Elizabeth Knight
One would imagine I could be more organized.
Sat Sep 21, 2013 00:06
75.117.231.230

Pausing only to immerse the tip in ink, Elizabeth continuously dragged quill across parchment, hand moving faster than her mind could entirely track, as if the thoughts came instantly from her palm and had to travel upward. She had found a rhythm, and surely this essay would be completed soon. Yes, any moment now and she would have a complete assignment, ready for Potions class in… half an hour ago?!

Late again, she accosted herself. Tardiness was becoming quite the nasty little habit for her at RMI, when Mother was not around to nag her about manners and shuffle her off to etiquette or ballroom dancing lessons. In that sense, it was entirely preferable here, with the freedom to be human, but at the same time, it was inconvenient to be tardy all the time, though she supposed at this point there was really no reason to bother showing up. By the time she was seated and focused, it would be time to pack up.

She was rather surprised that Alexandra had not come inquiring of her. The elder Knight cousin had kept such adamant regulations upon Elizabeth during the first semester, but as time moved forward, her resolve weakened, perhaps distracted by school responsibilities and graduation preparations. Or perhaps Alexandra was busied by something of an entirely different matter, one much less socially acceptable and thus kept silent.

The brunette was young, but she was not stupid. In fact, Elizabeth was rather sharp-witted, and she could tell that something naughty was afoot. Her cousin was different here, more reserved and willing, than at family events of the past. This was rather suspicious. Elizabeth had better things to do than stalk after Alexandra, but even from afar she could see it and wondered why it seemed no one else could. A chronic liar and abuser turned mellow? Alexandra was in love.

And if Elizabeth knew one thing for sure, it was not with Chino Espinoza.

None of this was of much relevance aside from further backing for the disdain the Lyra felt for a majority of her relatives. Pushing it out of her mind, she rose from her Common Room workplace and hurried off to sooth the growling of her stomach—I’ve written through breakfast!—before her next class would begin, neglecting to return her Potions textbook to her room.

Having realized her mistake but without earlier time to rectify it, the first year returned before lunch, but to her unpleasant surprise, the book was not on the table she thought she had left it. Panicked internally but forcing a calm persona, she inquired of a nearby Housemate, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a Beginners’ Potions book lying about, have you?”

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