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Araceli Arbon, Crotalus
Or messy
Thu Jun 15, 2017 09:53
114.134.189.163

Araceli had taken advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts on grounds which other people might have described as paranoid - that she really believed in the need to be well-versed in the more unpleasant things in life, in order to be prepared should they happen. However, it wasn’t paranoia if they really were out to get you, and she had already experienced more than enough manipulation at the hands of magic to know what it was capable of. And, whilst she could trust in her own ability to avoid certain things (for example, not visiting a part of the world inhabited by Lethifolds), she knew she could find herself easily enough at the mercy of other people, unless she was careful.

The class was a near constant mental broom crash for her. Pretty much everything they covered was either just plain terrifying or found insidious little ways to link itself back to what had been done to her. The lighter seeming classes, on disguise or deception, were the worst, in that they hit just a little too near the knuckle, especially as she had seriously limited options in terms of debriefing after the session. Today was one such class. Time to lie their socks off. At least this time, they were supposed to. At least there was some element of control, unlike when Delphine had been here, and had to fake sick rather than risk walking through a class Kneazles.

She noted the varying degrees of movement, alongside the statements, although she had difficulty inferring what it might mean that the statement I have been on Muggle television at least once received a small degree of movement. It was, presumably, a lie, but not as severe as the assertion that he would stay to see the sixth years graduating. Araceli was fairly sure there was no such thing as non-Muggle television (unless, perhaps halfbloods and Muggleborns made their own content - she supposed that was possible without her knowing) or whether one could partially be on television (again, she didn’t think so). She noted ’Implied lie/half truth. Do not know enough about television to conclude anything further, before turning her attention to her own statements.

Feel free to be evasive in your truths, and honest in your lies. The instruction echoed in her brain. Well, if that wasn’t quite the philosophical summation of her whole existence. How could you be honest in a lie, anyway? A lie was a lie, whatever else you put around it. You could contain it between two truths, but it was still there, the dirty little worm in the heart of the otherwise unblemished apple.

The main trouble was, that her mind tended to run wildly over all the things she least wanted people to know about her when any exercise like this was presented. She knew no one was trying to catch her out, but it was difficult not to feel like it. And, whilst she could attest such bland things as ‘I hate chocolate,’ it was actually hard to think of anything remotely normal when images danced through her head of an inkwell lid spinning wildly as she declared things that should not be unusual or controversial - I have never taken polyjuice outside of class, I have been here the whole time. Or, conversely, it staying stock still whilst she told the world ‘my sister replaced me for two and a half years.’ Or the meta-lie… I am a bad liar. I believe lying is wrong. One outright lie, one that was true but which didn’t mean that she didn’t do it…

There was also the object to think about, which she realised, as her classmates started their spells, she had almost forgotten about. Moving parts… moving parts… What did she have with moving parts? There was her necklace, the catch of which moved, but she thought that might be a little too subtle. She settled for her inkwell - unoriginal, given that it had been the example, but she had very little else with her that qualified. She noted its responses as Professor Nash repeated his statements.

“My name is Araceli Arbon,” she said, trying not to imagine how her own lie detector would have gone off on Delphine at this point, had she still been here continuing their charade, “although some people call me Amy,” she hoped that adding it to her name, almost casually, would help her disguise the half-truth. The present tense did not really belong in that sentence. Amy had only been a cover name, whilst she had been at CASMA, and so no one called her that any more. She reasoned that, if they ever talked about her, that was what they called her. So perhaps, somewhere in the world, that was true, it just wasn’t really a part of her reality any more. The lid wobbled slightly. “I have two older sisters and a younger brother,” the lid stopped, although again she couldn’t help but think of Delphine in this position. That would have been a fact for her to avoid. She also wondered whether some of her classmates might try picking that out as a lie, as only two of the Arbon children had officially attended Sonora. “And I love public speaking.” This was the closest Araceli was ever likely to come to sassing a professor, as the lid of her inkwell pointedly and definitely began unscrewing itself.

  • This seems like it has the potential to get philosophical.John Umland, Aladren, Wed May 31 15:12
    John’s first thought about New Pye, formed before he had even started to think that the man’s real name sounded vaguely familiar, had been that he was too good-looking to possibly be of any use. Old... more
    • Or messy — Araceli Arbon, Crotalus, Thu Jun 15 09:53
      • Not quiteScarlett Brockert,Pecari, Sun Jul 2 20:15
        Scarlett walked into Defense with less enthusiasm than she had previously. After all, her main reason for choosing this class to keep was so she could try to catch a glimpse. If she really thought... more
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