Gwen White eighteen years of age. She had recently before this whole thing, changed into her polar opposite for the better. So it seems that now she was back to how she was before. Ain't that just screwy.
Roaming the dungeons, the Slytherin was back to the red and black dreads, tripp pants, black make-up, skintight corsets over equally tight mesh shirts, and a pair of boots. Her eyes had also went back to red, and she was pissed beyond all reason.
Straightening out her key-shaped pendent, Gwen rolled her eyes and sat on the cold floors of the dungeon. Taking her wand out, she waited for an unsuspecting victim. And why the hell were all that prank stuff in my room? she asked herself remembering that she threw it all away. Hearing footsteps coming closer, a wicked smirk formed on her dark lips. "Here goes nothing," she sighed as she pointed her wand in the direction of the sound.
Sylph had been at the lake when she had first seen it.
She had been heaving hay bales into a maze formation - a treat for the niffler class - and had glanced across the wizard-made body of water over to the dueling pitches. It wasn't that great a distance, but Sylph had needed to squint to see that it was Morgan who occupied that space, and that she was alone save for a large cauldron. Sylph had grinned to herself. Some project the Ravenclaw was working on - extra credit for Professor Birchheel, perhaps, or just some extra-curricular learning activity. Sylph had returned to her work without a second thought.
That was, until she had paused at the exact moment that Morgan's potion began to fume and spread. It was bright blue, that smoke, and it was traveling fast. Had the prefect made an error of judgment? Sylph frowned as she peered toward the spot where Morgan had stood - the deputy head had missed the girl actually leaving - and then sighed. Potions never had been Sylph's best subject - not that she was bad at it, mind - and there was one woman not so very far away who knew more about potion making than anyone in central Spain. Dropping her work as the mist swirled eerily over the surface of the lake, Sylph broke into a jog, heading for the school and the dungeons.
Of course, the fog had been too quick for her, and by the time Sylph had actually made her way to the dank underbelly of the palace she was feeling its full effect. She felt suddenly alone and very small, and the dungeons were very, very dark. Her pace slowed a little more with every step, her shoulders hunched, her head trying to sink into them. Strides became dolly steps, brisk marching movements of the arms were transformed into mousy and repetitive balling of the hands. Her hair, she now noticed, was far too bright a colour, and she tried to hold it back, twisting it in her hands in a futile attempt to tame it into a ponytail.
She needed to find Professor Birchheel, that was why she was here - but the person up ahead was not the potions mistress, definitely not.
A familiar voice rang though the dark damp corridor. She had a small fear of Sylph a few months ago, but now she had nothing to be afraid of. Aww she lost her pride she mused to herself. Lowering her wand, the smirk only darkened. "Ah no one special," she sighed in a monotone. "Just a student trying to figure out this whole thing," she shrugged as she stood up lighting the tip of her wand.
"So Professor, what brings you down here?" she asked almost sadistically. "Trying to find Bitchheel or just getting lost?' she asked teasingly. Today was certainly going to be fun for our little sadist. Well until the effects wear off. Then it's back to the prank playing Gwen that she had recently became.
Wanting to toy with the woman a bit more, another question came to mind. "Are you scared of being down here?" she asked softly as she muttered the charm nox under her breath.
Sylph knew that voice. It was a student she had prevented from hounding a man in Drakborough, the same student who had later apologised for her actions that day. The same student who had been up in court not so very long ago, and who had appeared to have repented her crime. Still, while she knew these things, Sylph did not at that point feel like she was the elder of the two witches, much less the one in charge.
Light flashed from the wand of the Slytherin girl, and for a moment Sylph blinked in the sudden glare, unable to focus on the appearance of the other female for a couple of seconds. When she did though, her eyes nearly popped. Caligula would have blushed at her attire. At her rude renaming of the potions teacher, too, Sylph recoiled in timid shock. She knew that she was supposed to reprimand this girl for such things, but when she went to speak the words stuck in her throat, choking her, making her gag, and still she tugged distractedly at her horrible, unkempt hair.
So she said nothing, but in her mind she heard her old voice talking. Yes, find Professor Birchheel. Ignore this wretch of a girl and get on with it! But somehow, Sylph felt her legs frozen, unable to get away from this threatening teenager. She had to say something, something to placate her, something to make sure that she didn't get hurt. She was building up to it, wracking her brains for some words that wouldn't antagonise this girl further. She got out the first word, but at that moment the only light was abruptly and unexpectedly extinguished, plunging the world into pitch darkness and her sentence was lost in a hopeless whimper.
"I - I... oh," she said in a very, very small voice.
((OOC: The Bitchheel thing was a typo that I just noticed. But it still worked))
Raising an eyebrow in the total darkness a small laugh came from her throat. "Got lost in words?" she asked curiously. "Feel free to try again," she offered. Goddess where is Birchheel? she asked herself as she allowed her vision to adjust to the darkness slightly. Gwen wanted this opposite effect to go away just as much as the next person, and so it seemed that she might have to work with the purple haired witch in order to achieve a goal.
"You know I want this whole thing to be over just as much as the next person right?" she asked calmly. "So what do you say about us working together to find the Professor?" she asked with a smile regardless of the lack of light.
The girl's - Gwen's - voice had changed. It had been mocking, sadistic, even eager, but now there was a slight strain mingled with open curiosity. Stood there in the darkness, her legs frozen with nerves, the new Sylph wondered at this. Was this a trap? Was the outrageously dressed student merely attempting to lull the professor into a sense of false security before pulling some hideous prank on her?
Of course, if there had been any of the old Sylph remaining she would have thrown caution to the winds and provisionally trusted the kid. But then this was opposite day, and Sylph was utterly without a single ounce of courage. All that bravery and self assuredness had vanished, probably off on holiday having marmite sandwiches on the veranda or some such thing. Whatever the case, this purple haired witch was about as meek as one could possibly get. As such her reply was not much better than her previous one.
"Um... I, um, I-I-I don't, I-I don't...
The sentence trailed off in a quiet stutter, almost as if it had never been started.
This woman was being rather quite. Perhaps it was because of the lack of light. Taking out her wand once more, she muttered a small incantation to undo the dreads. A few seconds later she lit the tip of her wand and approached the violet haired professor. "So where do we find Professor Birchheel?" she asked her voice lacking in emotion. "I'm getting rather tired of the once proud Professor O'Dell acting like a total wimp," she smirked teasingly.
Well at least she had her sense of humor. No matter how mocking it was. But her words were of truth. Gwen was sick of this woman acting like a pansy. Beginning sentenced but never finishing them. But something told her there would be hell to pay when this thing wore off.
Something in that taunt stirred Sylph's old and well ingrained sense of pride. She was supposed to be Sylph the brave, Sylph the practical, Sylph the fighter. Why oh why could she not summon up her old, usual self and simply solve this problem? Why did the girl in front of her fill her with such dread when she remembered having such authority over her not so very long before? She was the elder, the taller, the stronger. So why did she feel like a nervous four year old in a room full of adults, too scared to speak? The Slytherin was right. She was being a wimp. And my, how she hated herself for it.
Still, the potion in the air hand its grip on her, and it wasn't about to relinquish its nefarious grasp just yet. Sylph watched with saucer-wide eyes as Gwen re-lit her wand and approached her, the purple haired witch afraid of the possible repercussions to come. Had she angered the scary looking student with her whimpering? She gulped, but the only thing that came was a single word.
So?
[/color]
Quivering from head to toe, Sylph swallowed hard and fought with herself for a moment. She had to find the potions mistress, and if this girl was willing to help, then all to the good. If Sylph needed anything right then, it was help.
"I-I-I th-think she's in her office," [/size][/color]she stuttered in a tiny and excruciatingly meek voice. "I-I-It's j-just up a-a-ahead." [/size][/color]
Now she had spoken she felt more petrified than ever. Gwen, of course, would have to lead the way.
Rolling her eyes, Gwen looked around trying to figure out which door belonged to the Potions Mistress. Let's just hope that the woman could fix this problem, she growled inwardly as she finally found a door that her gut told her was the right one. "Please let her be in," she prayed silently as she raised her hand to rap on the door.
"Professor Birchheel, are you there?" she asked loud enough for in case the woman was behind the door. "We need your help," she called feeling her sanity slowly starting to return for a few moments. "Professor O' Dell has gone off her rocker along with everyone else on campus," she explained.
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5