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Old 02-08-2010, 03:35 AM   #1 (permalink)
Cassirin

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Join Date: Sep 2003
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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Mercer Branxton
Ravenclaw
Seventh Year

Ministry RPG Name:
Genevieve James
Minister's Office

x7 x8
Default Essence of Violets - Sa13+
Made of Awesome | Ern-la the Best-wa | TZ's Apogee



Essence of Violets - Sa13+
The Story of Cassandra Cooper Rae-Branxton


Background: Headmistress Rae was at Hogwarts from 2051-2067, acting as DADA professor and as Headmistress during that time. For more information, you can read more here and here. Or you can just keep reading. Just a bit of information about how this will go... each chapter has two parts, one set in "real RP time" and the other a memory in the past. Enjoy!

Chapter Guide

Chapter 1 - Essence of Violets
Chapter 2 - An Introduction to Bluebells
Chapter 3 - The Mud Lotus
Chapter 4 - Queen Anne's Lace
Chapter 5 - A Constellation of Irises
Chapter 6 - Every Aster in Hand
Chapter 7 - There's Pansies, That's for Thoughts


***


The human spirit seems a fragile thing, as delicate as a violet in the grass. Beautiful, simple in what it requires from the world, complex in what it offers. With just a bit of pressure, the spirit bruises. With a careless gesture, it crushes.

But the spirit, like the violet, is a hardy little thing. Built to withstand the elements, the violet will spread across an entire hillside come spring. When human carelessness crushes the violet, the scent lingers. It is a reminder of what was once beautiful and a promise of what will be beautiful again. It is grace, in that moment, blessing the crusher and promising that even one who destroys can come to good.

And so the human spirit is, withstanding trial and pain, heartbreak and betrayal, to bloom once again. It is the nature of a violet to forgive.

It is the nature of a soul to survive.


Cassandra dropped the quill as a hand cramp overtook her. Writing for long periods of time was one of those acquired skills that she had never taken the time to develop, and Cassandra massaged her right hand with her left as she reread the few sentences she’d scratched out moments earlier.

Maudlin, sentimental drivel.

With a sharp tug, Cassandra ripped the top three inches from the parchment and tossed the scrap to the side. There was a growing pile of parchment fragments, short paragraphs framed by inkblots and notes surrounded by quill-scratched curlicues. She couldn’t quite bring herself to throw them away until she was absolutely sure they were of no value, which of course couldn’t happen until her book was in print.

Her book.

When Williker Wimble of Wimble and Whist Wizarding Publishing had first approached Cassandra with the suggestion that she pen her autobiography, she had laughed at the very idea.

“I’m not a writer,” she insisted. But Wimble told her to think about it, and she’d been chasing the idea around and around ever since. Even Doyle offered his support by buying out Scrivenshaft’s. It seemed a shame to let the collection of multi-colored inks and scented quills go to waste, and the honey-haired witch had been trying to start her autobiography ever since.

If only one of those quills would write something worthwhile. Cassandra had this theory that if she could just figure out how to begin, everything else would fall into place.

“Mum! Mum! MummummumMUMMUM!” The door to the study crashed against the wall as Cassandra’s 4-year-old son barreled into the room. He peered at her from beneath a mop of unruly dark curls before launching himself across the room and into her lap. Ouch. His little elbows met her thigh and stomach as the little boy climbed up her like a tree.

Cassandra pushed the hair off his forehead. It was time for another haircut, something Doyle would have scheduled weeks out and that Cassandra continuously pushed back in favor of romps through the garden and visits to the little cove near their home. Marcus Orion was just as curious about the world as his two older sisters, although his interest in things had a quiet intensity that was more… restful than dealing with the twins.

“What…” Cassandra began, but the little boy shoved his pudgy forearm between them, displaying a nasty circular welt. It looked painful.

Marcus Orion nuzzled into the toddler-shaped space of his mother’s lap, and she kissed the bruise before reaching for her wand. “Fee hurt me.”

“Really?” That was surprising. Of the twins, Genevieve was the instigator and the mastermind, while Sophia acted as the balanced one, figuring out how to carry out her sister’s diabolical schemes and tempering them when Genevieve got too wild.

The bruise was disappearing under the careful wandwork, and Marcus Orion looked on in interest. “She sucked’d my arm.”

Hmm. What were those girls up to? “That doesn’t sound good. And why did she do that?”

“To get the poison out.” His little head nodded, bumping up against her chin. The bruise was entirely gone, but Marcus Orion made no move out of Cassandra’s lap.

It was nice that he still let his parents hold him. Genevieve had never been able to sit still long enough for holding, to the point where Doyle swore her first complete sentence was “I busy!” And with Sophia acting as loyal shadow, the two had outgrown snuggles earlier than their mother was ready.

But Marcus Orion was a cuddler. “Poison? What…?”

The boy turned dark eyes up to his mother’s face. “Vivi bite me.”

And now the story was coming together. Cassandra snuggled back into the leather chair, her gaze intent on her son’s face. “Let’s start over, my love. Begin at the beginning.”

***


It was nearly 10 am on September 1st, and a small blond statue perched on a trunk in the front hall of the Cooper Manor. Her posture was ramrod straight, and she hadn’t moved an inch in almost two hours. It was time to go but young Cassandra Cooper had yet to see anyone.

She could hear them, though, as voices rose through the closed door of the parlor.

“I won’t do it, Mother. You know I’m in line for that promotion, and Clara and I have the day set aside to prepare for the interview next week,” Cassandra’s older brother Brennan complained at their mother’s shrill demand that Brennan take Cassandra to King’s Cross. There was a dull thump, and she imagined he had thrown something out of frustration.

“But Brenny! You know how I get when I have one of my episodes,” Lucille Cooper’s tone was low, although everyone in the house was aware of Mother’s ‘episodes’. This was the term used when something required magic and Father wasn’t around to perform it for her, and it was the convenient excuse Lucille presented whenever she was asked to leave the house and face a world that wasn’t as willing to pretend she was a witch.

Brennan snorted, followed by another dull thump. Cassandra couldn’t fathom why her brother was being so mean. He knew mother couldn’t take her to King’s Cross by herself, but he pointedly refused to go. To Cassandra, who worshipped her older brother with big-eyed adoration, it was completely out of character for him.

The clock struck 10, and Cassandra let herself slide from the top of the trunk into an untidy pile on the floor. For years, Brennan had been regaling her with stories of his time at Hogwarts, and Cassandra had been living for the moment she climbed aboard that scarlet train since her own owl had arrived. And now… she was going to miss the whole thing. Maybe they didn’t let you come if you missed the train. Maybe she’d have to stay home forever.

“Cece. Look at me!” She rolled over from her puddle impression just in time to watch her younger brother Alec tumble down the staircase. He had a trio of toy dragons strapped to his belt, tiny wings struggling valiantly to keep him in the air. And failing just as valiantly.

“Whoa,” Alec shook his head and swatted at the little dragons swarming his head and trying to pull his trousers off. “I thought that would work.”

Cassandra scrabbled across the marble-slick floor on her hands and knees. He didn’t seem to be hurt, and Alec had fallen from much greater heights, but she wanted to check just to be sure. There wasn’t anyone home who could heal him if he had brain trauma or something. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, letting her shake and pinch his extremities without protest. “Being an idiot is fun.”

Leaving Alec, goofy little brother and constant accident victim, was the only hard part about going to Hogwarts. Maybe not going was good, if it meant she could spend one more year making sure he didn’t die by his own hands. And when it was time for Alec to go to Hogwarts, Cassandra would make absolutely certain he got to the station on time, even if she had to call the Knight Bus herself.

Brennan strolled from the parlor, letting the door slam behind him with impatience. To Cassandra, from her spot on the floor, he was handsome and seemed to fill the entire room. Even when he was frowning at her.

“Let’s go, squirt. Clara and I have very important shopping to do.” He snapped his fingers at her once before strolling out the front door to the apparition spot in the front yard.

Cassandra scrambled back across the foyer to her trunk. Her extremely heavy trunk. She struggled out the front door with it just as Mother emerged from the parlor.

“Cassandra,” Mother rubbed her forehead. An episode. “Do behave with a bit of decorum, please. Remember that you are a Cooper above all things.” She shut the door firmly behind her daughter, leaving the girl to carry her trunk down the walkway to where Brennan waited.
__________________
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Last edited by AmbiguouslyMe; 01-06-2011 at 01:36 AM.
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