Marley Chapman
You actually have a reason for hatred this time? Woooow
Thu Mar 22, 2018 23:58

“This is soooo good, Roger. Seriously, you gotta try some!” The noncommitted shrug from her older Housemate informed Marley that she was safe to keep wolfing down her meal. “Alrighty, your loss,” she joked, slicing into her roasted squash again. It was one of those cute squashes - acorn, she thought, or maybe buttercup, although she might be wrong. Different squashes were pretty different-looking when they were fresh in the garden, but they all sort of tasted the same to her, although the only person she might realistically voice that opinion to was Myffi. There were other students who might care, even other Lyras, probably, but Myffi would care in like a helpful and productive way whereas someone like Buckley would care in a mansplaining way. Mansplaining was a newish word in her personal vocabulary and it was so appropriate for Buckley. He was an okay guy, really, but just… mansplain-y.

Speaking of Buckley, he was sitting on Roger’s other side, and while her tongue was rolling over the mix of quinoa and peppers and beans that made up the squash filling, Marley tuned briefly into their conversation and just as briefly tuned out again. They had gone back to the debate they’d started a couple weeks ago. Something about the ethics of enforcing a Meatless Monday and whether it was a possible violation of rights and freedoms (Roger) or… not, she guessed (Buckley). She wasn’t very clear on where the transfer actually stood. Sometimes it sounded like he was totally in support of AgriClub, but other times he made comments about farm labour that made it sound like he didn’t, and then there were the times when he tried to argue about both the existing and nonexisting ethics of capitalism and that really just made her wonder if he knew anything about the economy at all. Not that she knew very much, to be honest, but she was certain she could talk about it in a way that made more sense than he did.

Then again, he had informed her once that he was “practically an author”, and he didn’t actually let her read any of the stuff he wrote but maybe the whole mysterious and complicated-language thing was just part of authorship. Or almost authorship. Maybe. Or maybe he was just… mansplain-y. (There was really no better word to describe him.)

Before she knew it, the stuffed squash that had been on her plate previously was entirely in her stomach. The dark-skinned girl let out a very content sigh, scraping up the last bit of quinoa on the side of her fork. It had been exactly the right amount of food, enough to feel full of dinner but still with a little gap left for dessert, and after drinking some water and exchanging eye-rolls with Camilla across the table when Buckley started on about free-range chickens, she was ready to leave their table. Temporarily, at least. Straightening the open shoulder of her sweater over her Lyra Quidditch tank top, Marley bounced up and continued bouncing, skipping over to the desserts table. There were the usual cookie and cake variants, and she waffled over a few of them before noticing a platter labelled ‘Vegan Tiramisu’. What even was tiramisu? It looked delicious and fancy, anyways, and she was, like, feeling it, so Marley got a plate and started skipping back and then someone threw a knife at her.

Well fine, more like, skidded a knife across the floor in her general direction, but once she realized it was Connor, ‘threw a knife at her’ felt like both a dramatic and valid description. She was immediately reminded of her dad’s entry to the Thanksgiving feast: a loud greeting, a bearhug, and then a step back to seriously ask her which one was “the racist”. At least Connor wasn’t a violent racist. (She knew Dad wouldn’t have stopped to ask if that was the case. Probably just smack all the white boys around first and ask questions later. Also probably get shot instead of sent to jail, because again, racism. Ugh.) He was still totally rude and etcetera, but although ‘threw a knife at her’ felt valid, she also felt confident that wasn’t gonna literally happen any time soon. Regardless… “Are you sure?” Marley couldn’t help returning, tone skeptical, a frown-wrinkle between her brown eyes. “You weren’t trying to hit me at all? Not even my dessert?” Okay that almost sounded like teasing but it wasn’t and also she was still mad at him. And more also, if he even had been trying, which he hadn’t been because he wasn’t a violent racist, he was a cowardly racist, but if he had then his aim really sucked. She was a Beater. She knew what aiming was.

  • Another reason to hate Mondays - Connor Farnon, Thu Mar 22 10:26
    The events of last term seemed to have largely blown over. Connor couldn’t say that he was on good terms with Andrew or Marley - and even Dade’s friend Remington seemed to be less friendly to him... more
    • You actually have a reason for hatred this time? Woooow - Marley Chapman, Thu Mar 22 23:58
      • Never underestimate me - Connor, Thu Mar 29 19:38
        Oh Merlin it was Marley. Connor froze. Since the whole affair with her stalking him last year, he hadn’t really spoken with his yearmate which was rather pleasant, due to the aforementioned stalking... more
        • Somehow I have low expectations - Marley, Sun Apr 1 23:53
          "Why would I have been trying to hit you?" Okay, Marley could concede that was a fair reaction, but also to be fair Connor had lied to her, like, A Lot, and he could very well just be lying again... more
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