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Post by vivienne on Jun 14, 2011 2:21:21 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby  so much hate for the ones we love TAG: OPEN OUTFIT: BLAH. SEE PICTURE. ONE LAST THING: DON'T REALLY LIKE THIS..
At first, everything seemed like a dream. At the same time, the reality of it all fell on that of unsettling; it couldn't have been real. Vivienne didn't know what else to call waking up twenty-some years in the past except ridiculous and impossible. It had been a number of years since Vivienne sparked her first signs of magic and the world of wizardry had been unveiled to her -- surely by now she'd have been accustomed to everything it had to offer her. Recent events, however, proved to speak otherwise; to Vivienne, 'time travel' seemed like an unachievable concept, even for the magical realm. Had she not been thrust into the very situation herself, she would never have believed it. Upon the initial come to, everything appeared to be normal; it wasn't until she realized that she had no idea who any of her peers were, and after stumbling across an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet -- whose bold, gothic-printed date roaring across the header painted a severe display of panic and shock on her face -- she knew something was amiss. Headmaster Dumbledore had made it official; something about spreading a message. Or rather, 'the Headmaster of a few decades ago' had made it official; Vivienne thought the era suited him more, he seemed less tired and more carefree, almost as if a great burden had been removed from his shoulders. It was only speculation on her part, but Viv thought it a good enough guess. The Dark Lord had yet to make his rise at the 'current' point in history. If only she could get her dates straight... memorization; not as easy as it looks, despite her peers.
"Bloody classmates,"
Dismissing that last thought, she came to a halt, allowing the cool, autumn breeze to settle on her form without resistance. Vivienne wondered just how long this 'transfer student' rogue would play out until things started not to add up for everyone else. In the 'Muggle' community, when schools had transfer students the facility went through a great deal of 'legal matters' and officialism before the student was allowed to do or participate in much of anything. Sure, magical and non-magical ways of life drastically differed more often than not, but she couldn't help the nagging questions at the forefront of her mind. Where exactly was the experience going to take her? ...and why? Hadn't she been through more than enough sudden, radical changes for one lifetime. Vivienne liked to think so. And yet, here she was, free to frolic and prance around the school and neighboring village(s) as if she'd been a part of everyone's normal routine all along. Not that Vivienne Witwer would ever be one to frolic or prance... but the point was that she could. Not a wandering eye stood out of place on her behalf, and while she normally liked it that way, it still struck her as odd. Had she really fit in that much? Vivienne never blended in much of anywhere, if she had anything to say about it, at least. But that was the task at hand -- an unspoken one, but still. The rest of her wizarding peers may not have seen every time-traveling, alternate universe film this side of the pond, but Vivienne certainly had. She knew about all that space-time continuum junk, alright? And while she would've mouthed off to or deemed any other person with that kind of thinking completely neurotic -- most likely with a good blow to the head for dessert -- she just wasn't going to chance it.
Groaning rather audibly, Vivienne peered up the gently swaying shop sign above her. Having nearly forgotten her bearings and reasons for being here, she mentally scoffed at herself. Having suddenly woken up in another era meant waking up with just you and the clothes on your back. If blending in here meant attending school like a regular student, Vivienne was going to need all of her supplies. And if by blending in they meant act like ones normal self, Vivienne did not succeed by using old, dry ink or hardly functional quills for her work. And by old, she meant old. Those spare bottles and quills the professors kept around in the classrooms were the very same spare supplies she'd seen in the present day classrooms. Merlin knows how long they might've been there before now. Consequently, Vivienne had politely demanded asked the Headmaster if anyone could spare a few sickles for the supplies she might need while she was around. Fortunate that Dumbledore was a patient and generous man, Vivienne left the castle with a few more silver coins in her robe pocket. Perhaps the question at hand was what she would spend them on. Books, she wouldn't mind borrowing; those were always old. It hadn't taken Vivienne more than a moment or two to conclude that new quills, ink, and parchment were the best investment for the time being.
'Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop' stood before her, in the same manner it would stand almost thirty years from today. It was a surreal feeling, one that Vivienne tried to force down without thinking about it too much. She expected the interior of the store to be about the same, and silently wondered if the old shopkeeper was still around... in a backwards sort of way. Present day -- she couldn't think of a more slowly paced shopkeeper; restocking supplies here was never the greatest experience. The door swung open on its hinges like it always did after a nice push and Vivienne wasted no time getting herself inside. Knowing exactly where to go, the blonde weaved between a wide shelf and an old latter someone had left out on the floor, and headed toward the far side of the shop where the parchment and ink were displayed. Despite the unnecessarily wide variety of parchment that was sold in the store, Vivienne knew she didn't want or need anything fancy. Plain, simple parchment was fine, not to mention the money she had was only going to take her so far, considering whatever savings she'd had back in her time held no value here. Parchment was parchment anyway, and if she really thought about, Vivienne didn't even know if her marks counted toward anything in this time. The whole situation really was too unclear for her liking, but her hand had been dealt. Packing two bundles of the stuff under her arm, Vivienne turned to select a vial of ink -- really, this was 'edge of your seat' soft of stuff right here. As far as ink went, Vivienne has always had a preference for red. The thought of purchasing a brand new vial was actually kind of nice, especially since it was free... in a way. Hey, this wasn't her money. Reaching for the bottle she'd been looking fo--
'You!--
[/i]" a voice rang out in the room, startling Vivienne enough to loose her grip on the full bottle of ink and spilling more than half of it over her blouse and robes. Her head whipped toward to source of the voice and was surprised to see the shopkeeper step out the door into the street. As Vivienne's gaze followed him through the window, she watched as the -- notably younger -- quill salesman warmly embrace what appeared to be another man of about his age. They grinned toothily, while Vivienne's face fell into a hard glare at the sight. " Fantastic," she spat, looking back down at the now large, vivid red stain over her shirt. Vivienne could've sworn it looked like she was dieing, or very well on her way to. She shoved the remainder of the ink back onto its self, peering back up at the pair outside in the process, who were still chatting and throwing their heads back into a particularly obnoxious laugh seemingly every moment or so. Old man. " Tch. I liked you better when you couldn't move," [/div] tell me that we both matter dont we [/center] |
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Post by ashy on Jun 14, 2011 21:55:02 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] YOUR HEAD WILL COLLAPSE, BUT THERE'S NOTHING IN The Words: ALOT The muse : the pixies The Notes FANCY POSTS YEA There wasn't any possible chance, that to what Hermione was seeing was real anymore. She knew well and she knew clearly that finding your body located in a different generation and waking up in a completely different time period was simply just preposterous. Yet, here she was standing on Hogwarts' ground from twenty years ago. Here she was, standing in amiss of students that she was supposed to see in her time as adults. And yes, she saw them too here, befuddled with the similiar astonished look Hermione was showing, if not similarly infuriated like her too. Nothing made sense to her anymore.
The young trees, and adolescent teenagers around her. And that made her more angry then she could ever imagined. Not even the libraries, or handful of books had assisted her, and not her intelligence she was clearly proud of had no reply for any sense for her predicament. Although she felt a bit wonderful that Harry could see his future-late family again, and also Ron with his deceased too, Hermione was left with nothing. Just with utter dissappoint, her own wits, and a worry. A worry that could penetrate her mind for months, that both her best friends seemed to strangely be intrigued to be with at the moment; her family.
Standing, with the most revolting migrane she possibly could ever had, she walked out of the library and had no use other then to give up. Yes, oh how un-hermione-ish this could of been but she could swore (and maybe it could be even true) that she had read all the books from Hogwarts: A History, to Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions a million times, and still there were no answer not even the reward of a hint displayed in any of the pages, only to display a more affronted Hermione in the library's hands and she couldn't help but to leave, having no sense of reason to be there anymore and also no sense of a barrier that was holding her temper. "...And the library never disappoints me." She murmured impatiently, clenching her fists ever so softly. "There has to be something in that bloody place to tell me. Anything! It's impossible, just impossible for the library to have no answers!"
But it did. For the little chances of ever it happening, Hermione's wits and books had been defeated. But had defeat, have to taunt her so ' fragile ' like this? So easy to let it go in her head? Here she was, ambling her haven she always loved, her area that never deluded her in all her life and yet still, how defeat could be so smugly leaving her in this place without any answer or any conclusion that this was possible, not even if this was actually some sick dream that someone was playing the puppetmaster over her, controlling her life. No, nothing, she'll say it once and she'll say it again---"No, nothing is making sense at all." And the only thing she could make use of herself was to follow the slightly younger Dumbledore's tips--- play the game of an transfer student. Which she found no more amusing then she finds when people snicker watching Ronald eat.
And that my friend, she is disgusted by.
But only if she could rather feel disgusted then mentally insane. Sure, hide your identity to the soon professors you have already met, but what happens if there's no loophole out of this? What happens when the Dark Lord rises back and the 1970's are over and everyone who's stuck here sees the baby of who's already been alive? Nothing fantastic will happen ever that would be obvious, and as Hermione's newly mind had been pulled whole with questions with no one to answer, she mentally pulled them back and held on her temple.
She needed a time off. Just something to get her out of this hindering state.
And supposedly if that meant doing what the normal transfer student would do (which by the way, wouldn't any staff if not the ministry be questioned about this?) she went off to travel to Hogsmeade to get what she needed for school because after all, if she was going to have to stay here she couldn't take her doubt in front of her education. School was school, and Hermione isn't going to drop out because she isn't in her own time period. It's not like she can't learn something just because she's in a older time, anyway. Heck, she might even learn something more in the past you never know.
Leaving Hermione lucky that their Headmaster was still a altruistic and generous man, she was content that he'd allow her to both go and also give her some currency to bring along (Which then again, another thought popped in her brain, her belongings she was left nothing where had everything gone?) And quickly only ignoring her mind for the time being she was left, and found in the beautiful's fall breeze as she lit down and vaguely grinned momentarily watching the scene of the small town she knew best and loved, happy that there was at least something that hadn't changed much; Hogsmeade. And also the familiar place she always shared a joy to go in, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Like she even thought about going to Zonko's for the things she needed most. Hermione Granger was no child looking for a toy, for a excuse of a quill.
Ambulating inside trying to make herself as small as possible, she sighed albeit less stressed now feeling the mundane yet elderly aurora grow tense within her mind. To Hermione it hadn't changed much, really it didn't. Everything was set normally in place, perhaps with a few changes when it came to position, and maybe a bit chatty elders (or well, former elders) that seemed to create the scenery more joyously. Which frankly, Hermione didn't mind that much. She needed some support in cheering her stressed and agonized days and it gave it to her, even it was just a bit. If only if she could see the elder man back on the desk, welcoming her name and sharing his own thoughts about new merchandise could she feel a bit better. The time she thought about it, she really missed the little things in life right now.
Foraging around, she took much notice of the background of the quill shop in more detail. It's lamps were a bit out-dated, the quills were a bit modified, and the ink looked much older then what the seemed at her time ironically. But out of everything, most of what she saw had been practically normal, and she almost felt like she was actually back in her time, in the 1950's.... Why, it almost looked like she could even see a girl, a older girl she recalled, back in her years with the usual red-ink stain she had on her shirt....
Hermione blinked, as if she was confunded surprised. What?
Piercing and leaning more over to the figure she blinked again with more and more in surprise before concluding to herself thinking: ' No...it couldn't be. Surely people back in the days, had to look similar to those in the future? ' But no, she couldn't just simply think that. Her curiosity and stubborn attitude had got the best of her feeling her legs in a way, betray her going towards to the other female. Anyway, she honestly did remember her seeing the seventh year in the halls at times now that she thought of it; Wasn't she a Ravenclaw?
"E....Excuse me?" She stuttered softly clearing her throat as she finally reached her seemingly bit frustrated face. She went quieter, "Are you another of the ones stuck here? Your from...Ravenclaw, aren't you? I don't quite think we've met formally, i've just seen you around the halls. I'm Hermione Granger. I doubt you'll know how we got here, either."
Paying attention to her stain immedietly after the words came out of her lips, she pulled her wand out before simply saying, "My, that looks bad! Tergeo." Before the stain quickly transferred out of her shirt back to it's cleanliness which Hermione supposed she first came into, which it best fit in.
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Post by vivienne on Jun 15, 2011 18:52:57 GMT -5
theres a thunder in our hearts baby so much hate for the ones we love TAG: HERMIONE! (: OUTFIT: BLAH. SEE PICTURE. ONE LAST THING: GRR, WHY AM I NOT LIKING THESE. D8 SORRY IF THEY SUCK.
It wasn't often that Vivienne made much of a mess of herself, and while she had no problem getting her hands dirty if the need ever arose, she liked to believe she was pretty damn coordinated the vast majority of the time -- thank you very much. Because she definitely couldn't say the same about everyone else she knew. The way certain people seemed to fall all over themselves all the time was just ridiculous. Many of her peers were no exception, at times, and Vivienne had half a mind to wonder if knowing exactly how to put one foot in front of the other was asking too much of them. The worst part was that these were the same students who were expected to perform as great witches and wizards do later in life, and she didn't have much hope to spare, sorry to say. Vivienne prayed that some of them had even the slightest bit more promise than she believed they did, because it wasn't just the youngins` she was referring to. Just last week -- or rather, twenty years from now, she mentally and begrudgingly corrected herself -- a pair of Gryffindor boys, shocker, in her year had thought it a good idea to go after a some younger boy in a prank amidst a staircase shift in the great stairwell. Not surprisingly, that's when their feet slipped out from under them and the pair nearly fell off the edge of the bottom step. Luckily -- or not, Vivienne couldn't really decide either -- for them, the Ancient Runes professor had been there to rescue them out of the whole ordeal before dishing out two whopping detentions to the boys for being so careless. Ha. You'd think after six plus years at the school they'd have learned something, she speculated, but maybe Vivienne was expecting too much. Oh, and if you're wondering, the professor involved hadn't been all that necessary. Vivienne had been there to witness it after all, and heaven knows sending the boys to safety would've presented no challenge at all for the Ravenclaw girl. Really, they'd been in good hands.... really.
But she digressed, and the rate at which the red ink was now seeping far beneath the surface of her clothes and clinging to the bare skin underneath was anything but pleasant. Looking down at her sullied ensemble once more, Vivienne wiped any remainder of the ink that was on her hand onto her blouse -- because what difference would it really be making at this point -- and reached for the wand that was half buried in her back pocket. 'Might as well take care of this,' her mind urged, and before she could make herself feel like any more of a clumsy hypocrite--
"E....Excuse me?"
Through some spectacular means, Vivienne was able to keep her composure in spite of the sudden voice; nevertheless, being the slightest bit startled again caused her to snap her head up toward its source. After wondering briefly whether or not she'd missed some memo regarding 'Surprise Vivienne Day', the seventh year came face to face with... well, Vivi rarely came face to face with any girls her age, more like face to the tip of their head, and this seemed to be no exception to that. So really, when she straighten up a bit -- which provoked a slight shiver from the blonde girl as her heavily ink stained blouse shifted and clung to a new area of skin on her form -- Vivienne received a good view of the crown of the others warm caramel locks. The newcomer was pretty, she noted, in that natural beauty sort of way. When the shorter girl cleared her throat, Vivienne reverted back to listening -- if things went in her favor, this would be quick; she'd really like to take care of her wardrobe situation right about now. Almost unintentionally, Vivi's gaze hardened a bit as she rose her brow -- as if to say 'Get on with it..'
"Are you another of the ones stuck here?--
[/i]" the girl began, and Vivi nearly tuned out the rest as she continued on. While it took her to second to realize exactly what the other had meant, Vivienne's eyes widened a tad at her words. Well, that was quite the assumption; the girl must have seen her around before, or else Vivienne really needed to put in more effort on the whole concept of 'blending in.' " --don't quite think we've met formally, I've just seen you around the halls--[/i]" Right, as she'd thought. Once the girl -- rather, Hermione Granger, as it seems -- had given her name, Vivienne took a moment to realize she actually recognized her a bit. Hell, everyone at Hogwarts knew about Harry Potter and his friends, or has at least heard of them. What with all the trouble they seem to regularly get themselves into, it was almost like you would have to have been putting in an effort not to know of them. Hermione was one -- though they had never formally met, as the younger of the two had just clarified -- and the other was... well, Vivienne didn't know for sure, but apparently that in itself spoke enough about him as far as she was concerned. When the gi-- Hermione finished speaking, Vivienne's face returned flat and she opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted. " My, that looks bad! Tergeo," In an instant, the red ink had been completely siphoned off of Vivienne's blouse. Inwardly, she reveled in the new, clean feeling, but hesitated for a moment before she went to speak to Hermione once more. " ..Thanks," she began slowly and without much enthusiasm, inwardly trying to remember all that Hermione had said and what she had to respond to. Shifting her weight a bit, now that the folds in the fabric of her clothes could move freely, Vivienne glanced out the window again as she nonchalantly gave her name, " Vivienne," If it was any consultation, the aforementioned girl was grateful for the small help Hermione had provided with her clothes, but the fact was that she was once again reminded of the serious issue at hand and that she had no idea how it had happened or what she could possibly do about it, if anything at all. " Yes, I'm in Ravenclaw, and, no, I don't know why we're here," she spat out a bit forcefully, more to herself out her irritation than anything the other had said. If it hasn't been apparent enough by now, Vivienne didn't like the fact that every measure of security and control that she'd built up around herself had been stripped away as of now -- or at least that's how she viewed it. Through her nearly seven years at Hogwarts, she'd never heard of or learned a thing about situations like this one, but what she did know what that nothing remarkably good came from wizards who tampered with time. All Vivienne knew for certain was that she didn't want this. Her school life had nearly been over for heaven's sake. Why now? Merlin, she didn't even need to think about the sort of trouble her brother was getting himself into without her there to reign him in. What a bother... [/div] tell me that we both matter dont we [/center] |
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Post by ashy on Jun 16, 2011 15:58:58 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;]YOUR HEAD WILL COLLAPSE, BUT THERE'S NOTHING IN The Words: ALOT The muse : TEMPOSHARK The Notes your posts are fine! <3 although i've not been liking mine either. /wish i could redo my last one
It was an obvious, that the bushy-brown haired girl felt as if it wasn't the time to start making new friends, nor did she think she honestly had the want or need to do it. But she knew she couldn't give a blind eye to a girl in the likes of her, in a situation like this. What, ignore someone who could be your ally and assist you, and also a girl who's most likely utterly confused as you are? No, she couldn't just walk away from that, it was completely irrational in Hermione's sense. Not to mention rude, if not giving out a helping hand at a time like this.
How would she feel if no one was there, while she was stressed and almost no sense of agreeing to reality anymore? Possibly, she would have grew more insane if not miraculously meeting Harry and Ron, as always when things like this happened. So she had to get everyone, and she meant everyone she deemed familiar in her zone because this wasn't just a matter between the life or death of something important, no; This was only much of the matter searching for friends less than enemies to build teamwork to get through: And to survive the definition of the impossible.
"Not a problem," She replied grinning, oblivious first to the other's weary tone. "The red ink, is always a mess to get rid of." ...Not that she was the one to talk though, really. Being the hygiene enthusiastic she was, she didn't have the complications when it came to being careful. Although she remembered how her Father would always get frustrated when ink spilled on him when he was writing, so she couldn't help to have a flashback and smile a little. Now that she thought of it, she had been thinking of her parents much more lately, ever since she got here....
"Vivienne, that's a lovely name. It's a pleasure to meet you." Forcing herself to be immune to her own stress, she nodded her head and let out her hand. As the minutes went past, while the newly-met girl Vivienne started to speak, she knew she probably felt as angry or stressed as she was. No doubt, anyone would feel the same as I. She thought to herself, quietly. Yet she couldn't help to feel a bit irritated by the strained voice of the other. Had it really been that bad for her? She wasn't going to go personal or anything, but she was curious, and tried to hold her temper as much as she could. "Thought so. This whole dilemma has been driving me barmy. Not even the library seemed to want to help me....I don't know how it could possibly...." She bit her lip, irked that she reminded herself about it, before looking back at the older figure as Hermione's eyes danced around exploring the shop slowly. "Anyway. What brings you here? I thought I might as well go along with this, since we don't have a choice. Hogwarts, is still Hogwarts after all. And we can't write without something, obviously."
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