Cabin assignments are this way!

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Her dress for the night was particularly lovely, stitched up from red velvet with long sleeves and bright white lace that was charmed to shimmer subtly the way snow did in lamplight.  The man at the door had said she looked prettier than a princess, which even at seven had made the girl roll her eyes.  Contrary to what the storybooks had to say about it, any of the princesses she had seen actual photographs of were terribly plain, and Virtue Hir (especially in her red velvet dress with its shimmering white lace) was anything but that.

Other than being able to wear her dress (which, obviously, came with its own set of drawbacks), there wasn’t much good about these kinds of things.  Already, she had suffered through a boring soup course where Mr. Pontouffe had talked about his Cairo affairs, and his wife (Mrs. Pontouffe, of course) had talked for most of mains about stodgy old Ms. (she said her title like an insult) Saundersferry at the Natural History Museum and how terribly inconvenient it was that she was a muggle, for, why, if she only knew the half of it.  By the time the men in the sort of fancy suits came to take away that round of plates, Virtue was considering mutiny.

Save for cake.

Her red velvet dress not withstanding, desserts were the only thing that made dinners like this with her parents worth it at all, for the desserts, like the rest of it, were marvelously fancy.  The Hir girl held her palms together like prayer as the men in their sort of fancy suits reemerged with their trays and trays of little cakes.  Tonight, it seemed like the prettiest was coming to her plate.  Without even waiting for the grown ups, she picked up the correct fork, ready to dig in until a whispered voice gave her pause.

Don’t eat this?”  After a cursory glance at the grown-ups--none of them seemed to hear the voice, or see boy it was attached to, getting his pants dirty on the floor--she shot a whisper and a glance at the source of the noise.  Her fork hovered, glistening, in her hand.  “Are you quite daft?”
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Summer Workshops / PROMPT 3: Stars and Roses
« Last post by Marilyn-Rose Wilson on 04/23/2018 at 21:36 »
"Why are you alone?" Asked Marilyn, as she stared at the little girl who was sat on a bench. What was she playing? Was that chess? She couldn't do chess, maybe draughts... But not chess, never chess, chess was complicated, and dull. This girl was too small, too small to be out on her own.
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Mia Green on 04/23/2018 at 20:29 »
As Adam spoke, she found herself feeling more and more bad that she had not even known who he was until just a few days previous. She had wondered if he was new, but he had apparently been going to the same school as she for the entirety of three years! How had she rarely seen him before now?

"Definitely not!" she shook her head, "It's so cool that you like those things, I've tried to write before but it's never really worked out for me, I don't know how you all do it. I can't draw to save my life, either, that's not tame for sure, not at all." At this point, she forced herself to take a breath before she overwhelmed the poor boy. "Well, I'm a Gryffindor, I'll be a sixth year, don't know how that happened so quickly. I'm good at Quidditch and Charms and--" A pause. "Um, well, I don't know if I have any other hobbies, really. I like swimming, I guess? I should probably know this by now."
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Adam Hoying on 04/23/2018 at 20:25 »
"Um," he muttered awkwardly, thinking hard on something interesting to say. Adam never really preferred to talk about himself--after all, he did not think himself very interesting. "W-well, I'm a Ravenclaw, I'll be a f-fourth year in September," he offered hesitantly, and, at her encouraging look, found himself continuing without really waiting for his mind's input on the situation (which was odd, as Adam usually thought through his actions far more). "I d-don't know if you'd call them h-hobbies, they're a bit tame, but I like to read and write. I g-guess I'm okay at drawing, too. I m-might do Infirmary again."
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Mia Green on 04/23/2018 at 20:21 »
Her only reply was a nod as she grabbed a forkful of scrambled eggs and shoveled them into her mouth. She wouldn't push him about it--yet.

Mia Green did not always have the best table manners, but the presence of Adam Hoying made her feel compelled, for some reason, to not have to speak around the eggs, and so she chewed them thoroughly and swallowed before speaking up again. "So," she said, in a conversational, friendly manner, "Tell me about yourself, then. Do you have any hobbies? Sign up for any activities this summer?"
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Adam Hoying on 04/23/2018 at 20:18 »
He nodded, cringing at himself as he did. "I'm sure." It did not sound as convincing as he wanted it to.
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Mia Green on 04/23/2018 at 20:17 »
"Are you sure?" the Gryffindor asked gently, observing the young boy's face with concern. She could clearly see black rims around his eyes, but decided not to mention them. How he really slept and whether he wanted to lie about his sleeping patterns was not her business.

(But then, she could have an unfortunate habit of making others' business her own.)
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Adam Hoying on 04/23/2018 at 20:14 »
He hated that phrase, that question--it seemed so innocent, yet for him, it was terribly tainted.

"Um, okay, I g-guess?"

(It was a lie.)
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Mia Green on 04/23/2018 at 20:13 »
"Hey, Adam," she greeted the boy nonchalantly, "Sleep well?"

(He had been left alone again.)
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Summer Workshops / Re: prompt three: the end of all things
« Last post by Adam Hoying on 04/23/2018 at 20:12 »
july eighth, 1953
the interior of pixie hollow
the same table as before
breakfast

She was back.

He stared at the seat next to him, rather surprised that it had again been filled.
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