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@eatonwillow-blog
delightful-delta:
“Oh… I guess I am?” Delta was taken aback by the forward question, but she’d feel horrible if she lied anyways, “Just a lot of new faces. Nothing that a few more of those brownies can’t fix. It’ll be cool to meet new people.” That was a lie. Delta felt bad. Maybe worse than before, if it was possible.
“Oh? Well, Sonder can be nothing short of welcoming so I’m sure his friends are no less than that either,” she assured, casting a sweeping glance around the room.
tomcat-megs:
“Please, don’t do the whole coy thing with me. You look rather adorable and I bet you damn well know it too.” Grinning at her classmate, Meg shuffled between a few people to get closer. “Have you seen Sonder? He looks fantastic, though I suppose it’s normal for the host to out-shine everyone else on his birthday.”
“Coy? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about Meg,” she teased, a grin of her own dancing across her lips and looking alike some Cheshire cat all the while. And part of her amusement came from the idea of whether or not the Head Girl’s smile would remain if she realized how coy Willow truly was --- of what lay beneath rotted layers. “I have, and you’re right that he looks as wonderful as always. Then, Sonder knows to command a room, I’d say. Birthday or not.”
personality test masterpost
rcyes:
reblog and add your results!
Myers-Briggs: ENTJ - D (The Commander)
E - 78%
I - 57%
T - 84%
J - 73%
A - 91%
Kinsey Scale: 2
Temperament: Choleric
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Bending Type (Avatar): Firebender
Faction (Divergent): Erudite
tomcat-megs:
“Hey you. Look who put in a whole lot of effort, you’re making my costume-game look weak.”
“Am I? Here I thought I’d put in the least amount of work,” she countered with a carefully orchestrated smile --- dancing the line of being sheepish, all whilst touching her fingers to the cat ears atop her head.
delightful-delta:
“What? Oh no, I’m totally fine… Um. Lots of people here, aren’t there? Kinda like the Great Hall but… louder.”
“Are you sure? You seem a little uneasy,” she commented with an air of innocent curiosity as though she hadn’t already made analytical deductions of the other’s nervousness to the crowd. “Oh, I guess you’re right. Lots of people here.”
Date: 27 December 2015
Place: Sonder’s Party
“The break’s been nice, hasn’t it? The party, too --- it’s all been rather pleasant,” she canted, a rather predictable set of cat ears peeking up from her hair; she couldn’t say that she’d put much thought into her costume. Then, her decision to come had been rather last minute to begin with as Will had obviously tied off all her ends in maintaining contact with those who she’d needed to in order to continue her game of sorts, but came to conclusion that there was no harm in making an appearance at Sonder’s party, especially when traveling via the Floo Network was so quick as it was.
queenlegolas:
You can’t see me, can you? You look at me and you can’t see me.
pastslives:
DNA (Acoustic) // Little Mix live on Loose Women
tuesdaysullivan:
Willow was known to be kind of a difficult person to be around, and once Tuesday realised it was her she had walked in on, she had to restrain herself from sighing. Having just gotten out of the Hospital Wing, she really didn’t have the patience to deal with fake concern, fake kindness or any other kind of fakeness. Still, she managed a smile as she walked into the room, and plopped her bag onto one of the desks, pulling out her text book. “No, I don’t need any help. I just have to catch up on my homework.” Obviously, since she’d been away for a week, she was behind on all the last assignments of the term. And she wanted to finished it before the holiday started, so she could focus on her job instead of homework. “What potion are you making? It smells horrible.”
She shrugged, turning back to her work without complaint. It was beginning to become exhausting to sate those seemed to have a mind about her, more inclined to those who stretched for her like plants to the sun. Tuesday obviously didn’t, a thing with walls built high and attitude something of a wounded animal. “Obviously not Amortentia then,” she joked, pushing a sound of laughter forth from her lips. There was no particular mirth in her, but she knew better than to drop the act altogether, even if she had diminished interest in her company. “Felix Felicis,” she finally answered, allowing the frozen Ashwinder egg she’d had to tumble into her cauldron, exploding --- figuratively anyway, into an array of reds and golds which colored the mixture as such.
the-caldwellmoore:
Perhaps, though at first glance no one would notice, the pair could be described as polar opposites. It seemed that where Willow wanted destruction, Caldwell would always insist on order, she had an underlying chaotic nature whereas Caldwell’s life revolved around remaining as calm as he possibly could. Caldwell wanted what he considered normality, nothing more and nothing less, just the same ordinary life that so many others lead on a daily basis. He supposed actually talking to people was a good place to start, even if he struggled to really say much in front of new people. “I suppose we’re all entitled to our own opinion, at least yours is positive.” Caldwell didn’t really think there was all that much to say about himself, not the things he was willing to share anyway, but he supposed there was no harm in the small things. It didn’t matter to him if people knew which teams he supported, which books he read or any of his favourite things, it was just details. “I wouldn’t say I was a man of any one thing but it doesn’t hurt to have a nice team crest?” Caldwell tilted his head, reaching over a few pots to one that was wiggling a fair bit, clear it hadn’t been potted correctly, which he lifted and brought to the front so he could deal with it. “My favourite novel?” He mused over the question as gloved hands scooped out loose, dry soil to retrieve the wiggling bulb looking for an escape. Caldwell rolled his eyes at the thing as he lifted it and tucked it under one arm, secure and safe while he walked a few paces down the length of the greenhouse to grab a new bag of soil. “I can’t say I have one specific favourite, honestly.” He finally replied, lifting the bag of soil up onto the bench next to the pot with a slight grunt, giving the bulb a gentle squeeze under his other arm as it struggled for freedom.
She lifted her shoulders in the roll of a shrug which translated her own silent agreement. Others were entirely entitled to their own opinions, but their own about her were ones she obsessively worried on. She knew better than to think that everyone thought her a saint, but she didn’t care about that, about their agreement with her. She was content with hatred, as long as it coupled with the sort of love that begged for her. Aside from that, she supposed her life was rather relative. Willow attended classes and made average grades for herself and played Quidditch, all completely normal things. If she had sought treatment, the talk therapy her distant family members had attempted to arrange for her, she supposed that aspect of her life would have been relative too, but she didn’t care to proclaimedly fix herself. That was just it. Will enjoyed the version of herself that she was, not crippled by the weight of consideration. “Don’t worry, I was only teasing,” she assured, though she didn’t think it so unimaginable to have enjoyment in the look of things, to be of a mind on one thing or another. She returned to the bunch of Bulbs once again as she worried on this thought, lifting another in her grasp. “I guess it is a bit of a tough question, that. How about a genre then? I’d think that you’re inclined to one over others, yeah? I mean, I am at least,” she clarified, her movements becoming clockwork, a repetitive action of what she’d done just prior in unpotting and replanting the Bulbs.
the-caldwellmoore:
Caldwell did have some faith in destiny, he had faith in love and romance, he just wasn’t sure it would ever find him. He was sure he would watch many other people love and lose each other long before he ever found someone who was willing to be as patient as he would need someone to be with him. But the world was fast-paced and Caldwell needed time, which seemed to be the one thing a lot of people were lacking, something he had accepted a while ago but had to remind himself of often. He was lucky to find any company at all, somehow he’d adopted a sort of unapproachable aura, where people believed he didn’t want to talk to anyone just because he sometimes struggled to. So Willow’s company, even if perhaps he wouldn’t have chosen it, was welcomed. Plants were his more regular companions and he had to admit- though not aloud, he wouldn’t like to hurt any of the other’s- that the Bouncing Bulbs were his favourite. They lashed out occasionally and were a troublesome bunch but when he cradled them, and they felt safe, they were pleasant little things- purple too, his favourite colour. “I’m being honest.” He quipped back, the slight hint of a smile catching the corners of his mouth as he looked about the young bulbs with a keen eye. “Quidditch team? I have two, really, one from each side of the family: Woollongong Warriors from my father, and Montrose Magpies from my mother. Both rather good teams, which is why I suppose I support them. Plus, the Magpies have a nice crest.”
As it could have been said, Willow didn’t have faith in any of the sort. Even if fate played a role in her life, she knew it had left her to burn in the striking flames of the world she’d set fire to. Not that she had much belief in the world to begin with, but part of her doubted such a thing could be allowed if there were some intervening factor, be it fate or destiny or the like. Love on the other hand, was always something a breath away. She didn’t deny love, but rather, rejected it in the traditional sense. Where she loved others, she didn’t for their beings but for what they gave her in sating her desire to ruin and ravage. Emotion, for Will, was some far away thing --- it was small and incandescent in the sky, completely foreign to her, and for that, she didn’t mourn the loss ( not that she mourned at all ). “Well then, I simply won’t hear it,” she shot back, not missing the barest quirk in his lips. How easy it was to make room for herself in him, who otherwise seemed so unapproachable as he assumed himself to be. “Good teams, those. Oh, and a man of aesthetic, are we? You get more interesting with every breath, Mister Moore,” she paused to settle the wiggling flash of purple in her hands to the empty space it had previously come from, the first plot filled as she moved in the dirt to further steady it, “Okay, next question. What’s your favorite novel?”
the-caldwellmoore:
Caldwell would like to say things such as destiny or fate existed, he read books about these meant-to-be romances and these people drawn together to fulfill certain purposes, and he wished all of that seemed real but- as he had long ago decided- if fate was real then so far he had been dealt quite the troublesome hand. Karma would be useful, he was sure, except he had spent most of his life trying to be the best for everyone and make everyone happy and yet his life had never been easy, and so his faith in fate and all such things related to it had dimmed since he was a child- all he knew of fate now was what he read in books. Fictions not facts. “No, it’s not a bother, you hold better conversations than the plants do.” He didn’t mind being on his own usually but, now and again, he missed just talking to someone about irrelevant things. Caldwell was actually a rather easy-going person once he was comfortable around someone, it just took him a long while to reach that comfortable point with people. Securing his gloves on his hands, Caldwell moved about the greenhouse to where the young Bouncing Bulbs were kept, they should all be restrained properly considering they liked to bounce about so much. Honestly, Caldwell thought they were sort of cute. “A bit about myself?” He asked softly, gloved fingers checking around the pot of the first bulb he came in contact with to be sure it was secured. “There’s not much to tell, really. I’m a student, I like Herbology and Quidditch, I read a lot. I’m not all that interesting.”
It was a bit of a hobby for her, to restore those child-like feelings in people of faith in fate and destiny, Willow. She had had, since a child, an insatiable desire to build people up to a pedestal which she then knocked out from beneath them. To ravage another under the guise of friendship or love was the only connection she knew to have to others, and the one she preferred. Where Caldwell felt burdened by his illness, she felt liberated. To seek therapy for some sort of cure seemed only a joke to the girl who liked to be so destructive as she was. “I’d hope so,” she replied heartily, small bout of laughter breezing from her and singing through the air. He was quite easy-going, she’d observed as the conversation carried on, noticeably less tensed --- or stoic. The emotion in his face was to be visibly read now, saving Willow the trouble of interpretation. She thought on that as she set the Bulb carefully down on a sill for replanting, concentrated look about her face as she gently felt down through the soil at the rim of the Bouncing Bulb’s pot --- though, it was admittedly a bit hard with what wiggling the plant naturally had in it. “Oh, please,” she scoffed teasingly, casting a quick glance back to Caldwell. Willow knew, as she did, that there was most obviously more to him than that. “Give yourself some credit, I happen to think you’re great company --- very interesting, even if you don’t. Now, whose your favorite Quidditch team then? I rather like the Holyhead Harpies, myself,” she continued smoothly, wriggling the lively Bulb in her care gently from its ceramic home.
smiths-cooper:
“Are you sure?” Perhaps it wasn’t. For someone who was good at potions it was probably rather simple to make a potion more efficient. Cooper could barely get them right to begin with. Willow seemed to have no qualms on helping however, which was rather pleasantly surprising. He’d always wondered if she was kind or not, he never really saw smiling much in passing. Then again, Cooper didn’t look too kind either. “I don’t know a potion known to be faulty…Amorentia maybe? But that sounds dangerous to mess around with…it might be fun though.”
“Of course. Cushing rather likes experimentation in his students anyway, so I see it as something as fun to try,” she chirped in response, a glint of malice in her eyes as she turned away. She’d already begun to gather the ingredients, among the Ashwinder egg already in her hands, calling them out to herself softly --- moonstone, peppermint, rose thorns. “As long as we’re careful, I’m sure all should be fine,” she assured him, almost moved to later utilize their project but Willow had always prided herself on having natural charisma. She didn’t need a potion to draw others to her.
tuesdaysullivan:
Tuesday had spent half a week in the Hospital Wing, and she felt shame as she walked through the hallways of the castle. She wasn’t sure how much people knew, but people that she had classes with probably knew that she hadn’t been attending classes. It had been an overreaction though, drinking herself half to death, and now she had just decided to not touch alcohol again, not when it was clearly such a problem for her. Tues was behind on every single class, but potions was always the worst, and she had decided to sneak in some added work before her next class. Someone was already in the classroom though, and she froze in the door. “Umm… I’m just- I need to do some potions. For an assignment that I missed. I can come back later though, if you need to be alone.”
Tuesday. Of course she knew the name, Willow, who so liked to familiarize herself with broken things. All at once, her voice seemed to spring forth, something of a serpent in the air — slithering about, “No, that’s fine. Please, come in.” A smile balanced on her lips as she looked to the other girl a moment longer, faux look of kindness on her dark eyes. Not too long, she reminded herself, looking away with smile still hung off her mouth. Eye contact was only inviting in moderation when dialect wasn’t involved, she knew, repeating it to herself as though the encounter were more of an experiment. “Anything I can help you with, Tuesday? I’ve been looking to be distracted from this monstrous potion,” she joked, gesturing to where a gold solution bubbled softly. How dangerous it was, to enter to jaws of a beast who would have so easily wanted to put Tuesday back in the infirmary with kind words and a bottle and nobody the wiser. She was a new piece on the board, and Willow was admittedly intrigued.
the-caldwellmoore:
Caldwell wasn’t sure the meaning behind his name actually suited him, or that they indicated who he was going to become, though perhaps they’d been suggestions of how his parents hoped he would be. He was quite sure he’d never quite met those expectations but life wasn’t easy for anyone, not that reminding himself of that made him feel any better, in fact it often made him feel all the more worse. Though, that’s one reason why he’d miss McGongall, she tried to make life easier for students and he was grateful for that. Caldwell was admittedly not sure what to say about the woman’s death either, death was not something he was experienced with and he wasn’t sure how he was expected to act in the situation, hence why he’d stolen away to the greenhouses to get away from the castle for a while. “Hm?” Caldwell drew his fingers back from the snapping plants, turning his attention to the girl with her question in mind as he released a thoughtful breath. “I’m sure Professor Longbottom mentioned going over Bouncing Bulbs in one of his classes earlier, though it should be over now, but I was planning to make sure they’re all back and settled… So if you want to help with that it’d be ok-” He cut off, smiling just a little, “Obviously it’d be ok, I meant more that it’d be- that I wouldn’t mind the company?”
Willow didn’t believe in fate, not in that her name would have determined who she’d become later in life. Rather, she recognized small ironies in life and revelled in the amusement of their existences. In how she’d always heard voices tell her that she echoed her mother --- a nearly exact replica, despite how she truly took after her father. Too, irony shadowed her even then, as she batted around a boy with the capacity to see into her wickedness, but didn’t. They were inside jokes that never left her lips, only making for appearance in her small bouts of self-reflection and analyzation. “Ah, that’s good. I’d hope my company wasn’t a bother,” she said it with a seemingly sincere resolution, but it was hard to deny the teasing undertone to her words. She liked to think she could afford to joke around with Caldwell, for the sake of her own furthered enjoyment. Will quieted a bit after that, sifting around for the second-hand gloves their professor always had on hand, slipping on a weathered pair over her small hands when she’d found them. The gloves themselves felt scratchy on her skin and bore a hole in which she could wiggle her pinky freely through, but she didn’t mind. She had never been a particularly moneyed youth, but she got on well enough; material things no longer sated her as they did when she was child anyway. “So,” she started, finding a place ( of comfortable distance ) next to Caldwell, “could you tell me a bit more about yourself? If it’s alright, of course --- you’re rather interesting to talk to.” Her digits wedged carefully beneath a potted Bulb, balancing the weight in her palms as she set to work.
tailingkim:
Practically laid on her back, knees together, she let out a woeful laugh, throwing her head back a bit at her own haphazardness, “I guess you could say that.” Gratefully, Kim reached out for the other’s hands and used them as support to bring herself to her feet. Adjusting her robe and skirt, she shook her head, “Not lost. just looking for something–I think someone’s gone and charmed my prefect badge to hop around the castle on it’s own and I can’t seem to find it. It’ll be my head if I don’t find it.”
As if searching herself, and she was, she cast a look over her shoulder as if the badge might have been somewhere close enough for her to nab. It wasn’t. Though, Willow had found that people were very susceptible to her when she made a point of helping them in something. An act of kindness, as it were, seemed to be a universal wonder worker when it came to imbedding herself into someone else’s thoughts or life. “Why don’t I help you then? The fourth years, little buggers they are, have done it a couple times to one person too many,” she replied, an easy lie off her tongue as though it were nothing. Then, that came with being a pathological liar, didn’t it?
smiths-cooper:
“Well…” He especially didn’t want to be a burden. The sullen look of worry on his face probably expressed that well. He debated whether to apologize and leave or get the help he needed. It was harder to ask a near stranger for help. “It is a bit much to ask for…I have to make a potion more efficient and I don’t know where to start.”
She shook her head in playful disbelief, setting aside the egg in her hands with careful efforts. “That’s not much at all to ask for, I promise,” she stopped speaking for a moment as she moved in towards him, still maintaining a comfortable distance, however, between them, “So, what exactly are you looking to make more efficient? Depending on what it is, the potion may need just a pinch of something extra or it’s possible it may need to be scraped and redone. Hopefully, it’ll be the former.” It was almost astonishing how trusting he was where others weren’t, but then, she played a kind face well.
