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Post by Ashlyn Swallow G5 on Jan 3, 2012 11:57:16 GMT -5
((It was just something that popped into my head after a long, long time of not writing so feel free to respond or not as you feel.))
“He’s going to be Slytherin,” Ashlyn murmured to herself quietly as she watched the young boy neatly overturn one of Layla’s more scathing comments about his intelligence. Her cousin didn’t despise Pip in the same way that she had abhorred Merry but the two certainly didn’t get along. That dislike would fade more when they were back in Hogwarts; they had only been true family for a year but Ashlyn had taught her cousin well, and Layla knew that family disputes stayed private. Rister had not yet expressed an intention to marry Merry yet, that much was true, but Ashlyn was not a fool; she knew how to anticipate the future and everything in her had warned that any shred of distaste for Meredith Garwin had to be eradicated if she and Layla wanted to cling to this fragile facsimile of a family that had been built around them. Besides which, she thought with a faint smile, Layla had taken well to Rosalind, enough so that upsetting the younger girl would distress Layla far more than Pip ever could. “He’s going to be Slytherin,” she predicted once more, loud enough for Damon to turn his gaze to her questioningly, “and he’s going to need to know far more than he does.”
That realisation of Pip Garwin’s impending Sorting into Slytherin had happened three days ago and it was the sole reason for why she was now sitting in the same empty, white-walled room that James had taught her in, so many years ago. Ashlyn’s family always had kept to the old ways, far more than such a relatively newly-established family had any right to. She might not have any right to them but the old magic had accepted her and she had found comfort in that sense of belonging long before she had known Damon existed. Layla and Pip didn’t need the same reassurance but Pip would need knowledge if he was going to thrive in Slytherin and this was simply Layla’s birth-right. The magic would be their own responsibility to investigate if they wished to but the old stories belonged to everyone who wanted to hear them, even if most preferred not to acknowledge them. The days when many witches and wizards had declared for either light or dark magic weren’t as long ago as people liked to pretend.
Rosalind bounced in, more like a puppy than a nine year old girl only a year away from entering Hogwarts herself, followed more sedately by her brother and Layla. “No pretences in this room,” Ashlyn told them quietly, her voice little more than a whisper but carried across the room to them by the latent magic still dwelling in one of the few rooms in Britain that was still dedicated solely to power and knowledge. Perhaps feeling her seriousness, Rosalind quieted, her gestures becoming smoother and less expansive. In this room alone, lies and denials were not to be tolerated, which was why Ashlyn had gritted her teeth and dropped every mental wall that she had painstakingly built to deny Damon access to her mind. Enough now, she could feel his gentle, inquisitive brushes against her consciousness, most likely confused by her unusual openness.
Or perhaps not quite so confused, she acknowledged dryly, as Lita casually strolled in, self-inking quill and rolls of parchment in her hand. A Ravenclaw’s need to learn would not be denied either and so Ashlyn merely sighed her acceptance and gestured for the four to take a seat in any of the chairs that had shimmered into existence. Ashlyn had been five years old when she had first entered this room; then, it had produced mats for her and James to kneel upon, not comfortable chairs to recline in, but James had intended his niece to truly follow the old ways whereas Ashlyn’s only intention was to teach as much as would prove necessary. Nothing was provided that would not be needed, however, and there were still seats left empty after Layla and the other three had settled down so Ashlyn stayed silent, prepared to wait as she knew she must. She shouldn’t really have expected at least one of the Graas’s to not be interested by the idea of an afternoon of free entertainment.
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Post by Ashlyn Swallow G5 on Jan 3, 2012 14:05:14 GMT -5
Lita was already tilting her head to the side, ready to listen, and Ashlyn suppressed a smile. The Ravenclaw was always happier and more eager to involve herself in anything even potentially interesting when Gaenor was home. Together, she and Rister had already somehow managed to wreak enough havoc that Ashlyn had declined to let either of them into the lesson if they attended together. Fortunately, Rister had taken the rebuff with good enough grace, shrugging and replying that Kris had already taught him everything that he would need to know. Pip hadn’t been there for that exchange, otherwise Ashlyn would have laid bets on him arguing that Rister could therefore teach him. The poor kid was almost as bad as Rosalind for idolising Rister, and Ashlyn winced upon thinking of the inevitable pain when, one way or another, the siblings realised that Rister wasn’t, couldn’t be, everything that they imagined him to be.
Eventually, all but one of the chairs were filled, and Ashlyn took her place in the last empty seat to complete the circle that the room had placed them all in. “So,” Lita drawled, tapping her quill against the parchment as she broke the silence, “is there a reason for everything being white? I’m feeling a bit too colourful; was there a dress code that I missed?” Apparently unable to help themselves, both Layla and Rosa dissolved into quiet laughter, the blonde trying desperately to stifle herself as she darted apologetic glances at her cousin. Pip rolled his eyes at them, disregarding the faint curve of his mouth and Merry’s own half-nervous giggle.
Ashlyn mimicked Pip unashamedly, rolling her eyes at Lita in quiet dismissal. “If there was a dress code, I’d not be dressed so informally myself, would I?” she pointed out mildly, gesturing to the casual shorts and blouse she had picked out that morning. There were many reasons for the room being pure, untainted white, but she wasn’t going to touch upon any of them right away. Some of the reasons may never be learnt by anyone else in the room, unless they chose to follow the old magics further than Ashlyn’s teachings. It would be a sad day, if it ever came, when this room was slowly emptied of the magic that had been absorbed into it throughout decades of attention to the old ways.
“There are many aspects of the old ways that can be taught in mixed company,” Ashlyn began delicately, not letting her eyes linger on Pip even though everyone present knew that these lessons were primarily for him. He was a boy, and young besides. It would do no good to point out that, of them all, he, Rosalind and Merry lacked this knowledge most. Lita had developed her own knowledge through determination and her own pureblood lineage, recent though it was. Cleo was a pureblood, as were her children, and so they would have been raised in the old ways, to some extent. Even Layla, though she didn’t know even as much as Lita, had the innate knowledge that came from being raised in a pureblood household. “Others will require more private tutelage,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Gabriel and Jared in particular. Under no circumstances was she going to teach Philip about how to court a girl from a traditional family with those two making ridiculous remarks in the background. Rosalind and Layla would need some form of explanation about the expectations that would be levelled at them too; Layla as the youngest girl of a now well-known and reasonably wealthy family, and Rosa as the eventual sister-in-law of a man who held the promise of being powerful in more ways than one.
“So I leave it to you to decide which suitable aspect we should start with,” Ashlyn bowed her head to Cleo respectfully, following the tradition of starting with the eldest and most respected in the circle and then moving counter-clockwise until everyone submitted a request. The difference between light and dark would be a good choice for the education of someone heading into Slytherin, but there were far more interesting tales to be told, such as the family bonds or the varying degrees of promises, though Pip was probably a bit too young to be playing about with Unbreakable Vows. Jared could act an admirable stand-in for the explanation of how some women bound their magic to their voice like sirens, or someone could be cruel and practical enough to request the history of the first night request that all women could request of the Head of their family. It wasn't a story for young ears but, at the same time, it was something that young girls had been preparing themselves for for a very, very long time.
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Post by Cleo Graas on Jan 22, 2012 15:29:30 GMT -5
No pretenses. Cleo, being older and wiser and with many of her own secrets to keep, had mental walls up around her own conscious as well, which she carefully lowered as she stepped over the threshold into the white room. No pretenses, she reminded herself again as she touched her fingertips to the wall, feeling it simmer at her touch. This room and ancient teachings – she had been brought up with them, her family having been old, if impoverished and corrupted over time. She had been forced to learn the ways to seduce and charm as her parents had hoped to sell her off as a broodmare to the highest bidder. She had always been told how big of a disappointment she was to her parents. Oh, they had been pleased when she had married Kris, Cleo recalled with a bitter smile. So very pleased as they came expecting favours and money only to find out that Kris was stronger than they had given him credit for. There had been other times she had stepped into such a room with Kris, but always out of necessity, out of fear or pain and sorrow. This room had never held any good memories to her.
Dropping her hands, Cleo took a seat in one of the chairs and crossed one leg over the other, absently soothing the ends of her long red belt to tangle most becomingly over the edge of the chair before smoothing the silk fabric of her pure white dress while tangling a matching red strappy shoe, studded with bright garnets, on her feet. Morgana, the girl flinching noticeable and having to pause to catch her breath as she stepped in, filed in with Gabriel, the pair in a calm conversation about style statements while Jared entered slower with a thoughtful look at Cleo. Jared had always been the most sensitive of her kids, Cleo admitted mentally as she noticed the look out of the corner of her eye but made no move to acknowledge it or encourage Jared to approach her. Instead Cleo merely settled bright green eyes on Ashlyn and, shaking her short-cropped red hair out of her eyes, prepared to listen.
The door opened – a bit more abruptly than strictly necessary, giving testimony of Kris’ bad mood to those who knew him very well and could read such minute signs – and Cleo glanced over to the door, ignoring Ashlyn’s invitation to request topics in favour of meeting her husband’s narrowed eyes and scowl. Kris would know of Cleo’s aversion to the ancient magic. Her own knight, even if he was most likely still feeling lousy from last nights full moon which he had been forced to bear in England as business had kept them from returning to the castle in timely manner. A fact that only served to make Kris even more irate, but Cleo returned the glare from her husbands black eyes with a calm smile, lightly resting her hand stalling over Kris’ when his fingers curled around her upper arm, clearing about to haul her out of the room with no arguments allowed. No pretenses were allowed, but there were no rules against talking so quietly no one but a werewolf could hear. Tilting her head back so that her throat was bared before Kris’ eyes Cleo murmured the reasoning behind her being there, the words slipping past her lips barely louder than the exhaled breath. But for Ashlyn to take up the education – in a way it was better than Kris or Rister or Cleo herself doing it as the Garwins weren’t family, but it’d add a nice touch of approval to have at least one of the three most influential members of the family present. Besides Cleo’s presence would help keep everyone in line as well, as her children did adore her and thus obeyed her without any questions and by extension the rest had sort of picked up the same attitude as well.
Kris’ lips curled in a quiet snarl but he glanced up, his eyes falling on everyone in turn as he weighed them and considered the situation. Grunting in displeasure Kane turned to face Ashlyn and inclined his head in a gesture of respect although he ypassed the usuall bow meant to be directed to the leader of the lesson. “To observe and learn, nor teacher nor student, to teach and share, to guide them better,” Kane recited an old saying, an official request to observe the lesson without really being a part of it. It was only after Ashlyn’s acceptance that Kris raised his head and – tossing a leg over the backrest of Cleo’s chair settled in behind her. With a gentle smile, Cleo snuggled back into her husband’s embrace to chase away the chill of bad memories with his body heat, while lacing their fingers together while Kane rested his face against the back of her neck, his face hidden by his own mane of black hair.
“Daddy?” Morgana questions quietly, prompting Kris to crack open one eye and study her wordlessly for a moment. A gesture of a hand and Morgana transferred to sit on the ground next to Kris’s leg. “Submit,” Kris ordered quietly, resting his hand on Morgana’s head and sliding it down. His thumb and small finger pressing on her temples for a moment as he slid his hand downwards to cover Morgana’s eyes Kris let out a flare of magic to partially block the room’s magic from Morgana as per the right of the family head. “Werewolves sense the ancient magic somewhat differently. It feels more alive I suppose you could say,” he murmured as a quiet explanation for Ashlyn as Morgana exhaled in relied and settled down to spent the class next to the table, her head resting against Kris’ knee.
“Apologies for the disturbance. Why not start by this room itself and what just transpired. I suspect that not even all of my children knew the phrasing Kris used just now,” Cleo finally responded to Ashlyn’s question with a thoughtful look to her offspring, of whom only Jared seemed to be thinking of the answer with a pensive look on his face. “Charm and enthrallment,” Gabriel proposed as a topic, him as a model perhaps even more familiar than the topic than Jared with voice enraptment. This was followed by Morgana’s lazy expansion. “Veelas. Vampires. Matters of etiquette and some facts necessary when associating with them. There are some veelas that have married into the family tree and there are things to avoid. Gabriel’s godmother is a veela as well.” “My godmother is a nun,” Gabriel argued mildly. “A nun and a veela,” Morgana countered. A suitable topic to be brought up to avoid any drastic gaffes as had happened between Meredith and Morgana. “Magical jewellery. Magical family heirlooms, good and bad, include,” came the suggestion from Jared with a shrug, “We are here to learn so I suspect we all have different levels of knowledge of the different knowledge. Use your wisdom to guide us, sensei.”
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Post by Ashlyn Swallow G5 on Feb 5, 2012 15:12:08 GMT -5
“In good faith, your presence is accepted as we experience the eternal joining of wisdom and power,” Ashlyn responded easily. Rituals and traditions always did come easier to her tongue than informality. She thrived on the rigid structure that the wizarding world was built on, that she had been raised in. There was always a certainty in how to behave therefore one could never be speechless or improper without exerting effort to be so. It was in her heritage, her blood and her heart. This was the only place she relaxed completely, let down all of the barriers that shielded her from the world. She had started to do so in Damon’s presence because – though only in here, where lies were strictly prohibited and self-knowledge was imperative – she knew that he would be an important part of her life for the foreseeable future, if not forever, but it was hard. She was used to the cold comfort of white walls, not human warmth.
Ashlyn absorbed the information about the effect of ancient magic on Kris and Morgana quietly, a sideways flick of her eyes taking in Lita’s pursed mouth as she tried to figure out how magic could feel alive. “The differences between ancient and modern magic,” the brunette Ravenclaw supplied immediately, almost not waiting for her turn to speak. “Courtship,” Layla suggested, unblushing despite Ashlyn’s raised eyebrows. Granted, it was a subject that some purebloods were accustomed to from birth but very few people invoked the more ritualised form of courtship instead of merely dating. Pip merely shrugged fluidly, an expressive gesture that she was almost entirely certain had not been natural for him before associating so closely with Rister and his brothers. Interesting. She hadn’t realised that his mother’s blood ran quite so strongly in him. “Royalty.” Rosalind beamed cheerfully, somehow radiating energy without even moving. “The difference between light and dark,” was Merry’s suggestion. Ashlyn smiled faintly, turning to gaze at the wall behind Gabriel and Jared until everyone followed her example. Written in blazing purple letters was the list of topics that they had compiled between them.
“As you can see,” she started, her voice low and almost hypnotic in its intensity, “this is no ordinary room. It is a room steeped in culture and tradition, a room that allows only the truth, and that has power gathered from everyone who has exited with more knowledge than they came with. You leave with the same level of magic and the same physical strength yet this room is strengthened by your presence.” A small mental nudge against the thrumming consciousness of the room that only the owner could feel caused another wall to exhibit shining, lifelike visions of unicorns, manticores, mermaids and other magical creatures. Rosalind leaned forward, entranced, and Ashlyn immediately drained the images from the wall, leaving it blank once more. “It can, however, cause unexpected reactions if one isn’t prepared properly,” she commented dryly. Rosalind hadn’t been the only one affected, merely the most obvious. “It is a place of learning and also of self-discovery, which is why someone who has not pledged to be honest with themselves cannot enter. This also makes it a rather useful hiding place if threatened; compulsion spells such as the Imperius cannot be used here.” Ashlyn paused, unsure of how closely she wished to mimic her uncle’s teaching style, before nodding at Jared. “Can you tell me why?” Few people could learn solely from having information spoken at them, especially in such a large group, and Ashlyn had no intention of wasting her time. Any information she imparted would be retained, and making people use their own brains would only help that process.
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Post by Jared Graas R4 on Feb 10, 2012 15:56:10 GMT -5
Jared glanced at Layla as she made her suggestion, a faint frown shadowing his forehead. He wouldn’t have thought to have the young girl – who really had no business being interested in courtship with her age – to suggest the topic. But it would be in her own benefit to know some of the facts. Forewarned was forearmed and all that. It might save her some trouble once upon a time Jared convinced herself before refocusing his attention as Ashlyn began her lecture, even though he would know most of what she would tell. Jared was a pureblood and had been brought up as one after all. Granted, father hadn’t particularly relished the session in the white room in the castle, but Jared had been taught what he would need for his life.
His eyes turning to the images conjured on the wall Jared shifted uncomfortably, out of the corner of his eye noticing that Gabriel had tilted his head back and was breathing through flared nostrils while his lips had been tightly pressed together. It was impossible to see how dad had reacted – if he had – with barely half of his face visible from behind mom, however dad’s eyes were closed. Mom had turned her head sideways so Jared couldn’t see if and how she had reacted, whereas Morgana seemed to be serenely content with her eyes closed and dad’s hand still resting on top of her head. Still, Jared had never cared for manticores anyway. Disgusting creatures in his opinion. He had never thought much of scorpions or any other bug alike them either. So he did feel relieved when Ashlyn let the images fade again. Jared
As Ashlyn directed her question to him, Jared couldn’t help an utterly appalled look in response. It was a fact that often appeared to be forgotten, but on top of being a well-educated pureblood he was a Ravenclaw. And he was a Ravenclaw for reason. After a moment he inclined his head though and opened his mouth to respond: “As you just reminded us, this is a room of no pretenses. Imperius, other compulsion spells, remove your free will, making it impossible to face yourself with enough honesty to meet the room’s requirements.”
Jared paused for a moment to allow Ashlyn to either correct him or add something, before continuing. “However compulsion has many aspects as well. Submission to the family head apparently works, however I presume the choice to submit must be made by you yourself,” Jared explained with a gesture to where Morgana was lounging on the floor, her eyes closed and her cheek resting on Kris’ knee while dad’s fingers idly stroked her head. “I suppose that ties in to the matter of loyalty to your liege-lord. Royalty,” Jared added with a small smile and a tilt of his head towards Rosalind who had proposed the topic. “By the same logic I presume that unbreakable vows, the compulsion aspect of which is debatable, still work in the room as well, as you enter them voluntarily. After all you always have the option to choose not to make the vow. The other option might lead to ruin or even death, but the choice is there.”
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Post by Layla Ellison on Feb 13, 2012 6:18:30 GMT -5
Feeling eyes upon her, Layla shifted anxiously before lifting her head to return Jared’s frown with a carefully bland smile. The boys weren’t her brothers so they couldn’t protest her suggestion as they would have done if Morgana had requested it, and, really, she would never shame her cousin or herself by not knowing the rituals most closely associated with their family. Ellisons dated now, but even just two generations ago, they had won a spouse’s favour through traditional and exquisitely planned courtship. She was a child still and the ancient magic didn’t call to her in the way it did Ashlyn but that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to know. She was, after all, a Ravenclaw.
The unicorns were pretty but Layla’s taste ran more towards the practical and normal so she spared only a quick glance for the admittedly impressive lightshow. Pip had moved to firmly restrain his younger sister with a hand on her shoulder but his gaze had been caught by the centaurs charging into battle. Neither Lita nor Merry seemed affected at all, the former coolly assessing the wall as a thousand questions formed in her mind to be dismissed as useless or tucked away for further discussion at a later time while Merry watched with somewhat widened eyes but no other visible reaction.
Ashlyn nodded silently, a glimmer of satisfied appreciation gleaming in her blue eyes. Intelligence was one trait she wholeheartedly demanded from people she associated with, and she had come to always expect it from Damon’s family. “The only compulsions or bindings allowed in this room are ones that a person has chosen, accepted and cannot remove,” she clarified, smothering a laugh as Rosalind seemed to excitedly bounce in her seat when Jared referenced her chosen topic. “So submission to the family head is permitted because it is a blood trait – therefore outsiders such as myself, Layla, Lita and the Garwins cannot be soothed by Kris as Morgana is – but also because Morgana willingly chose it.” Frowning slightly, Lita tilted her chair back at that, balancing it on the back two legs as she caught Ashlyn’s eyes and tapped two fingers against her temple questioningly. Ashlyn scowled, turning away without responding. Her bond with Damon wasn’t up for discussion and dissection in front of a crowd. Her private business was no concern of anyone else’s, even if everyone else seemed to think that it was.
“Now that we’ve covered the basics of the room itself, we can move on to charm and enthrallment,” Ashlyn stated briskly, inhaling sharply when she felt the magic struggle against her quick change of subject. Just as this magic felt more alive for Kris and Morgana, it was more temperamental to the owner of the room it resided in. Almost like a child really, sulking and throwing a tantrum to be glossed over so quickly, and, just like a child, it took only a little bit of firmness to make it quieten down again. “This actually ties in quite nicely with Morgan’s topic of etiquette so they’ll be discussed together. Many species of magical creatures have their own type of enthrallment, or ‘thrall’ for short. Veelas, vampires, mermaids and mermen, sirens, even phoenixes. Enthrallment is not necessarily a tool of weaker creatures that cannot physically overpower their chosen prey. Vampires, for example, are incredibly fast and strong yet they still can choose to put a human in thrall, which makes for easier feeding as they struggle less and also allows them to make the attack seem like a dream. So, what do you know about the charm of a veela and the correct etiquette for approaching one, Gabriel?”
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