hey kool thing! ilvermorny private

interactions | @Gem Stuart

How unfair was it that she was expected to hang out with Americans? Americans were coming into the school for some reason or another, and Eris was so deeply annoyed with that. Hogwarts was already crowded enough with the kids that were there, without a bunch of hamburger-eating fatsos! Eris knew nothing about Americans, but she knew they were fat. That was what everyone complained about when the long lines of khaki-wearing Americans walked through the streets by Eris’s neighbourhood, taking pictures of the Queen’s palace and the various other sights of the city.

By everyone, the only people Eris had ever heard complain about Americans were her grandparents and their friends. But, her social circles were basically limited to her grandparents and their friends, to be quite honest. So, when her grandad had a change of heart and had sent a detailed letter about pureblood families in America, Eris had been quite baffled. For the past year, she’d known that American was a far off place. Her grandmother went to visit there once, as apparently there was a disgraced Fawley relative there. His name was Adonis and he had a daughter who attended Ilvermorny. That was all that Eris knew about her family in the States, and wasn’t inclined to learn more. Most of her family members were terrible people, according to the history that her grandfather was strangely proud of.

So, Eris decided not to ask about her family in America. Besides, her grandmother had promised in her own private correspondence that the girl Fawley at Ilvermorny was not coming to Hogwarts. Demetra promised that she had been kept away. However, she had let slip in the short letter that the girl’s name was Gaia. So, whoever the disgraced Fawley in America was.. He was in the loop enough to know about the recent Winchester tradition that had ebbed into the Fawley line, and was aware that naming female children after Greek mythological figures was respected. It was an interesting fact and one that caught Eris’s attention. But, she had vowed not to focus on her American family.

Eris tried not to let her curiosity overcome her. Not when she was doomed to spend her time trying to befriend the pureblood children now at Hogwarts. There was one kid who was faintly interesting. A wizard born kid who’s uncle was apparently an extreme fan of the Fawley family and their business endeavours. Sam Salinger, his name was. That sounded like an extremely weird name, at least to Eris. Very American. But, she was to find his nephew and talk to him. Just to show that the Fawleys were hospitable and kind to those who kept relations with them. Donovan was the name of the kid she was supposed to hunt down, and all Eris knew about her new slippy American suck-up of an acquaintance was that he was 14!

Which, made her instantly jealous of the boy. He was going to be so much taller than her, just because he was older. Stupid freaking Americans. Stealing everything from the Brits! First the colonies and now Eris’s height. Eris wasn’t in the practice of disobeying her grandfather’s direct orders. At least, not when he could find out she wasn’t paying attention to him. So, now she stalked through the hallways, rainbow combat boots slamming against the crowd. They were already growing worn and dirty from the amount of usage, but Eris liked them dirty. It made her look more badass.

More badass when she stomped on people who shoved her too hard in the hallways. Used to being shoved around, Eris walked unhappily through the halls, small stature making it nearly impossible for her to find anyone in the crowd. Grumbling, she kept aimlessly wandering until an obviously annoyed American accent, that wasn’t Ami’s, drew her attention towards a hufflepuff taking to a stranger.

The stranger said he was French and Eris laughed loudly. Yeah. Right. She’d heard Dinara’s fake French accent. She knew what French people sounded like (sorta). And whoever that was! He was not French. Eris stalked towards the conversation, catching the last bit of the what the two were saying, as the hufflepuff vanished back into the crowd. Or something. Eris didn’t really bother to pay attention to the Hufflepuff.

Giving the boy a moment to collect himself, Eris then yelled. “Oi! John Paul Jones! You’re crowding up the corridors with your obvious American-ness.” Eris called loudly, her small stature mostly masking her presence. Groaning, the redhead stepped out of the horde of people walking to their next classes or meal, exposing herself.

She kept talking, ignoring the fact that she had no idea who she was speaking to. “Speaking of American, I’m Eris Fawley. I need to find some random bloke. I know you’re not French, so don’t go pretending to be. You don’t even have an accent.”

"We’re British, not barmy. We know accents. I need help finding someone named Donovan Saltine.” It wasn’t a question. Eris needed help and had been searching long enough that she was desperate. There was a chance the person in front of her wouldn’t know whoever she was looking for, but at this point, she was faintly convinced all the Americans in the school knew each other and were all at Hogwarts just as a sick ploy to try and make everyone in Hogwarts eat hamburgers and grow fat.

@Eris Fawley

It was sort of humorous, hearing the sound of banging boots, followed up by obnoxious shouting by some redhead. Wait - redhead? He squinted at her, not quite formulating a proper response. Well this had to have been the girl, real snappy and shit. He felt himself grin, sucking his top lip into his mouth to prevent any laughter from coming out. Donovan Saltine. That killed him.

"Funny you say that, I'm actually looking for some girl named Eris Fuckly- I mean, Fawley. Sorry." He sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. She did look pretty cool, Sam wasn't lying about that. "Good catch, I'm not French. However, I'm not British either. Which means I'm not inbred... And actually, you're probably inbred. A lot of people look inbred here. Do you have an uncle-dad? I hear famous bloodlines usually have, like, one or two or three or eight accidents. You got two belly buttons? Eleven fingers? I've been waiting for this my whole life, and if I don't get to see it, I'll throw a fit." He crossed his arms, looking her up and down.

Well, she was definitely shorter than him, for one. She had really nice long hair, and an adorable face. Truth be told, she could probably snap his arm off, but he'd ogle in silence anyway. It was like... a little kitty that had just massacred a dozen people, but you pick it up and coo at it anyway because, like, it's a kitten. That imagery really set his opinion of her in stone - a good one - and he made a few steps forwards, towards her.

"I could be British, too. I'm very British, watch and learn," He cleared his throat, shimmying his shoulders so he could straighten out his sagged shoulders. "Ahem, it's a pleasure ta meet'cha, luv! I'm Sir Donovan Salingah, an' you're my government assigned woife-- and also, my cousin! 'Ow romantic, we shall 'ave tha most beautiful, deformed children! We'll do sooch a good job keepin' our delightful bloodline clean!" He gushed, clasping his hands together like a pleased old woman would. He was a very good actor, but the terrible accent made it clear it was a really, really dumb joke.

Eventually, he stopped after a dreadfully long time, his face going back to its regular flatness, albeit the little twitch upwards in the corner of his lips. His biological dad (aka sperm donor) always said he looked like a smug shit. He took it as a complement, for the most part.

"So, I need to ask. I gotta ask, actually, do all of you Brits have like, ringworm? British ringworm, though. Because we Americans, you know, we've got very sensitive immune systems. So if we aren't immunized from your weird incest British ringworm, we might die. That might seem beneficial to you right now, but that means you have to pick up dead bodies everywhere. If you're into that, cool, but don't give me ringworm because I have a cat at home, and he'd be really concerned for me if I died. It would suck."

interactions | @Gem Stuart

Fuckly. Her grandfather would have killed the kid for saying that, but Eris’s lips turned upwards into a smile, as she let out a laugh. Whoever this was, there was no way her granddad wanted her to be friends with him. But, this had to be the esteemed Donny Saltine in the flesh. Nobody else was looking for her, right? Refusing to believe that her weird Fawley relative had sent people after her, Eris decided this was Donovan.

If so, this was going to be the easiest business relationship formed, ever. Her grandad had made a mistake in introducing her to someone who was as equally uncouth as Eris, who was just learning about the pleasantries of cursing. She used far too many swear words, still delighted by evening having the ability to use them and the adult knowledge of what they were.

Was she inbred? Eris let out another laugh, jaw-dropping in surprise. She’d never been asked such an absurd question. Nobody who knew Adrian Fawley or the Fawley line would ask such a question, and nobody else had ever thought of something so outlandish. She didn’t really know what being inbred was, not until the boy asked if she had an uncle-dad. Then, Eris slowly pieced what he meant together and wrinkled her nose in evident disgust.

What was she supposed to say to that? There was a pause, as Eris cracked a grin and decided that this was not a serious conversation. She could be silly and absurd, too. “No. I’m just short. And I definitely do NOT have an uncle-dad. But, I do have a grand-uncle Alfie who wore dresses around Muggle London.” Even as she dismissed his comment, Eris felt herself deflate slightly.

How did someone look inbred? Was she ugly enough to look gross or different? That was why he asked, most likely. She was freakishly different and small. Eris’s cheeks pinkened in colouration, as she valiantly tried not to use her metamorphmagus powers to shift her appearance into someone who wouldn’t look gross and different. But, as he asked her about two belly buttons, Eris’s thoughts about her abilities turned from gloomy to mischievous. The redhead smirked, tucking her hands into her robe pockets. Distractions from her insecurities were easy and welcomed. She hated feeling inadequate and worse than everyone else.

“Actually. I lied... I got seven fingers on one hand.” Eris pulled her left hand out of her pocket, having used her powers to sprout two extremely small stubs of fingers on the ends of her hand. Judging his reaction for a split moment, wicked grin still on her face, the freakish fingers retracted back into nothing but smooth skin again, and Eris was left with five fingers. As it should be. Delighted by her own display of magic, although Eris knew her grandmother would be appalled, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not really. I’m a metamorphmagus. Don’t expose my secret.” Eris stage whispered, sticking her hand back into her pocket. Rummaging around for candy and finding none. To her shock, Eris remembered she had eaten the last of her sweets when hanging out with Kaegen. Groaning, she removed her hands from her pockets and kept them dangling at her sides, mourning the loss of her candies.

The mourning of her candies was short-lived, however, as the boy began to speak in an outlandishly bad accent. At least he admitted his name was Donovan and that he was indeed who Eris was looking for. That much Eris could decipher from whatever bollocks he was trying to say. Laughter making it hard for her to speak for a long moment, Eris shook her head in amusement. It felt nice to laugh. Really nice, if she was being honest.

“Oh, yeah? I can be American. All I’d have to do is gain 100 pounds and eat hamburgers all day long.” Eris retorted, giggling at the absurdity of the statement. It was almost as stupid as a government-assigned wife and deformed children. Well, not as stupid. But, it was still funny!

What wasn’t funny, however, was ringworm? Eris blinked. She had no idea what ringworm was, which meant effectively that she didn’t have it. She scratched at her head, shrugging. “I don’t have a clue what Ringworm is. Must be a muggle thing.” She felt a smug satisfaction at that. “Besides, we have a really good hospital wing. You won’t die from anything while you’re here. Those nurses are the shit. They’ve healed me and my friends up so many times. You and your cat back at home are gonna be fine.”

Thank god his cat wasn't at the castle. Owlbert was still acting up and Eris was faintly sure that he would try to kill the cat of any American who walked near him. Eris kept that fact to herself, however. Bringing up murderous owls wasn't exactly going to ease worries about Hogwarts. And besides, Eris was pretty sure that Owlbert could sense when she was speaking about him and made it his life's purpose to dive-bomb conversations to introduce himself.

@Eris Fawley

It was sort of depressing seeing her face falter when he called her inbred, but even as he was going to open his mouth up to take it back, he watched her hand leave her pocket, showing seven goddamn fingers. Seven of them. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but it was somewhere between disgust and morbid excitement. Even after the two extras slid back into her hand, he had the same expression; a wrinkled up nose, wide eyes, furrowed brows, and his jaw slack like he'd just seen something monstrous and unforgettable.

"A metamorphmagus? That's cool, where'd you learn how to pronounce that?" He decided that he was tired of standing up and sat down, right against the wall. He was fully aware he was vulnerable in this position, his legs spread out and pulled up to his chest - the fact she was wearing boots was even scarier, but he felt like he could trust her enough to not kick him in his beloved no-no square.

"God, no shit, man. I hate Americans, they're so fucking stupid and fat and they censor everything." Donovan really did cuss like a sailor, or the whole damn boat. "But at least we don't just eat Shepherd's pie and boiled leaves as breakfast, lunch and dinner. You guys eat like you're depressed. It must be the lack of sunlight." He really wasn't one to talk, he looked as pale as the moon's ass. "I'm a vampire, you know? I can't go into the sun, or else I'll become a pile of ash. Now, Eris, I need you to snort my ashes if I die, alright? You specifically, because if anyone else does it, they'll get a huge tentacle coming out of their butt. Seriously. It's disgusting and not as funny or interesting as you might think, it's so gross. However, if you do it, you'll become a huge rockstar and no one will ever forget you. You'll magically know how to play the guitar like a pro. I mean it."

"The hell do you mean you don't know what ringworm is? It's like, a rash. Or... a fungus, and it's really contagious. It's disgusting. You look like a damn zombie or something." He crinkled his nose up just thinking about it - he never got ringworm, but one of his friends did and he was dared to lick it. He almost did. "Alright, maybe. But if you don't know what ringworm is, then I don't know. I never know with British people, man. You're so weird, you have funny accents and stuff. You colonized half the world, I don't know. Sometimes I think that you guys just aren't real - British people, I mean. Just a figment of my imagination. It's just comical, man. No offense, I love the accents, it just sounds so fake."

inteactions | @Gem Stuart

After her stunt with seven fingers, Eris was keen to see Donovan’s reaction. He hadn’t screamed or ran away in horror, which Eris had somewhat been hoping he would do. That would have been even funnier. Eris would have a nice story to tell Max about if he did run away screaming. She had single-handedly scared off an American with nothing more than her own hand! That would totally raise her street cred. Or.. her corridor cred, considering there weren’t exactly any nearby streets in Hogwarts. But, Donovan hadn’t run away screaming, which Eris also grudgingly had to admit was pretty cool. Showed that he was brave. Not as brave as a Gryffindor such as herself, of course. But, still brave enough to be her friend.

His expression, however, was painfully amusing. Eris personally thought Donovan looked like a fish, with his jaw slack and his nose wrinkled. She giggled once again, not even blinking at the fact he was sitting down in the middle of a hallway. Being friends with Kaegen had led Eris to do quite a few strange things in her time at Hogwarts. Sitting down in the middle of a crowded corridor was nothing compared to crawling up flights of stairs on all fours. So, Eris slid into a seated position right next to Donovan, carefully tucking her robes under her, so they didn’t get stepped on. If she found anything amiss or strange about sitting against a wall, Eris didn’t comment on it, instead raising an eyebrow and turning to face her new companion.

“Do you not know what a metamorphmagus is?” She attempted not to sound judgemental and succeeded somewhat. Sounding merely curious, Eris couldn’t help but explain her abilities. She considered them akin to shapeshifting, and thus, explained them as such. “It’s a genic thing that runs in families. My grandmum taught me how to say it. And how to use my powers. Basically means I can shapeshift. But I can’t turn into animals or objects. Still, pretty damn cool, if I say so myself.” Grinning at what she deemed to be an astute explanation of what it meant to be a metamorphmagus, Eris demonstrated her abilities by turning her nose into that of a pig’s for a moment, hair flashing a shade of obnoxious yellow whilst she did so.

Once back to her normal form, Eris felt a rush of pride course through her. She had gotten so much better at controlling her powers over the summer and, although she had hated the long hours spent practising and studying, the results were quite amazing. It was fun using her abilities for things besides hiding her scars or changing her hair colour. It wasn’t just fun, it was exhilarating! Eris grinned from ear to ear at seemingly nothing, pride diminishing the ever-presence hue of self-doubt and worry that so often inhabited her thoughts.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the American next to her saying he hated Americans, which made Eris laugh. “How can you hate Americans if you’re one of them? Wouldn’t you hate yourself that?” She teased, before realizing that the boy was a teenager. And being a teenager meant self-hate. Hoping the topic didn’t change into conversations about their insecurities, Eris glowered and lightly smacked her new companion in the arm. Steady grin still on her face, Eris laughed.

“We don’t eat boiled leaves. We drink boiled leaves. It’s called tea, shithead. Stop appropriating my culture, hamburger man. And, for the record, tea is bloody disgusting.” It was true that Eris was pale, though. She wasn’t quite as pale as Donovan, but her skin was marred by the lack of sunlight she had received over the summer.

Not pale enough to be a vampire though. At the mention of vampires, Eris’s smile slipped off of her face. She looked mildly unease, thinking of Kaegen. Was he alright? Her resident half-vampire friend hadn’t been around, much. But, that was possibly because he was having an existential crisis over Eris’s actions. Reminding herself to go check on him later, Eris’s smile regained its prominence as the conversation switched once again, this time to ashes and snorting them. Which, she supposed correlated to vampires, in the fact that ashes were for dead people and vampires were, well, dead.

“An ass tentacle sounds kind of amazing, though.. But, I’ll keep it in mind. I’ve always wanted to be a rockstar.” No. No, she never had ever wanted to be a rock star. Eris wanted to be an auror.

“I’ll be the next big wizarding rockstar.. Just like...shit. I don’t know any wizarding rockstars. I guess I’ll be the first.” Eris’s grandparents only listened to Celina Warbeck and classical music. If there was such thing as a wizarding rockstar, Eris certainly had yet to hear any of their music.

Wizarding rockstars certainly didn’t get whatever ringworm was. And neither did Eris. “Well, nobody here looks like a zombie. So I think you’re good.” Eris responded, raising an eyebrow. “I assure you I’m real. 100% skin and bones here! And besides, you think we’re weird? You’re the one with an accent. I sound perfectly normal, thank you very much.”

@Eris Fawley

So it was a genetic thing. Maybe she was inbred, being able to shape shift and stuff? That was scary shit, man, he didn't know that even existed outside of comic books or no maj movies until now. You really do learn something new every day.

"Oh, you think tea is disgusting? I'd say that makes you pretty fucking British, Edgy British, but your entire personality takes the cake. Or maybe I take the cake, because I'm the fat American, right? Gimme the cake, crumpet stuffer! It's mine!" He motioned a grabby motion at her, but eventually quit it and knocked his back against the wall, pretending he was out of breath. "Wow, that workout sure winded me! It must've been my record of 3 centimeters!" Suddenly, he clutched his chest, keeling forward, gasping and rasping. "Oh God, I think I'm having a heart attack! It must be all that bacon and twinkies! Oh, the horror! Tell the President I...love... him..." And he went limp.

It lasted about two seconds, though, and he sat right back up, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. He knew she didn't actually want to be a rockstar, only because he hated people who said that, and he didn't hate her. He knew when they meant it, and it made him want to puke all over the floor. Wanna be a rockstar? Become an industry plant, be hot, and have an annoyingly loud voice. Boom. Rockstar material.

"I'm in a band," He said, "And I think I'll make a song about you. I'll be called, Proof Gingers Don't Have Souls Because This One Broke My Heart Because She Can Make Her Hands Into Hooves. I mean, it's sort of cool though. Being a metamorphosis or whatever, like, if you get the impression someone's cheating on you, you can morph into someone entirely different and see if it works out."

"Look, technically you're right about the accent thing, but also, shut up. I'm American, and my 'accent'," he used air quotes, "Is so much better than yours. At least I'm not goin' around saying schewpid."

He looked ahead of himself, at the burning torches on the wall. Well, at least he found someone worth speaking to here. She wasn't anything like what he expected out of a rich family, and while he was fully aware this was purely for business, fuck that. He thought she was cool as hell, and he refused to think of her as a business partner or a coworker. She'd be a friend in his book. Plus, her grandparents were old and shit, they'd die and she wouldn't have to have them sniffing over her shoulder like he'd heard about. He didn't have the moxie for rich old people.

interactions | @Gem Stuart

It was shocking how one conversation with a person could cement them as a person you wanted to be around. Even though the two had only talked for a few minutes at most, Eris found herself already enjoying Donovan’s company. Not in the same way that she enjoyed the company of her close friends, but there was something intriguing about being able to laugh so freely and discuss such random topics with a virtual stranger. To be able to speak so freely even though the two had hardly spoken made Eris hopeful that whatever tentatively developing friendship being formed would only solidify- even if the person in question was American and eventually going to leave Hogwarts.

Even if he was eventually going to return to America, Eris decided to disregard any worry about the future and just enjoy the conversation. Any conversation was better than the lack of conversation she’d had last year. “How does hating tea even somewhat have to do with me being an edgy Brit? Most British people love tea, dumbass.” Eris retorted, thinking of the typical stereotypes that portrayed British people as obsessed tea-drinking freaks of nature. The same stereotypes portrayed Americans in the same way that Donovan was currently acting.

Grin on her face, Eris responded, “I don’t know what a centimetre is. I’m just gonna assume that means virtually nothing and that you didn’t work out at all. Bet your idea of a workout is eating candy, mate.” Eris teased, sticking her tongue out. Although, he certainly didn’t look like the type who spent his time eating candy. Donovan didn’t look like a stereotypical American. He wasn’t pudgy, nor was he loud and annoying. Or maybe he was loud and annoying. But, it seemed like an amusing part of his personality, not the egregiously whiny voices of tourists.

So, just because he didn’t look like a fat hamburger eater, Eris added onto her statement. She hardly even paused for breath, her words not really flowing together. “But honestly, three centi-whatevers? That’s horseshit and you know it. You look fit and shit! You gotta do quidditch or something. I’m the seeker for my team.” Eris brazenly stated with unapologetic pride in her voice. Had her change in statement been a pathetic attempt to see if her new friend also was a quidditch player? Perhaps. It didn’t work though, as Eris wrinkled her nose and found her attention caught upon the foreign words pouring out of the boy’s mouth. A twinkie seemed far more strange and more important than quidditch. Quidditch was always there to talk about. Things like American candy were not always possible to discuss, as hardly anyone Eris knew was from America.

“What’s a twinkie? Is that some kinda muggle candy? Muggle candy is literal pigshit. You haven’t lived until you’ve had chocolate frogs and liquorice wands.” Eris missed her candy. The Gryffindor usually had an endless supply of sweets in her robe pockets, but it seemed that she had eaten them all. She would have offered candy to Donovan, if she had any. Sighing and once again mourning the loss of her delicious treats, Eris perked up when the boy stated he was in a band.

Then she instantly frowned at the mention of cheating. To cheat on someone meant having a relationship, in the first place. Eris knew she was not going to find herself in a relationship at any nearby point in time. Sure, she would like to be in one. But, it wasn’t possible when she looked so small and young compared to all of her classmates. Hands falling limply at her sides, Eris looked down at the ground. “Yeah. Well. Nobody’s gonna cheat on me anytime soon. Never been in a relationship!” She managed to state, trying to inject gusto into her tone.

Instead, Eris stopped talking for a moment. There was a beat of silence before she grinned crookedly again. “But, one time I changed into a random girl and pretended to get my friends in trouble for sneaking out at night. That was kinda funny.”

Grateful for the topic change, Eris raised an eyebrow and snickered. “Your accent? Your accent is ugly! Besides, if you hate Americans, why do you like their accents? That’s barmy.” People made no sense sometimes, but it was in the moments of nonsensical banter that Eris had the most fun. Not thinking and blurting out whatever came easy to her, and it was delightful to find someone else who was also versed in sprouting random facts and nonsense into conversations. It made things far more lively.

@Eris Fawley

"British people only love tea because if they don't, they'll get addicted to crack. It's an oral fixation, like cigarettes, I swear to God. You drink tea all day, you have to go have a piss like, every thirty minutes. Same with Coca Cola for Americans, man. It's a type of soda pop, and they're just obsessed with that stuff. Me? I'm a cultured man, I like Pepsi. Coke is for creeps."

He'd almost forgotten that she was British, and also had no education on no-maj life. He wasn't a half-blood or born into a no-maj family or anything, he just knew his uncle was very well endeavored in their culture because he and his biological dad's mother and father were both no-maj borns. He crinkled his nose. Did he have to elaborate? No, he didn't think he would. Not for the centimeters, anyway.

"Oh, a twinkie... they're disgusting. Fake sponge cake filled up with preservatives and stuff, and then inside of them, there's this chemical-y tasting creme in it. Look, objectively, it's delightful. But when you actually sink your teeth into the stuff? Automatic vomit. It's awful. Like, fucking terrible. I do not recommend it. Some parents feed their kids that stuff on the daily - it's child abuse, man." He probably looked as disgusted as he felt, talking about corporate-fueled stuff to feed fat, poor Americans that would decline their lives quicker. They didn't care, they just wanted to stuff those fat, hollow pockets of theirs. That was all that ever mattered in no-maj America right now. It made him sick.

"Ever heard of McDonalds? If you haven't, good. If you fed that to someone from the eighteenth century, they'd fucking die. It's horrible. You feed anything we have in America right now to anyone from the eighteenth century, their intestines would give up on them entirely. It's that bad."

He decided to ignore her quiddich comment, and instead focused more on the fact she'd never been in a relationship before. Never ever, huh? Somehow, he doubted that, but also didn't doubt it at all. He squinted at her, attempting to keep himself from grinning-- she seemed so proud, it was almost endearing. He hoped her family wouldn't force her into a relationship she didn't want, that would just be... something else, to put it nicely.

"Why don't you be my girlfriend this month? Then you could say that you had this totally hot sexy American boyfriend for a month, and he was just amazing. Told you sweet lies, kissed you passionately under the moonlight... oh, you'd have lived the American Dream alright." This, of course, was all a joke - really topped off with the fact he'd wrapped his arms around his torso and felt himself up, shimmying his shoulders and everything. Maybe this was why he was single. He was mental.

"My accent isn't ugly! Your accent is ugly. You guys pronounce shit all weird, at least we don't go around adding extra unneeded vowels in our words. Who the hell spells color like c-o-l-o-u-r? That's disgusting and I won't stand for it. You guys are freaks." He crossed his arms, turning away from her like a child who'd just thrown a fit, jutting his bottom lip out to really sell it. Man, this was the most fun he'd had talking to someone in a long time. Thanks, Uncle Sam.

interactions | @Gem Stuart

It was kind of nice, learning about strange American things. Not because there was anything interesting, about America, of course. Naturally. The United Kingdom was far superior to America, but even so, Eris found herself hanging onto every strange word coming out of Don’s mouth. Maybe it was the cultural divide, but it seemed that her new American friend had a very dirty mind. He also talked about topics that Eris had thought were off-limits, like drugs. Even though she was learning about how fun cursing was, Eris had never dared to actually discuss drugs with anyone-- ever! It had seemed a topic impossible to discuss, universally considered to be something that wasn’t meant to be brought up. But, Donovan was willing to bring up anything to get a laugh out of her, taboo topics be damned. Eris wasn’t sure whether she was delighted or scared, and instead found herself a surprisingly happy mix of both emotions. Still unsure of what direction her emotions were taking, Eris frowned and tried to defier why the American in front of her was so fascinating and undeniably... cool.

Maybe it was that he was older. Being a year older made Donovan seem all the more smart and defined in his wisdom. To most people, a year difference wasn’t all that huge. But, to someone who had been isolated for much of her life and only interacted positively with a small group of people, it was near dizzying to be near someone so much older and so foreign in nature. Eris was filled with rare enthusiasm. Besides that, there was also a faint bit of pride in her mind. She wasn’t having a run of the mill awkward conversation because her grandparents had ordered her to talk to someone. No, this was an actual nice conversation because an older kid had decided she was cool enough to talk to! Jubilation rising in her chest, Eris grinned.

“I know what coke is! We’re not savages here.” She responded, before wrinkling her nose. “Pepsi is gross! So is Cola. I like Butterbeer. It’s not fizzy and doesn’t make my stomach hurt. Besides, it tastes a lot better and I have good memories with butterbeer. One time, my friend Reed and I snuck out to go get Butterbeer. Butterbeer makes everything better, to be honest. Nobody would sneak out for something like Pepsi! Butterbeer for the win.” Eris pumped her fist in the air, just to cheer on butterbeer and it's superiority as the best drink.

For someone who loved sugar, Eris wasn’t that big of a fan of sodas. They always made her stomach feel weird and made her burp. It was deeply embarrassing to randomly find yourself burping in the midst of a conversation, and even worse to smell soda on your breath. Thus, in the interests of saving her pride and her stomach, Eris stayed away from soda.

However, candy delighted her! She prized herself on knowing about different candies. Which, was why Eris was so interested in whatever a twinkie was. It sounded like a pumpkin pastie, but a gross Americanized Muggle version of the delightful sweet. “Hah! Sounds like my mum. Bet those parents are just trying to poison their kids. Kill them early and get fuckin’ pity money from their friends and whatnot.” What had been an attempt at a joke had come out decently morbid and depressing, but Eris decided not to mention that. Maybe Donovan would think macabre humour was amusing, even though being gloomy had been far from Eris’s intention. Sometimes, she just forgot how to carry a conversation without slipping up and mentioning depressing topics. Eris was a creature of habit, and most of her conversations were remarkably edgy and depressing, lately.

Shrugging, Eris leaned against the wall. She had no clue what Mcdonalds was but chose not to mention that. Instead, she laughed. “You feed anyone shitty fast food and their intestines will explode. Maybe we can sneak in some shit fast food and explode people’s intestines when they annoy us.” Eris grinned, not really processing that doing so would kill people.

The grin slowly slid off of her face, as Eris stared at Donovan like he was daft. Even though his words were a joke, they still took Eris aback. Even as she managed a laugh, Eris’s cheeks flushed. It wasn’t that she had a crush on the American, but the mere suggestion of kissing someone made her feel giddy and embarrassed at the same time. She laughed at the weird movements Donovan was making, as the flush on her face eventually receded to a normal colour.

It was all a joke, anyway. Eris steadied herself, remembering to play along with the game. Random words that didn’t mean anything. Just a fun conversation and a way to get rid of some stress. Feeling bold, Eris winked. Or at least attempted to. She wasn’t sure of the success. She then giggled, unable to help herself. “Thanks, but I’m saving myself for marriage.” Eris had no idea what that meant. But, it felt like a funny thing to say. “And, I rather not live any American dream. Americans smell funny.” She sniffed the air for emphasis.

“Like.. hmm.. desperation and..” She pretended to sniff the air again, moving closer to Donovan for even more emphasis. “Hormones.” Eris finished, grin growing even wider. Now that she was sitting closer to Donovan, it was easier for her to reach over and slap his arm when he turned away to pout.

“My accent is NOT ugly! I have quite a nice accent, actually. My aunt said so and she’s from France. Plus, why would you not spell colour like that? Getting rid of the U is stupid. You insult the U in colour one more time and I’ll insult you!” Eris beamed at her own intelligence, pausing for a moment. “Get it right? It’s a uh… what’s the word, pun?” Was that how a pun worked? Eris didn’t know. But, she was having a jolly good time making a fool of herself.