Post by TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TE on Sept 26, 2009 20:18:03 GMT -5
Teagan Monolayre had a great childhood: her muggle mother worked at home and kept up their shabby house, her squib dad brought in a little income here and there, and her adopted younger witch sister loved adventure as much as she did.
Her teen years, considering that her parents and sister were all brutally murdered... not so much.
Now an adult, eighteen years and counting, the teenage witch lazily leeched off of her kind cousin's wealth, living in his house, eating his food, staining his floors and walls with inscriptions, using his money for books. She worked at a cafe for a short while, but the owner vanished along with the paychecks, and that was the end of that.
Currently unemployed, she spent most of her time researching this or that--transportation, alchemical circles, arithmancy--and writing papers about it. What exactly she was up to was anyone's guess; she was about as chatty as a songbird with its vocal chords ripped out.
A couple months ago, she was forced to attend a dance, but it was less than an hour before she rudely and abruptly ditched her innocuous date.
One evening, the redhead with a swarthy and obstinate personality wrote more in her manuscript-like compilation of pages, describing the effects of a certain magic she was studying. She still needed to investigate going abroad for her information to be complete. While she wrote and schemed, her cousin returned home, the scent of alcohol on his breath. He owned this home, mind you, but he was rarely there without a girl or two on his arm.
"Teagan," he began to the scribbling scribe, "I think I'll be leaving for awhile."
She paid him no mind.
He hopelessly ruffled his soft orange-tinted hair.
"Just take care of yourself," he asked, "okay? Remember to have a little fun."
Word after word appeared on her page. As logical as a ravenclaw, as ambitious as a slytherin.
Of course, Darren was as cunning as a slytherin, as clever as a ravenclaw, and as ballsy as a gryffindor. Otherwise, what was about to happen would not have happened.
"Make sure you drink the rest of the milk, okay? It's about to expire," he said, pulling out the nearly empty carton and setting it on the table. He walked to the stairs and stopped. "Did you hear me, Teagan, or are your ears stuffed with those books you keep sticking your head in?"
"I hear you," came a soft, unobtrusive voice.
Darren glanced back at her. She never once looked up from her work. He shrugged and went to bed.
Teagan stopped early that morning, yawning as she finished writing that section. In a half-sleep daze, she carelessly drank the remainder of the milk and headed off to bed herself.
---
The ex-head girl was easy enough to trick if one was patient and watched her carefully, made her used to one's presence to the point of almost ignoring it. Her greatest skill was intimidation, however, and few people would dare wrong her. Fortunately for the reader, Darren was one of those few people capable of tricking her and escaping unscathed.
---
The sun rose high in the sky, birds chirping away to their brilliant god.
The Monolayre twisted and turned in her bed. She was groggy, tangled up in her sheets, annoyed by her cramped fingers. She yawned, blinking open her tired red eyes.
She began to crawl out of her bed. And then fell.
A slur of cuss words erupted from inside her sleepy head. She slowly pushed herself to her feet, still tangled in her sheets. She glanced down at her hands, colorless in her colorblind vision. They were small and delicate with little wrinkles of flesh in her pasty palms. They were supposed to be long and delicate with spider-like appendages attached. Wha...?
She looked down. Her over-sized shirt was sliding off her tiny shoulders, acting like an unattractive dress. Her loose jeans were overly loose and already on the floor around her feet.
By this point, she was a bit more aware of the circumstances. She suspected that, rather than her bed and clothing getting larger, she had actually gotten smaller. She lifted her wand from her bed stand--the thirteen-and-one-half inch thing was nearly as long as her whole arm--and eventually managed to shrink her clothing to its appropriate sizes.
She trudged down the stairs, anger in her eyes, fury on her lips.
A note on the door read as follows:
Her teen years, considering that her parents and sister were all brutally murdered... not so much.
Now an adult, eighteen years and counting, the teenage witch lazily leeched off of her kind cousin's wealth, living in his house, eating his food, staining his floors and walls with inscriptions, using his money for books. She worked at a cafe for a short while, but the owner vanished along with the paychecks, and that was the end of that.
Currently unemployed, she spent most of her time researching this or that--transportation, alchemical circles, arithmancy--and writing papers about it. What exactly she was up to was anyone's guess; she was about as chatty as a songbird with its vocal chords ripped out.
A couple months ago, she was forced to attend a dance, but it was less than an hour before she rudely and abruptly ditched her innocuous date.
One evening, the redhead with a swarthy and obstinate personality wrote more in her manuscript-like compilation of pages, describing the effects of a certain magic she was studying. She still needed to investigate going abroad for her information to be complete. While she wrote and schemed, her cousin returned home, the scent of alcohol on his breath. He owned this home, mind you, but he was rarely there without a girl or two on his arm.
"Teagan," he began to the scribbling scribe, "I think I'll be leaving for awhile."
She paid him no mind.
He hopelessly ruffled his soft orange-tinted hair.
"Just take care of yourself," he asked, "okay? Remember to have a little fun."
Word after word appeared on her page. As logical as a ravenclaw, as ambitious as a slytherin.
Of course, Darren was as cunning as a slytherin, as clever as a ravenclaw, and as ballsy as a gryffindor. Otherwise, what was about to happen would not have happened.
"Make sure you drink the rest of the milk, okay? It's about to expire," he said, pulling out the nearly empty carton and setting it on the table. He walked to the stairs and stopped. "Did you hear me, Teagan, or are your ears stuffed with those books you keep sticking your head in?"
"I hear you," came a soft, unobtrusive voice.
Darren glanced back at her. She never once looked up from her work. He shrugged and went to bed.
Teagan stopped early that morning, yawning as she finished writing that section. In a half-sleep daze, she carelessly drank the remainder of the milk and headed off to bed herself.
---
The ex-head girl was easy enough to trick if one was patient and watched her carefully, made her used to one's presence to the point of almost ignoring it. Her greatest skill was intimidation, however, and few people would dare wrong her. Fortunately for the reader, Darren was one of those few people capable of tricking her and escaping unscathed.
---
The sun rose high in the sky, birds chirping away to their brilliant god.
The Monolayre twisted and turned in her bed. She was groggy, tangled up in her sheets, annoyed by her cramped fingers. She yawned, blinking open her tired red eyes.
She began to crawl out of her bed. And then fell.
A slur of cuss words erupted from inside her sleepy head. She slowly pushed herself to her feet, still tangled in her sheets. She glanced down at her hands, colorless in her colorblind vision. They were small and delicate with little wrinkles of flesh in her pasty palms. They were supposed to be long and delicate with spider-like appendages attached. Wha...?
She looked down. Her over-sized shirt was sliding off her tiny shoulders, acting like an unattractive dress. Her loose jeans were overly loose and already on the floor around her feet.
By this point, she was a bit more aware of the circumstances. She suspected that, rather than her bed and clothing getting larger, she had actually gotten smaller. She lifted her wand from her bed stand--the thirteen-and-one-half inch thing was nearly as long as her whole arm--and eventually managed to shrink her clothing to its appropriate sizes.
She trudged down the stairs, anger in her eyes, fury on her lips.
A note on the door read as follows:
"I left and sold this house back to real estate for a pretty penny. You and your belongings must be out by two this afternoon. Behave and don't cause too much trouble. That potion won't wear off anytime soon.-Darren"
She cursed.
---
A few hours later, Teagan soaked her clothing in a quick potion to make them shrink to the size of the wearer automatically and dried them. Hopefully, "anytime soon" meant a few hours or a couple of days at most.
Teagan Monolayre was three-foot-nine and weighed fifty-three pounds in the body of an eight-year-old. Wasn't this an obvious predicament?
She stuffed her clothing into her magic bag. She adjusted the straps as small as could be. Hell, the bag itself was half the size as she.
Her soft red hair dripped past her shoulder blades. She charmed her eye color to a blue of some kind; since she neglected to wear her color-seeing contacts today, it all looked gray to her. She didn't want to be identified while she was "too young" to handle a wand and too weak to give a decent left-hook. She rushed, trying not to topple over with her bag, cussing along the way like a sailor late for a date. Whoever was supposed to inspect the house was a decent ten minutes late. She erased her chalk markings and packed her all-important stack of parchment and braced her bag over her shoulder before bumbling outside. Her poor shrunken shoes looked as though they could fall apart any minute; they endured more than enough transfiguration, wear, tear, and charms from her to make their worth. She wore a robe over her clothing, too, to make her seem like a lost pureblood child at first glance.
Clouds loomed over the sky as the inspector entered the house a moment later. Scowling, the eight-year-old Teagan sat on a bench, pouting as the man placed a for-sale sign on the property.
Darren really was not joking.
Potions were needed to shrink biological things properly, and the only youth potions she knew of lasted sixty-nine minutes, which ended awhile back. Was she imagining things? Did Darren contrive yet another potion of his own? If he did, did he managed to hide it in the milk? How embarrassing to be tricked so obviously. The whiteness, thickness, and successfully luring odor of milk could easily hide a concoction.
Thunder boomed nearby.
Oh, great, growled the ex-adult with the cumbrous wand silently. Did she even own an umbrella?
She sighed, resting her chin on her bag. As long as no one recognized her, maybe she would be okay in this state?
The Monolayre's attention strayed as she conjured ideas of safe havens.
[/color][/center]---
A few hours later, Teagan soaked her clothing in a quick potion to make them shrink to the size of the wearer automatically and dried them. Hopefully, "anytime soon" meant a few hours or a couple of days at most.
Teagan Monolayre was three-foot-nine and weighed fifty-three pounds in the body of an eight-year-old. Wasn't this an obvious predicament?
She stuffed her clothing into her magic bag. She adjusted the straps as small as could be. Hell, the bag itself was half the size as she.
Her soft red hair dripped past her shoulder blades. She charmed her eye color to a blue of some kind; since she neglected to wear her color-seeing contacts today, it all looked gray to her. She didn't want to be identified while she was "too young" to handle a wand and too weak to give a decent left-hook. She rushed, trying not to topple over with her bag, cussing along the way like a sailor late for a date. Whoever was supposed to inspect the house was a decent ten minutes late. She erased her chalk markings and packed her all-important stack of parchment and braced her bag over her shoulder before bumbling outside. Her poor shrunken shoes looked as though they could fall apart any minute; they endured more than enough transfiguration, wear, tear, and charms from her to make their worth. She wore a robe over her clothing, too, to make her seem like a lost pureblood child at first glance.
Clouds loomed over the sky as the inspector entered the house a moment later. Scowling, the eight-year-old Teagan sat on a bench, pouting as the man placed a for-sale sign on the property.
Darren really was not joking.
Potions were needed to shrink biological things properly, and the only youth potions she knew of lasted sixty-nine minutes, which ended awhile back. Was she imagining things? Did Darren contrive yet another potion of his own? If he did, did he managed to hide it in the milk? How embarrassing to be tricked so obviously. The whiteness, thickness, and successfully luring odor of milk could easily hide a concoction.
Thunder boomed nearby.
Oh, great, growled the ex-adult with the cumbrous wand silently. Did she even own an umbrella?
She sighed, resting her chin on her bag. As long as no one recognized her, maybe she would be okay in this state?
The Monolayre's attention strayed as she conjured ideas of safe havens.
OOC: Sorry it's so long. Chibi plot begins! >