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Creativity
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Posted: 5/4/2017 at 12:28 AM
Post #1
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In a time of kings, queens, knights, and pages, four childhood friends who learned magick together reunite to form a place where children can learn magick for free, rather than paying an arm and a leg to learn from a tutor, and rather than creating an obscurus and dying not long after.
Godric Gryffindor is a fearless warrior. Heart of a lion. He has a muscular build, and will defend what he believes in. Currently, he works in a tavern, confined to a job that he despises. He will help where possible, but he can hold a grudge to the grave if he so chose. [Left blank until history is decided upon]. He owns a finely-crafted, goblin-made sword. ad0000
Helga Hufflepuff doesn't believe in lost causes. Sweeter than a peach, and ten times as warmhearted, Helga will always be willing to help. She co-runs a laundry service with Rowena. Helga had been engaged to a terrible man, Royston Knickerworthy. When she figured it out, she ditched him. He was none the happier about it. She's a master of words and knows people. She owns a beautiful goblet. c29b00
Rowena Ravenclaw is intelligent, and is not afraid to say so. She is creative and competitive. Wise beyond her years and stubborn as a mule. She co-owns the laundry service with Helga, though she loathes not being able to use her knowledge. Her father had arranged a marriage with Wilmot Ravenclaw. He died two years after the birth of their daughter, Helena. Rowena owns a brilliant diadem. 00025c
Salazar Slytherin is cunning, devious, and manipulative. He has always been. His father raised him to be so, and when his castle was destroyed, Salazar inherited cottages, a castle, and more money than he would need. He speaks parseltongue. He doesn't care to change. He gets what he wants, when he wants. He had also inherited from his father a magick locket. 095c00
Edited By Creativity on 5/3/2018 at 7:26 PM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 5/5/2017 at 6:54 PM
Post #2
There was a steady drip resounding through the chamber as the green acid crawled out of the flask and dropped into the inkwell. The bottle in question was nearly halfway full now. It was best not to pour the entirety of the contents in the flask into the well, or else he would risk a possible explosion. Carefully, he retrieved the quill from beside the paper and dipped it into the custom ink.
The quill's end scratched lightly against the paper, spelling out one word-"magick"-and then being placed back on the table. The ink showed lime very briefly before disappearing. The young man's lips curled back and up into a sneering smile. It didn't vanish immediately, no, but it still vanished. He tipped the flask back, placing it gently beside the pen. A deep chuckle resonated from somewhere within him, and he was about to turn back when the toxic-colored writing returned. His grin immediately turned to a frown as he watched the ink glow, and then disintegrate the parts of the paper it had been written on.
"What a disappointing experiment," he mused quietly to himself while gathering his materials and placing them each back on the shelves they had originally resided on. 'Salazar,' his father used to say, 'What, exactly, do you plan on doing all your life?' Salazar would scoff and wave his father away, claiming that all his life, all he wished to do was be alone.
---
The empty buckets fell into the river with a splash, and Rowena sighed as she dipped them in, filling them with fresh, clean water. She had dumped the dirty liquid out at the base of a tree halfway to the source of clean water. Once the buckets were full again, she hoisted them up, resting the handles against her shoulders. She and Helga took turns retrieving the water. There was just too many clothes to wash, and not enough water in their two buckets to wash them all without refills.
She returned to the small cottage that she shared with her friend, placing the buckets on the ground before the yellow-haired witch. In a patch of clovers off to the side, a little girl poked a stick at a spider. Rowena stopped to observe the spider for a moment. It was not venomous. "Helena," she began to the child. "Don't do that. You're going to get bitten," she told her matter-of-factly.
The brunette four year-old shrugged and continued to prod at the insect. She showed no indications of intent to follow her mother's advice. Rowena watched her for another minute or so, raising her eyebrows expectantly, but gave up once she realized that her stubborn daughter was a lost cause in this case.
Rowena delved back into work, retrieving a plain white shirt which was smeared with dirt and thrusting it into one of the buckets. It smelled like rotten onions. She wrinkled her nose in protest as she twisted the clothing under the water and rubbed at the dirt. She glanced towards Helga briefly. "I had the dream again," she commented to her friend in what she hoped was a nonchalant way.
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 5/6/2017 at 6:13 PM
Post #3
The low murmur of conversation filled the smoky room. Men and a few women were crammed into dimly lit booths and in seats along the narrow wooden tables. Food and beverages were being distributed by exhausted looking young boys and girls. Most of them slept in the kitchen once the day was done, working to pay for their food and board, a fact Godric found most depressing.
The stocky barkeep stood at the counter, meticulously cleaning some of the better glasses and tankards.
It was not yet their busiest hour for the drinking crowd, and he knew he needed to be prepared. Casually,
he tucked a lock of reddish blonde hair which had come free from it's binding back behind his ear, and glanced around the room, taking note of each face that occupied it. He had grown much accustomed to "reading" the people who came into the tavern, and he skills at determining who might be looking to cause trouble were remarkable.
A tug at his elbow cut his assessment short. It was one the younger children who helped in the kitchen.
"Butcher's here fer payin'," she told him shortly before turning around and marching back to her duties.
Godric put away the glass he was clinging and flipped the rag over a hook behind him as he headed for the back of the tavern. He heaved a wistful sigh as he gave the tavern one last look to comfort himself that nothing would go amiss while he was gone. This was certainly not the life he had intended for himself, but then...many things had happened which he had not intended.
-----
The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Helga Hufflepuff had a smile on her face. Of course, she was almost always smiling, so this was not a surprise. She hummed a merry little tune as she hung the freshest load of clothes out on the line to dry. She loved the smell of clean laundry and breathed deeply as she secured another garment with a clothespin. Yes, as far as Helga was concerned, life was good.
However, she was well aware of how much her dear friend, Rowena, loathed living such a laborious life. Ro would much rather be living a scholar's life instead of toiling away day after day doing work for others. Helga cared deeply for her friend, thought of her more as a sister, but she did wish that Rowena could lighten up for a change, have a little fun and enjoy herself. Things were never that simple though, and hadn't been since Rowena's husband had died not long after the birth of little Helena. Ah, what a dear child...
Helga heard her friend returning from the creek. She listened as Rowena spoke to Helena but did her best not to say anything. She had learned early on that Rowena did not appreciate Helga butting in on the rearing of her child. She simply waited until Rowena rejoined her at the washtubs. After a minute or two she decided to try starting up a light conversation in an attempt to brighten Rowena's mood. Before she had a chance to say anything, however, Rowena spoke.
"Oh?" Helga responded at the mention of the dream, giving her friend a sidelong glance, "What do you suppose it means? Did you write it down?"
Edited By Britters on 5/10/2017 at 10:57 PM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 5/7/2017 at 12:04 AM
Post #4
After thoroughly washing the shirt and making it as white as it would be after whatever its owner had put it through, Rowena brought it over to where Helga was. Of course, before she could hang it up, the shirt slipped out of her fingers and into a small patch of mud that she'd been meaning to cover up. Rowena gritted her teeth as she snatched the clothing back up and headed back to the buckets, shoving the shirt back in. She absolutely despised this line of work.
She hadn't spent five years being tutored in magick only to be stuck slaving away with a bucket of river water and a clothesline. She barely even used her magick now. It had been years since she had touched her wand, per the request of Wilmot. No, not request. Demand. He hated that part of her past. Always did. Her eyes narrowed slightly at the thought. It had been years, and she still couldn't decide if she had truly cared for him or not.
"I don't need to write it down, Helga. I've experienced the same one so many times," Rowena pointed out to her metaphorical sister, who was, as always, smiling. It was extremely rare to find Helga without a smile on her face. It was only one of the many things Rowena couldn't understand about the blonde witch. "As for what it means, I have no clue. The hog, covered in many warts all over, led me through fields and up the slope of a mountain to a castle waiting atop. Maybe it's just unconscious rambling of my idle imagination," she muttered.
Off to the side, Helena had finally poked the spider enough to provoke a retaliation. The arachnid fastened its mouth onto her grubby right pinky finger. She shrieked and shook it off, running towards her mother and latching onto her legs. Rowena scowled and tore the little girl off of her, just to have the child return and cling back on again.
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 7:31 PM
Post #5
Helga finished hanging up the last of her load and turned to sit down at the washtub next to Rowena. The sun warmed her back as her strong, plump arms began to scrub another batch of work clothese.
Their best business came from the men who toil in the fields, blacksmiths in their forge, and other working class professions. This one looked like it was covered in soot and had even been slightly singed, so most likely a blacksmith had worn this.
As she scrubbed, she listened to Rowena recount her dream. It was indeed exactly the same as she had described it before, and it still made little sense to Helga.
"Well, the castle seems to be the most obvious portion," Helga began, keeping her main focus on her work, "Perhaps you're meant to find a certain castle, and once you find it the rest of the dream might become clearer." She started to hum absently again, her hands working at an incredible pace. Contrary to her friend,
this line of work suited Helga just fine.
The sound of Helena shrieking sent ice through her veins, and her heart pounded hard against her chest.
She willed herself to remain seated, though every nerve in her body wanted to jump up and bundle the small child against her. She forced her muscles to relax and waited until Rowena had had a chance to react to the child. After Helena had been rebuffed once and began trying again to get her mother's attention, Helga wiped her hands on her apron and held her arms out.
"Come here, sweetling," she called to Helena, "Let Aunt Helga see your owie."
Edited By Britters on 5/10/2017 at 10:57 PM.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 7:48 PM
Post #6
Rowena kept her scowl as Helena ran into the arms of her metaphorical aunt. "You're babying her," she pointed out to her dearest friend. "I gave her fair warning, and she ignored it. She deserved to get bitten," she added as she picked up the piece of clothing that Helga had been working on and continued scrubbing the soot out of it.
She decided to leave Helga alone after that, though. She knew that the other witch always wanted children. Poor Helga had taken a gamble with Royston, and had suffered because of it. Rowena sighed. Helga had very little luck when it came to men.
"As far as finding the castle goes, from what I've seen of it, it's on a mountain with a steep cliff and a lake below. It's also got a forest beside it. No idea how we're going to track that down," she diverted the subject away from Helena.
The batch of clothing was quickly all washed and Rowena hung it up on the line with clothespins. She glanced over to the rest of their workload. There was actually not much left to do before bringing the clothing back to their original owners tomorrow.
She winced as she straightened up. Another con to their work was that it strained her back, which had never been very good in the first place. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. She was stuck in life, and she wasn't sure how to get out of this dirty clothing pit she and Helga seemed to have fallen into as a side job that was now seemingly permanent.
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 10:55 PM
Post #7
Helga stroked Helena's soft, dark hair, murmuring comforting sounds into the child's ear. The little girl tugged at the deepest roots of Helga's heart. She ached a little every time she looked at Helena. Her resentment towards Rowena, though small, was buried under layer upon layer of cheery disposition so that her friend would never suspect the truth. Helga would forever be jealous of Rowena's daughter, because it was something that she herself would never have.
"No child deserves to be in pain, Ro," Helga said simply, no harshness in her tone, "And besides, someone has to baby her." She gave Rowena a slight smirking smile, and set Helena down. "Go play now dear, and be more careful."
As they both returned to work, Helga considered what Rowena had said about the castle. It was true, the description was rather vague, and probably described many castles around Europe. Perhaps what they needed was a guide who had seen the world and might recognize the castle that appeared in Rowena's dream. As soon as that though popped into her head, Helga had a sudden idea.
"Ro," she said, the excitement in her voice tangible, "Theres a fellow at one of the taverns in town. His name is Godric, and he has travelled all over the world. Maybe he would know where your castle is!" She was practically bouncing in her seat by the time she was finished, a wet shirt flapping around in her hands.
-----
Things had begun to pick up a little bit at the tavern. Men had become to trickle in after a day's work, demanding food and drink for their hard earned coin. Godric and the other employees were happy to oblige. He remained behind his bar counter, keeping a shrewd eye on every customer. He had seen so much in his life, the petty violence that often occurred in his establishment and others like it made his blood boil.
All he wanted was to be able to make a difference in the world, and yet here he sat, his hands mostly tied by the rules of society. If only he could change his situation...
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 11:10 PM
Post #8
Tossing a piece of cloth onto the diminishing pile of dirty laundry, Rowena leaned back against the wall of their little cottage. Their work was tiring, and often left her feeling like the living dead by the end of the day. "Maybe next time, Helena will learn to listen to what her mother tells her to do," Rowena tossed, feeling the slightest twinge of annoyance. However much she tried to give Helga room to dote on a child, Ro couldn't help but feel a little irritated that Helga would try to have a say in the rearing of her child. "There's a lesson in everything, Helga, and if I had to learn the hard way, then so does Helena."
She pulled her plait over her left shoulder and slowly began to undo it, combing her fingers through her hair carefully to avoid any large tangles. Her hair was naturally wavy, and that tended to be a little obnoxious sometimes. Her gaze remained on Helena as the four year old wandered off to the mud puddle, no doubt to splash in it. Rowena's piercing blue eyes narrowed a little. As sloppy as her father.
Her fingers brushed through the hair once it was all out as she listened to Helga get all excited and adorable, as she always did. A little too excited. "Calm down, sweetie," Rowena muttered to her as she pushed her ebony hair back over her shoulder.
The name sounded familiar. Godric... It couldn't be... Could it? Rowena's eyes widened a little. "Helga, you don't mean Gryffindor, do you? The pompous narcissist we were tutored with? You know he and I never got along," she pointed out, despite the fact that they were all very young when they had been tutored.
A pang shot through Rowena's heart at the thought that she wouldn't have even had to be tutored if her parents had cared. They both knew magick, but were all too busy to deal with their daughter. She also knew, though, that if she hadn't been taught by the tutor she did, she would never have met Helga, and she figured a little child abandonment issues were worth having such a friend. The sister she never got to have, really.
Britters
Level 72
The Eggstraordinaire
Joined: 8/25/2014
Threads: 167
Posts: 2,034
Posted: 5/14/2017 at 9:47 PM
Post #9
Deep down, Helga knew she overstepped her bounds frequently when it came to Rowena and her daughter. It was just something that she couldn't help, and for the most part Rowena tolerated it, though she knew not why her friend was so keen on interacting with Helena. Helga would never forget the moment she laid eyes on the newborn, the overwhelming mixture of emotions. Pain, envy, and love. She worked hard, everyday, to keep her true feelings from Rowena.
At Rowena's admonishment, Helga brought her excitement into check. She tucked a strand of dirty blonde hair back under the kerchief it had escaped from, and took a deep breath.
"Oh, Rowena," she said, waving her hand dismissively at her friend, "That was a long time ago. Besides,
if you are serious about wanting to find the castle then he is our best bet. Hes the most well travelled person in town."
In her mind Helga thought about the castle of Rowena's dream. It was an intriguing proposition, the possibilities of what it could mean for them running around in her mind. Sure, she was content with their life,
but she was not opposed to change, and it would certainly make Rowena happy. She wasn't certain whether Rowena put much stock into the dream, despite how many times it had come to her, but Helga felt that it was going to change their lives forever.
Creativity
Level 71
Cutely Creative
Joined: 3/4/2013
Threads: 253
Posts: 5,852
Posted: 5/15/2017 at 8:07 AM
Post #10
Leaning back against the wall of the cottage and closing her eyes briefly, Rowena took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She thought about the dream quite often, but never for long as she always pushed it from her mind. It could mean something. She refused to get her hopes up, though. Unconscious rambling of my idle imagination. That seemed about right.
However, there was the lovely, bubbly bundle that was Helga. Helga, who was the definition of excitable. Rowena would never be able to bring herself to tell her friend how much she wished she could be like her. Ro wanted to be able to let loose, relax, do something spontaneous. Smile as often. Helga was always so smiley, cheerful, optimistic, friendly... It was uplifting and painful a the same time, because Rowena knew that, given the circumstances and the past, she could never share her friend's outlook on life.
"I suppose we can go talk to him, but I still dislike him," she pointed out. "I suppose the only thing about him that was okay was that he was competitive. He challenged me where you didn't want to and Salazar simply did not care to."
She opened her eyes, her blue irises drifting over to watch Helena. It was because of Wilmot that she acted as she did, felt as she did... She absolutely loathed how Wilmot made her feel, think, and act. He was a serpent, tongue dripping with sweet venom.
'Tell me you love me.' 'You know I do, Wilmot.'
With a small start, Rowena pressed a hand to her forehead, as if trying to expel the memory from the forefront of her thoughts.
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