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Author Topic: beeswax || vagary  (Read 673 times)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/02/2018 at 10:54)
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after breakfast
saturday 3 july 1954



She was picking peppermint leaves when she caught sight of him across the lawn.

In reality, Avery Elliot was probably just minding his own business and enjoying the morning sunlight. In Vega's mind, he was deliberately trying to ruin her day. It was only her third day of being at Camp Loki, and already, he was everywhere: in the infirmary, sitting across from her at breakfast not once but twice out of three mornings, and now here, too.

She'd had enough of seeing him turn up without her permission.

The Gryffindor walked -- or, rather, stormed, because everything she did when it involved the Hufflepuff was a tempest, a hurricane, a tsunami -- right up to him.

"Can't you go and do--" she gestured wildly at him, "--whatever it is you're doing somewhere else?"

* Avery Elliot

    (08/03/2018 at 15:31)
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His quill skidded.

“W-what?” Caught off guard, Avery spluttered a moment under the ferocity of her sudden anger. His head jerked away from the parchment to peer at his assailant, but she stood framed by the sun and he was blinded. He looked away.

Of course, it was Vega, he wasn’t sure why he bothered to check. Avery collected himself, his energy, his things, under a thin layer of disinterest and disdain. He had come outside to write the letter to his mother but that had apparently been a bad decision. His mother would sense his frustration if he wrote after this, he would have to re-write it after he centred himself.

Avery tore the paper easily between tense fingers as he finally sighed and shifted so he could look at Vega Nettlebed without hurting himself.

(A lie, she would always aim to cut as deeply as she could.)

“In theory, yes, I could,” the boy replied. A beat. “Why?”
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/05/2018 at 13:08)
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She didn't like the way he was looking at her, the way he always looked at her, like she was the problem here.

"Because," she snapped, collapsing on the grass beside him and pinching a peppermint leaf between finger and thumb, "You're ruining my--"

For a fleeting half-moment, Vega's brows dipped into a frown as she tried to recall one of the nonsense words he'd spouted at her however-many-times over the past few months.

"--chakras."

* Avery Elliot

    (08/05/2018 at 17:46)
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Avery raised an eyebrow as she continued to carry on why his existence was not welcome while deciding to sit right beside him.

(Not that Vega had ever been particularly rational.)

The sharp scent of peppermint distracted him from her misuse (again) of chakras as anything that could be ruined, misplaced, or touched. He reached out to tug one from her hand, popping it into his mouth to taste its quality. Around the leaf, he asked, "What are you using the peppermint for?"
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/05/2018 at 18:55)
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She glared. Who the hell did he think he was, to sit in the same garden as she was in and to help himself to the plants she had picked?

Her response, when it finally came after a pause that dragged a little too long, was hardly satisfying. "A project."

"What were you--" Vega glanced with carefully painted indifference at the torn parchment that he had sacrificed to hold a conversation with her, "--writing?"

* Avery Elliot

    (08/05/2018 at 19:37)
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Avery’s lips turned into a smile of indifference as Vega glared at him. The sharp taste of it over his tongue was a small victory in the face of her bristling indignation.

A project didn’t narrow it down but Avery knew enough about Vega (which wasn’t much at all) to not push the topic if she didn’t offer it. A lesson written in her narrowed eyes that Avery challenged in storm clouds and an arched brow.

Fingers fiddling with the jagged edges of the paper, Avery shrugged. He gave an equally unsatisfying answer, “A letter.”

You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/05/2018 at 19:43)
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"Can I see?"

She lunged for the paper before he could give her an answer.

* Avery Elliot

    (08/05/2018 at 19:45)
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“No!” Quick, defensive he jerked back, pulling the letter close to his chest.
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/05/2018 at 19:53)
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She fell into his lap, all sharp elbows and bony fingers, with a lot less dignity than she would have liked. To add insult to the injury, he didn't even try to catch her. With burning cheeks, Vega picked herself up off him, taking care to accidentally drive her elbow into his ribs.

"Is it a love letter to some girl?" She dragged the word out, mocking, taunting. Then, after a moment's reflection, and with a raised eyebrow, "...Or boy?"

* Avery Elliot

    (08/06/2018 at 05:46)
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Of course, he didn’t catch her. No one caught thorns, needles, knives, riptides and fire. An elbow to his ribcage that would bruise come morning and Avery still felt (slightly) bad he didn’t even try to catch her.

Though it was her fault she fell at all given the circumstances.

Avery watched her, guarded and wary, as Vega slowly drew back up. Like a sunflower tilting back towards the sun, her eyes sharp and challenging - he wasn’t used to having a girl able to level their gaze with his.

"Is it a love letter to some girl? ...Or boy?"

A flicker of surprise in his face before he shrugged, shoving the pieces of parchment in a back pocket. “My mother, actually.” Then because they were being nosy today apparently, he added, “What project do you need the peppermint for?”
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/06/2018 at 16:34)
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"Oh." That was less interesting.

"I'm making a potion." She got to her feet. As she left, she shot him a withering look over her shoulder. "You're not invited to join me, by the way."

dinnertime
monday 12 july 1954
inside sydney town hall



She sat right beside him, but only because it was the alternative choice was some soon-to-be first year that she'd seen picking their nose on the way into the hall.

"Pass me the green beans."
« Last Edit: 08/06/2018 at 16:35 by Vega Nettlebed »

* Avery Elliot

    (08/06/2018 at 16:55)
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Here she was again, deciding the terms and conditions they were supposed to speak to each other. Avery had gotten used to seeing her back, the slash of her grin as she called her parting comments. He didn’t look up from his book and reached out to slide the beans to her. “What potion are you making now?”
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/06/2018 at 17:07)
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She stared at him as if he had come from another planet, which, to be fair, could easily have been true.

"I'm not making a potion," she explained, slowly, as if she was talking to a six year old and not a teenage boy. In many ways, she supposed they were one and the same. "I'm trying to eat my dinner."


* Avery Elliot

    (08/06/2018 at 17:16)
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He restrained from snapping back at her tone instead staring back with obvious annoyance. “I can figure out that much,” he replied, equally as slow, “I meant in general. You seem to always be making one.”

Then, because he knew it would further antagonize her, “Unless you’re making a potion for wealth. I would recommend Jade and Citrine. Is that what you needed the peppermint for? Basil would have been better.”
« Last Edit: 08/06/2018 at 17:24 by Avery Elliot »
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/07/2018 at 10:52)
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A part of her, one that she wasn't quite sure she understood, was pleased that Avery Elliot knew she was always making potions. A smile threatened to bloom, but she bit it back and focused on piling green beans onto her plate instead.

Vega rolled her eyes, "It wasn't a potion for wealth," she informed him, though she was careful to tuck jade and citrine and basil away in the back of her mind -- just in case. "Why, is that what you do with your crystals? Wish for money?" He didn't strike her as the type.

Blue eyes turned to his mass of golden curls, "You'd be better off wishing for a comb."

* Avery Elliot

    (08/09/2018 at 03:02)
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Avery eyed the growing pile, considering if Vega would be above taking them off his own plate should she deem them necessary for herself. She took everything else she wished, what was a few measly beans? Avery pulled his plate a tad closer. Just to be safe.

"Why, is that what you do with your crystals? Wish for money?"

“You cannot wish for money, it doesn’t actually grow on trees, y’know,” he was quick to inform her. “There are much better things to wish - ”

"You'd be better off wishing for a comb."

A wisp of a smirk, though his eyes remained flat, “Good point, lost my last one.” He tilted his head mockingly towards her, “Can you see it?” 
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/09/2018 at 14:52)
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She wanted to wipe that silly smile -- yes, she saw it, no matter how faintly it curled -- from his face.

She set the green beans back down on the table and dropped the spoon back into the bowl. "I don't know," she answered, her words prickling, needling, just as his had done. "Let me have a look." One hand lifted with an almost imperceptible tremble; Vega took a breath, and sank her fingers into his hair. They closed around and within his tangle of curls, pulling too hard and too tight up and away from his scalp.

She yanked her hand from him too abruptly, her fingertip catching at a rogue strand and tugging.

"I can't seem to find it, sorry." The Gryffindor turned back to her plate and stabbed a green bean with her fork. "In all seriousness, though, your hair's a mess. I bet I could make a potion for that."

* Avery Elliot

    (08/21/2018 at 00:58)
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She wasn’t gentle.

He wasn’t surprised.

(It still hurt.)

Avery ran a hand through his hair absently, half to ease the prickle from a few strands catching around her fingers, half to shuffle it back into wild-child place. As though Vega ruffling through it made any difference. He reached for a bean off her plate. “You have better uses for your potions.”

early morning
thursday july 15, 1954
royal botanical garden



He pinched the leaf at the base by the stem, using the edge of his nail so it cleanly came away. The dying leaf dropped to the ground and Avery continued quietly pruning the lemon balm. The door opened behind him and a storm filled the place with electricity and tumultuous energy. “The case study isn’t for another few days.”
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)

* Vega Nettlebed

    (08/23/2018 at 20:07)
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"Yes," the exasperation in her tone was almost tangible. "I know, Avery."

She strode across the space to meet him. "I'm not here about that. I'm here because I have an invitation for you."

Well, it wasn't so much an invitation as a demand. And it wasn't that she wanted to ask him, it was that she didn't have anybody else to turn to instead.

He didn't need to know either of those things, though.

* Avery Elliot

    (08/29/2018 at 16:50)
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"The answer's probably no," Avery said as he turned to face her, hearing the staccato of her footsteps. Sharp, demanding, off-beat to the rest of the world and holding all of his attention. He carried the pot with him and he pinched another dead leaf off. "What is it?"
You carry the heavens in your eyes
(Like one of those old Greek tragedies)
and I'd call you Atlas but
he wasn't given a choice to hold the stars
(You were.)