#vorpalswxrd

[troisfleur]

yo socrates it’s a fucking cookie

@vorpalswxrd​ ♣️ continued from here.

“SORRY, SORRY—just a joke!” Hands raised, even, in a show of you caught me, with an easy enough smile as Trey makes his way around the kitchen island to stand opposite Riddle. Distance is good, forces him not to hover as every instinct tells him to track Riddle’s hands, even at the simple task of measuring a cup of flour. It’s not for lack of trying, and not for lack of confidence in Riddle’s ability to follow instructions—there’s a good chance he’ll be even more meticulous than usual, in the pursuit of mastery.

But, still. You only watch a younger sibling melt an entire cake to the racks or use salt instead of sugar once before vigilance rears its head subconsciously the moment he’s asked to just supervise.

It’s a learning experience for the both of them. (And, again, he exists comforted by the fact a flick of his wrist and a simple conjuring can suppress flames that an extinguisher can’t reach in time, both figurative and literal.)

“Well. There’s a recommended cooking time at the top, right? But it’s not always what works best for your needs. Cooking temperature changes depending on altitude, sure, but everyone’s oven is a little different—

—Not that we’re ignoring the instructions! Fifteen minutes is the starting point, but you always want to watch them. Just giving an example.”

(There’s more, but—start small.)

Trey leans against the island counter, elbows resting as though the very act will make him relax, and let Riddle relax in turn. “We’ll worry about the oven later. Dry ingredients first, yeah? If you wanna exact with the full cup measurement, you can skim the top of that measuring cup with a knife.”

[piquuse]

We few, we spelldriven few.

Of the 810 rules sanctioned by the Queen of Hearts, Deuce had honestly thought that one of them would have mentioned something about how the croquet field was only to be used for croquet games; luckily, it seemed to only apply during Unbirthday Party festivities. With the rising fuss over prepping for the school’s spelldrive season however, timeslots for private use on the school’s practice fields were filling up fast. And even though Trey had been able to snag a couple of hours for the entire dorm’s use, their booking was still about a week out; until then, individual training was encouraged until they could start ironing out their line up on the field.

With the various sets of fresh gear (extra disks, field cone markers—Kalen must have gone all out, those strap-on weights must not have been cheap), the idea of a simple small practice seemed to fly straight out the window. Gripping his broom, Deuce stares at the small treasure trove of miscellaneous spelldrive gear with mild confusion lacing his words.

          ”I thought we were just doing formation flying practice today?” Or at least, that’s what he had thought they were doing. In truth, he just remembers being shaken by the shoulders until he was dizzy when he had asked Kalen if he would help him practice as his senior. He was seeing floating Grim’s on strawberry tarts for a bit after that. “Huh, I didn’t realize how much stuff you needed for that.”

ready to become the wind, @twistedxspinachpuffs , @vorpalswxrd ?

[99lostsouls]

observe!

ᴀɴᴀʟʏᴢɪɴɢ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ʀᴏꜱᴇʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ...

the heartslabyul prefect... why, I have a good impression of him! though, I suppose not many can say that themselves!

he commands such attention when he enters a room and easily commands his crowd of students with mer words and actions.

quite the powerful presence, truly worth the title of Queen.

I do wish I knew him a bit better, he seems to have a sweet side underneath that little crown but~~ that's the life of an ignihyde student. don't get out much! I try my best, but I can only help to run into certain people.

ah, yes! I recently encountered a poem that also reminds me greatly of his presence.

it reads as so,

"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things.

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away."

[rygfinne]

@vorpalswxrd

"...draw me?" riddle wasn't absolutely positive which twin was currently sat inches from him at a library table - jade, i think? - but he refused to give into the instinct to scoot just the tiniest bit further away. a rosehearts was always, always, perfectly poised.

still...jade was a tad bit too close. not to mention the question at hand, which riddle realized, with a start, that he hadn't quite answered.

"draw me?" he asked again, voice steadier this time. "why?" riddle paused. "...what for?"

Jade had insisted that his request not be taken as a strange one, but Riddle answered it with questions nonetheless. He sighed through a mask painted thick with disappointment.

“Must I have a reason?”

Relentless was Heartslabyul’s housewarden though, and Jade would not withhold secrets from so reasonable a curiosity. He supposed the request was a rather peculiar one. Or, at the very least, abrupt. In the face of relentlessness, he himself relented with an amenable smile.

“It’s a little embarrassing, actually,” he began, eyes dropping to the blank page of the notebook that lay open before him. Though their voices were already quiet so as not to disturb the library’s peace, Jade’s secret lowered his own to nearly a whisper.

“Recently, I have developed an interested in sketching. It began in Professor Crewel’s class, when we were assigned drawings of alchemical reactions, but has since expanded beyond that. It’s fascinating how a subject can be captured with a few well-placed lines.” His eyes lifted then to implore his classmate: “Wouldn’t you agree?” Then with resignation, Jade set his pen down across his notebook and sighed again. “But I’m afraid the candor of this moment has already been lost. Alas.”

[mostrum]

@vorpalswxrd , continued from here : 

scowling, riddle places one hand near where he knows his magic pen is. "oh, really?" he asks. the rose garden is a mess. flamingos, out of their pens! hedgehogs on the lamb - out of their carefully maintained enclosures as well - and roses, every color but red and white!

it's not an unbirthday party - rather, it's a disaster, pure and simple. the last time riddle had seen something even remotely approaching this level of disregard for the queen's laws, he'd immediately cut the offending student's head off.

"i know you had something to do with this, azul," riddle says, slowly. calm, he thinks. i am calm. i am calm. a member of his house sprints past the both of them, running after what looks to be a rogue hedgehog.

actually, when had restraint in the face of such a flagrant deriliction of the queen's rules ever gotten riddle anywhere? as a matter of fact, riddle found that he couldn't even come up with a single, impossible, reason as to why azul shouldn't suffer the same exact fate as the last rule breaker riddle had punished, octavinelle prefect or otherwise.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD - !!"

It takes only the faintest gust of wind for a house of cards to fall. The hair-trigger temper of Riddle Rosehearts is no mystery to Night Raven University. Rather, one could claim that the Heartslabyul housewarden’s short-fuse has become a hallmark of his dormitory entirely, a trademark just as prevalent as unbirthday parties. It’s inevitable that there would come a time to which an offending dormitory would use Heartslabyul’s irascible housewarden to their advantage.

Naturally, the task falls upon Octavinelle. 

The clang of metal slices through birdsong. It’s something akin to the fall of a guillotine, the way silence then follows its wake. Azul flinches, his breath hitching. There is, however, no collar that wrings itself ‘round his neck. 

(He’d have to thank Floyd for that.)

“My, my, what a terrifying spell. Is this the mark of Heartslabyul’s hospitality?” Azul raises a hand to his throat, then heaves a deep sigh. His brow knit upwards in dismay, shoulders dropping as his hand moved towards his chest.”Oh, to think that I would be falsely accused of flagrantly violating the law—- And then to be sentenced with insufficient evidence, nevertheless!” The merman heaves another sigh, expression scrunched.

(And as he captures the Heartslabyul housewarden’s attention, there are students of Octavinelle darting among the havoc. One shovels a strawberry tart into glass tupperware, another pockets a blue hedgehog into their blazer. In the distance, two of them herd a green flamingo out the mirror.)

“It’s no wonder that you’ve lost your touch, Mr. Riddle.” Azul straightens his back, mock dismay exchanged for a smug grin. He taps his cane on the ground, then shrugs, “That spell should have landed, no? It’s not as if I were standing some thousand feet away. I dare say, that temper of yours has left you impaired.”