i am the sea & nobody owns me

[evra-morven]

kiran-thakkar‌:

Ugh, she was so annoying. He threw up his hands in defeat, slowly, like he was on drugs. Oh hey. He was. Look a’that. He dodged the fry, because he wasn’t about to have fries in his hair, it was a sloppy dodge, but he had enough time to get out of the trajectory. “Kay, kay. Um stoned,” he slurred, then studied her as she said there were enough people who would love to take his spot on the team. Surely there were, and Kiran would never say there weren’t enough people who would make just as much an excellent keeper as him, but so far he guessed nobody dared to kick him off the squad because he had at least some value to the team, he hoped. 

Honestly, he would be more devastated if he got kicked off than his team members would be missing him. And that should probably have him worried, but alas it did not. “A half-baked junkee who is pretty great at keeping.” That wasn’t a word. 

He flinched at the word untouchable though. Untouchable he certainly wasn’t. He shook the feeling away, certain that if his mind bore down on such things, he would find himself in terrible circumstances, and drugs be damned, they would pull him under even faster. Like being pulled under in the sea. “Nah. Don think that.” He pushed some more fries in her direction, now considering it some kind of peace offering. His face had changed from stoned joy to malcontent. 

High, stoned, whatever. Tomay-to, tomah-to. Particularly because he goes on to describe himself as a half-baked junkie, Evra isn’t about to split hairs. She wouldn’t even usually be so particular about other people’s habits - she herself is very image conscious, but other people can do what they want. It’s just that Kiran is supposed to represent the team, and if he’s going to get high, he should do it in private.

He shouldn’t be sitting here, in front of everyone, clearly on something.

Something she said seemed to have an effect on him, though, as the lazy grin slid away from his face. It was inconvenient, actually, because Evra’s always struggled to maintain any sort of a rage when people bend or break. She pursed her lips, exhaling steadily, before accepting a chip from his plate. Maybe she should try to have some sympathy; maybe rather than judging him, she should be wondering why he’s sitting, high as a kite, in the middle of the Great Hall. Her expression softened, just a touch. “Are you, like... okay?” She asked at length, carefully biting into another chip. He might be a pain in the arse, but he’s a teammate as well. “Doesn’t seem super normal to be in this kind of state so early in the day.”

[evra-morven]

grace-raleigh‌:

Grace recognized the girl—Morven, the Quidditch beater, as skilled on a broom as one would expect, given the legacy in her name. She was acting a little squirrely at what had been a pretty plain question, a reaction that made Grace sigh, internally. Missed the mark on trying to sound casual, again. “It’s something we’re spreading the word about to try and resolve quickly, and the more hands on deck the better,” she explained, trying not to feel slighted on behalf of the Hufflepuff prefects. “They’re not incompetent.” Her annoyance might’ve shown a little. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out, and maybe spreading the word? I’d appreciate it.” She could always hope.

Maybe Evra is missing something, but like... it’s a badge. It’s a badge. Holy shit. 

“...Uh, sure.” She narrowed her eyes, looking Grace over. Some people take things so seriously. Evra takes Quidditch this seriously, but that’s different. That’s important to her. The whole prefect thing on the other hand, seems inconsequential. Grace must be so much fun at parties. “Am I missing something? Are you guys like, Samson, getting all of your power from your badges? If I take your badge, will your wand droop like a soggy noodle?”

[evra-morven]

cleoraja‌:

The idea that the kid was flirting with her made had Cleo wrinkling her nose as she poured her milk. “Make me one too,” She gestured to the coffee Evra was making, as she continued listening to her friend’s dumbass hypothetical. The anecdote about Evra’s guy though did wake Cleo up a little, enough to raise her head and give Evra a smug look. “Yeah?” Laughing a little, Cleo shook her head at the school’s apparent way they differentiated the two. “You’re only the nice one because you have the patience to be diplomatic. I call it as I see it. If someone’s a dumbass, they’re gonna know, Evra. It’s only fair. But let’s go back to ‘Daddy.’ He sounds hot.”

Cleo’s demanding nature had never bothered Evra - make me one too. It was rude and bossy, technically, but she had a level of appreciation for the honesty of it. Cleo never simpered; what you saw was what you got, and Evra preferred honesty to niceties. Filling up another mug of coffee, she slid it towards Cleo with a laugh and a shake of her head.

“Aw, living vicariously through my sex life, are you? I’ll indulge you, just this once.” As if Evra didn’t frequently go into great detail about her personal life with Cleo. “I actually blocked him now. Like, you let a guy feed you honey while you call him daddy one time and next thing you know it’s all texts about how he wants to ruin my throat, videos of him wanking, requests for videos of me wanking - you know at the spa when my phone was going off? He wanted to know what I was doing, so I said spa, and he was like, ooh why don’t you go to the bathroom and send me a video of what’s under that robe. Like, buddy, no, I’m in the middle of getting a deep tissue massage and I have priorities. Honestly. Guys always say not to stick your dick in crazy, but it’s important to remember not to let crazy stick it’s dick in you, too.”

[evra-morven]

deacon-rivers‌:

Honestly, he’d always sort of felt like the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry was, at this point, mostly about respecting tradition, and the fact that as opposed to being polar opposites, like everyone seemed to think, they were actually just… way too similar. With only slight and very particular differences, that gave the illusion of opposites. Like… friendly verses mean. Valiant versus vigilant. Self-sacrificing verses self-serving. 

But the truth was, all that was more about perspective, and presentation… at least, that was Deacon’s humble opinion about it, but he didn’t exactly advertise it, because as a half-blood who was raised with more muggle influence than magical, he got the impression people would figure it wasn’t his place to say. He was talking about things he couldn’t possibly understand. 

Still, a part of him felt like he saw right through Evra—and just like so many of the other Slytherins, she had a certain reputation to uphold. So what she said to him wasn’t about Deacon at all—it was about her. Then again, who was he to accuse about upholding reputations? Talk about some serious pot-kettle-black action.

He snorts, folding his arms over his chest. “What are you, new?” he teases. “What kind of Brit hasn’t figured out that pet names are just a part of the package. Come on, lean into the stereotype.” He chuckles. “But trust me—I know your name, Evra.” Everyone does, he thinks. But he’s mentioned her famous mother a time or two before, and she’s had nothing but scathing and dismissive responses on the subject, so he’s learned to avoid it. “And as if you’re complaining about being a scary bird on a broom. You love it. I bet the fear in other’s eyes brings you joy. Now we’re talking in Slytherin stereotypes.” 

A scary bird on a broom. Charming. There was a middle ground between flattery and insult, but Deacon was apparently unfamiliar with it. Evra had never really enjoyed being called a bird, and fuck leaning into the stereotype. She wasn’t a bird any more than she was anyone’s love, but it was also a losing battle. She couldn’t get up in arms every time someone called her a pet name, much as she’d love to.

She satisfied herself with a scoff.

“Mm, you read me like a book,” she said, rolling her eyes. Maybe she was a Slytherin stereotype; that was the trouble with the house system. Everyone gets to make their judgements. “I’m only sorry I left my bat in my room - you’re much less fun when you’re not speeding away from me on your broom. I can actually hear all the bullshit coming out of your mouth now. Gotta say, you’re lucky you have a pretty face.”

It was all in good fun to Evra, for the most part. But she could be moody, and that moodiness scraped abrasively through her sense of humour. She’d never been good at knowing when she’d crossed the line from friendly smack talk to downright rudeness. She also wasn’t hugely bothered one way or the other; it was just easier to avoid crossing the line because arguments required a level of energy she often wasn’t willing to commit to another person.

[evra-morven]

kiran-thakkar‌:

“Whaa…” His brain had trouble catching up to whomever just sat down opposite of him, and started to gurgle all those words. But when he recognized her, he really didn’t need to hear exactly what she was saying, her face and her personality made that all to clear. Of course, being stoned, and hearing “dick swab” he started to chuckle like a… well, stoned person. It got him to start hoarding the food for a second, allowing his brain to catch up on matters, processing the words. “Ain’t high, ya minter, sjust hungry,” he responded, slurring his words, then chuckling again, and putting one of the ugliest looking fries on the table and sliding it towards Evra. 

To be honest, Kiran had yet to find out why anyone hadn’t kicked him of the team yet… possibly because he was a damned good Keeper. When sober. Which he tried to be for every game at least, trainings were a whole different matter. Unless if the drinking had been promised to take place after the game. Some of his team mates, though, they took the whole Quidditch thing pretty seriously. He just wanted to fly on a broom and kick some balls away from their goal. “Yer looking kinda feisty, have sum fries.” 

He slid a greasy looking chip towards her, and Evra looked down at it in obvious distaste. She’d never been much of a snob about what she ate - none of that my body is a temple business - but looking at Kiran’s heaping plate of fried food made her feel faintly sick. There was nothing green on that plate, nothing at all.

Picking up the chip between thumb and forefinger, Evra scrunched her nose up before lobbing it at his head. “Can you at least not lie to me? I can see you’re high. I can also see that there’s plenty of people that would love to be our keeper, and the only thing standing in their way is a half baked junkie. Do you really think you’re so untouchable?” 

Usually, Evra tried not to be too harsh. She was often catty and blunt, but rarely outright aggressive. But something about Kiran’s disregard for the team rubbed her up the wrong way. If he wanted to kick a few balls around, play with your mates after class - don’t waste the teams time.

[evra-morven]

cleoraja‌:

It didn’t matter how long it took Cleo to get ready for school. It was still too early to not be cranky and zoned out for most of her morning. So when Evra sat down, Cleo was in the middle of just staring at the breakfast foods, idly trying to figure out what she felt like. “I feel you as fuck,” she commiserated, if not because even though she didn’t like talking in the mornings, her friendship with Evra was worth not being a total bitch simply because she was tired. Cleo finally decided, reaching over for the cereal. “Just last night some first year spilled fuckin’ hot fondue on me and ran off. I yelled at him, but fuck. I don’t think either of us were that fucking dumb in first year.”

“Hot fondue? Maybe he was flirting.” Evra said, poker faced, as she poured herself a coffee. She was more of a morning person than Cleo by a long margin; she was a morning person in general, in fact. There was a lifetime of sunrise starts to practice her flying to thank for that. “Some people are into that. Maybe this kid just woefully misunderstood your preferences. I once had a one night stand with a guy that poured a spoonful of honey and held it up, telling me to say ‘please feed me daddy’. Some people are irretrievable freaks. I’d kind of hoped we’d left the dodgy Tinder hookups in the muggle world, but I guess at least one followed you here.” She paused, just for a moment. “Or maybe he was a clumsy fuck that had heard about you. You know I’m considered the nice one of the two of us, right? Me. The nice one.”

[evra-morven]

deacon-rivers‌:

So… if it existed, he’d definitely go to Gryffindor Jail of Shame for Evra Freaking Morven. Sure, he’s just about as competitive as the next guy, when it comes to beating Slytherin into the ground during matches… but he’s nearly been knocked off his broom a couple of times by her efforts, and not that she’s not talented—but not all the credit can properly go to her skill. 

Easily one of the sexiest girls he’s ever seen, he finds her…. distracting. And just…. yeah. Distracting will do. 

She seems more or less unfazed when he nearly runs into her, and he appreciates her quick skip down the avenue of friendly trash talk, because it gives him a good excuse to be just as cheeky.

He grins at her, trying not to let himself falter before he lobs something back at her—but he’s not sure he has a one hundred percent success rate this go around. Maybe ninety. Ninety-five, most. 

“Love, I’m always trying to take out the Slytherin team. What kind of Gryffindor do you take me for, after all?” 

He doesn’t know why, but he likes the way his name sounds on her lips. 

Actually, scratch that—he does know why. He just also knows better than to let that thought get away with him. 

So, the thing about Deacon Rivers is that he’s a flirt.

And the thing about Evra Morven, is that she’s not a flirt. She is a trash talker, though, and she has become vaguely aware of the fact that her sideways smirks and snide comments can easily be interpreted as flirting. Particularly by someone like Deacon, who makes everything a flirtation. And it wasn’t something Evra wanted to enter into, because flirting lead to things that she didn’t care to enter into.

Not that she was a prude. Just that she was spiteful, and didn’t want to give someone like Deacon the satisfaction of knowing that she did, in fact, think he was hot. Because, you know, she had eyes. The trouble was, so did Deacon, and he pointed them in the mirror an awful lot, a modern day Narcissus. The last thing he needed was flattery.

“A strangely cowardly one, if your reaction to my last bludger is anything to go by,” she replied, not missing a beat. She wanted it to sound cattier than it did; the words came out more cheeky than scathing. “And I’m not your love, darling, my name is Evra. Use it.”

[evra-morven]

kiran-thakkar‌:

Kiran was just putting piece of food after piece of food on a large pile of food on a huge plate, collecting some left-overs here and there, especially going for sweet stuff or especially salty stuff. Enough food to feed a small family, or one very hungry - and very stoned - middle-age dude. Last situation in this case. Probably wasn’t going to eat it all, but the smells were great, his stomach was rumbling, and he just thought of everything he wanted to eat and collected anything that was even remotely similar to what he wanted to eat. His eyes were blood-shot and he felt very light on his feet. Also very unaware of anyone watching this hoarding in process. Food so good.

Evra had always been uncertain of her place on the team - because she wasn’t fully convinced she’d made it on her own merit. A part of her suspected that it was because she was a Morven that she got accepted. Not that she’d dream of voicing those thoughts, because she had an appearance to keep up and all that. Still, it pissed her off to see teammates acting like it’s nothing, no big deal, and they can just do what they want, when they want.

“Are you high?” Evra asked, sitting opposite him and peering at his eyes. “You’re fucking high. Again. Are you trying to get chucked off the team, you impotent dick swab? Standards. Raise them. Have some dignity.”

[evra-morven]

@cleoraja

The good thing about having a friend like Cleo is that you don’t need to get overly sappy. None of the simpering ‘oh my god I missed you so much, you look great, how’s your family’. No, she’s the sort of friend you can toss yourself down next to during breakfast, and launch right into things. “I’ve been back like five minutes and I already feel as though I need another weekend at the spa. I’ve had it up to here with first years absolutely shitting themselves at every little thing - like, yes, it’s a magical castle, that staircase did move, that portrait did talk to you, can we please move on.” Evra might only be a second year, but she’d had the dignity last year to not block the corridors, constantly overcome by the urge to stop and gawp at everything. They’re worse than the bloody tourists in London, ambling slowly along pavements and peering into each and every shop along the way.

[evra-morven]

snakesanchez‌:

First day of his first year, and Alvaro already felt like he wasn’t going to fit in with Slytherin. Not because he didn’t think he fit the values of the house, but because he’d already messed up with a 3rd year. Well, it really was only an accident that he spilled some of the chocolate fondue on their pristine white socks, but it happened, and they were not happy. As soon as it happened, seeing as they were not calming down, the boy took a quick leave from the table, and ended up sitting on a bench, outside, with a student he did not know. But it wasn’t long until he spotted the angered third year follow out the door, forcing him to try to cover his face, turning his head to look at the other student on the bench. “Hey, sorry, can you pretend I’ve been here for… say, the past hour? I’ll explain later.”

Evra didn’t want to like Quidditch, as a matter of spiteful principal, but she did. Always had. Much to her mother’s delight, and her own chagrin. And so after lunch she went outside, as she often did, to trim any loose splinters from her top of the range broom, polish it - nurture it. She hadn’t wanted company, and was ready to ignore the guy that sat next to her, right up until he spoke. The poor kid was covering his face, and Evra followed his anxious gaze to the angry Slytherin stalking out of the castle. It didn’t take a genius to put those puzzle pieces together. With a sigh, Evra shifted her posture forward to shield him better from them. He was only a first year, after all, and Evra may be a fellow Slytherin but she wasn’t going to throw some innocent firstie to the dragons. “If you’re gonna be pissing people off like that, you might wanna consider learning to look less, y’know - shifty. Aren’t you in our house? If you don’t want to take pride in your crimes, you should probably at least know how to bullshit your way out of them.”

[evra-morven]

grace-raleigh‌:

Barely one day back, and already Grace had an issue to resolve. Her uniform felt strange after spending the whole summer in t-shirts and jeans, but authority was a role she assumed immediately and with ease. “You haven’t seen a Hufflepuff Prefect’s badge anywhere, have you?” she inquired, trying not to sound too accusatory. People often mistook a simple question as aggression when it came from her, for some reason. “We seem to be missing one.” She didn’t know why, or to what end, someone would take something like that — except to confuse some gullible first years, perhaps — but the new fifth-year Prefect it belonged to was distraught, to say the least. 

Maybe the Slytherin scarf was a mistake. Evra was only wearing it to show a little house pride, but it seemed to make her a target for suspicion - just sitting there reading her book, did she really cut such a suspicious figure? She glanced behind herself, as if to check whether it was really her that was being spoken to. “Isn’t that a problem for the Hufflepuff prefects to deal with? Doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence in their ability that a Gryffindor is doing their work for them.”

[evra-morven]

deacon-rivers‌:

So it’s been… well, nearly three fucking years now, but apparently, he’s bloody never going to get used to these fucking robes. 

He practically sprints back to his dorm after afternoon classes to rip off the billowy, thick layers and change into something more comfortable—skinny jeans tastefully ripped at the knees, slightly scuffed converse shoes, a band tee and one of his more casual bomber jackets. 

Finally. Thank Godrick. He rolls his shoulders as he jogs down the steps into the common room, and even though he’d already spent…. a generous amount of time on his hair this morning, he pauses at another mirror to finesse before pushing out the common room door. Dave and Seamus can rag him about it all they like—he hasn’t changed yet, and likely never will. 

He pivots for the door with a hasty, hurried energy, as he does most things, and just barely stops himself from barrelling into someone. 

“Shite! Sorry, mate, sorry. Ya’ll right?”

People are always in such a rush in this castle. Which is fair, Evra supposes, because she still gets lost sometimes. The staircases never quite do what she expects them to. So this wouldn’t be the first time - in general, or even just this week - that someone skids to a stop just inches away from knocking into her.

Evra takes a rapid step back, more out of surprise than offence, giving Deacon the once over. Chaser, she thinks. She’s definitely lugged a bludger his way more than once, but beyond the occasional smack talk she’s not devoted a lot of time to him. He’s the one that’s always flirting to the point that it seems like he’s challenged himself to wink more than he blinks, and it’s not a quality that particularly endears him to Evra. But, at least he stops to apologise for almost bumping into her; most people just jog on.

“Bit early in the year to be trying to take out the competition, isn’t it? Haven’t even been to one practice yet and you’re already trying to take out the Slytherin team. I’ll have to warn the others, Deacon’s on the warpath.”

[colinford]