- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
Euphoria Script; IM Fell Great Primer; Fjord One;
x
Adelaide Rosier
Eight galleons. That was apparently all Adelaide had been worth to her so called friend Chris. When the female had accidentally overheard the Hufflepuff she had retreated quickly, not wanting to confront him and his friends at once as she returned to the Potions classroom where she had remained longer to finish her brew. Felix Felicis, the irony of it seemed gut wrenching disgusting now as she heard the word 'lucky' echo through her mind once more rolling out of Chris's mouth. A lucky score, he called her, and an easy win.
Gripping her hands together the Ravenclaw calmed herself down as she heard the door open, the familiar spring of his step nearing in on her. Too near, now, the heat of his body sending an awful prickling sensation down her skin that she could only describe as a trail of disgust.
"Adelale," he called her by that sarcastic nickname. Because her name was too fancy and too hard to remember. It had annoyed her from the beginning, now it set off a blazing anger within her that she had to rear in lest she was to hex the Hufflepuff on the spot. He was not worth a suspension, or worse, an expulsion.
"Adelale?" Chris repeated when she didn't respond, and Addy knew that she had to act now to keep the upper hand, her hand reaching out for her bag without sparing the other a look.
"I have ten galleons. Is that enough?" The coins in her purse had been carefully saved, meant to be splurged over some extra reading that she wanted to do for the upcoming holidays. A shame, truly, but Adelaide found that there was more importance in getting rid of pests rather than entertaining herself.
Chris eyed her, first bewildered and confused and then annoyed, anger setting in as a frown set on his face.
"What's the meaning of this?" The question came out harshly, in a hiss and Adelaide knew she had hit him where it hurt. A common reaction she had seen with many adults from her circle when she tended to speak too much.
"The bet was eight galleons, right? I'm offering you a better deal," she calmly explained, but Adelaide knew she was anything but calm within. Something was trembling, shaking, and perhaps it was aching as well. But she was paying it no heed now, forcing herself to focus on the present scene where Chris's head was slowly turning redder, the humiliation clear on his face, but nothing that compared to her own pride and confidence that had been shattered by a mere laugh.
"It will be on the table, should you want it. Consider yourself done with me," the female had continued as she closed her bag once more, the purse safely returned as Adelaide prepared to leave.
But nothing was ever easy and while for Adelaide the pain and turmoil was safely contained within, to be ignored and to be dismissed, Chris had different plans with his own.
"Not so fast," he called, a hand painfully clasping around her wrist as he pulled her back, the anger still burning and demanding her attention. "Don't act innocent. You wanted this. Why bother?"
The words were spoken so spitefully that the female had no clue how to respond, her throat thick as she pulled her wrist back with a glare.
"Little-miss-perfect, who could ever be good enough?" Chris had scoffed the words and Adelaide had no answer, not to the familiar whispers now turned into insults thrown straight at her.
"You know why no one wants you?" The question was met with disdain as Adelaide wanted to retort that she had plenty of friends. But that would turn it into a childish argument of is and isn't to which she didn't want to indulge.
"You are a bore, Adelaide. A bore with nothing else to offer than your own arrogance."
To this Adelaide sucked in a breath as she wondered if she had ever hated the sound of her own name so much as she did now. Exhaling she shut her eyes instead, allowing the silence to remain before she faced Chris again.
"Eleven galleons. And never speak to me again," the female offered, her hand reaching out for her purse again as she pulled out the last golden coin. Caia would have to treat her on their next trip to Hogsmeade. Or maybe Adelaide could fall ill, for she did feel sick, terribly sick.
@Ritual Lobotomy
Text colour: #B4AAB6