Wizarding Realm -> no stressin'
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 no stressin', Beth <3
Camilla Evergreen
 Posted: Apr 25 2017, 01:35 PM
Quote

"&. a heart from hell 🔥"

AGE:
23
YEAR:
HOUSE:
Hufflepuff Alumna
CLASH:
Viridian Guild
HEIGHT:
5'7"
STATUS:
Halfblood
POSTS:
232
Rep: 12 pts [ + | - ]

Camilla Evergreen
© Cat // She/Her
Awards: 2



Camilla could feel herself shaking, her bones rattling annoyingly despite how hard she tensed her muscles to keep still. A quick pass through a bathroom mirror showed the witch that, at the very least, she didn't look like she was battling an earthquake inside. If anything, there was merely a subtle extra jitter to her movements, though the color in her face was far more revealing. A hot red, the woman nearly snickered at the comparison to her ginger hair, though amusement in anything was difficult to find as she half stomped her way to the teacher's lounge, throwing death glares at students as she passed by.

Even as she entered what was normally a serene getaway from the hectic halls of Hogwarts, Camilla found herself only growing angrier by the second. Her tipping point had been her class just before, where the students had rushed off, carelessly dumping the school's brooms in vaguely the correct spot for them. She really didn't understand what was so hard about putting things back where they went. There were hooks to hold the brooms up---how difficult was it to set them along the hooks? It didn't take much at all, unless every student she had had somehow lost the ability to lift their bloody arms.

There was a reasonable amount of frustration to have over such carelessness. Camilla knew this, of course, having been at the school for a decent enough time and having had to deal with a variety of stupid things the students did, both in the classroom when she taught Muggle Studies and out on the pitch as she taught Flying. But, the woman's temper was only so stable, and when it came to displays of laziness, the redhead could only grow as hot and fiery as her own ginger locks. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it felt like the longer she stayed holed up in the role of professor, the harder it was to let her anger out. There was a marked difference from when she'd been a student, and although initially she thought it was a sign of her maturity, the woman now had to wonder if it wasn't just because she had been doing her absolute best to remain professional since she first started the job.

In any case, Camilla almost found the impending explosion welcoming. As if she were seeing an old friend return her, it's sight snapping! and banging! into place as she stole a pencil from a nearby desk and broke it in half, then kicked the side of the desk, her foot clanging against the metal. She swore under her breath, suppressing a scream in her throat as she looked frantically for something else to appease her rage. Mind completely blind to any sense of reason, the witch flew to a lone chair, lifting it with ease and throwing it across the room. It crashed! against the ground, knocking over a stack of papers and a quill stand and bottle of ink that had been left on one of the desks.

---
@Elizabeth Wells

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Elizabeth Wells
 Posted: Apr 30 2017, 09:00 PM
Quote

"Utterly Charming. Get it? CHARM-ing! ...what's wrong?"

AGE:
27
YEAR:
Professor
HOUSE:
Ravenclaw Alumna
CLASH:
HEIGHT:
5'9"
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
188
Rep: 7 pts [ + | - ]

Elizabeth Wells
© Bolt v2: Return of the Boltening // She/Her
Awards: 26



The Charms professor's passage through the hallways was in quite a state of contrast to that of her younger counterpart. The day's class had been pleasantly productive, a round-table discussion on responsible use of certain jinxes, with just a few small and harmless pranks that were rather easily dispelled before the students picked up their bags to go. With the classroom cleared up and closed off for the day there was nothing turbulent raging within Elizabeth's chest, and the copper waves that spilled down across the young woman's shoulders were no warning sign of temper; all was smiles and cheerful serenity at another successful day.

Outside though, the first little tremors were beginning to show. No earthquake had yet begun, and Beth was rather hopeful that the first little stirrings of shakes in her arms would simply subside before they grew, but they were enough to give the woman pause as she made her way up the grand staircase from the castle's first floor. Stiffness had been settling in the professor's joints as she conducted class, bringing a slight irregularity to the click of her heels across the stone. A lock in her knees was covered by exchanging pleasantries with some ladies holding a picnic in oils on canvas halfway up the stairs to the third, and in that conversation it was determined to definitely be time for a quiet sit and a warm cup of tea. With her office still waiting some floors up, Elizabeth bent her steps towards the faculty lounge instead.

The sound of something banging hard against a desk inside the lounge was only barely audible through the thick oaken door. Certainly it was nothing to prepare Professor Wells for a scene, which is precisely what she encountered upon twisting the dark metal handle and trotting into the teachers' sanctuary. Barely had Beth slipped inside when the almighty crash and clatter of the splintering wooden chair reached her ears and brought her widening sea blue gaze to the tirade she'd just interrupted. Papers and quill pens had just been scattered, a splatter of ink spreading over the stonework. The chair which had sent them all flying was almost dashed to pieces, left in a very sorry state, and from the looks of things had gone quite a distance as Elizabeth traced its flight path back to the panting and angry young woman across the room.

Camilla was a few years her junior, just enough that having remained at Hogwarts as an aide after graduation made the Charms professor sometimes place her fellow teacher into a mental category of both a peer to befriend and a youth to fuss over like a mother. Beth supposed it must have been a distinction often felt even more keenly by Professor Dubois. At that moment, with the colour having leeched from Elizabeth's cheeks in a stark balance with the heat that had risen in Camilla's, the two redheads seemed to both freeze as the elder did her best to summon up something to say that wasn't simply an exclamation of her shock.

"Oh dear," Beth finally managed, her brows still refusing to retreat back down her pale face. "Shall I put the kettle on?"


----------

@Camilla Evergreen

--------------------
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Colonel Fitzwhiskers II
Feed him or be fed to him

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Camilla Evergreen
 Posted: May 12 2017, 02:27 PM
Quote

"&. a heart from hell 🔥"

AGE:
23
YEAR:
HOUSE:
Hufflepuff Alumna
CLASH:
Viridian Guild
HEIGHT:
5'7"
STATUS:
Halfblood
POSTS:
232
Rep: 12 pts [ + | - ]

Camilla Evergreen
© Cat // She/Her
Awards: 2



There was a pause as the crack! of splitting wood resounded in the lounge, her breath held in her chest as her eyes closed tightly shut. She allowed the echo of sound to tickle her ears in the blackness, the charm of the sound sending a satisfying tingle down her spine. That release of tension was what she'd long been deprived of ever since she had started to bury every instance of bubbling annoyance. Perhaps she'd simply reached a climax, then, finally unable to withhold the anger that so frequently coursed through her veins, as if her heart handcrafted the emotion for her; like it was as crucial and vital to her survival as much as the blood carried through her body.

It wasn't something the redhead was particularly proud of. Really, the woman tried every trick in the book to keep her testiness at bay, and, for her part, Camilla liked to think she had achieved some grand level of success. But maybe she needed more than a few mental breaks in the day to breathe, more than some silly looking rubber ball to squeeze and smirk at even as the high pitched squeal it released brought a certain embarrassing giddiness to the woman that she couldn't help but always shake her own head at. Maybe she needed to talk to someone, to find the source of her anger if it wasn't what she believed it to be.

Or maybe Camilla just needed to tear into something unimportant and easily fixed now and then, like the inner savage dwelling in her heart desired with such passion that it was almost uplifting whenever she did succumb to it. She could do that healthily enough, she thought. With just a break now and then to isolate herself, to really let go and use her hands to speak for her, to have them screaming all her frustrations with every crack and crash of something wonderfully solid but breakable. Whatever she did, it'd only take a Reparo to amend the damage.

But that was something to explore another time, the thought fleeting quickly as she recognized another presence in the lounge. The blush of her face remained brightly burning, though the anger in it ebbed away, only loosely able to cling under the weight of embarrassment as she met the gaze of her colleague. She froze for a moment, mind unable to tell how long she remained statuesque before she blinked profusely, a quick, gruff clearing of her throat as she finally cast her gaze down, shaken eyes covered slightly from the deep furrow of her brow. "Ah, yes, please," she answered hesitantly, wincing at her own voice as it cracked nervously.

The witch felt herself begin to tremble as she envisioned Beth's gaze piercing through the layers she normally did her best to tighten around her. As a former student, Camilla was sure her reputation for getting angry preceded her. What's more, she was sure she'd let herself fall into similar outbursts before, rare as it was for her as she still maintained trying to keep that air of professionalism about her over her years as a teacher. But still. There was something always dreadfully awakening the rare times she was caught in such a state; like her soul was unexpectedly center stage, naked for all to see. And that was... horrifically invasive, and awfully crushing, as it only proved to remind Camilla that she might not have had what it took to be a professor.

She closed her eyes again as self doubt started to sprout its roots once more in her head, her conscious doing its best to ignore the thoughts threatening to surface as she held a deep inhale for almost a minute before releasing. Shaking her head, Camilla repositioned herself to face Beth, her eyes and cheeks a pulsing red. "I'm sorry... I just, eh," she stumbled, clearing her throat as she forced her volume to a more audible level. "I had a, um, a bit of a bad day." Granted, 'bit' was a gross understatement, but she knew they both were aware of that.

---
@Elizabeth Wells

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Elizabeth Wells
 Posted: Jun 4 2017, 05:25 PM
Quote

"Utterly Charming. Get it? CHARM-ing! ...what's wrong?"

AGE:
27
YEAR:
Professor
HOUSE:
Ravenclaw Alumna
CLASH:
HEIGHT:
5'9"
STATUS:
Pureblood
POSTS:
188
Rep: 7 pts [ + | - ]

Elizabeth Wells
© Bolt v2: Return of the Boltening // She/Her
Awards: 26



"Not at all dear," Beth was already brushing off the apology, a little wave of a jittery hand over her shoulder as she turned her attentions to the teapot kept in the teachers' lounge. Not the young woman's favourite pot, that was kept upstairs in her own office; nor her second favourite still tucked in miniature in a pocket of her dress, but still a very pretty pattern nonetheless. For a fleeting second the Charms professor couldn't quite resist the unkind consideration that it be just as well to pour with a set she wouldn't mind having to repair, but rather quickly banished the dreadful thought as beneath her; Camilla was obviously embarrassed to be seen in a fit of temper over her 'bit of a bad day.'

A bit.

"So," the syllable hung in the air while the pot was filled up and water boiled. Camilla did not seem to have stirred much from her awkward placement by the scene of splintered wood and scattered supplies. The elder redhead had very carefully picked her way on her heels around a little puddle of ink and tossed scrolls on her way to start the tea, silently thankful that her tremors were being held at bay. The last thing Beth wanted was to make her younger colleague think she was frightened of her, or weak in some way. The warm scent of chamomile slowly wafted up into the air, and with it the professor's smile slowly returned.

"...A bit of a bad day?"

It was perhaps just a touch facetious, but Beth hoped Camilla would forgive her for the gentle poke. It was just so very hard to think of how to broach the subject otherwise. Obviously something had gone terribly wrong -- the chair certainly hadn't been accidentally knocked over into splits and splinters. A hot cup of tea and conversation was what was needed now, and as a pair of little porcelain saucers and all else were set out on a tray and pale, twitching fingers curled around the edges to lift it up, Beth was hopeful of drawing the other professor across to the little set of overstuffed couches by the room's tall window. The scene of the crime could be left in its messy state for now.


----------

@Camilla Evergreen

--------------------
user posted image
Colonel Fitzwhiskers II
Feed him or be fed to him

Workshop / Extra Info
PM
^
Camilla Evergreen
 Posted: Jul 26 2017, 01:14 PM
Quote

"&. a heart from hell 🔥"

AGE:
23
YEAR:
HOUSE:
Hufflepuff Alumna
CLASH:
Viridian Guild
HEIGHT:
5'7"
STATUS:
Halfblood
POSTS:
232
Rep: 12 pts [ + | - ]

Camilla Evergreen
© Cat // She/Her
Awards: 2



Maybe it was the hell-demon in her, but the feeling that Beth's gentle words carried a condescending nature only proved to test the young woman's resolve. She managed to bite back any venom threatening to shoot back on instinct, recognizing the older redhead as someone endlessly caring and kind. But the thought that she even had to control herself from reacting badly with Beth, of all people, made the woman swallow a heavy pill that sank with her guilt to the pit of her stomach. Clearly, she needed to find some form of help. Something she could swallow her pride and go through with; something that kept her sense of independence and strength intact without wounding her spirit. What exactly that was, Camilla didn't care to settle on right then. The most she wanted for the moment was a chance to calm down and recollect herself.

"Ah, yeah," she responded hesitantly, cheeks flushing as she laughed nervously, joining her voice to her colleague's. She felt a kind of release in laughing at herself that she wasn't a stranger to, though accompanied with Beth, it was lighter than it normally would have been. Camilla tended to gravitate toward the hollow, self-pitied kind of laughter than anything airy and free when she was by herself. There was something in the isolation, something in the lonely hours of her bad days that robbed her sense of humor and made her feel like her laughter was only a substitution to the tears she refused to release.

It felt like a lifetime since the redhead had last felt so dramatic. Surely, all she needed then was black lipstick, side sweeping bangs, and one of her cheap flavored cigarillos to finish off her edgy, gothic look.

Chuckling a little more at herself, Camilla shook her head, a hand swiping up her forehead, fingers entangled in her scarlet locks. "God, what a mess. Though to be fair, I almost think the broken chair and ink splatter kind of liven up the place. It's a bit artistic," she commented through a small smile, blushing as she brushed her hair aside and walked towards one of the open chairs in the lounge. She stepped aside it and ran her fingers along its back, nails scraping lightly against the fabric as she tossed her gaze towards the older woman. "Ah, I'm... I'll clean up, of course." Not that she expected Beth to offer to clean the mess, though she felt the need to clarify nonetheless. Camilla wouldn't have anyone else cleaning up after her. She hardly allowed the house elves to do much for her if she could help it. They worked enough, in her opinion, and as she'd never grown up with one, utilizing them felt awkward anyway.

But that was all just distraction; background noise that Camilla wanted to focus on to prolong the inevitable. Her admittance of her act wasn't hard in the least - she'd been caught red handed, anyway. No, what was hard remained in explaining herself, which the woman felt like she couldn't do even on her best days sometimes. It wasn't so much in being shy or nervous - she was rather confident. What really made her stumble, though, was her own temper and tendency to become impatient when people didn't follow her words. Repeating herself had become something she had needed to get used to as she taught teenagers, the worst listeners of all, but even with her tolerance built for it, Camilla still didn't quite like needing to reiterate herself. That feeling that she wasn't intelligent enough to be understand always reared its ugly head in those times, only souring her mood as a result.

Biting her lip, the former badger clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, eyes cast down to look at the gaudy rings she wore on both hands. "Eh, it wasn't the worst of days, I suppose? But. I've had enough of minor bad days that they've added up, I guess. It's just... just so, so bothersome when the students show no regard for things that don't belong to them," she explained, frowning down at the black stone of one of her most favorite rings. "It's frustrating, actually. I always remind them to be careful with the equipment, to simply put them back where they belong. But even with fifty reminders and signs with bold letters placed around, I never have a period where I'm not forced to pick up after kids, or where I need to put things aside to get repaired because they've been broken somehow."

"Some days I have to spend my evenings polishing brooms to get the scuff marks out, just so the brats can have nice looking equipment. And don't talk to me about having to inflate Quaffles, or having to rub out scratches or ding out indents on Bludgers," she growled, voice growing edgier as she spoke. Groaning, Camilla stepped around the chair she'd been resting her hands against, plopping down in it, exasperated. "It's just so inconsiderate. I feel like an under appreciated mum of a hundred kids, and I don't even get the flowers for Mother's Day for that tiny ounce of recognition!" Not that she wanted anything from her students. Nothing material, anyway. The most that the redhead cared for was a little more respect for her rules and for herself.

---
@Elizabeth Wells

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