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Post by Cecil Marzel on Aug 24, 2006 15:21:13 GMT -5
"Oh, no, please. Be my guest. I'll crisp Cosima's after your first, and then let you have your ceremonial final word for your mother's." Cecil chuckled some, looking over the letter in his hand once again. He'd already memorized it, so burning wouldn't make a world of difference. But it was ritualistic, and would probably make him feel better.
He wondered if the Room didn't do this to everyone... Sort of neutralized differences like this? Or maybe it had been in his request-- he'd wanted a place that was quiet, so he could work out his problems.
Either way, it was weird. He was almost anxious to get things over with, so they could go back to being rivals. It would ease his nerves some, as relieving to his mind as the whole thing had been.
"You know, I may just do this with all of this woman's letters... It would save me alot of problematic circumstances..."
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Post by Seth Silver on Aug 24, 2006 15:34:41 GMT -5
Chuckling, Seth pointed his wand at Augustus's letter and muttered a curse his mother had taught him ages ago. The parchment caught alight quickly, ends curling from the heat. It was satisfying, he thought, watching the thick, blocky writing burst into flame. What would Augustus have said to this, then? No doubt he would have been furious, the great twat.
'Oh, I've done it a fair few times to the mater's and Augustus's. They've caught me at it enough, anyway.' He laughed again, prodding the parchment with his finger. 'I've the scars to prove it, even.'
In a matter of seconds, Augustus's threatening letter had been reduced to a pile of ash. It was better than thinking, Seth had to admit. The smokey air in front of him --- a combination of burnt parchment and some kind of dye in the ink --- made him cough, but it felt good. Augustus could rot in hell for all Seth cared. Right now, the only important thing was to burn the letters and make sure he didn't get too friendly with Marzel so as to ruin their wonderful hatred for one another. That would be a pity.
''Course, the mater's probably got charms all over this rubbish' --- he flicked her letter carelessly --- 'to make sure I'm not doing what I'm about to do.'
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Post by Cecil Marzel on Aug 24, 2006 16:10:33 GMT -5
Cecil placed his own letter over the pile of ashes that was Seth's first, twirling his wand in his fingers. Then, flicking it in the direction of the parchment, he put it alight, though choosing the alternate route, watching it, instead, burn from the center. "I can see why." it quickly became a great, hollow shell, scorching the letters of the page and incinerating the paper itself. "This is very satisfying."
He'd only burned letters in the past to made sure there was no evidence that they'd been sent. Dumped them in the rubbish bin in the back yard and set fire to them. He hadn't done it out of veangence for anything, so it had been an empty game. This was quite a bit more fun.
"Oh, really? Seems to like charms, your mum." he was back to twirling his wand again, smiling as the last of the paper became smoldering ash. "I hope the letter explodes or something... Make things interesting." Cecil grinned to Seth.
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Post by Seth Silver on Aug 24, 2006 19:04:39 GMT -5
'Yeah.'
Holding his wand reverently before him, Seth mock - bowed at the parchment. He could see the mater's face in his mind, her horror at the disrespect he showed her. Everything Seth did was disrespectful in his mother's eyes, and this was nothing short of rude in the very worst of ways. He smirked, pointing his wand at the seemingly innocent target. Would something explode? Perhaps her curse would be dispersed throughout the room? There was only one way to find out. Clearing his throat, he whispered his spell once again. A spurt of flame shot from the tip of Seth's wand and into the parchment. He waited with bated breath for the fire, the explosion --- nothing happened. The damn git had made it fire - proof.
'I'll have to blow it up,' Seth sighed, biting his lip. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to see his mother's letter crumpling under a vicious flame. It would take away the pain in his hands, which had been steadily returning now that the distraction of chess was gone. He tried again, but to no avail. The letter would not be blown up, set on fire, melted, or even shredded. Who the hell went this far to protect a bleeding letter?
Realising he probably looked like an idiot, Seth strode forward, grasping the parchment in his fist. What he was not expecting was the jolting shock it send through his hands. He yelped, dropping the parchment back onto the table. And just in time, too. for, at that moment, the edges began to curl, the corners charred black. Flames spread across the parchment, dripping scarlet ink. Green smoke the colour of sick began to rise in thick curls. Coughing, Seth fell back to watch the spectacle. And then, just as it was beginning to smell like rotten eggs --- it was gone. In a plume of thick, violet smoke, the letter disappeared. The throbbing in his knuckles intensified.
'SETH!' It was a muffled shriek. From where it came, he couldn't guess. And then he saw it.
A howler.
It had somehow opened itself, sitting in the very place the mater's letter had disappeared from only moments before.
'HOW DARE YOU!' his mother's voice shrieked. At thirty - five, she was young and usually spoke softly. Tonight, he voice held the shrill, tinny madness it usually did when she was in one of her snits. He raised his eyebrows, gobsmacked. 'HOW DARE YOU BLATANTLY DISRESPECT ME, AND AFTER I'VE BEEN SO GOOD TO YOU! HOW DARE YOU! YOU WAIT UNTIL AUGUSTUS HEARS ABOUT THIS! BASTARD PIG! WORTHLESS SOD! HE'LL APPARATE STRAIGHT UP TO THAT SCHOOL AND TEACH YOU! DAEMON SPAWN! HALF - BLOOD! HOW DARE YOU . . . '
The howler disintegrated into a pile of ash, carrying his mother's fading words with it. Momentarily, Seth was at a loss of what to do. He must look a right eejit, he thought, being shouted at by the mater in front of Marzel of all people. and what would happen tomorrow, when they hated one another again?
'She's a bit of a nark,' began Seth, grinning fondly at the pile of ashes that was the mater's howler. 'But, once she stops chucking the dishes at you, she really can be rather enjoyable.'
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Post by Cecil Marzel on Aug 26, 2006 16:14:50 GMT -5
Alright. So the room had COMPLETELY betrayed him. He'd wanted a quiet place that would make it easy to think, somewhere to sort out his problems a little better, to straighten out his head.
Instead, thr room had provided a noisy boy who was usually the bane of Cecil's existance at Hogwarts, who had come in and tried to banish him. Over some strange turn of events, they'd become somewhat civil to one another for a while, punctuated now and again by violent gestured toward chess pieces and random outbursts over spoilt jokes and such. Cecil had practically traded blackmail-worthy information with his rival-- if Seth chose to look into just what his 'lessons' had been, there would be trouble. Cecil, on the other hand, could just put very little effort into broadcasting what he'd heard, and the boy would suffer some vague humiliation, which would just fuel their tiffs and such.
They'd burned a few letters, and now this. The smoke, the stink, and the downright shrieking were pretty far from what Cecil had expected when he'd taken refuge here.
But there was a grin on his face.
Cecil was laughing, choking a little on the foul-smelling smog that the letter had promptly issued, and grasping the table the chessboard rested on for support. He was laughing so hard his stomach actually hurt.
It was not, though, out of spite. He hadn't been lying when he'd admitted he hoped something interesting would happen with the letter, but this?
"Oh, dear god..." The youth grinned, shaking his head as his peals of laughter faded away. "What a show. And I thought Cosima was a pain!" He laughed again, briefly this time, before tipping his head back, eyes closed, with a sigh and a smirk.
Then it sort of hit him.
"You know... Grand as this may have been, it's probably not going change anything otherwise." His voice was shifting back to seriousness again, and he turned his gaze back to the other boy. What they needed to do was sort of compromise... An 'I won't tell if you don't' thing. Otherwise, it might get a bit nasty, on the outside world.
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Post by Seth Silver on Aug 26, 2006 16:50:14 GMT -5
'And a good thing, too,' Seth smirked. 'Can't imagine what I'd do if I didn't loathe you anymore. And then we might become friends!' Moaning pitiously, he dropped onto the floor, face hidden by thin, pale hands. Big hands and big feet. The mater said he'd gotten them from his horrible father. Augustus wrote it off as growing up, but Seth knew he was defect. He'd always had large hands and feet, ever since he was a boy. They made him clumsy at times, which was rather embarassing. Seth moaned again, this time because he was suffering this horrible . . . affliction! 'I mean, we haven't killed one another tonight, but I can't see myself being all matey with you again, Marzel, what with you being such a batty boy and all.'
Removing his face from the safe shelter of his dustbin lid hands (surely they must have been that size, if not bigger!), Seth began to tug at the spare thread hanging from his sleeve. He had been looking for quiet tonight, perhaps a bit of time in which he could compose himself, steeling his nerves for the days to come before the pain in his hands disappeared. On any other night, under any other circumstance, in any other place, Seth would have rushed off immediately to find out more about Cecil Marzel. Perhaps something he could use as blackmail, or something horribly humiliating that would have sent the other boy home in tears. He would have looked for ways to make Cecil's life miserable, to fuel the already monstrous rivalry between them. He would have laughed at Cecil, but never with him.
Tonight was different. Things Seth would rather have kept to himself, the mater's howler for one, had been witnessed by Cecil. And, for some deranged reason, Seth was not worried a bit. Even if Cecil did tell, he reasoned, it wasn't as if it woulf be news to anyone. Most of the other Slytherins, having met Augustus and the mater at some point, already knew the dynamics in the Rookwood home. The rest would have heard from their parents, for it was no surprise that gossip was the favourite past time among women of Pureblood society. Still, Cecil wouldn't tell --- couldn't tell --- because Seth himself held a power, and only an idiot would trust Seth Silver to do the honourable thing and forget everything he'd heard. They were stuck trusting one another, him and Cecil, and it didn't bother him nearly as much as it ought to have.
'Marzel,' began the boy, sounding cautious for what must have been the first time in his life.
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Post by Cecil Marzel on Aug 26, 2006 19:45:52 GMT -5
"Aye," Cecil agreed, perhaps mocking Seth's own habits in speech, but doing so lightly and casually. He wasn't about to start up a war at the moment, no sir. Far too tired to go on with anything like that. They'd pick it up in the morning, doubtlessly. "You're a pain in the ass, Silver. I can't traipse about with you as a mate, you know. The sheer hypocrisy would defy physics alone, probably set off a few earthquakes south of the castle. Can't have that." Perhaps if it could have started all over, with either Seth or Cecil in another house, minus any of the other little bothers that had errupted to make them loathe one another so... Perhaps they could tolerate eachother. As it was, it probably would trigger a disaster of some sort if they started it up from this point. Besides-- It really was more fun to hate Seth. Days wouldn't be half as interesting without shouting at him in the corridors for terrorizing first-years. Or smirking quietly as he watched the clear hatred and jealousy on the boy's face whenever Cecil was around Oione. Rather pathetic, that bit, but infinately amusing.
"So here's what I propose..." with a bit of a smirk, the signiature expression that the Gryffindor boy held onto, Cecil leaned back, bracing himself on the table. "We shall go back to the usual ruckus. Tonight probably didn't even happen, after all. I mean, who would have imagined Seth Silver could be even vaguely civilized? I'm likely hallucinating as it is." He raised an eyebrow, watching the other boy carefully. There were indeed hopes in him that he could guess at Seth's persona well enough to keep him fairly honest. They were both at some degree of risk if the other told what they'd heard. Best to keep a pact.
"It was a brutal game of chess, and nothing more, hey?"
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Post by Seth Silver on Aug 26, 2006 21:24:32 GMT -5
'And you're a fecking sod,' said Seth conversationally, quite pleased at having been called a pain in the ass. They weren't being civil now. This was better, more comfortable. After this, Seth could traipse back to the Slytherin common room and pretend tonight had never happened. Maybe he would find Finnegan for a drink, or something, or Oione. Marzel had better not even look at Oione tomorrow. Seth's fist clenched into a tight ball. Better keep his fecking hands to himself, and those stupid, witty, charming things that always seemed to get Oione talking and laughing and looking like she was enjoying herself so much.
'Brutal game of chess that I won,' corrected Seth, very well aware that had they finished the game at all, he would have been beaten viciously. Perhaps a stradegy actually was important when playing chess? Nah. Tonight was just an off night, that was all. And the players weren't being very cooperative. Anyway, he had been distracted from playing his best, thanks to Marzel and his constant stream of chatter. Seth was a competitive person by nature, but never would he admit --- not under pain of death --- that he lost anything.
Cecil's comments processed through his brain, a bit delayed, perhaps, but he had been too concerned about winning chess to have listened properly before. Seth Silver civilised? Who said he wasn't civilised? Wrinkling his brow, Seth said slowly, 'Civilised --- that's being polite and all that rot, right?'
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Post by Cecil Marzel on Sept 17, 2006 14:35:18 GMT -5
"Yes, yes, and all that rot." Cecil waved a hand dismissively-- it was clear he didn't think the other boy was capable of such 'rot'. He did feel more comfortable now, since there was none of the typical teen film nonsense of having enemies become friends. Everyone needed allies, but they also needed oppononents. And Seth Silver was indeed one of the latter.
Moving over toward where they'd burnt their letters, Cecil ran a hand through the soft ahses, letting it sift through his fingers. This was the sign of their temporary alliance. Those ashes, all mingled together, the remnants of the somewhat friendly action.
With a decided expression, Cecil swept them off the table , until the stone surface was clean, if slightly charred. He then brushed off his hands. The room would clean itself up. In the meantime, the Gryffindor boy was walking toward the door, stooping the pick up his bag on the way out.
"You'd best get to your commonroom before I demote you for loitering in the corridors." Cecil threatened, opening the door. He paused for a moment, looking back, then chuckled to himself. "Have a good rest of your evening, Silver. I'm fucking serious about demoting you."
With that, he was gone.
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Post by wowposter on Sept 17, 2008 5:17:38 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Sept 17, 2008 5:17:41 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Sept 17, 2008 23:47:51 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Sept 17, 2008 23:48:01 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Oct 30, 2008 5:56:49 GMT -5
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Post by wowposter on Oct 30, 2008 5:57:17 GMT -5
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