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Messages - Isabella Flores

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1
1958 / Re: one two three four || OPEN
« on: 12/16/2019 at 22:11 »
He laughed, but it was not welcome amusement and Isabella sighed, feeling all too like she was talking to a little kid.

"They're not going to hurt anyone. Horses are prey animals, they'll only attack when threatened."

Where Isabella's head remained empty of spells and potions and other things that Hogwarts students had aplenty, she knew lots about magical creatures. That was what happened when you relied upon the 'home' schooling of two magizoologists.

"How about if I you can make it down here without breaking your neck in the process, I'll help you with that accompaniment," she suggested instead, crossing her arms over her chest in stubborn insistence. Bella had seen enough ridiculous antics to know what happened when an overly confident teenage boy was left to his own devices.

From where she stood she couldn't get a good look at him, but she did her best anyway, raising one hand to shade brown eyes against the glare of the sun. A lot could be told from looking at someone, properly looking, not just some half hearted glance, but as it was, only a head of hair even darker than hers could be distinguished, raised up towards distant trees as fingers returned to plucking absentmindedly at guitar strings.

"It's quite a sad song, isn't it? Is it about anyone in particular?"

Isabella couldn't help herself. Maybe it wasn't really any of her business, but it had peaked her interest and she clung to it with the same dogged determination as she'd opposed his offer.

2
1958 / watch your step - gia
« on: 12/15/2019 at 21:53 »
Isabella had tried the dresses and skirts of the English, tried forcing her unruly curls into their coiffed hairstyles. She'd tried her best to give it all a go, always curious to find out more about them, but the fact of the matter was that they sucked. And coming from Isabella, that said a lot.

Everything was too tight, too thick, too stiff. Isabella hadn't lasted longer than two weeks before she'd scraped it all in favour of a simple pair of wide leg cotton trousers and white shirt that she'd grown used to wearing when working with her parents. In a last attempt to at least try, she'd donned a cowboy hat, but that wasn't even really English and so by all accounts it had been a complete failure.

Making her way cautiously down the red hell's ridge as it had been deemed, Isabella couldn't have felt less like she was in England. The reddish rocks, the cowboy hats, the canyon, all made it feel like America, and in the depths of her imagination she found she wouldn't be surprised to see a thunderbird rounding the corner, her parents chasing after it in some disorderly, no doubt dangerous, manner.

Instead though, Isabella found a small (and by small she meant tiny) girl up ahead, silver hair impossible to miss in the baking sun. Isabella was not one to forget a face (or back of one in this situation). She started forward with a smile, memories of a nervous little girl standing up at the front of the tent by a load of sliced up frogs coming to mind.

"Good job with the case study," Isabella nodded.

3
1958 / Re: Cut It Out! || Case Study 1957
« on: 12/15/2019 at 21:34 »
Isabella had patched up a fair few people (and animals) in her time. In comparison to the clinical, factual knowledge of the Hogwarts students though, she felt herself pale in comparison, completely at a loss as she stared at the diagram left upon their work surfaces. What?

"No," she answered the younger girl absentmindedly, flashing a warm smile at her in quick greeting before returning her gaze to the sheet in front of her, brows furrowing in confusion. It was pretty difficult to be squeamish when watching a lion maul its deer, or stitching up a wounded hippogriff.

But Isabella couldn't just spend the rest of the session staring at one piece of paper and so she soon looked back up, this time getting a proper look of who she'd been paired with. Both were younger than her and as if by default Isabella felt herself take upon the role of mother.

"Careful of the knife," she reminded, mind flashing back to the terror that came with Carla or Alejandro holding something sharp, flailing it around like a conducting baton or whatever ridiculous thing they'd come up with.

Isabella took it anyway, slicing quick and smooth through the frog's skin to reveal glistening organs beneath. That part she could do. Not too different from skinning a chicken really, except slimy. She kept a hold of the knife even once she was finished (just in case), looking somewhat hesitantly to the two girls.

"So..."

Isabella's eyes rose to meet one of those in charge, a silent plea to explain what the hell she was looking at.

4
1958 / Re: one two three four || OPEN
« on: 12/15/2019 at 21:04 »
The English were odd in how they sent their kids to summer camps, but to Isabella, who'd spent her life hopping from place to place, surrounded by new people constantly but always so lonely, it was a lovely idea. Everyone here had so many friends (and plenty enemies too). They knew each other, really knew each other, not just the basic names and appearance stuff, and Isabella glowed green in jealousy for it.

The thing was, where they made and lost friends at the beat of a heart, Isabella struggled, some invisible barrier of difference stopping her from doing what she strove to do.

And so she fell to the Aethonians instead, who didn't need words to connect, who's hooved nature made them familiar to Isa where the English children were not. They watched her in indifferent acceptation as she approached, intent on spending the rest of the day hidden away with the creatures and her music.

"Could it be I was the one that you - that you held so deep in the night."

She wasn't alone. Isabella turned curious eyes in the direction of the source, drawn to the music like a moth to a flame. Atop the roof of the stables(oh god) sat a boy, and from his mouth and his fingertips the sounds bloomed. She waited patiently for a break in the song, somewhere she could interject.

"That's beautiful. Needs something though, another instrument."

In the pauses, in the background of the chorus, she heard arpeggios, gently chime like sounds that faded in and out like the sea he sung of.

"Could you get down from there? It's not safe."

5
1958 / Re: Infirmary Sign Ups // Summer 1958
« on: 12/07/2019 at 21:54 »

Helping Hands
*  *  *  S I G N     M E    U P*  *  *



NAME:     Isabella Flores
AGE:      15
PREFERRED POSITION:  Nurse


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