Mandrakes for Medicine Finished

Interacting with @Pericles Dralt
Mentions @Hjørdis Jensen

Breana, still in that half-asleep daze, looked over at Pericles and stared at him for a while. It's mostly because of the fact that she's internally battling herself and trying to figure out if she's actually awake or if she suddenly had a rather realistic fever dream about him again. Thankfully, his voice snapped her out of her daze and pulled her into reality. "H-huh...?" She slurred, only picking up the last of what Pericles said. "Ah... s-sorry, Per, I, uh... I don't think I did." She blinked her eyes a couple of times, making sure that she's looking up at him. Her usual chipper and bubbly voice is replace with a slower, more ragged tone. At this point her voice could be dragging along in the conversation. "Maybe we should talk more about that stuff sometime... " She yawned before continuing. "... When I got all me braincells all sorted." Breana laughed at her own joke, holding her head with her free hand as she tried to keep it upright. The muffled shrieking from the mandrakes aren't exactly the best way for her to keep awake, but they do the job for her for now. "I dun' think I'm the best person to talk to right now..." She sighed, waving herself off with her eyes closed. "Word to the wise: don't.. don't pull an all-nighter when you're gonna pull out mandrakes the next day." She shook her head, making sure her hold on the crying mandrake is airtight.

After a while, her mandrake stopped crying. So did the others. Well, there goes her only means of staying conscious. Hopefully she can keep herself awake long enough to have a decent conversation with Pericles and get the job done. She saw Professor Jenson was now earmuff-less, so Breana pulled down hers to dangle on her neck, her curly hair reverting back to its poofy form. As she tried to listen to the professor, she looked down at the mandrake in her hand. Her mind wandered, thinking if mandrakes should even be categorized as plants. Breana heard that they go through puberty, even have acne. Shouldn't they be part of Defence Against the Dark Arts? Or Care for Magical Creatures? The only thing that put them in Herbology is their anatomy. But then again, she's still a first year, so maybe her knowledge will expand over ti--

Then she felt an arm touching her. Her body jolted for a moment, quickly looking over to the source of the arm. "Oh... Hey Peri... What's up?" She asked, as if she's just seen Pericles in the greenhouse. Then she noticed the calm mandrake that's inside the box, her brain slowly putting two and two together. "Ah, right..." She said calmly, carefully putting her own mandrake beside Pericles's, thankfully avoiding stirring it up to cry. "Thanks for that..." She said, putting the muffs on as the gaggle of students start pulling out the reat of the mandrakes. "I dunno if I could've handled that better without your help... I probably would've woken up in the Hospital Wing by now." She chuckled, moving to the row of pots, taking a new one to pull out.

~open for interactions~
mentions @Breana Oliveire, @Hjørdis Jensen, and @Pericles Dralt

Perhaps it was one of Ivy's less aggressive days, for she had woken up feeling like a nice person, something she usually was not. When she heard about the opportunity to help the Muggle epidemic that they called "COVID-19", or the coronavirus, by de-potting Mandrakes, she did not hesitate to walk down to the greenhouses, humming as she went. She was a little late, which was rare as Ivy liked to be punctual (she was usually rather cranky if she was late), but her good mood prevented her from wearing a scowl as she entered, a pair of earmuffs clapped firmly around her ears.

What did make her scowl was the noise. Merlin, the noise. Not only was there the guttural, high-pitched screeching of the Mandrakes, there was screaming and shouting from her peers too?! Ivy wondered what had been going through her mind when she decided that it would be a good idea to come down. She knew there would be impossibly loud screeching from the mandrakes, and despite her preference of peace and quiet (Ivy hated noisiness), she had still grabbed her earmuffs and determinedly gone to the greenhouse. She cast her gaze around the room, her nose wrinkled slightly at the horrible noise, unsure of what to do with all this chaos going on.

Luckily for her, Professor Jensen, who Ivy remembered was the professor in charge, dealt with the infernal racket rather swiftly, raising her hand a signal for everyone to shut up. Even the mandrakes went quiet. The Slytherin Head instructed everyone to get one of the many cardboard boxes stationed around the room and put their mandrakes in there. The corners of Ivy's mouth tugged upwards slightly. Duh, where else would you put the mandrakes?

Once the rest of the group had settled down, Ivy cast her gaze around the greenhouse, taking in everything. There was quite a number of tables set up, all of them with clay pots placed on top, ready to be de-potted. The greenhouse was as bright as usual, the sunlight streaming into the place (why was it always sunny whenever she was doing something nature-related?). She did not think she recognised anyone apart from Breana, a girl she had met at the start of the school year. Ever since then, Ivy hadn’t really spoken to the girl, and she thought it might be awkward if she went over, especially since she was talking with someone else already (how they could hear each other was a wonder, though). The Gryffindor chose to simply wave at the girl with a smile, not really expecting a response, as she squeezed between the wall and the table to get a cardboard box from the back of the room.

As she passed Professor Jensen, she accidentally made eye contact with her and paused to mouth a quick, “Sorry I’m late,” although she was unsure of whether she had noticed or not. Ivy admired and feared of the woman simultaneously, although she would rather die than admit it. She looked down quickly and moved toward the cardboard boxes. She did not especially fancy the idea of not having a box ready to throw the mandrake in. They seemed to scream more when you were holding them, or maybe that was just her.

Once Ivy had a box in her hand, she moved to stand at an almost-empty table. She surveyed the pots in front of her for a moment before rolling up her sleeves, grimacing slightly in apprehension of the aggravating noises she dreaded. Then she took the green, leafy stem of the plant and pulled with one gloved hand, the other holding the clay pot down. The mandrake came up with one swift move, and immediately, unholy shrieks filled the air - although the earmuffs muffled them slightly, they were still loud and clear, especially with all the other baby mandrakes going off as well. Ivy had to resist the urge to drop the blasted thing, cover her ears, and run out of the greenhouse.

Hands shaking slightly, the Gryffindor dropped the mandrake into the cardboard box next to her, which did not muffle its cries at all, much to her dismay. Ivy’s shoulders hunched at the sound, and her grey eyes flickered shut for a moment as she wondered why she had decided to come and help with this task for the second time in ten minutes. Honestly, mandrakes... what had she been thinking?

WC: 741/400

*will continue to post as this is a fun activity

WC: 347/400 -- Mentioning: @Ethen Emrys

The Muggle world was still something Lark had barely been able to wrap her head around. Having never been exposed to much of it and sheltered away by her parents she hadn't realize just how ignorant she was with their lives. Thankfully Hogwarts and her friends here had filled her in with Muggle history and everyday life. Recently though there had been a lot of talk among the students, especially with those who had Muggle family. Some sort of awful virus had been spreading and Ruthie had come to Lark about an errand the students were being asked to help with. First years had the task of dealing with the Mandrake for the potions that would be brewed to help out those suffering. Now that the young Ravenclaw girl was close with other Muggleborn and Half-Bloods she felt even more inclined to do whatever was needed of her.

Lark had never officially met the Head of Slytherin and only recognized her from her time at Summer Camp and only in passing in the castle or Great Hall feasts. In truth she felt intimidated by her but also admired the way she carried herself and spoke. Entering the greenhouse, she caught sight of the Professor busily working away herself, a pair of magenta earmuffs resting against her silvery tresses. Someone else was talking to her - "Oh...." Lark's nose wrinkled as her gaze slid from the Professor to a familiar girl ^{@Calanthe Choi} that she hadn't seen in some time. Not that Lark had minded at all.. the first and last time they met had been enough for her. A fellow first year who had shirked on a group project, annoying Lark in the process. It made her curious as to why she bothered to come help out if she couldn't even share a simple project evenly.

Scanning the room she finally found her friend sitting not far away at a table in the corner of the room, earmuffs and a mandrake already looking like it was ready to go. Giving a wave she called out as she grabbed a pair of head gear for herself hurriedly placing them on before anymore screaming creepy baby roots were yanked from their pots. "Hey Ru!" She saddled up to the table and spoke a little louder than usual hoping Ruthie could hear her. Hefting her leather bag up onto one of the empty seats she took the one across from Ruthie. "How's it goin'? Missed ya at breakfast this mornin'." She raised a hand to the back of her neck and scratched at it nervously. "Sorry ay' slept in a bit longer than ah' wanted. Stayed up late lookin' over some of the notes for Transfiguration." A class that Lark desperately wanted to do better in but found herself still struggling with some of the information. Opening the flap to her bag, she dug a hand inside to reveal the mandatory set of gloves that all first years had been required to purchase. Her parents would be happy if anything that she were getting their moneys worth out of them.

Word count: 434 words Open for interactions!

Interacting with Breana, Ivy, Lark, Professor Jensen

The thick voice and dragging enunciation were a far cry from Breana's chipper chirps or excited stammers. When she suggested belaying potions talk until she had the mental faculties to do so, Pericles was certain something was wrong, as it seemed a subject she was previously passionate about. The lad obliged with an especially gentle "Oh... well, we don't have to talk! It might be hard t'do after we start, anyhow." Kindness was a reliable mask for concern. Once he spied an unfamiliar Gryffindor girl (Ivy) waving, he gave a gentle nudge of the elbow to help direct her faulty focus, muttering "I think a friend of yours is trying to say hello." In that same moment, Peri also noticed Lark's entrance, so he stopped to wave and smile her way. They weren't well acquainted, but as Ravenclaws who worked the Headliner and shared other errands, he could appreciate a familiar face.

A frown wavered back into place. Eyes wide with worry, Peri echoed for affirmation, "You were awake all night...?" The young eagle was wary about taking off his earmuffs at all, though he eventually complied, lowering the side closest to his unofficial project partner. He managed to multitask listening to the professor and fretting on the inside. Once thanked, he offered Brea another brittle smile. It hid the fact that mere talk of the hospital wing sent his stomach leaping with a spike of unease. Cautiously keeping his voice low, the boy cleared his throat before continuing to the side. "Speaking of the infirmary, maybe we should harvest one or two more, then we could call it an errand well done...?" He pulled another pot closer, though before wrenching out the sorry screaming plant, Peri pressed: "Could I trouble you to walk back to the common room with me? I'm a bit tired too." It was going to be a long trek up those stairs to the tallest tower. The last thing he wanted was to find one of his Housemates passed out on a moving stairwell later on.

WC: 592+348=940

As Miss Jensen put her finger to her lips, Piérre tipped his head in curiosity and the mandrake he cradled in his arms began to quiet as well, almost like a baby which was too tired to care anymore and decided to fall asleep. Eyes widening in wonder, Piérre smiled and began to bounce the plant a little, encouraging it to fall asleep and stay asleep. He didn't think that this was possible; a Mandrake falling asleep, but it was certainly a welcome surprise, and Piérre grinned a little wider until Miss Jensen took her earmuffs off.

Taking this as a positive sign, Piérre took his own off and listened to what the head of house had to say. Reading lips was something that Piérre had always aspired to do, though he usually ended up misinterpreting and messing up what people said as opposed to successfully understanding what was being mouthed. Huh, so mandrakes could quiet down when unpotted for long enough. It was somewhat funny...

Nodding with Miss Jensen, Piérre happily placed his mandrake in a box and put it aside. From what he could see, it appeared that most of the mandrakes had been unpotted, put away, and now some students were beginning to disperse. Perhaps some more would come in, in which case Piérre would have to cover his ears once again, but as it was, he thought that he was happy enough with what he had done. One mandrake could be just as helpful as one hundred, if they were used correctly. It was a little scary in Piérre's mind, the idea that the baby-like thing would be cut up and used in a potion, but at the same time, Piérre came to understand that it was, after everything was said and done, a plant. Plants could reproduce infinitely faster and more efficiently than any creature. The loss of one plant or a few tens would not scar the ecosystem forever.

"Thank you Miss Jensen!" Piérre whisper-called out to the Head of House as he grabbed his satchel and was about to depart. He wasn't eager to wake up the mandrake plants, just in case they could wake up because of loud noises. With a bright smile and an energetic wave, Piérre closed the greenery door, humming as he made his way back to his own dorm room, not realizing that he was still wearing the green earmuffs around his neck...

Leaving unless interrupted!

~open to interactions~
Interacting with @Crescent Moon

As Ivy continued to unpot the mandrakes, the greenhouse began to fill. She found it curious that so many people arrived later than the offical starting time, but hey, she had been a little late herself. Ivy glanced up, as she wrapped her hand around the stem of her - third mandrake, was it? - to see a blonde girl with dyed tips move to stand across the table. She recognised her as one of her classmates, more specifically, the Hufflepuff girl with dyed pink-and-blue tips and one of the strangest name combinations there was: Crescent Moon. The two girls had never spoken before, despite sharing a few classes. Ivy pondered whether or not to acknowledge her or not before raising a hand in greeting. She doubted that Crescent would be able to hear her if she spoke, but she said, “Hey, Crescent. Fancy seeing you here,” anyway, just for good measure.

Ivy pulled upwards and the mandrake came up, loud cries filling the air again. She grimaced - no matter how many mandrakes she pulled, Ivy was sure that she would never get used to the sound of crying (and she certainly hoped not - how morbid would that be?). She glanced across the room and noticed that a few people were cradling their mandrakes in their arms in an attempt to calm them down. Ivy looked at the shrieking mandrake she was holding by the stem and tried to copy her peers’ actions. The mandrake cried even louder, to her alarm, and she dropped it into the box, pale cheeks flushing pink for moment. “Worth a shot,” she announced to Crescent, shaking her head with a rueful grin. Still, annoyance rushed through her for a moment as she watched an unfamiliar Gryffindor boy (Piérre) successfully quiet his mandrake down by cradling it. Why didn’t anything ever work for her?

Whatever. Her mandrake’s cries were slowly but surely fading, and Ivy reached for yet another pot. Wrapping a gloved hand around the mandrake stem, she commenced pulling it up and out of its pot, and into a box. The mandrakes rather reminded her of a baby, and she had never been good with babies. She didn’t know how to hold them, how to talk to them, how to stop them from crying. Perhaps that was the reason she had failed at cradling the mandrakes - it was something done usually with a baby, by its mother.

Unpleasant as this task may be, Ivy was inclined to continue harvesting these mandrakes instead of heading out, as some of her peers were doing. It was a dull and monotonous task, and very loud, but it gave her something to do, something that would keep her mind off the troubling events happening in her life. Of course COVID-19 was very concerning, but there were other things going on too. Her older sister, Lillian, had eloped five years ago, and only last September did she send a letter. Ivy had been angry, and they had exchanged letters for the past few months now, until they just... stopped. No longer angry, Ivy send letter after letter apologising for her cutting words and pleading for a reply, but nothing had become of it. As she thought of this, Ivy’s hands fell to rest on the tabletop and she stared at the pots in front of her without seeing them. What had become of Lillian? Surely she wasn’t... dead?

For a fraction of a second, a look of pure terror and panic flashed across Ivy’s face, reflecting the way her heart broke and stomach dropped. Her hand swept outwards and came into contact with an empty box (afterwards, she would feel grateful that it wasn’t a pot). It landed on the ground with a soft thud. This seemed to snap Ivy out of her trance and her cheeks coloured. The box had not made a noise loud enough to attract the entire greenhouse (thank God for that), but those standing near her would have definitely taken notice. Ivy would mutter a half-hearted “Sorry” in their general direction as she picked it up before glancing at Professor Jensen, hoping that she hadn’t noticed. Jesus, Ivy, you can’t even de-pot mandrakes without making a scene.

Yes, well. Oops.

dang that was dramatic

WC: 741+713=1454/400

Interacting with @Piérre Marchonné and @Ivy Bellamy
Mentioning @Pericles Dralt and @Breana Oliveire

Open to Interaction

COVID-19. She'd heard about it already, about the deadly infection sweeping over the continents to nearly every corner of the world. Not in great detail, however. Her mother had touched upon the subject in recent correspondence, indicating that her work demands had increased and that she thought it would be better — nay, insisting — that Evelynn remain at school for the Easter and Spring holidays.

To say that Evelynn was dismayed would be an understatement. She was livid. Initially, at least. Going home had been the one shred of hope onto which she'd clung for the past months. The thought of being able to return home, to spend some quality time with Cassie and to freely roam her actual bed room without fear of being interrupted or inciting some stupid argument again, had been the only source of hope that had given her strength to rise every morning and face her days with head held aloft. To have that snatched away was just…not fair. Who cared if there was a virus roaming around? Weren't there always? How was this any different than anything else that her mom and the people she worked with had to deal with on a regular basis?

She didn't understand. Not that she'd really been given much of an opportunity to understand. It wasn't as though she had access to the internet to clarify her questions, nor was there any real source of muggle news around the school. And her mother wasn't exactly being candid with answers. Which…worried Evelynn more than she cared to admit. It was unlike her. She could only assume that it meant her mother was either attempting to downplay a situation that was worse than Evelynn could envision, or that she was too busy to sit down to properly write a reply. Neither conclusion sat particularly well with the lioness, leaving her to feel more than a little abandoned. Still, she'd tried to remedy her mood, reminding herself that this would now be two weeks of free reign over the castle to search out clues about Lear's disappearance, scour the library, and get in some additional study time. Not to mention the plans to initiated inter-house Quidditch matches on the down-low had come to fruition.

Only…her attempt not to dwell on the issues facing those on the other side of the magical veil would not be made so easily. The virus had apparently permeated into the wizarding world as well, now. This was made all too clear with the call to arms by the Slytherin Head of House seeking assistance to prepare ingredients for the mass production of potions. There was much that Evelynn had yet to learn about the magical world, but she was absolutely certain about one thing: the Statute of Secrecy. Given her label as a member of the young class of wizards, notoriously irresponsible and loose-handed with spells, this was a concept that had been ground into all of them since day one. Wizards kept to their own. And muggles to their. There was the wizarding world, and then there was the non-magical world. The two, despite often occupying the same physical space, were as separate as the sea and the sky above. Rarely, she was sure, did the magical world ever risk broaching the Statue of Secrecy to aid in muggle affairs. To do this now…Well, Evelynn tried not to think about what it meant for her mother. Or the rest of her family.

What it meant for her, however, was that she found herself among several others in the greenhouses to do her part.

* * *

She had been working nearish to where her Gryffindor peer, Pierre, had been stationed. The sudden eruption of the plant's wailing had made her jump, and she'd wheeled around to see the Britalian looking just as flummoxed as she felt. Even over the shrill cries of the young mandrakes, she could just about make out his muffled shouting through the thick defense of her grey earmuffs.

"Put…it…in…the…box!" Evelynn stated (not yelled), enunciating her words with exaggerated lip movements and gesturing towards the nearest crate.

She needn't have bothered attempting to explain, however. Barely a moment later, Professor Jensen had commanded all of their attention, and provided additional clarification on the matter. It was odd. During that brief period of removing her protective coverings, Evelynn felt as though she had cotton stuff into her ears. The silence in the absence of screaming potato people and floundering students was almost just as deafening.

"See?" Evelynn stated quietly when she'd finished, casting Pierre a mildly amused expressed complete with crinkled half-smile.

With that, she returned her earmuffs back into place, cupping them and speaking aloud, "Testing", before brows knitted with her frown. She'd heard herself loud as day, her voice reverberating in her head as though she hadn't bothered to put protection on at all. Well, that was hardly an indication to whether they were working or not.

Abandoning that strategy, she turned until she spied someone else speaking, preferably before everyone dove right back into their work. She was just adjusting the earmuffs when something someone spoke nearby piqued her attention. She swivelled her head just in time to see the back of the platinum blonde head of one Pericles Dralt. Draught of the Living Dead. She had been quite certain that's what she'd heard just now. Naturally, it sparked a range of thoughts stemming from the last time she had seen the boy in any kind of extracurricular capacity — in the classroom of the first Liberation meeting. Perhaps he'd done some research? Gray eyes followed after him as he went to fetch a crate and bring it back to the tap-dancing girl. Interesting. Taking a leaf from his book, she traipsed after him to fetch a crate of her own, making a mental note to track him down sometime for some light questioning.

"Here," Evelynn said upon her return, once again addressing Pierre.

Of course, he probably couldn't hear her, but nevermind. After waving to catch his attention, she pointed to the box, setting its lid to its side as she arranged it between them at the table. Then, like everyone else, she set her attention on the plant pot before her, dug a little bit of the dirt away from the plant — which immediately started shifting, fingers poking out of the soil and moving as though in an attempt to cover itself back up — and grasped at the base of the stalk, ready to try to yank it free. Only, a nearby commotion of a clattering box snapped her attention. Gaze snapping to the source, she spied a rather flushed and embarrassed looking Bellamy, the girl next to whom Evelynn had sat at the recent Talent Show.

"You alright?" she mouthed, her expression clearly one of concern. As though to emphasize the question, she pointed with her free hand towards Bellamy before making an 'O' and 'K' in ASL with an accompanying questioning look.

Word Count: 1,094