Ophelia (purevisions) wrote in carpediem_rp, @ 2015-09-24 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: ophelia sinclair, character: rene grantaire, thread: complete |
Who: Lia and R
What: Inserting food into an idiot/making cool potions
Where: Empty classroom near Potions classroom
When: Sunday, September 20th, evening after this
Warning: TBA/low
Status: Closed/Complete
Although he’d had quite a few offers to feed him (which he appreciated, really) R had agreed to meet with Lia even though the last thing he wanted to do was leave his room because, out of all of his friends and other assorted people who cared about him, she was the one who expected the least amount of socialization. While he was normally happy to ramble on until he was blue in the face and while he could usually manage to put on a good front even when he felt like hell, right now it just wasn’t going to happen. Someone who was usually quiet herself probably wouldn’t mind him shutting up for once.
Also she had actual food that wasn’t candy, which was currently a plus. He really was hungry. That’s what he got for skipping three meals. Whoops.
R managed to change out of his jeans, which were uncomfortable after having slept in them and felt too restrictive (he always felt like an open wound when he got like this, overly sensitive in a way that was strange even for him), and into some sweatpants. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat but now that he was awake and out of bed he was cold, so he found a sweater instead (he was pretty sure it was one of Enjolras’, since it smelled like him, but might have once been his judging by the size; not surprising, since it was easy to mix up clothes in the dorms and since they were both really bad about keeping track of their own stuff, not that R minded wearing Enjolras’ clothes nor did he mind E wearing his). Feeling a little less like he wanted to tear his skin off, he snuck out of the dorm and down to the lower levels.
Finding the Potions room was easy, though he wasn’t sure where to go from there. “Hey, Lia?” he called into the seemingly empty hallway. “You still here?”
Ophelia was quietly focused on working in one of the classrooms that Professor Banner left open for extra credit and other extensions of the class. Not that she was going for extra credit- she really didn't need it even though she was not loud about her potions skills like some others tended to be. She simply did what she knew how to do and kept to herself. Over and above in the class would draw attention to her and it was only when she had a question that she could not figure out on her own that she even spoke to the Professor or his TA. Right now she was dedicated to a potion for her brother - well, an attempt at modifying it further anyway. She knew she wouldn't be leaving the room for most of the day and so she had equipped herself with food and drink enough that she would not need to.
When R wrote his journal she had been in the middle of some calculations and notes in her own book and so she noticed it quickly. He had, on occasion, made her laugh. He seemed to respect her need to remain quiet most of the time too, and was willing to prattle on as though there was actual conversation to be had with her. She appreciated that she wasn't required to talk, and so she didn't mind his company. She raked her hand through her hair, reknotting it into a tie behind her head before she turned back to her work.
It was only when she heard her name being called that she looked up from her notes, glancing at the stewing potion before smirking a tiny bit. He said she could whistle, which meant that she didn't have to try and make her voice audible. She pursed her lips and let out a piercing whistle in response to his calling out, her eyes moving to the door and her wand flicking to open it, allowing an extra notification as to where she was.
R shrieked - he hadn’t been expecting that, at all. “Okay, wow, hello, nice to hear from you. Warn a guy before you try to deafen him.” He peered into the room and nodded to her. “Hi. Is anything in here going to kill me? I only ask because most of the time when I enter rooms where things are bubbling I end up on fire or otherwise injured.”
He chose to walk into the room anyway, settling himself on a desk near to her work station - but not too near; again, fire. He’d swear that Meru was doing it on purpose sometimes. For a few minutes he was content to be quiet, simply watching her and letting himself think, but even when he was in a mood like the one now too much silence got to him. “What are you working on?”
"Don't explode things." Because that was one thing she took as a point of pride. She hadn't had a cauldron meltdown since her first year and she still held that wasn't her fault. A faint flicker of a smile was offered to him as she glanced into her cauldron again, noting the faint green shade the potion had taken on. It was progressing well, based on the numbers she had worked out, and it was just mostly waiting and testing now.
She accepted his quiet as he watched her, simply continuing about her work. If he wanted to speak, that was fine, and if not that was fine too. When he asked his question she shrugged one shoulder. "For Lae." Because that was the focus at this point, modifying the potions she made for him to improve them as much as she could. Future effects of his condition like joint damage would be increased by the bleeds he had, but maybe if she could limit them more they could avoid that for many years to come. Her eyes turned from her pages to him and she quirked a brow slightly. "Ill?"
“Well then I consider myself safe in your capable hands.” R settled in a little more and peered at her cauldron as well. As a muggleborn, seeing any green potion made him automatically assume poison, but if she was making this for her brother then that probably wasn’t the case...probably. He’d heard from most people with siblings that it was a horrible experience and poison wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility, but most of the ones in this school seemed to get along well. Either way, R was happy to be an only child.
“Oh, right, he does have that...thing, doesn’t he?” R knew that Laertes had some kind of illness, though he wasn’t sure on the specifics. They’d been in several classes together and he’d often been sick but he never found out exactly why. At her question he shrugged. “Me? In a sense, I suppose most people would say. But as I’m sure you know, I am a sick bastard.” He tried for a grin but it wasn’t really up to his normal caliber.
Ophelia nodded slightly at his statement about considering himself safe. It was true. He wasn't at risk around her potions. She knew very well what she was doing at this point. The fact was that she was far more concerned for her brother than she had ever been for herself, so brewing things for him was done with an extra degree of caution she didn't use on herself.
"Yes." Because some people that her brother had some sort of medical condition. She didn't detail beyond that, it wasn't her place. What they knew was enough she assumed. Her eyes remained on him and she quirked her brow slightly more, her entire stance indicating disbelief. "So yes." Because clearly there was something not right with him, even if she could not identify it exactly. Social cues had never been her strong suit.
“Don’t you give me that look,” he said, pointing at her. “And I might be a little sick, but saying I had a cold or something would be lying. I never lie, Mademoiselle. Only occasionally omit some information or tell a slight mistruth, when it is necessary to do so.” That was true for the most part; the only real lies he told were huge and incredibly important. Otherwise he didn’t waste time with them. “Now, tell me what you are doing with this. Full sentences are not necessary.”
Ophelia quietly blinked at him for a moment and motioned to her notes. "Modifications." Because that was what she had to work with today. It was some changes on a potion she had developed and so she was simply testing and making tiny alterations to improve what she had done. "What sort of ill?" Because she could probably whip something up to combat whatever was wrong if she knew.
“What sort of modifications?” he parroted back. “That sounds very mad scientist. Again, I approve. Tell me, when are you going to work on the Creature?”
He shrugged. “Well some would say it’s not a real illness and that it’s all in my head, which, it is, to be fair. Let’s just say my brain isn’t wired correctly and I require chemical help to make it function like it should.”
"Improvements." Because obviously. "Longer lasting and better working." Because that was what she wanted to do in the long run. If she could develop a way to make it so Lae didn't have daily potions and he could get fewer bleeds with that it would be a success.
She blinked at him for a moment and nodded. "Potions then?" Because that would be her idea of chemical help, though she supposed muggles could have different ways, she didn't know that for sure.
“Well that certainly sounds helpful, I would think. I imagine a better working potion could only improve things. Though not too much better working, too much better can sometimes be worse.” He knew that one from experience. There was a reason he didn’t talk about the summer between fourth and fifth year. Not pretty.
“Some potions, some Muggle medications, a balance between the two. Hasn’t killed me yet so appears to be working.”
Ophelia nodded slightly and shrugged one shoulder. "Something to do. Necessary." Because Laertes needed the potions and she wanted them to be as good as possible to help him out.
She looked at him again curiously and raised a brow. "What potions?" Because she could very easily manage to brew them and twist them around if he was not getting them properly done somewhere. "Hasn't killed doesn't mean working."
“If you try to invent new potions when you’re bored then I hope you never discover the internet, it will ruin you.” R shook his head.
He shrugged. “I dunno. They’re blue? I’m not allowed to brew them myself since I’m really not good at potions, the healer normally does it for me.”
"Not try." Because when she invented, she worked at it until it was right. She had no desire to fail at that, it was just what she did. Potions were the one thing she didn't let go of until she managed to perfect whatever it was used for.
Blue potions. She narrowed her eyes slightly and walked to a shelf, plucking a book and flipping through it. After a moment she put it down with a page open. "Which?" Because there were a number of blue potions but only a few that a healer would provide.
“Okay, if you are able to invent potions in your spare time then I am really never showing you the internet. The internet is evil, remember that Lia.” He gave her a sage nod.
R shook his head. “You truly are a Slytherin, Mademoiselle.” He pointed at the potion which read ‘for treatment of mood disorders’ and leveled her with a small smirk. “You could be an interrogator or something.”
A faint smirk. She didn't know what the Internet was but she was amused by the thought of something that could use to add to her knowledge. "Like evil." A wicked look flicked through her eyes just for a moment and she grinned, not allowing for much debate. She wouldn't argue with the fact that she played the part of a Slytherin sometimes.
"Okay." She looked at the potion, examining. It could be changed. She noted some obvious flaws in the method just in the first few lines. "Not as good as it could be."
R gasped, holding his hands to his chest. “How have I never realized how wicked you are! Truly, this has been a grave error on my part.” He shook his head. “I shall correct my mental picture of you immediately. But the internet is not the type of evil you should want to partake in. It’s a lot of porn. It’s mostly porn. Porn and politics. Those are my areas of expertise and I would not have you sullied by them.”
He shrugged. That he knew already. “Hence why it’s being supplemented with muggle pills.” Not that they did much, other than make him tired.
A faintly wrinkled nose at the thought. She knew what porn was, after all, even if she didn't look at it, and it had never been something that appealed to her. There were more important things to focus on in her mind. She had a lot more to do than worry about sex type things. Maybe the right guy would change that but she didn't know. She'd see one day she guessed.
"Can brew it." She quietly walked to her cauldron and examined the cooled liquid. Carefully she poured some out into vials. She would have to test it on various subjects before she gave it to Lae, but she was making progress. After a pause she pointed to a desk that had sandwiches on it. "Eat." Because that was partly why he came, after all.
“Exactly.” R nodded at her face. “The internet is not your kind of evil. Your kind of evil is probably something along the lines of itching powder in the underwear drawer or utterly breaking a man’s soul. Something normal evil.”
He tipped his head. “You can? Impressive. The healer normally has a hard time with it. I’m pretty sure my name is cursed more than once in the process.” He nodded at her command, because he was one, easy, and two, really hungry. He took a sandwich off the top of the stack and started to eat.
Ophelia would not confirm any of his statements, though she did raise a brow in disbelief at the 'breaking a man's soul' bit. She supposed that some of the things she brewed could do that easily enough, but she didn't talk about that much.
"Easy." She made a face that said she thought his healer was an idiot and tapped the page lightly. "Book is limited. That's why people fail." Because the book put the way that was supposedly the easiest, but far from the best in her eyes. She glanced at him as he began to eat, then picked up her quill, absently scrawling a few notes with regard to the potion he took on her parchment. It wasn't vital priority to modify it, but she could easily make it alongside Lae's.
“Oh come on, you know that sounds fun. Tearing asunder the very fabric of someone’s being. Good times.” R smirked.
“So you say, and yet, I blow up every cauldron I touch. It’s why I’m only allowed to stir in potions class while someone ‘more capable’ actually measures and puts the ingredients in.” He rolled his eyes. “And that is the nature of books, not to mention the fact that most of them are wildly outdated. ‘Mood disorder’, pah!” He blew a raspberry. “That’s what I think of that.”
A faint flicker of a smile curved her lips but she again didn't confirm or deny what he was saying. He wasn't wrong that the thought was amusing, though she didn't think it was something she could do on her own.
"Easy." She shrugged again and looked down at the book. "Wrong though. Order of ingredients, harvesting. All wrong." She rolled her eyes at the book and then looked to him. "I can make it though."
“There we go, a smile! She smiles at the thought of breaking someone on a fundamental level. Now we know the true level of your evil, Mademoiselle.” R shook his head.
“I’m not surprised, reading the process over did seem unnecessarily complicated, but I just assumed that was because I know nothing at all. And of course you can, we have just established that you are a genius when it comes to potions and breaking the human spirit, why should I think anything else?” He shrugged.
"Slytherin." This said as if it explained everything, which to some people it would. Most from her house would accept and revel in the thought that they had that skill.
She looked back at her paper and shrugged. It was one of those things that came easily for her, working out complicated potions and solving the ways they could be made better. "You want me to?" Because she could use the time she brewed and add another potion, it wasn't the biggest deal to her. She actually would honestly enjoy it, if she were honest. Experimenting was enjoyable to her.
“That is going by the assumption that Slytherins are inherently evil, of course, instead of merely cunning and to an extent more concerned with their self-interests. I know for a fact that there are horrible people in every house, not just yours, ma cherie. Myself, for example.”
R shook his head. “I couldn’t ask that of you, you are already busy with that,” he waved his hand towards the cauldron, “and I would hate to take your time away from your brother, priorities and all. I will be content to be cursed by the long-suffering healer. So far the current arrangement works for the most part, some days just are bad. In terms of statistics they can be counted as outliers and would be dismissed, though Twain had some colorful words to say in relation to statistics as a practice, so I’m sure he would disagree. He isn’t here right now, however. No, I will content myself with your company and your sandwiches. May I have another?” There, diversion accomplished. Good job, R.
"Yeah..." A small frown curved her lips though at his comment about horrible people in all houses, followed by classing himself in that group. "I know horrible. You're not." Because she'd seen a lot more than most her age - not all, but a good number - and so she had higher standards to judge from.
"Eat. Also you didn't ask." Which was true. She had offered freely to make the potion for him. "Healers are stupid." She had a bit of a bias when it came to their potions skills for the most part, though most of them didn't have the experience and extra practice she did, and so while they were not entirely without talent, they didn't often experiment and understand what was there to the degree that she had studied.
R shrugged. “I do as well, and if you could see inside of my head, ma cherie, you would be screaming and running in the opposite direction, for your own sanity and safety. It’s a dangerous place in there.”
He picked up another sandwich and shook his head. “While I agree - though I don’t have much room to talk - I would feel uncomfortable taking your time away, nor taking advantage of your kindness. I appreciate the offer but wasting time on me is not a priority, I assure you.”
"Agree to disagree." Because after years of her parents and their friends? She knew what bad people were. He wasn't, no matter what he said. She brushed a hand back through her hair and sighed softly, shaking her head at him as she seated herself finally.
A small shrug. "Fun." Because for her brewing and testing new things was a way to escape her head. That and art both seemed to be the main things she did in her free time to turn off all the negative things she had around her. "Fun isn't a waste." Though she supposed she had different ideas of fun than others.
“Something like that, sure.” R leaned back on the desk. “I’d say you’d be surprised by how many times people do that to me,” he mimicked the head shake and sigh that often followed people signifying they were done with him, “but even I’m not surprised anymore.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fun, she says. Potions are fun. Of course they are, for a genius, I’m not sure why I’m even questioning it. If you would enjoy it, then sure, go ahead, but if at any point you don’t have the time or desire then you are fine to stop. Just maybe warn me so I can go inform the healer that he is no longer relieved of his duty.”
A small shrug. She was used to nonverbal communication typically so she didn't have any other real way of conveying certain things. It just was her way. She offered a small smile to lighten it afterward, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Very fun." She didn't think she was a genius. It was just something she enjoyed and so she did it well. It wasn't like she was any better than someone else that worked as hard as she did. The fact that her interest was in healing potions rather than anything else made it slightly more useful to the people around her. "Won't get bored."
“Now that is not very typical. A smile! Bestill my heart.” He clutched at his chest and swooned back, almost falling off the desk, wheeling his arms until he regained his balance. “Ow, remind me not to do that again.” He shook his head.
“Well if you insist. But remember, not a priority. Your darling brother takes precedence. I am merely an afterthought.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes at him teasingly and shook her head again. "Not that rare." Even though it really was honestly, she tended to not acknowledge that fact regularly. It was just that she didn't see much reason to smile at everything. She kept herself reserved.
"I do." Because then she could play around and figure out more improvements. It gave her something more to do with what she considered her free time.
“Still, a treat! Any smile is worth more jewels than this rotten excuse for a planet can produce, especially one so radiant as yours, ma cherie.” Again, he swooned, though much more carefully this time. As much fun as falling on his ass was, he’d rather avoid it at the moment.
“Well if you are at all successful I and likely most of my dorm will thank you. I’ll try to figure out how to get a muffin basket delivered to the castle.”
Ophelia blinked at him again a few times and shook her head. Flattery had always sort of confused her a bit. She was strange, built like a first year, and typically her smiles had a hint of twisted smirk more than actual smile. He amused her though and she tended to accept that he would be strange as well, honestly.
"Muffins?" She raised an eyebrow again and tilted her head as though she thought he may have gone entirely insane. It was possible. She wouldn't say that, but the thought did flicker into her head for a second.
“No, no, ma cherie, you are brilliant in your beauty and mind, I am in awe of you. Were my affections not placed in the polar opposite to your admittedly wonderful physique I would volunteer to kiss your shoes. As it stands, we will merely settle on the fact that you are admirable in the most exceptional of ways and I am grateful to you.”
He shrugged. “I think it’s a Muggle tradition? Or at least something my mother insists on doing for every gift we receive. It’s meant to be a thank you. Though she normally sends fruit, not muffins, but fruit is hardly a proper symbol of appreciation. One might even call it a slight! Unless it’s covered in chocolate.”
Ophelia shook her head almost imperceptibly. She knew people were entitled to their opinion but his was just wrong in this. She didn't argue though - it was not a skill of hers in the least. Just allowed the subject to drop quietly.
"Strawberries." Because they were quite possibly her favourite food and she didn't think it was possible to have too many strawberry foods around her. She didn't think much of muggle tradition - it seemed polite enough but it wasn't something she'd been brought up with at all.
“Excuse you, I do not lie and I am never incorrect. Except when I am. But I am always correct when speaking about beauty. I am an artist, after all. Beauty is my passion.”
He nodded, mind whirling. “Strawberries. Covered in chocolate, I presume? I would hate to slight you for your kindness, after all. I will have to remember this.”
"Artist too." Ophelia raised a brow again before shaking her head. "Agree to disagree." Because this was a point he would not win and she didn't wish to argue about. Too much talking to that.
"Any strawberries." Because she liked the sweet and tart combination of it. It was probably one of the best combinations she could think of when it came to foods.
“Ah, few artists perceive themselves as beautiful, I suppose. You, however, are remarkable. If I could do you justice I would paint you.” He shook his head. “Alas, my meager talents would be wasted, nothing can capture your soul.” A dramatic sigh.
“Strawberries I can do then.” He nodded.