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sweetpinkpixie · 05-01-2025, 08:54 AM

Iris allowed JT to lead her a few drenched steps away from the cursed fountain, her hand still curled reflexively in his. Still dripping slightly and internally composing scathing marginalia, she barely had time to process the approach of a woman with a wand and the sort of presence that felt like a full stop at the end of a sentence.

At the offer of a drying charm, Iris instinctively stiffened, her free hand twitching toward her wand as though her own defensive reflexes might leap ahead of logic. Her father’s curse had started with a stranger’s kindness, after all, and though this woman had the air of someone used to being obeyed, Iris didn’t yet know her name, let alone her intentions. But before she could speak, JT answered for both of them — cheerful, grateful, unhesitating Iris narrowed her eyes just slightly but said nothing, letting the charm wash over her with practiced stillness. Her clothing and curls fluffed into dry, slightly crinkled submission. Still, the unease coiled quietly in her chest. "Thank you," she said, her tone courteous but careful as she inclined her head to the examiner. She didn’t bother to brush down her skirt or sleeves afterward jus in case she needed her hands free.

At the sound of her name, she turned to find Krittika hurrying over. Relief softened her posture just a little. "Well..." Iris turned with a small deflated shrug and doing everything she could to avoid eye contact that went for reasons well beyond dihydrogen monoxide related embarrassment. "The comic is in complete disarray." Her gaze flicked to JT before returning to Krittika with cheeks positively consumed by rouge. "Um...g-g-good luck with the rest of your test." As the older Ravenclaw departed with a promise to see them at school, Iris released a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Then, to JT, dry and bright-eyed now, she raised an eyebrow as he offered sweets like the whole thing had been a minor detour rather than a comic-tragedy in three acts.

"I think you’ve lost some of the soggy Mr. Darcy appeal," she sighed dryly, folding her arms but not quite masking the smile demanding to get out. "But the effort is noted." She accepted a jelly slug from his extended palm and added, quieter this time, "Thanks for pulling me upright, by the way..." She glanced once more at the fountain, then subtly stepped just a hair closer to him. The logical part of her — the part forged from annotated copies of Persuasion, and Jane Eyre, and every tender, torturous moment of North and South — began shrieking in protest. People don’t just touch each other, it warned. They brush gloved hands once across a teacup and feel it for twenty pages. A finger on a wrist is enough to derail a courtship. Elizabeth and Darcy barely survived a hand flex. And here she was, stepping into his space as if she hadn’t read every scene where such closeness meant everything.

Her hand found his shoulder — steady, warm, soaked only moments ago — and before she could stop herself, her heels began to lift...and it took precisely three seconds in that position for her mind to betray her. Anne Elliot waited eight years and still flinched when Wentworth looked at her. Jane nearly died in a moor before Rochester was allowed a second glance. Even Margaret Hale waited until the very last chapter. This was not the last chapter. This was barely even the start of the second act. Iris's nerves caught up with her feet. and carefully, carefully settled back onto her heels. Her hand slipped away from his shoulder like it had never been there at all.

"I was just going to—" she started, then stopped, realizing no explanation could possibly sound sane. She shoved the jelly slug into her mouth with the urgency of someone trying to erase a moment from time and offered, voice slightly higher than normal, "Those cherubs really did a number on us, didn’t they?"

Her face felt like it might combust. She focused very intently on the cobblestones and not on how his cheek had been right there.

"I should...well... should...um...go find my brother now. He is probably lost somewhere. Or something ate him while he was gawking at something inside Noltie's."

05-01-2025, 08:54 AM	#88 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie Wizarding World RPG Admin Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Leprechaun Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 40,419 Hogwarts RPG Name: Briallen Ashburry-Hawthorne Gryffindor Second Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Second Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Diamond Marchbanks Gryffindor Seventh Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Zachaël Lufkin Owl Post x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Iris allowed JT to lead her a few drenched steps away from the cursed fountain, her hand still curled reflexively in his. Still dripping slightly and internally composing scathing marginalia, she barely had time to process the approach of a woman with a wand and the sort of presence that felt like a full stop at the end of a sentence. At the offer of a drying charm, Iris instinctively stiffened, her free hand twitching toward her wand as though her own defensive reflexes might leap ahead of logic. Her father’s curse had started with a stranger’s kindness, after all, and though this woman had the air of someone used to being obeyed, Iris didn’t yet know her name, let alone her intentions. But before she could speak, JT answered for both of them — cheerful, grateful, unhesitating Iris narrowed her eyes just slightly but said nothing, letting the charm wash over her with practiced stillness. Her clothing and curls fluffed into dry, slightly crinkled submission. Still, the unease coiled quietly in her chest. "Thank you," she said, her tone courteous but careful as she inclined her head to the examiner. She didn’t bother to brush down her skirt or sleeves afterward jus in case she needed her hands free. At the sound of her name, she turned to find Krittika hurrying over. Relief softened her posture just a little. "Well..." Iris turned with a small deflated shrug and doing everything she could to avoid eye contact that went for reasons well beyond dihydrogen monoxide related embarrassment. "The comic is in complete disarray." Her gaze flicked to JT before returning to Krittika with cheeks positively consumed by rouge. "Um...g-g-good luck with the rest of your test." As the older Ravenclaw departed with a promise to see them at school, Iris released a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Then, to JT, dry and bright-eyed now, she raised an eyebrow as he offered sweets like the whole thing had been a minor detour rather than a comic-tragedy in three acts. "I think you’ve lost some of the soggy Mr. Darcy appeal," she sighed dryly, folding her arms but not quite masking the smile demanding to get out. "But the effort is noted." She accepted a jelly slug from his extended palm and added, quieter this time, "Thanks for pulling me upright, by the way..." She glanced once more at the fountain, then subtly stepped just a hair closer to him. The logical part of her — the part forged from annotated copies of Persuasion, and Jane Eyre, and every tender, torturous moment of North and South — began shrieking in protest. People don’t just touch each other, it warned. They brush gloved hands once across a teacup and feel it for twenty pages. A finger on a wrist is enough to derail a courtship. Elizabeth and Darcy barely survived a hand flex. And here she was, stepping into his space as if she hadn’t read every scene where such closeness meant everything. Her hand found his shoulder — steady, warm, soaked only moments ago — and before she could stop herself, her heels began to lift...and it took precisely three seconds in that position for her mind to betray her. Anne Elliot waited eight years and still flinched when Wentworth looked at her. Jane nearly died in a moor before Rochester was allowed a second glance. Even Margaret Hale waited until the very last chapter. This was not the last chapter. This was barely even the start of the second act. Iris's nerves caught up with her feet. and carefully, carefully settled back onto her heels. Her hand slipped away from his shoulder like it had never been there at all. "I was just going to—" she started, then stopped, realizing no explanation could possibly sound sane. She shoved the jelly slug into her mouth with the urgency of someone trying to erase a moment from time and offered, voice slightly higher than normal, "Those cherubs really did a number on us, didn’t they?" Her face felt like it might combust. She focused very intently on the cobblestones and not on how his cheek had been right there. "I should...well... should...um...go find my brother now. He is probably lost somewhere. Or something ate him while he was gawking at something inside Noltie's." __________________ When you're stuck in a moment and your spark has been stolen .................................................. ........... this is our time to own it, so own it..................................... baby we were born with fire and gold in our eyes