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F.A.Q. ♦ RULES ♦ PLOT ♦ FACE CLAIM ♦ CANON SPECIFICS ♦ BIO FORMAT ♦ CANONS ♦ DEATH TO MARY SUE! ♦ BELIEFS ♦ EVENTS |
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JOLY Technicolor-Werewolf SISTER SITES  
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| 1890s HP fanfic time!; woah boy... | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 7 2009, 10:15 PM (26 Views) | |
| Wild Rover | Jul 7 2009, 10:15 PM Post #1 |
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Ok, so I'm not used to writing full stories AT ALL, so it probably has issues. Enjoy. Chapter 1 Beatrice Rayburn September 1, 1897 Synthesis of Elixir to Induce Euphoria, and Effects of Reactivity “Stop leaning over my shoulder like that; it's distracting!” Beatrice snapped, making her travel companion shrink away and pretend to look out the train window for a moment before bringing her attention back to Beatrice. “Honestly, it's a wonder you were placed in Ravenclaw. The term starts in a few hours, and all you have of your summer assignment is a title.” Beatrice did not look up from her parchment. Even as she spoke, her quill sprinted across line after line in a small, mess, penmanship that she was often criticized for. “Agnes, dear,” Agnes grimaced at being called “dear” by a friend who was scant two months older than herself. “I assure you that there is nothing to worry over. I know exactly what I want to write, but I have yet to actually write it. This is the simple part.” Beatrice fell silent as she scrawled a few more lines of words that were only partly legible. “Besides, I only think you're upset because you were planning on copying off of my work all along.” “Not at all. I've had mine done for a week already.” Agnes's voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I suppose I do owe you from last year. If you need any help, you can certainly, ah, have a look at mine.” “Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I wasn't lying; I do have everything planned already.” Beatrice set down her quill to brush a stray curl out of her face and smiled. “There. Nearly one paragraph already.” Beatrice continued scrawling away, occasionally stopping occasionally to stretch her fingers or read over her progress so far. With a preoccupied companion, Agnes's trip was far less eventful and far more interesting than usual. She alternated between gazing out the window, idly letting her mind wander, and repeatedly proofreading her own summer paper—which was probably the most idle of all, since, more or less, she only stared blankly at the parchment without paying any attention to the words she had written. The sky was beginning to glow with warm hints of gold and pink before Agnes gathered up the courage to break the deadening silence. “How are you coming along?” “I think I might finish in time.” “Do you think you could have a quick break?” “Not yet.” Beatrice quickly scanned over what she just wrote. “Not for a while. You're welcome to sit with someone else if you like. I certainly wouldn't mind---” “Oh my goodness!” Agnes nearly shrieked, holding a hand over her mouth in shock and surprise. “Did you see that?” “No.” “Lysandra Yaxley! Just passed by. I thought she would be expelled after last year, but I suppose that would be too good to be true.” “Not so loud,” Beatrice whispered. “I would hate to invoke the wrath of a shrew like that.” Agnes also lowered her voice to a whisper. “Well, it goes to show what a sad world this is when money and a pedigree can negate stupidity and loose morals.” “Agnes! She can probably still hear you.” Beatrice went back to her writing, silently hoping that Lysandra would not come back to start a conflict. It had only been wishful thinking, and when Beatrice looked up from her parchment only moments later to be greeted by that familiar face: sharp features, deep blue eyes, and thick black hair topped by some outrageous hat that was supposedly the latest design from Paris. The familiar face did not look pleased, but both Beatrice and Agnes could not recall a time Lysandra had a pleasant look on her face. She would likely have the same look of disapproval on her face if she was filled with glee. “Agnes Leigh, did your mother ever teach you any manners? Because I would be absolutely thrilled to teach you a lesson myself.” Her voice was full of venom. Beatrice was still writing frantically. “No thank you, my mother taught me quite enough.” Agnes had a smug look on her face. “She also taught me that just because you dress up a pig, it doesn't make her a lady.” “What a pity! Who was speaking of? You?” Lysandra and Agnes seemed to switch expressions. Agnes began to look furious, and Lysandra became smug. “Please, Agnes, not now. We're almost there. I'm almost done.” Beatrice hoped that by some miracle the train would already begin to slow to a stop. “What's your problem, eh? Won't you stand up for your little friend?” “Normally, yes,” Beatrice answered calmly. “But right now I have a higher priority.” She simply wanted to go back to writing and act like the whole conflict never happened, but she feared that Lysandra would take it as impolite, so she kept her hand off of her quill for now. “I think this would best be settled later, don't you?” After you've harassed some first-years for a bit. Lysandra pursed her lips. “Very well.” She turned away sharply, making the feathers and frills o her hat bounce violently. |
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