heartbreak warfare,

[selma]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: 350px; background-color:#000;] lived in perfect symmetry, selma's eyes flitted from the blank canvas of the bright white parchment in front of her back to the pencil sitting on the table nearby. this was, indeed, her pathetic attempt at drawing something. or rather, taking the time to seriously sketch something. selma krause could not draw to save her life, and that was really bugging her. going to those muggle museums was always a highlight for her, seeing the most beautiful portraits and paintings, and then the portraits even here at hogwarts were so nicely done. she felt as if the amount she knew was grand and plentiful, but her artistic skills really did lack. she could doodle, little hearts and flowers were fine, but when it came to still life, or even worse - portraits, she just lost all patience and every bit of knowledge she'd ever learned about art. a couple of times over the summer she'd partaken in some art classes, where she'd learned some basics things but each one had been with a different teacher who each taught entirely differently from one another and each one made as much sense as her deciding to go into a life of prostitution. it seemed as though the longer selma stared at the pencil, the more it changed shape. it became smaller... no it was bigger, no - it was becoming much rounder? she blinked several times, shaking her head to clear her mind of whatever hypnosis had just overtaken her and that stupid pencil, before standing up and wiggling around a bit. in about half an hour she was supposed to be going over somewhere to serve a small 'detention' with the caretaker, some giry person or something. to be honest she wasn't really sure quite where she was supposed to go, as she'd gotten a bit distracted when she saw someone turning a fellow student into a toad in the corner of her eye and in plain view of the professor who was just dictating to her why she should not talk back and yell at a teacher in such a manner and that she now had some sort of detention. plus there was some added talk about a few minutes taken away from ravenclaw, but as she never really kept up with the whole points system of the school, this was something she didn't particularly care about. now, this was not to say she didn't care about the fact that she now had to serve detention with the caretaker, but rather she dearly cared about the fact that she had to serve detention - period. selma had always been the good girl, she'd never taken part in any sort of mischief any of her friends were causing, and mostly she just kept to herself if there was some kind of drama unfolding. but apparently a small debate about centaurs, which had originally started with the professor stating something selma immediately deemed rude, unnecessary, and 'so last year', would soon be the end of her good girl spree. all she'd even done was comment about how the professor really shouldn't bring up such views in a classroom full of students who are there to learn about unbiased teachings. but apparently this was simply a no-no in that particular classroom. picking up the piece of parchment, selma headed out of the ravenclaw common room, taking the stairs down towards the grounds of the school. as she had no idea where she was supposed to be going at this time, she'd come to the conclusion that perhaps if she stayed around the open grounds, preferably the caretaker or even the professor, would walk by and direct her to her rightful place. she wandered around for about fifteen minutes, stopping every couple of feet, before she glanced to her left to see the womping willow. the old and tangled branches, weathered from many years of harsh weather and who knows what, looked absolutely brilliant in the gleaming afternoon sunlight. suddenly all plans of serving her silly detention vanished as her eyes glazed over with the happiness of having something in front of her which she actually felt some inspiration for. she walked over and sat down a few safe feet away on a rock, and crossed her legs spreading out the parchment and taking out a piece of broken off willow charcoal and sketching. or more precisely, sketching badly but happily, in her own little world. word count, 738 notes, ew

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[mel1]

[atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: 262626 ; padding: 20px; border-radius: 60px,bTable][cs=2] got shackles on my words so tight sometimes I want to disappear
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 1px solid 525252;]	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][rs=7][atrb=width,350px,true][atrb=height,400px,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: top;background-color: #c4c4c4; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; border-radius: 25px;] Dear Selma, How are you doing? I hope all is well and you are continuing to study hard and stay out of trouble. Have you made any new friends this year at all? Are you prepared for the future? Either way, just know that I will always be there for you, watching over you. Be smart, and be safe. – Angel He looked over the words he had written once, twice before he nodded his head in approval. The message upon the parchment that was laid out before him was scrawled in a neat cursive. He always wrote in cursive when writing to her. He did it on purpose. It was a necessary precaution taken to ensure that he was not found out about being his girl’s guardian. Giry was not entirely thrilled with the idea of his deceased best mate’s little sister finding out about him at all. He was sure she did not even remember meeting him the few times in the past when he had been over the Krause’s home. It was beneficial to his cover. No one could know his purpose. No one could find out that a single girl had him bonded to her side for the rest of her life. It was not something one freely spoke about. Plus, Giry was a private bloke. He did not like people dabbling in his life. It was none if their bloody business and he was not above coming right out and saying it in public. It was just how he was and how he had always been. Sedrig had been the one who was amiable to all, who tried so hard to please everyone while they spat on him for his efforts. Not Giry, never Giry; he had been the one to watch his brother in all but blood’s back. He was the one who used to open his mouth and put people in their places. It was why he had made many enemies over the years. No one messed with Endymion Giry or the people he held dearly to his heart. That was not just a fact of life. No, it was the law. Drawing in a deep breath, the caretaker shook himself from the path his thoughts were going down. Memories of all that had happened in the past with his best mate were being called upon in the recesses of his mind and he felt himself frown. He did not have time for this. Glancing down at his watch thrown haphazardly on the coffee table in the common room of his rooms, he let out a string of curses under his breath. He knew he would have to wait until he got done serving detention with the student who had caused trouble that day before he would have the time to run up to the owlery to send off the letter to Selma. Giry stood up from the comfy bronze couch he had previously been sitting down on and stretched. He had to admit that he was annoyed. Whoever the brat he had to babysit tonight was would be getting more than a lecture from him. Contrary to popular belief of the Hogwarts student body, Giry did not enjoy having to give up his quiet time to go and punish unruly students who were out of line and thought themselves too big for their britches. Sure, he enjoyed knocking them down a few pegs or six, and sure he was a sick fuck, but that did not mean he did not have his own life to attend to. In fact, he did not just have himself to look after, but another person’s life occupied most of his time. It was his duty to watch out for her, after all. He had to do it. He was the reason why she was living in a nice muggle apartment. He was the reason she did not have to deal with any low lives trying to take advantage of her. He was the reason she had not gone hungry or succumbed to her grief after the passing of not only her brother, but her parents. He was the reason she was being provided for. The majority of his money was spent making sure Selma Krause had a good and comfy life. The majority of his time was spent making sure she was safe and out of harm’s way because he would be damned if he let anything bad happen to her. Thus, it irked Giry when he actually had to summon up the energy to actually do his job and babysit the little bitches who had no clue what life was like in the real world. The students were far too absorbed in their own lives to understand the reality of life. There were some miserable people out there, just waiting to cause trouble and horrible things happened each second of every day while the students of Hogwarts went about their days blissfully unaware of what was transpiring right underneath their noses. He supposed that one muggle expression really was true. Ignorance really is bliss. Eh, the kids would find out the cold harsh truth someday and it would be their problem to deal with. “The shit’s gotta hit the fan sometime.” He grumbled to himself, folding up the letter neatly before placing it in his pants’ pocket. “They’ll find out what it’s really like. It’s a bitch out there.” He shook his head, running his hand through his messy curls. Picking up his watch from the coffee table, he checked the time once more. It was fifteen minutes to five o’clock in the evening. The afternoon was rapidly descending into night time, which meant he had better start walking down to the grounds to meet the ungrateful brat for their detention. He cracked his knuckles and grimaced. He would make sure the student would not enjoy this detention session. The kid was going to be put to work. After all, why have Giry break his back trying to clean up the place when he could have brats doing it for him? That was the best part of his job. Walking along the expanse of his common room, he snatched up his army jacket and threw it on over his shirt. He jammed his hands inside of the pockets, his right hand coming upon his package of cigarettes. Merlin, he needed a smoke. He had not smoked since breakfast. It was killing him. He needed to feel the nicotine running through his veins and killing him slowly. It made him feel that much more alive, helped him with his survivor’s guilt. He should have been the one to die that day. Giry grunted, closing his eyes and letting his feet take him to where he needed to be manually. He was not worried about stumbling or getting lost. He knew the school like the back of his hand. Giry cleared his head of any thoughts and just listened to the sounds all around him. He heard the portraits all chatting amiably or muttering to themselves. He heard a few students making their way to or from classes, chatting with their friends or flirting it up with the opposite gender, shuffling past him. It did not take very long for him to hear the sounds of the birds chirping out on the grounds after he had pushed through the heavy entrance doors. He paused in his steps to take in a deep breath before exhaling loudly and opening up his eyes. “Showtime.” A smirk made its way onto his face. His eyes swept across the vastness of the grounds, taking in all of the sights and scenes to behold. A few moments passed as he observed the grounds nearly devoid of the students that were usually present during their free periods. He loved it when it was like this. Things were peaceful and quiet, just the way he liked it. He let his eyes glimpse over the familiar landmark directly to his left when he caught sight of a person from far away. Perhaps this was the kid keeping him company tonight? What exactly were they doing near the Whomping Willow? He shook his head and decided to go and grab the kid before they hurt themselves or something. Making the trek up to where the kid was huddled over, Giry never understood why the closer he got, the more uneasy he felt. It was not until he stood directly behind the kid that he realized who he had happened upon. It was Selma. His right hand automatically touched the pants pocket from which his current letter to be sent to her resided. This was not good. Gritting his teeth, the disgruntled caretaker cleared his throat to catch her attention.
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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] TAGGED: Selma K.
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][tr][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] NOTES: Nothing much to say. First post!

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[selma]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: 350px; background-color:#000;] lived in perfect symmetry, the charcoal glided with ease on the paper, smudging as selma’s hand clumsily brushed over the fresh line. she wasn't sure quite how long it had been since she'd sat down on her little rock and she had no way of telling except by the way the afternoon seemed to no longer be quite so high. the whomping willow sketch had turned into some kind of oddly construed bird with a beak which would probably make it drop down to the ground as soon as it tried to go into flight. selma really couldn't explain how in the world this beautifully odd looking tree had turned into a terrifying bird one might only see in a nightmare. at least she knew what she’d be dreaming about later tonight when she laid her head to rest. staring at the bird, she held it out in front of her, squinting her eyes a bit, then a bit more, then a bit more, and then more until they were shut completely. ”much nicer looking.” she nodded to herself and then opened her eyes, setting down the terrible sketch and picked up a new piece of parchment. she wasn’t quite sure how well she’d be able to write with this charcoal, but as it was her only form of a writing utensil, she’d just have to make the best of it. that and apparently she had some time on her hands, and the only thing she could think of doing was writing something to angel. she hadn’t heard from angel in a while but then again, selma hadn’t really written much lately either so it was partially her fault. but she wasn’t quite sure what she could write. lately, her mind had been void of any topics other than the future. selma was always the girl with the goal, and this year she just hadn’t come up with any sort of a goal. but surely angel wouldn’t want to hear about that. then again, no matter what topic or slimy little detail about her life which selma brought up, he seemed to never mind giving her some advice about it all. what would make it slightly easier is if he could just be physically around her, so she could perhaps get answers to the small questions in a jiffy. at the same time, there was a nice feeling of not knowing angel’s true identity, so there was never anything for selma to really feel embarrassed about. setting the charcoal down on the parchment, she started to write a few words, unsure of what to say, the more formal things wrote themselves out first, angel, so the new term has started up here at hogwarts, and if you recall this will be my last year before i enter the big wizarding universe. and then her hand just stopped moving. of course she was already on the topic of the future, she couldn’t seem to get away from it no matter what. selma was, admittedly, a bit scared of the future and what it would bring. what if she couldn’t find a job after this? what if she became some sort of a ... a... what was that muggle word... a janitor? or any sort of a job which didn’t require the power of a brain? her top job choice was definitely to work in the ministry, but then again, there were so many others who wanted jobs working at the ministry as well. selma was definitely in no way insecure about herself, but when it came to any sort of a competition, she could be easily frustrated and generally lose her cool. not that she ever seemed to have any kind of a ‘cool’ about her since half the time she was chattering her friends’ ears off about the articles in the latest daily prophet. the daily prophet also happened to be another career choice, though her writing muse seemed to constantly be up and down and up and down again, so that was still rather low on her list of options. her hand picked up once more writing all her thoughts, hopes and questions down. she had no clue what exactly angel did for a living. for all she knew, he himself could be some sort of a waiter or something at a one star restaurant in the muggle world, just barely getting by. if that was the case, he probably wouldn’t be able to give her the best advice, even still she trusted him enough to give her some alright ideas at the very least. she was rudely shaken from her musing as she heard someone clearing their throat. selma turned around, and with a mix of unbalance and surprise fell off the rock she was currently sitting on. attempting to keep a straight face, she grabbed her two pieces of parchment quickly before getting up, dusting herself off, and crumpling the parchments into two small balls. she could just re-write her letter to angel a little bit later, and perhaps with a writing utensil actually meant for writing with. a couple of her friends knew about angel, it wasn’t as though she kept these letters entirely a secret, and she didn’t want people to be suspicious and snoop around trying to find them to read their contents. the more she told people, the less they seemed to be interested in her business. this man here, though, was definitely not one of her friends. it took a couple minutes for the gears in her memory to grind together a face and a name to this man, as she recognized him slightly. she still couldn’t come up with a name, but she recalled someone pointing him out as the school’s caretaker. this conversation had then morphed into some sort of talk about how incredibly ‘devilishly handsome’, ‘broodingly hunky’ and ‘totally off limits’ he was. seeing him now and actually getting to see him at a front view, selma wasn’t quite sure she agreed entirely. he seemed alright, he definitely had nice hair which she wouldn’t mind flopping around if he was a close friend of hers, but otherwise he just looked a bit... peeved, or there was just some odd, unreadable expression which seemed to be permanently glued to his face. or at least it was at this particular moment. and that smell which was emanating off of him, that had to be the smell of a smoker. she shifted her weight from one leg to another, standing there trying to not awkwardly stare at the caretaker person in front of her. "smoking is one of the leading causes of self-caused death in the world," she stated rather matter of factly. selma could stand a certain amount of smoking, but it still irked her that after all these years, people still basically inflicted self pain like this. even after all the warnings, the stories, etc. if you’re just going to go and kill yourself, why not do it quickly rather than inflicting such misery on oneself? it really didn’t add up one bit for her. afraid she was over-stepping her boundaries, selma quickly cut in before he could say anything, "you must be the caretaker, what grueling tasks do you have in mind to torture me with? i’d really like to get this over as quickly as possible because i’m hungry and i’d rather not be doing this right now." word count, 1269 notes, ramble ramble yay yay yay

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[mel1]

[atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: 262626 ; padding: 20px; border-radius: 60px,bTable][cs=2] got shackles on my words so tight sometimes I want to disappear
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 1px solid 525252;]	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][rs=7][atrb=width,350px,true][atrb=height,400px,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: top;background-color: #c4c4c4; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; border-radius: 25px;] Giry was not a happy camper. No, he was less than happy. He was exasperated at his current situation. He was sure Merlin was laughing at him from somewhere up in the heavens. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. If someone would have told him that he would have had to deal with dishing out a suitable punishment during his detention duty to the one person he figured would never end up in detention with him, he probably would have waved them off and directed them straight to St. Mungo’s loony bin. Never would he have thought that Selma Krause would end up in detention. As far as he knew, she had never once gotten into trouble with her professors enough to elicit a detention reservation with him of all people. ‘Well, this is new.’ He thought to himself sardonically. His eyes swept over her hunched over form, drinking her in. How long had it been since he had been next to her so close? Years, probably, but he had lost count. Over the years, he had taken to watching her from afar, preferring to watch over her from afar rather than risk exposure by getting too close for comfort. She had grown since the last time he had seen her properly. It was official. Selma was a young woman now. She was not the same little girl who needed to be protected from the horrors of the outside world any longer. Of course, he would still watch over her, like always. However, he knew that with her maturing and getting older, she would learn to defend herself. She had to. Giry was a realist. He knew he could not always be there for her in the near future like he had been up until the present time. He would try his damned best, but he knew he could not be with her everywhere she went. And so he had to rely on her to react accordingly to whatever situation she came upon when the time came that he was unable to aid her. It was getting harder and harder to protect her without her knowing his identity, but he refused to reveal himself. He felt it just was not the right time to do so. When the time came, a part of him hoped she would not hold it against him for keeping his identity a secret from her. He had only had her in mind when he had made the decision. And at the time, he had been too overcome with grief from the death of his best friend to compose himself enough to go talk to her, to let her know what he and Sedrig had done; the measures her brother had taken to make sure she was safe even when he was gone and dead. That deed just showed how much love there was between big brother and baby sister. Had he had a younger sibling, he had a feeling he would have done the same exact thing to ensure that his siblings were safe if he ended up dying somehow before he was really supposed to. As if people died right on schedule. No fucking way. Giry let out a soft sigh, his right hand twitched slightly from where it was situated over his package of cigarettes. Over the past weekend, he had gone down to muggle London to pick up a few packs of Rothmans cigarettes, some more bottles of cheap ass wine, and a few secondhand paperbacks. He had always rather liked purchasing secondhand paperback novels not only because he got the books for dirt cheap, but also because he liked feeling the tattered parchment pressed to his skin. With the ratty paperbacks, he was prone to getting more paper cuts and such, but he put up with it. In a strange sense, he enjoyed that little brief moment of pain and watching the little drops of blood slip and slide down his blistered fingers. It made him feel alive. Most of the time, he just felt numb. He had felt that way ever since Sedrig had to go off and get himself killed. Giry blamed himself for not being strong enough, for not having had enough time to realize that the two of them had stumbled into a trap set up by the same bastards they had been assigned to capture. The irony of it all was that he had had this sense of foreboding from the moment that particular mission began, but he had ignored his gut’s warning. It was a mistake he had to live with now for the rest of his life; his greatest regret. Shaking his head of his thoughts, Giry took a step closer to the younger Ravenclaw, taking a look over her shoulder. She was scribbling with – was that charcoal – on a piece of parchment and looked to be lost in thought. He noticed that she seemed to be writing a letter of some sort. A wry smile made a brief appearance on his face when he noticed just who she was writing to before it disappeared entirely, leaving no traces of it behind for her to consider. Selma seemed to snap back to reality after he cleared his throat to grab her attention. She turned around abruptly and in her surprise, lost her balance. Giry made no move to steady her, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to keep up appearances. After all, it would appear more than a little bizarre for the Hogwarts Caretaker to suddenly show so much interest in one of the students he tormented on a regular basis to anyone on the outside looking in. He knew this much. So, he stayed where he was, only raising an eyebrow at her attempt to save face. His lips quirked upwards just a bit when she stood up to dust herself off. ‘Seems Selma is an enemy of gravity as you were, Sed. How fitting.’ He thought to himself, inwardly snickering. Sedrig had not been the most graceful of people. He had regularly tripped and fallen down places to the point where it had become a normal sight to happen upon for Giry. It had amused him to no end. Perhaps Selma would do the same. Giry took notice of the two pieces of parchment in her hands, now crumpled up into little paper balls. He figured she did not want him to see her writing down her private thoughts to Angel. If only she knew the truth. The one that she looked to as a pillar of strength was standing directly before her and she hadn’t a clue. The off-beat hilarity of the situation did not go unnoticed by him, but he kept his amusement to himself, adopting a bored expression on his face. Selma shifted from one foot to another, looking a bit awkward as she did so. He knew she was trying not to stare up at him; her actions spoke louder than words. It was just a bonus he could read her like a book. His lowered his eyes to meet hers head on, his right hand now gripping his package of cigs tightly from the depths of his pants pocket. Suddenly, she broke the silence. “Smoking is one of the leading causes of self-caused death in the world,” She stated to him. He only shrugged in response. It was a matter of fact and not fiction – of this, he was aware, but he found he did not care. He had his reasons for inflicting the pain on his body. It was a release for him, an escape. Giry figured that the young Krause would not understand his reasoning. She was a woman of logic, after all. His logic was not exactly…logical. He just did as he pleased. Keeping silent for the time being, Selma spoke up once more, snatching up his attention. “You must be the caretaker, what grueling tasks do you have in mind to torture me with? I’d really like to get this over as quickly as possible because I’m hungry and I’d rather not be doing this right now.” He let out a scoff, shaking his head. “Seems my reputation precedes me.” He spoke up for the first time, his low baritone voice sounding foreign to his ears due to underuse. “But, yes. I am the caretaker. Name’s Giry. That’s too bloody bad. Should have thought about that before you went and landed yourself in my care.” He introduced himself to her, giving her the standard introduction he used for all of the ungrateful brats he had to babysit during their first detention. “Here’s how it works, kid. You’re stuck with me for the duration of your detention. Doesn’t matter to me how you ended up in my care. Fact is, you’re here now and you’re sure as hell going to work for your dinner.” The beginnings of a smirk began to make its way onto his face. “I’ll make sure of it.”
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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] TAGGED: Selma K.
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][tr][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] NOTES: Nothing much to say. Second post!

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[selma]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: 350px; background-color:#000;] lived in perfect symmetry, so the caretaker did have the name giry, as she'd assumed a little while ago. for some reason she'd never imagined caretakers or any of the sort to have real names. it wasn't because selma felt she was higher or better than them or anything like that, it was more because she'd never taken any interest in getting to know them, so why should she know their names? aside from this certain circumstance now of course, though she was likely to forget his name and simply call him caretaker or in the most desperate times, just 'you'. unless the person meant something incredibly special to her, selma generally called everyone by a nickname after first meeting them, because if someone had the name say, persephone, sephy would be so much easier for her to remember, and she'd thought of the name which for some reason just made it even slightly easier to remember. she doubted this giry caretaker who looked a bit cross or out of sorts - or was this his natural look? - would really enjoy being called 'gir' or 'ry'. that being said, 'you' wouldn't likely go over so well either. but going back and forth about what to call giry would probably help her to remember his name anyway, so all her rambling thoughts were completely unnecessary. selma's clenched hands holding the parchments curled a bit tighter, that’s too bloody bad. should have thought about that before you went and landed yourself in my care. she rolled her eyes with annoyance and attempted to defend her actions, "firstly, it is not my fault i was put 'in your care', the professor and i had a small disagreement for which i really should not have been put in detention for" she grumbled a bit under her breath and crossed her arms, "the fact that i challenged him to THINK A LITTLE and OPEN HIS MIND does not mean i am trying to ridicule him in front of the class or however he took it. not everything has to evolve around what the teacher thinks, we've got opinions as well just in case no one noticed..." selma continued on mindlessly complaining for a good solid minute before snapping out of it and taking a couple deep breaths in. she was too easily worked up about this, never had she ever before gotten a detention. she'd said this in her head several times within the last couple minutes, as if it would help her. perhaps this caretaker would be nice and let her go early, or perhaps he would see that selma had done nothing terrible and would let her go completely. although he looked rather... ominous for a lack of a better adjective, perhaps there was a better side to him than he let on. fact is, you’re here now and you’re sure as hell going to work for your dinner. selma's jaw dropped ever so slightly and recovered by narrowing her eyes towards him. she had absolutely no idea what he meant by that nor did she particularly want to know, all she really wanted was to leave right now. she had enough to complain to angel about as it was, now. and these were the moments when she wished angel could be around her and in the flesh. although he could probably do nothing to actually help her and get her out of this situation, it would be easier for her to talk to him rather than attempting to write down every annoyed and angry thought going through her mind right now. there never seemed to be a day when selma didn't once wish she could at least meet angel in person. this, of course, was always followed up quickly by selma reminding herself she preferred angel on paper. if angel were to reveal himself, she really wouldn't know what to say or to do. she'd always imagined herself running to give him a hug - but what if angel was some creepy old perverted man who sat in a dimly lit basement in his parents' house? but surely someone such as that wouldn't keep this up for so many years, and they'd never be able to talk with such care and wisdom. or what if he wasn't even a he, the gender was completely the opposite of what she'd seemed to have gotten to know over the years? then she'd probably just stand there stunned. either way, she wasn't sure how much longer angel would stick around her. perhaps the angel gig was something which ended as soon as selma was out of hogwarts and gone into the real world. and she'd just gone full circle to what she'd been able to avoid for the last few minutes, the future was something she didn't feel like dwelling on during the current time. she glanced at the smirk which was starting to dance on the caretaker's lips, and somehow it made her feel a bit useless, a feeling which she did not enjoy. straightening her back and raising her brow a bit, placing her hands on her hips selma attempted a look of confidence. whatever it was which he was about to hit at her really couldn't be that bad. "so what am i doing? sweeping floors? dusting some old furniture?" she pushed a lock of stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear and smiled politely, attempting to add a little bit of her finest and 'pretty' act. not that this person looked very woo-able. selma actually really had no idea what one did during detention, as none of her friends had been in this position before. which was also a reason not to tell them she had detention, she had no idea what they'd think of all this. in some muggle movies she'd seen, detention either meant sitting in a dingy little classroom with a grumpy old person who had nothing better to do after classes were over, or it consisted of doing handy work around buildings, such as sweeping or dusting. she wouldn't mind sweeping, but dusting and sitting still for a couple of hours really weren't for her. one, dusting made her sneeze frequently and two, she probably wouldn't be able to sit still for two hours. selma twirled a finger around her hair looking anywhere but towards giry. her eyes passed over a figure which looked vaguely familiar to her and seemed to be coming this way. it was a friend of hers, definitely a friend, and a friend she did not plan on telling she had detention. while she knew there was very little to be ashamed about, she couldn't stop herself from worrying they might judge her or hold it over her head for a while. she'd already made plans to tell anyone who asked her where she had been that she'd been so lost in a book she'd lost track of the time. scrambling to find a good hiding spot, she dove behind giry and practically shouted, "hide me!" of which was more than likely unnecessary and childish but her reactions to everything were always a bit outlandish anyways, these days. word count, idk a lot notes, eww

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[mel1]

[atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: 262626 ; padding: 20px; border-radius: 60px,bTable][cs=2] got shackles on my words so tight sometimes I want to disappear
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 1px solid 525252;]	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][rs=7][atrb=width,350px,true][atrb=height,400px,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: top;background-color: #c4c4c4; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; border-radius: 25px;] Giry made sure to watch Selma’s face after his usual introduction. He noticed she seemed to be clenching her hands into fists, holding the rolled up pieces of parchment just that much tighter. He nodded quietly to himself, taking this all into account. ‘It seems little Selma has a bit of a temper.’ He found himself thinking. All in all, this was a good thing. Sedrig had been a bit of a pushover back in the day. At least Giry knew that with the young Krause having a temper, she would be able to stand up for himself. Though he took his guardianship of the little one seriously, he knew he was not the ‘knight in shining armor’ type of person. He inwardly snorted at such a thought. ‘Me? A handsome prince?’ he thought, ‘When hell freezes over. No, I am more of that snarky asshole peasant who somehow ends up kidnapping the princess for ransom and then takes a liking to her or some bollocks like that.’ He paused, thinking over his thoughts for a few moments. He knew he had taken a liking to the younger Krause girl, but that was about it. It was anything but more than platonic interest. Or so he told himself. Before he could dwell further on his sudden disturbing thoughts, Selma’s voice grabbed his attention. The girl rolled her eyes in annoyance, causing Giry to raise an eyebrow and quirk a bit of a smile. She looked quite adorable with that agitated expression on her face. It was amusing to watch how animated she was while trying to defend herself to him on her actions that landed her in his care. “Firstly, it is not my fault I was put ‘in your care,’ the professor and I had a small disagreement for which I really should not have been put in detention for,” Emphasis was put on to the word, ‘disagreement’ and then later on, on the latter end of the statement. Giry shifted his weight from foot to foot, appearing bored while the reality of the situation was that he was listening very closely to what she was saying. He said nothing and waited for her to finish her little tirade before her opened his mouth and voiced his opinion. Giry always got the last word in. That is how it always was. “The fact that I challenged him to think a little and open his mind does not mean I am trying to ridicule him in front of the class or however he took it. Not everything has to evolve around what the teacher thinks. We’ve got opinions as well just in case no one noticed…” She trailed off, and then seemed to snap to her senses all of a sudden. The young Ravenclaw could do nothing but inhale and exhale a few good breaths in before calming down. It was obvious she was seething. That much was as palpable and he knew she was justified in getting angry. It would be just like a Ravenclaw to get angry when some form of logic was disturbed and instead of learning the cold hard facts, they were exposed to opinions. He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. The situation was a bit of a bitch to deal with, but he did find humor in it. Selma had gotten so worked up about it and it was the first time he had seen her up close with her knickers in such a twist over an idiotic Professor’s opinion. Licking his lips, he mulled over what she had said for a bit, taking his time to think about what he wanted to say to her. He did not want to appear as if her situation mattered to him, but he did want to give her some advice in a subtle offhand manner. If she was smart enough – which he knew she was – she would be able to pick up on his hidden guidance. Clearing his throat, he waited a few moments before speaking up. It was all about the suspense and to keep her waiting to listen to what he had to say. “The Professor is your teacher. He has a right to teach his class the way he wants to do so. You cannot do anything to change that.” He began. “However, you – as a student – are allowed to have your own opinions about things. Though whether or not you can express them during class time is up to the teacher entirely. Your Professor may be an asshole, but he is the one in control of the class and you spoke out of turn against him in front of your peers.” He paused a moment to let all that he had said sink in first before he picked up from where he left off. “That was sort of like a revolt in his eyes.” He nodded. “Thus, it earned you detention with me.” Giry shrugged, finally giving into temptation and pulling out his box of Rothmans cigarettes. Merlin did he need a smoke right at that moment. Staring down his box of Rothmans, he opened the box and gingerly picked up a smoke, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “I know what you’re thinking right now. What your Professor did was unfair and you don’t deserve to be here…” He shook his head, coughing into his shoulder. “Life ain’t fair. You’re here for a reason. You earned your detention. It’s up to you whether or not you learn from this particular mistake.” Putting away his package once more into his pants pocket, he looked her dead on, his facial expression shifting from bored to serious in the blink of an eye. “There’s a time to bite your tongue and a time to run your mouth off like that Kitty Kat girl is so infamous for doing.” At the mention of the particular Ravenclaw that frequented his detentions, he scoffed. Placing the cig into his mouth, he flicked his wrist when it looked like he was reaching to scratch the back of his head. His wand flew from its wand holster that was hidden from view in the depths of his jacket and into his left hand. Feeling that he had said his piece for the most part, he decided to say no more. In the end, it was better to let her stew over the advice he had proposed in silence. Giry felt his lips curl into a rather particular evil smirk when he saw the gob smacked look appear on Selma’s face after his rather crude statement regarding her working for her dinner. She narrowed her eyes at him and he just stood there, smirking like the bastard he was. He knew he had most likely pissed her off even more, but he did not particularly mind that. It was all the better for his cover. She did not have to like him as a person. She only liked and looked up to his alter ego – Angel. That was just fine and dandy with him. The best part was that Angel was unknown. When the time was right and she was old enough to understand the sacrifices he had made for her over the years, then and only then, would he finally come clean with the truth. However, now was not the time. He knew she wasn’t up to form for it. Merlin, Giry could tell from the way she behaved just before him. She had earned a detention for the first time ever just because she had spoken out of turn in class. He had a feeling he knew just which teacher who had given her a hard time too. Perhaps he’d ask Peeves to pay the little bitch boy a visit, just for the hell of it. After all, payback was a bitch. It certainly was, especially when you messed with Giry’s charge. Merlin help your soul. Straightening and placing her hands onto her hips, Selma seemed to challenge him head on. He nodded, inwardly proud. She was a ballsy kid that was for bloody sure. “So what am I doing? Sweeping the floors? Dusting some old furniture?” She smiled politely, tucking a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her whole display made him chuckle. It was the ‘good girl act;’ the ‘I-did-nothing-wrong-so-you-should-let-me-go-because-I’m-pretty’ performance. With a flick of his wand hand, he lit his cigarette up and began to inhale the smoke. He could feel the sweet nicotine filling his lungs and for a fraction of a second he could not breathe. There was that adrenaline rush he loved so much. Exhaling out some smoke and blowing it in her direction just to spite her, Giry responded to her bullshit act the best way he could…by being himself. “Heh. Got quite an imagination on you.” He told her, raising a brow in her direction. “But, no. No, you’re not doing any of that tonight. You’re going to clean up the Greenhouses tonight.” Swallowing some more smoke for a few moments, he looked off into the distance catching sight of an approaching figure. “I was told a few students were caught getting randy in there. It’s your job to clean up whatever was left over from you classmates. The Greenhouse is to be spotless by the time you’re done. You’re not to use magic. So, I’ll need to confiscate your wand from you until you’re done.” He finished. His tone was to the point and left no room for argument. She seemed to be looking anywhere at him. It was actually starting to irk him. He knew he could be an intimidating sort of bloke with his stature and bad attitude, but still. He was used to the students openly staring at him head on or looking him in his eyes as an act of defiance. The Williams girl was a prime example of the insubordinate little fucks he had to deal with on a daily basis. Before he could really get lost in his thoughts, Giry was startled to realize that Selma had literally thrown herself at him. Well, she had thrown herself behind him, but that was not the point. The point was that he had honestly not been expecting that sort of reaction. “Hide me!” She practically shouted in his ear. His mind assumed her outlandish behavior had to do with the rapidly approaching figure from which he now cast his attention. It was just another student. From where he was standing, he had not yet figured out yet if it was a boy or a girl, but the figure was quite tall. Giry grunted in annoyance before stepping to the side. He would not allow himself to hide her from this person. She had to learn to face her problems head on. It was for her own good. He told her so. “Look, brat. I’m not doing you any favors.” He said simply. “That’s not in my job description.” Letting out a bark of laughter, he shook his head. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”
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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] TAGGED: Selma K.
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][tr][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] NOTES: Finally got a chance to reply! :D

this template was made by insert.name.here of caution.

[selma]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: 350px; background-color:#000;] lived in perfect symmetry, the nerve of this guy to tell her to what to do and to try and explain the actions of a professor was just... unrealistic. selma was standing there after ranting, listening to dead silence. the silence only lasted a few moments before he unleashed his wisdom on her but those few moments of silence were deadly for selma. never did she ever take to someone who liked to wait to respond to something she'd said, or if they did wait it was just better to change the subject. someone who waited to respond meant they were mulling things over, analyzing the situation, thinking about what they were going to say. she knew how it worked because she did it herself. but for some reason she always hated when others did it. usually it meant they were about to say something smart, half the time it would end the conversation and ruin selma's point, or they'd make some amazing point for which selma would have to think very hard about and unless it was a formal debate or in a class, she usually didn't have the energy to do so. it was rather like she was preparing for war - full steam ahead, she was coming up with every argument she could think of for his response. including if he responded with, 'do you think i give a fuck?' and 'you need to respect your professor, he's the teacher, you're the student after all.' when his mouth finally opened, selma listened carefully, and wasn't able to come up with anything to say when he'd paused before continuing. "There’s a time to bite your tongue and a time to run your mouth off like that Kitty Kat girl is so infamous for doing.” she'd been close, but not really. the way he'd made his point basically begged to end her little rant, but selma always wanted the last word, "and when exactly is that 'time'?" she cocked an eyebrow and tipped her head slightly, interested in his response. she had no idea who this kitty kat girl was unless he was referring to that annoying katniss girl who seemed to be nearing the state of being considered an 'emo' - or rather the opposite, unemotionally unstable. selma had been so caught up in the conversation she hadn't even noticed the caretaker taking out a cigarette. hadn't she just explained to him that smoking was a leading cause of death? was he deaf? but rather than repeat herself, selma swallowed her words and complaints. if this guy wanted to kill himself, that was fine. like she even cared about him. he was about to make her serve a detention which she still didn't think was truly necessary. paybacks a bitch sometimes. as he gave her the task she'd be completely for the evening, selma couldn't help but give out a small offended gasp, or something which sounded like a gasp but probably came out sounding a bit more like a struggling, dying squirrel. quick reactions like these never really helped her image, not that she cared about her image with this guy who seemed to only care about daunting tasks used to torture students who did not need to be in detention and smoking his life away. actually very few things selma ever did seemed to make people like her, which she couldn't really understand why. or people just tended to avoid her. or perhaps it was because everyone seemed to always gravitate to the girls who always acted dumb and were just so naturally beautiful in ways which even selma had to be envious about. this summed up at least half of the slytherin house and most of hufflepuff. it seemed to her, the cunning and mysteriously beautiful girls always were put into the slytherin house, while the rather dumb but still beautiful girls were put into the hufflepuff house. then there was her. selma had never had any sort of image problems, or at least none which she'd outwardly expressed. but it seemed to be a given problem with all girls requiring them to go through some form of self-conscious dilemmas. for selma it wasn't how she came off to people mentally - as in what she said or did, but rather how she looked. her favorite book in the entire universe was a muggle book written a rather long time ago called jane eyre. jane eyre was described as a plain but proper girl, and selma felt as though jane was the spitting image of herself. of course the difference between her and jane was that jane ended up happily married to a man a few solid years older than she, and selma had no intentions of marrying someone so old. but still, she was waiting for her mr. rochester to come along, preferably a few years younger than the one in the charlotte bronte's book. despite her love for jane eyre, selma didn't actually read as often as she wanted. she was afraid the stories and happy endings and ideals would get to her head. such as right now, as the caretaker moved aside, exposing selma to the world. quickly turning her back away from the figure, she peeked over her shoulder ever so slightly and then let out a sigh of relief as they disappeared. she turned back towards giry and made a sour expression, "i'm not getting paid at all for this." she had absolutely no idea where that came from or if it even made much sense but right now her temper was almost to the ceiling and she didn't give a shit about what she said. very, very unlike her usual self, which worried her. all she wanted to do right now was to do a good enough job cleaning whatever disgusting mess was left in the greenhouse to pass, so she could go back and spend some time with her friends and then probably write a five page essay to angel about her horrible, horrible day. today really had to be the worst day yet, or at least during this school year. being disapproved of by a professor which rarely happened, getting a detention which never happened, having to clean out a greenhouse which would hopefully never happen again, and having the worst side of her brought out by a caretaker which was really just like asking for the world to come to an end. oh and to add to that he wanted her wand? like that was going to happen, "sorry no can do about the wand, you'll just have to trust me that i won't use magic." she shrugged, "but i have a question. if hogwarts is a school centered around learning magic, why aren't we allowed to use magic to clean? we'd be applying what we've been learning, and for those who haven't been paying attention in class, then they'd just have to end up scrubbing on their hands and knees anyway." notes, look who finally replieeeeed

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[mel1]

[atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: 262626 ; padding: 20px; border-radius: 60px,bTable][cs=2] got shackles on my words so tight sometimes I want to disappear
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 1px solid 525252;]	[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][rs=7][atrb=width,350px,true][atrb=height,400px,true][atrb=style, vertical-align: top;background-color: #c4c4c4; overflow: auto; padding: 10px; border-radius: 25px;] “And when exactly is that ‘time’?” Selma cocked an eyebrow, tipping her head at him slightly. She appeared to be interested in what he had to say. He got the feeling she wanted to be the one with the last word. How apropos it was that he would be the one to get in the last word for the evening; he would make sure of it. Giry took a whiff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply. His lips quirked a little at the ends, but he fought down the urge to smirk. It would not do to give away what he was about to say. “Quite the ballsy chit, are you.” He let out a chuckle, though he was hardly amused. “The time is not now. It seems to me that you have failed your first life lesson. Pity.” He told her. Really, he wondered how the Ravenclaw would react to him telling her she had been unsuccessful in taking in his advice and actually learning from it. He did not just give advice to just anyone after all. Or so he liked to reassure himself. There had been one too many times in the past where he would treat a random student out of bed to a long discussion with words of wisdom from the caretaker being the main future of the evening. Tonight was hardly different. “Aren’t the Ravenclaws all supposed to be a clever bunch? Wit can only get you so far in this world.” He drawled to her in his low baritone voice. He supposed he was hitting a little below the belt with that comment about her house, but she needed to wake up and smell the coffee already. Life was a bitch. There was nothing she could do about it. She would do well to listen to his advice and just move on with her life, so he could continue keeping an eye on her in peace. He would prefer it if she steered clear of any more trouble as well. That would be quite pleasant. He could live with that. Giry did not miss the narrowed eyes or the dirty look she threw him when he withdrew his Rothsmans package from his pocket to retrieve a cigarette. He shot her a nasty smirk when she seemed to swallow whatever complaint she wished to voice to him. It would fall on deaf ears after all. He would do whatever the bloody hell he pleased. He was a grown man and she was merely a student who had no business lecturing on his bad habits. He snorted at the thought. The nerve of the girl; she really was her quite different from her brother. Pride filled him. Sedrig would be proud of her and how much she had grown, he was sure of it. If only he had been the one to see her at this age. She was not a girl not yet a woman and ready to take those first few baby steps into the world after graduating from school. It was a defining moment for the young Krause. She would either sink or swim and he would do nothing but observe from the sidelines if things went his way. However, he had nothing to worry about. Things usually were in his favor. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew that she would be fine with or without his assistance. Selma was a strong girl. She would pull through this milestone. After all, the girl had been through much worse in her young life no thanks to him. The snort that came out sounded bitter right then. He figured it was time to focus on the present rather than think negatively while he had to deal with his young ward. He focused on the girl especially after hearing what sounded like an offended gasp coming from her mouth. Ah, so she had finally understood the task that he had set up for her tonight. Again a rather nasty smirk seemed to curl his lips upward. He took another drag of his cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke he exhaled in her direction as if to spite her. He dared her to comment on his smoking once more. It was a silent challenge issued probably evident by the defiant look in his eyes while he gazed at her. After having exposed Selma to the approaching figure that Selma appeared to be in friendly relations with, she quickly turned her back, looking down. He raised a brow. That had been a pathetic show of defeat, he noted to himself. He watched her peek over her shoulder to check to see if the other student had gone and rolled his eyes when she let out a sigh of relief. “That there –” he pointed directly into her face, watching her go crossed eyed. “That had to be one of the most pathetic scenes I’ve witnessed in a while.” Giry licked his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Never figured you the type to be afraid of her friend’s presence during a time of delinquency, but it makes sense.” It was here he shrugged. Selma turned back towards him to face him head on, a sour expression upon her face. His own face seemed to transition into a blank and bored expression. It was truly his trademark facial expression, one that he used much more often than he probably realized. Though it had its advantages; he was harder to read than others because of it. “I’m not getting paid at all for this.” Giry blinked. A moment of silence passed and he blinked again. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He let out a long chuckle, slapping his knee. He even made to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye. How long had it been since he had truly cried. The brief thought popped up in his mind, but he brushed it away. Now was not the time for random musing. He had a reputation to own up to. “Why would you of all people get paid? Your job, little girl, is to go to school and not get raped by some vicious little boy who thinks himself to be as great as Merlin.” He was talking to her as if she were a simpleton. He loved every minute of it. Giry was one for shock factor. Adding in a little blunt flair to his conversations with people usually made his day. He was certain this conversation would be no different. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he figured he was going to hear about this later on from the same girl at a later date. She would probably complain about him to himself. The irony of the reality of the situation seemed to hit him all at once. He felt like giving into temptation and just laughing his ass off with absolutely no inhibitions at all, but he stood his ground. It would not do to look even crazier than he truly was. He was brought out of his musings – which he needed to stop doing in the middle of these types of situations – by Selma speaking up once more. She immediately caught his attention with the attitude that was evident in her tone of voice. “Sorry no can do about the wand, you’ll just have to trust me that I won’t use magic.” She shrugged. He raised an eyebrow. Little did she know that he actually did trust her and quite well too, but if he had his way she would never find out. Somehow he figured he was digging his grave even deeper with this entire interaction occurring. How he wished he was somewhere else at that moment. He knew what was going to happen next and he knew that she would be less than pleased with what he was about to do. She would just have to deal with it. “But I have a question. If Hogwarts is a school centered around learning magic, why aren’t we allowed to use magic to clean? We’d be applying what we’ve been learning, and for those who haven’t been paying attention in class, then they’d just have to end up scrubbing on their hands and knees anyway.” She had a point, he would give her that. However, Giry knew that there was a method to the madness. Cleaning without magic was a suitable punishment for troublemakers and delinquents whether she thought it right or not. She was not in charge. He let out a sigh and flicked his wrist lazily. It was a quick show of wandless magic – a feat he could perform in little spurts here and there, especially with such easy spells that came naturally to a former hit wizard. He never uttered the incantation to Expelliarmus! anymore. Her wand naturally flew into his free hand and his fingers enclosed it tightly. “You won’t be needing this for the night.” He said quietly. Lifting it up a bit to show her he had it, he rolled his eyes. It seemed he had been doing that quite often that evening. “You’ll get it back later after you have succeeded in completing the task I assigned you.” He told her gruffly. Placing the wand on the inside of his army jacket, he placed the cigarette between his teeth. “Now, get to it.” Giry replied with the cigarette still gritted between his teeth. He ignored her question outright. He was too lazy to answer her silly questions when he felt that the answers were obviously right in front of her nose. She just had to look. Crossing his arms, he leaned back a little on the soles of his feet. He felt so old all of a sudden. Unhappiness and grief could take its toll on a man’s body. He was so tired. Turning around with his back facing her, he began to stroll away from where he once stood. “Come find me once you’re done.” He called back to her in a neutral tone of voice. He did not glimpse back to observe her reaction to him up and leaving – not even once.
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] WORDS: 1691
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] TAGGED: Selma K.
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][tr][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,5,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: c0c0c0; border-radius: 10px;] NOTES: So, this post is shitty. Just saying.

this template was made by insert.name.here of caution.

[selma]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: 350px; background-color:#000;] lived in perfect symmetry, selma wasn't enjoying this. but that wasn't exactly news. why did all caretakers have to be so incredibly grumpy? was that something they put in the description when hunting for a new caretaker? "looking for hogwarts caretaker, must be grumpy and mean and hate children" or was that perhaps just something they secretly looked for and potential caretakers just added it to their resume, "traits: mean and grumpy, twenty four / seven" because honestly, this guy was not making caretakers look very good. she wondered it if it was possible to go to the headmaster and complain about how rude he was being, because in her opinion he was being far more rude than was really necessary for this situation. although she supposed she was coaxing him on a bit, acting rather like a child who didn't want to do her chores for the day so they sit there in the middle of the kitchen floor and whine, squeal and throw a huge temper tantrum... yeah that was probably how this guy was seeing her right now. at the same time if he was going to be working around school aged kids, he might want to learn some manners and patience. his chuckle was like fingernails on a cork board. it wasn't terrible sounding but it was the meaning behind his chuckle, like he was making fun of her, not laughing because she'd just told a good joke. if there was one thing she couldn't stand over everything else in the world, it would be feeling like she was being belittled. selma, unlike how the situation currently was allowing her to act, didn't in fact get all too huffy and puffy about insults and didn't really take offense easily. generally she'd just ignore the insult and get on with her business. though for that matter she was rarely insulted since it wasn't like she was going around screaming gossip shit in people's ears, she just stayed out of their way. but this chuckling from the caretaker made her want to punch him in the face. she held back on this of course because a) she didn't punch people in the face usually, it looked bad, and b) she'd probably get another detention, or perhaps expelled. she'd never been sure quite what the consequences were for punching people. she also didn't know how hard she punched, for all she knew her punch could feel more like a light slap. so, she chose to take a deep breath in and forget about the chuckling, as she would normally do with any insult. but what the caretaker said next tipped her over the edge, “aren’t the ravenclaws all supposed to be a clever bunch? wit can only get you so far in this world.” her mouth fell open immediately, and it felt like her jaw had just hit the ground and wouldn't be coming back up anytime soon. she made a few little squeaking noises which would normally be a bit embarrassing but at the current moment she could honestly care less. finally after a few minutes of doing that and looking like a complete and total idiot selma was able to get her composure together, "you think i'm not clever?" the words came out more like a hiss, "do you think all ravenclaws are stupid then? do you think i'm some kind of fake ravenclaw? you think i'm stupid? or i just don't fit into my house?" her temper was rising and it took all her strength to keep her from raising her voice, instead it became more hushed and more angry in tone, "oh yes look at you, so high and mighty i bet you think you're the king of the world, the one who knows everything, you think you're better than everyone else don't you? that's why you became caretaker, everyone hated you everywhere else, didn't they? and caretaker was the only position which you could get ahold of and still be able to boss people like 'stupid' little me around. hmm? i'm right." she knew she'd probably overplayed her cards a bit, but it'd only make a tiny, tiny dent in this guy, if anything at all. but then came the fingernails again, “that had to be one of the most pathetic scenes i’ve witnessed in a while.” selma was not pathetic. she was not pathetic. she was not pathetic. she was the opposite of pathetic. pathetic people were people like sleeping beauty or other fairytale princesses who needed rescuing. she was not any of them. but, she didn't want to drag the pain onward so she bit her tongue and ignored it. why this guy didn't have a job working for something like the ministry trying to coax information out of poor, unfortunate victims of some scheme, seriously stumped her. she had to admit, he was good at bringing out the wrong side of her and making her say things she really didn't want to say out loud. he could be so incredibly useful for the ministry, his character was wasted as a caretaker. then again he'd probably just refuse to work with his co-workers, or his co-workers would get pissed off by him and refuse to work with him. for all she knew he might've tried a position in the ministry in the past and it hadn't worked out. selma looked at the caretaker as he held up a wand in front of her, her wand. she tried to snatch it back from him, failed, and stomped her feet like a child. her wand was everything to her, without it she just felt like another muggle with no powers. she'd lost all energy to fight and get it back from him and knew it'd be better just to finish her cleaning fast and thus would get her wand back quickly. she watched the caretaker's retreating figure with hatred and then turned and walked casually towards the greenhouses. she had no idea what he'd meant by 'students getting randy' but by randy she hoped he meant just having a little chat after hours and so she wouldn't have too much to clean up. entering the first greenhouse though, she realized they were obviously not having just a little chat. selma habitually reached for her wand before remembering she didn't have it, and cursed the caretaker under her breath. she stood in the greenhouse for about five minutes, surrounded by silence aside from some birds chirping outside and some water from plants hanging from the ceiling dripping down to the ground. a few drops fell onto her forehead and she grumbled, wiping them away and then getting down to work. notes, asdfhjkl;sd not good sorry x.x but i finally replied?

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