used a bad spell, a cutting spell, I didn't mean to, I'd just been reading about it so it was the first thing that popped into my head when he... when he attacked. I keep saying sorry but I don't think it's enough and now they think I'm scary for using a bad spell by mistake." Was that good enough? Fast enough? Did it pass as blurting? She'd tried to keep up the fast pace, the correct intonation, the troubled look. But it had been one of the more difficult things to convey. She had to rely both on her own acting skills and on the fact that Deacon was a complete pushover.

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Easy Sympathy And Sugar-Sweet Abuse | Carmen & Deacon

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Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn’t his favourite class, not really, because most of the spells Wynters taught was exactly that - defence. It was a little different from offensive - which, was taught as well - but Deacon was not particularly okay with either one. Offence meant attacking, defence meant…well, defending. Aka, both were violent, even if defence was more forgivable. 

But he didn’t skip. Nor did he hate the class. Deacon couldn’t skip or hate a class. That was some kind of personal affront to the professors who all worked so hard to piece together their lessons. They also choice this profession which meant they enjoyed it, to some extent right?, so how could he bring himself to belittle something they liked doing? 

Next year, he would be able to chose his classes but they would probably remain the same - Divination (he wasn’t very “seeing” but Trelaweny always patted his cheek and just seemed so sad to see him. He always tried his best in that class, just putting a little more effort into it in the hopes that someone taking it seriously would cheer her up a bit), Transfiguration, Astronomy (he actually liked that class, almost more than anything else), Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, and Care of Magical Creatures (he loved that class and Hagrid always counted on him as a volunteer). In history, he always stayed awake. Always, always. Binns liked him, like most of the teachers seemed to, and even though he didn’t get his name right (because Deacon never could bring himself to correct him), he liked Binns. First year, he had nearly given the old spook another heart attack because he actually raised his hand and asked a question…after blurting out how ‘brilliant’ it was and getting over the snickers (like he did in very class).

But this wasn’t any of those classes - this was just DADA. It wasn’t very long into the day, either. Deacon was one of the first to arrive and took his usual seat towards the front of the class; in the third row, furthest left from the door. Usually, he had someone to sit next to. Brianna, more often than not, but sometimes he sat next to his other friends from other houses, but not always. But that was fine - his friends had their friends and they were much more important than himself. Today was just one of those days. In the empty chair at his desk, he piled his books and left his bag in the seat, not really expecting anyone to claim it. This was proven wrong just five minutes after he had gotten settled.

“Oh! No, no, I don’t, not at all!” Deacon quickly shoved his books back into his bag, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry,”  As soon as he gotten together his belongings, he moved his bag to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair for her. At mention of the other Ravenclaws, he frowned and looked around. Surely enough, a few were eyeing her which he couldn’t understand why. Carmen was nice, from what he knew of her, and after the other day…he nodded in understanding to the girl, smiling at her. “It’s okay.”

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Carmen smiled when Deacon accepted her request to sit down. A brief smile, she was still in her recovery stage. These things had to be calculated. "Thank you so much," she replied, soft and sweet. As soon as his books were out of the way she sat down, taking out her own books needed for the lesson. She would actually pay attention to this lesson if it turned out to be something that caught her attention. The thing about the Hogwarts curriculum is that she wasn't interested in learning the things that would get her through her standard wizarding tests like most classes aimed towards. The entire education system was built around getting kids through exams and out into the real world. But the thing was, Carmen didn't intend to get a respectable job, or to finish school for that matter. So she went to the classes she wanted to and searched the library for everything else, like her very own education system outside of the classroom standards.

A quill, a bottle of ink and a few sheets of blank parchment now sat on Carmen's desk. The chances of her actually taking notes this lesson were minimal, but she was prepared anyway. Perhaps she would draw butterflies. "May I ask you a question?" she continued once she had set her things out for the lesson. The question was one she had used before because it always came off as polite and nice, which was the impression she was trying to give. The few smart-asses who liked to answer 'you just did' got ignored.

"Do you think I'm..." -intentional pause for affect- "...scary?" She turned her wide eyes on him, the perfect appearance of a young girl troubled and concerned. "I think that's what the other Ravenclaws think, and I don't understand." That was a lie. She understood perfectly that the intelligent minds of her blue and silver house rightly wondered what kind of 5th-year could cast a spell like sectumsempra. The thing about the Ravenclaw house in general was that their wit had them constantly questioning, especially when confronted by the unusual situation of seeing a fifteen year old girl cast an curiously sadistic spell. But unlike make of their Slytherin counterparts, most Ravenclaws we're not without compassion, and Carmen planned to exploit every last bit of that. Deacon wouldn't be the only student she would draw sympathy from, though he was the first.

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Easy Sympathy And Sugar-Sweet Abuse | Carmen & Deacon

Though Carmen did not understand emotions, she could read people, and despite the fact that most people had given her the sympathy she wanted, there had been one or two students who didn't think her quite as pure as she wanted them to think. Namely Rose Weasley. It had been just a small moment, a slip that told Carmen that even after all the effort she had put into playing victim after the Derek Lowe incident, suspicion played in the minds of a few people. And they were right to think so; what kind of sweet little girl would cast sectumsempra, even in self-defence? There was a doubt growing in their minds. Not in everyone's, but still too many for Carmen's liking. Perhaps some of them weren't even aware of it, like a shadow of a thought which would one day take form and warn them of the danger in the superficially sweet little girl. Carmen had to snuff those thoughts out, and the sooner the better.

The simplest option, and the most favoured one in Carmen's mind, was to play on the sympathies of some of the sweetest students in Hogwarts. It was like advertising: Look, here's the girl you were uncertain about, all these sweet, friendly, loveable students like her and sympathise with her, you should too. Like subliminal messaging. And who easier to get sympathy from than Deacon McLaggen? They even shared most of their classes which made it that much simpler.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" Carmen asked Deacon right at the beginning of their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The class was specifically chosen because she knew she would be able to get away with talking during Professor Wynters' lesson. Plus it was the class she skipped the least often, simply because learning the dark arts, even in the defence, appealed to her.

"I was going to sit with the other Ravenclaws but they've been looking at me weirdly and it makes me uncomfortable," she added to the blonde boy, speaking softly. According to her calculations she was supposed to be about 80% recovered from the trauma by now, meaning that she could play a toned-down version of the victim act. For now she hugged a textbook to her chest as she looked hopefully at Deacon. She didn't expect any answer other than 'yes'.

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Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

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Although treating Carmen to one of her famous quirked eyebrows, she didn’t question her and couldn’t help the little satisfied smile that spread across her lips. Rose valued a victory and wasn’t in a position to doubt something if she had just won. As odd and… off as the younger girl seemed, she supposed that she wasn’t the most normal person in the school either and a harmless staring competition wasn’t a sign of a secret axe murderer or an alien parading around in a fifteen year old’s skin.  (Although she was sure it could be if she searched hard enough through the sci-fi section of the muggle library not far from home.

“Well. Horaay for me, I suppose.”

Still having not answered Carmen’s question from before Rose’s victory, she furrowed her brow and leaned against the wall next to Carmen’s windowsill seat. She pondered the answer silently, unsure of how to properly articulate her feelings.  Mainly, it was the fact that instead of a simple self defense charm, she had used sectumsempra. She had been raised on war stories and tales of dark wizards who did horrifying deeds. From birth, her sense of right and wrong had been coded into her genetics and even if it was just a silly hunch because she acted a little strange, Rosie couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. Also coded into her genetics was that determination and braveness that, although mostly went to her cousins, brushed off on her as she was growing up. And that was what led her to opening her mouth to speak instead of walking away, like she possibly should have. Still, what was the worst that could possibly come from a conversation? Surely nothing.

“I’m a little concerned that somebody in the same year as my brother can send somebody the same year as me to the hospital wing, if I’m honest. Lowe was repulsive and digusting and I’m sorry, but really wouldn’t simple self defense spells have done?” she replied, her voice sounding a little harsh.

Almost immediately she felt guilty. If the girl was completely innocent and Rosie was just acting paranoid, then she was probably taking what must have been a horrible experience for her and just making it worse. The build up of stress and worry that had been festering in her mind was refusing to be bottled up and she had accidently let it spill over and almost blame Carmen. Quickly, she tried to backtrack, “I mean —,” but she gave up before she could continue any further, knowing that the real issue that had her thoughts all knotted up wasn’t anything to do with the younger girl.

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A smile. A small one, yes, but it was a smile Carmen had seen on Rose's lips, so her little trick had worked. People were complicated. It didn't work on everyone, but it did work on this one. Her eyes followed the redhead as she moved to lean against the wall. What was going on in her head? Carmen let her ponder for a moment in silence, swinging her feet ever so slightly so that her boots clacked against the stone wall. She supposed Rose's thoughts had something to with her earlier question. Terrifyingly terrifying?

Sure enough, when the girl opened her mouth, Carmen knew she was right. The girl had her concerns about how powerful Carmen was, from the sound of things, and rightly so. For a such a sunshine-sweet little blonde, Carmen could pack a punch with a wand - far more than she let on in class. As far as she knew, no other fifth-year was capable of performing all three unforgivable curses, alongside other dark magic. Then again, they could have been hiding it like her, and she'd only used it on small creatures. Perhaps on people it was different. But all this was besides the point. The point was that Rose was suspicious of her, and she had to rectify that right away.

She started with the slight parting of the lips and the slumping of the shoulders, hurt. It couldn't be overdone. Over-doing it never worked. Neither did rushing things. So she waited a second for the 'sinking in' phase before lowering her eyes and twisting her hands together nervously. There always had to be a moment to process the harsh remarks. Perhaps if her act had been the sharp-tongued bitch, or that of a confidant young woman, she could have gotten away with an instant response. But her act was that of a sweet young girl, a little delicate and shy, but with a smile of sunshine. So she let those few seconds of 'reaction' pass before stuttering out a reply.

"I d-didn't mean to d-do that. I d-didn't... I feel awful for hurting Lowe. I'm a horrible person." Now if only she could let out a single tear right at that moment - but she couldn't do those without a spell to help her out. Perhaps  it was best that she didn't, so as to not over-do it. Good actors excelled in subtlety. Small glances at Rose, looking away as if ashamed. Good good.

Next up was supposed to be assurances of 'Oh sweety, of course you're not'. That was how people generally worked: a statement of self-hatred followed by reassurances to the contrary. Unless, of course, the person meant to do the reassuring had a heart of ice. Some said that Rose Weasley did, but Carmen didn't believe it. If anyone had a heart of ice, it was the blonde on the windowsill, not the redhead next to her. She was positive that Rose had more than enough compassion to give her the benefit of the doubt.

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Like Sugar And Cyanide | Carmen and Janie

The day was cold with heavy grey clouds hanging in the sky threatening to release a torrent or rain. An icy wind battered at the 5th-years out for their Care of Magical Creatures class. Despite the students' pleading that they sit around a fire and study salamanders instead, Professor Hagrid had them all down by the edge of the lake huddled under layers of scarves and jumpers to take a look at a Hippocampus instead. 'He'll be gone by tomorrow so you'll miss your opportunity to meet one' Hagrid had said, knee deep in the freezing water feeding raw fish to the creature.

Carmen Wild usually hung towards the back of the group in any Care of Magical Creatures class, but this time she was one of the majority. Most of the students didn't want to go anywhere near that chilly water. Only a few brave ones had taken off their shoes and socks to dip their feet in. The thing about Carmen and animals was that they grew anxious around her. Magical creatures especially could sense that something was off about this strange girl, and even at this distance the hippocampus was looking wary.

More often than not, Carmen would skip this class in favour of things she found to be more worthy of her time. But she wanted to go on the Hogsmeade trip and wouldn't be allowed if she had a detention, so for the next week or so she would have to go to her lessons and actually do her homework. All for the havoc she would get to create thanks to being let out of the castle by unassuming professors.

Not at all interested in the hippocampus, she stepped back even further and took the glove off her left hand. For a second the cold wind hit it, but it was warmed again as she pressed the tip of her wand into her palm and cast a bluebell flame charm. The warmth given off by the flickering blue flames were a nice relief against the wind. It was the only thing the charm was good for. Carmen preferred real flames that she could, say, use to set the hippocampus on fire.

[darkcarmen-blog]

Mainstream Streams Mainly Modern Posers And Post-Modern Junkies | Rose & Carmen

[unposied-blog]

Getting to her. That’s exactly what she was letting it do and exactly what she had vowed not to let things do a good while ago. It was getting to her and she wanted to stop it from getting to her, so forgetting that there was even anything that could get at her was the easiest alternative to what she had been doing - frowning and pacing and sighing and frowning. Tugging on a cardigan (her muggle grandmother’s, stolen from a suitcase of old treasures from the sixties) she left the blank piece of parchment and the quill that hadn’t written anything and left her worries behind in her dorm. (Except she didn’t ever leave her worries behind her and that was her problem, not the letter she hadn’t written.)

She walked at a quick pace. Too fast for anybody to talk to her; quick enough for words to be lost if anybody tried calling out. She liked walking alone, preferring the sound of her shoes tapping against the floor to the natter of conversation that she wasn’t even interested in. To others, it was more than a matter of her simply wanting to be alone. It was her being cold and aloof and so much better than everybody else because they were oh so mainstream. Although she hardly helped the situation. Her only response to being asked why she acted the way she was usually included the words ‘too’ and ‘mainstream’ in a half ironic display of irony that wasn’t even ironic. As she walked, she stuck her thumbnail in her mouth. Didn’t bite, just pressed her fingers to her lips in thought. Thinking, thinking always thinking. Her head felt like it would tick over if she thought some more. Briefly raising her eyes, she surveyed the milling students around her. Most didn’t care for the odd, too tall ginger girl and those who did catch her eyes looked down out of politeness. At least she hoped it was politeness. Adding ‘intimidating’ to the list of words use to describe her wasn’t something she would be particularly happy to do. Her reputation was ridiculous already - she didn’t want to be seen as scary on top of that. The exception, however, was a small blonde creature perched on a ledge, watching her. Intently. Staring unblinkingly.

“Terrifyingly sweet and terrifyingly… terrifying, little blonde one,” she said by way of greeting as she walked a few steps closer, tipping her head to one side but not breaking eye contact. The recent news would have been enough to make her wary of Carmen, but more than once her eyes had flicked to her across the common room as she sat in her corner armchair and observed those around her. She appeared as being made of sugar and spice and all things nice. But windowsill perching and staring as well as being able to cast sectumsempra made Rosie skeptical of her outward appearance.

Regardless of whether she was or wasn’t totally creepy, she wasn’t going to let somebody just outstare her like that. Perhaps it was that bit of stubborn Gryffindor in her blood. Folding her arms across her chest she raised one of her eyebrows, as if to say ‘game on’.

[darkcarmen-blog]

Rose was the first one to acknowledge Carmen with words, and she latched onto that, wondering if she could twist the situation somehow to cause the redhead's misfortune. Misfortune beyond something as simple as grey hair, that was. Maintaining eye-contact she bit her lip, playing innocent, timid, and sweet at the same time from her avian perching position on the windowsill. Carmen had not forgotten her 50%-victim act throughout the staring.

"Terrifyingly terrifying?" she chirped, twitching her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. No blinking. Her eyes were watering. "Why do you say that?" It was possible that the girl had witnessed her performing sectumsempra, since it had happened in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room - and even if she hadn't, the news had certainly gotten around. She had seen the article Ace had written, pulling sympathy for Carmen which suited her just fine. Sympathy was good. Sympathy was what the victim-act was for. 'Terrifying' wasn't a word she wanted associated with her. Terrifying was what went on inside her head, and no one was supposed to know that.

She blinked. On purpose. The thing about the game was that she had no motive to win unless it meant being able to do something unfortunate to her opponent  as a reward. But Rose Weasley was talking to her and the thought of turning her hair grey went out the window. It would cause too much suspicion now. Unable to feel pride or any form of competitive spirit, there was no point in trying to win, whereas losing held the slight possibility that the other girl would be in a better mood, and perhaps see her as less 'terrifying'.

Blinking a few more times to get rid of the dry feeling in her eyes, Carmen made a small giggling sound. A very precise giggle, weak, short, and all around adding to the impression that she was still upset over the events of last week. She had only picked up the more complicated body language such as ironic laughs, forced smiles, and hidden amusement in the past few years. Contradictory emotions confused her, but they worked. "You win," she added after the blinking and slight giggling. Shifting from her perch, she sat her bum down on the windowsill and swung her legs down to hang against the stone wall. If Rose wished to continue speaking to her, so be it. Unlike other students, she didn't shy away from Rose, or from anyone really.

[darkcarmen-blog]

The Aftermath Of Getting Away With Near-Murder | LEGGIE BITCH

[slytherinsace-deactivated201403]

What she expected from Carmen was a snivelling mess of a girl, traumatised all by yesterday’s events. To be perfectly frank, Ace expected just another face with nothing much between the ears. She’d gotten none of those.

She looked around, easily locating the owl Carmen was addressing. Petal. Missing. Due to her time spent in the tower, she was well acquainted with many, if not all, of the owls. The school owned ones were more accepting of her, while the personal were more weary; sometimes she could bring them to her side, sometimes she couldn’t. You can’t win ‘em all. Legless, however, had been…now that she recalled it, frightened? It still was. To her credit, she had tried. Tried very very hard in fact but Legless never came around. Now, it was rather obvious. Wild took aim and the owl screamed. Several others, those nearest, took off and either relocated or fled completely. Her eyes narrowed and she inched closer to Carmen, her size always being her greatest advantage. Ace was easily hidden in the masses of other feathery bodies. 

 Owls were perhaps her favourite animals, and the shrieks of Petal ruffled her feathers. Yet it also aroused her curiosity. Carmen wasn’t fazed by her owl’s distress,instead she quickly attached the letter to it’s remaining leg and issued a command for the letter to be taken to her brother. Normally, she would have followed the owl, or send her own after it, to intercept it. But Ace didn’t know the contents of the letter, of their gloating and mockery of the same rules she was breaking; what interested her was it’s author. She followed her, just as Carmen’s steps began their descent. She wasn’t stupid, on the contrary, she knew she couldn’t quickly fly down to the base and change back - no that would raise questions and it would be too easy for someone to see the transformation. No, remaining as she was would be best. And if Carmen proved just to be a sick little animal abuser and nothing more, then she would still have the ability to chase after something else worthwhile. 

For all that Ace knew of Wild, she was in fifth year and Ravenclaw. That was the extent of her knowledge - either she was truly just as unremarkable as that (hence displaying her domination over her owl, as it was with many cases of abusers.) or she was intelligent enough to hide any violent impulses her little head came up with. In any case, how was she cooping? She would have an answer to that, if anything.

[darkcarmen-blog]

Carmen remained oblivious to her stalker as she made the trek back to the castle. It was just an owl, and gave her no reason to think anything beyond that. Really, in comparison to the way that animals usually reacted around her, this was nothing. Animals, magical creatures especially, seemed to have a sense about her, as if they could tell that she wished them harm. It made her Care of Magical Creatures classes interesting. The tamer creatures would get shy around her. The more violent ones would get nervous enough to strike out at any student who got too close. A few classes had ended early because of her. These days she skipped half of them. Skipping classes was half the reason she got so many detentions. She had on tonight, actually, but she had several hours before she had to show up for that one.

The air was cold, even with the noonday sun bearing down upon her. that's what happened as the seasons moved into winter. She had several layers of wool under her robes, but the cold seemed to slip through anyway. Indoors was her obvious next destination, though where after that she had to decide. Avoiding company seemed best for now, so that ruled out the Ravenclaw common room. It was also too early to try sneak back into the restricted section of the library. An empty classroom, then, to practice her wand-work on the furniture and the spiders that inhabited the dark corners.

Upon reaching the clock tower courtyard, Carmen immediately slipped back into her traumatised-victim act. Head down, avoid eye contact, subtle upset expression. If she'd had a book with her she would have hugged it to her chest. Instead she crossed her arms around her torso, ducking into the castle. Empty classrooms weren't hard to find, especially now that classes had ended for the day. She didn't even have to go up or down any stairs, finding one on the ground floor which she slipped into without any trouble. Finally, alone, she could turn off her act again and take out her wand.

It was tiresome, having to act every time she went out in public. The only reason she remained at Hogwarts was because it was convenient. She wasn't interested in what the teachers had to tell her, unless they happened to be learning a new spell that appealed to her dark mind. Instead she was at Hogwarts for the vast library of information that she could riffle through for the things she really did want to learn; for the supply of potion ingredients that would be difficult for her to get anywhere else without raising suspicion; and most importantly, because she was still under age and couldn't use magic freely anywhere else.