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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Aisling had surprised him again she noticed immediately, trained as her eyes were to his face, both his blink and the glimmer of equally surprised pleasure that colored the hint of a smirk that followed after. It wasn’t hard to connect his amusement to the name she had spat and she couldn’t find it in her to be the least bit surprised or alarmed at his apparent dislike for the grizzled bear. The least one could accuse Moody of was being an ass and more often he wandered into what Aisling could only categorize as dangerously tyrannical territory. This fact made her uncomfortable on the best of days and halfway, or further by some estimations, hysterical on the worst.

Amusement lit her face at the meager wording of Reg’s acceptance. “Better company than carrots,”she repeated half-grinning,”I’ll take it.” She followed his gaze to the dozing monitor tilting her head to the side as she considered their position leaned against the garden fence. “I don’t know that they would...immediately anyway,”she paused thoughtfully before shrugging,”once they do they’ll go running straight to Moody and we have to pass him anyway to get to my room. It should be fine...” Aisling trailed off. Moody had made a point of making it clear how not fine he was with her joining the ‘babysitting brigade’ in any capacity.

“If not Alice’ll deal with him,”she shrugged turning towards the cottage,”Coming?”

Color Me Intrigued || Regulus and Aisling

Surprised at the sudden tumble of words, Regulus blinked. It was a modest reaction, but one that ushered in a new expression on his face–this one somewhat less wary. He’d wondered just seconds ago if she’d spoken to him at the bidding of the person toward whom she now expressed so much disdain. Regulus’ lightly squirmed deep down where he felt pettiness, simply at the thought that someone else might feel a similar dislike for Alastor Moody.

It was this that made the ghost of a smirk flick past the corner of his mouth. He didn’t speak on his own feelings just yet, but the mutual understanding smoothed something between them: that something largely being Regulus’ own paranoia.

“I suppose I would prefer painting to this.” He overlooked the garden for a moment before adding, “And you are rather better company than the carrots.” To be honest, the carrots were looking rather wilted, and certainly were silent.

“Frank won’t miss me,” Regulus answered honestly before nodding over to the half-asleep monitor. “That one might, though.”

#CMI #[para:Regulus]

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Aisling’s eyes lingered on his mouth as he sucked his lower lip out of view for a moment and her teeth closed on her own lip for a moment before she pulled her gaze back up to meet his. She nearly sighed when she discovered that wary look still written in his shifting glances and the tense lines of his body. His body language seemed to pronounce her threat and that was hardly the impression she wanted to make on anyone let alone such a curiously attractive stranger.

“You’re more than welcome.” She nearly hesitated again before continuing but she had held her tongue before and it had seemed to only make him suspicious rather than comfortable in her presence like she wished him to be. “I know it must be dull around here for you… and I imagine you have more need for distraction than most and these…” She waved her hand at the well-tended garden. “Chores hardly count especially when the list of ‘acceptably safe tasks’ is so short they are being done three times over.” Her voice rose slightly and the now dozing monitor stirred in their sleep alerting Aisling to just how many of her thoughts had burst into speech and brightening the flush on her cheeks.

“I only mean to say… well… this heat is dreadful isn’t it? I thought you might prefer some company and maybe to paint? I thought to ask Alice but she is muttering with Moody and the kitchen is altogether unbearable when he’s over.”

Color Me Intrigued || Regulus and Aisling

Aisling’s footsteps rustled through the garden while Regulus bit into his strawberry, not entirely able to hide the enjoyment of his favorite fruit right off the vine. The juice soothed his throat and took his mind off of the heat and sun for a moment that was too quick. The berry lasted only two bites before Regulus let the leaves fall to the roots of the plant.

He sucked his lower lip quickly to lick away the juice before looking back up at her. She was being so observant that it was eerie. Her eyes never left his face, and each word was pointed as though she wanted something from him. Despite how nonthreatening she seemed–her presence bright without burning–she put him on edge.

“Thank you.”

#[para:Regulus]#cmi

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Can’t Even Agree to Disagree || Aisling & Moody

@markedmanmoody

Although They had not been the end many had envisioned, some imagining utter destruction and a few hopeful spirits yearning for a brighter salvation, the Nox division had certainly brought change to the port. So many different groups called the salt-stained cottages home now that every day seemed to bring new revelations about the war and ideas for the future. Sometimes this meant progress but most days it meant bruised egos and stiffened pride that led them bounding backwards from any one plan for the future.

Bruised egos aside a bigger problem was bloodied toes... growing pains from so many survivors packed into too little space. It was a wonder they could find any common ground when space was beginning to lean towards standing room in the small cottages. Even Aisling was beginning to feel a bit stifled. She had never minded sharing her bed but her workshop was a slightly different matter and if any more survivors arrived shared rooms were fast going to become yet another necessary inconvenience of war alongside contagious captives and tempers driven to breaking points by fear and uncertainty.

Still one to see potential solutions where others might brood over the problems piling up in their home Aisling had spent the morning on the beach with her current notebook on her knees and a small bowl of strawberries by her side. The fruit served a dual purpose of refresher when her mind burned up what energy breakfast had offered and a step in a more light-hearted experiment should the subject appear. Which thankfully, and not a moment too late as her thoughts had began to bump against dead ends and fizzle with budding frustration, the dark-haired focus of her attentions appeared bedraggled monitor in tow. She stifled a laugh as she put her notebook aside drawing her wand and making a game of casting concealment charms on and floating strawberries towards the younger Black allowing them to pop into view as soon as they drew close enough to avoid the gaze of his escort.

Her focus on her charms and pleasure with each successive treat that reached Regulus thoroughly distracted her from her less selfish research...and her surroundings as well so that she did not notice she had attracted any attention at all. Let alone the disapproval that loomed towards her.

#[para:Moody]#finally #Let it begin #Can't Even

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Aisling wondered at the lack of bitterness in his reply despite the disparity in tenses. He still liked to paint...but he used to do it often. Almost everyone in the Port had a hobby something to help them keep their minds from being burned up by the constant uncertainty that roiled around the edges of their small haven. Almost everyone because it was hard to lose yourself in happy distractions with distrustful eyes watching your every movement eager to interpret any new routine as a threat. A hint of a frown touched her expression before she managed to hop off of the unpleasant train of thought.

However fleeting it may have been she knew Regulus had seen it. His eyes had gone wary after her question and they roved over her face like searchlights. He had stopped fidgeting as well instead standing not unlike a hare on alert. Aisling tilted her head slightly watching him back and wondering what it was that she had done to raise his alarm so.

It did not take him long to fall back into the same play she had caught him only moving on to a different act. She wasn’t surprised to find that he was not particularly focused on any chore within the garden, there was little Frank didn’t manage himself and even if a few weeds snuck past whilst Frank was distracted with other matters Regulus was surely not the first of their should-be guests sentenced to the chore in the past few days, but she was somewhat intrigued at the careful cover of his lack of purpose. She had heard stories about him from Order members who were trusted to act as monitors, she had volunteered once but had received something between a growl and an aborted laugh from the bully their fearless leader, who swore that his antics ranged from disagreeable to maddening. Although she tried not to antagonize her friends when they griped she couldn’t help but see the humor in their stories... it seemed even captives were bound to find hobbies and one could hardly blame Regulus for straining against the constant vigilance he was subjected to.

Aisling watched and followed him at a lazy pace through the garden. The strawberry was a surprise but she managed to catch it without drawing attention to herself or dropping it grinning widely at the combination of his gift and her small accomplishment. She lifted it to her mouth but paused as he bit into his noting the flash of earnest pleasure that touched his expression as he enjoyed his stolen treat. Strawberries and painting... I wonder what else he might like more access to. She moved closer through the rows of the garden glancing at his monitor who looked near as sun strained as Regulus did and half-ready to nod off in the small square of shade they had claimed before focusing her attention back on the dark-haired man.

“I have a new set of paints from the village... you’d be welcome to make use of them if you wanted.” She paused her earlier idea rising up again like heat as she noticed a spot of red juice from a sweet fruit lingering on his lip. “I’m sure I have something that could work as a canvas for you.”

Color Me Intrigued || Regulus and Aisling

Rather than answering his question, Aisling asked one of her own. There was enough hesitation in her voice–an odd blip between ‘you’ and ‘like–’ that Regulus knew the subject wasn’t the one she had wanted to broach. Despite this, he answered as casually as ever, with a slight nod and glance at the ground.

“I do. I used to paint often, but,” he shrugged. “I’m glad you like it.”

Her earlier hesitation him wonder again why she was speaking with him, if she was hiding something or if she was meant to do… something. He didn’t ask outright, but he became watchful, his eyes never leaving her face and tracking each of her movements as he himself remained slightly too still.

He had come to trust and feel relatively safe among the glares, the spite, and the distrust surrounding him. Aisling however seemed too genuinely friendly to trust or to predict. The best of his suspicions was that she was going to be a new monitor that he wouldn’t have the heart to fuck with. The worst was that someone wanted him to lower his guard and talk, maybe about a tortured or dead relative.

Regulus glanced over at the monitor on shift, then up at the sky. The sun was still high, which meant he was still supposed to be working, but the garden was painfully small. There was little left to do. Still feigning work, Regulus walked down the row, past carrots, then tomatoes. Back hiding his motions from the monitor, he picked a strawberry, then tossed another to Aisling silently.

If she was going to play a game, whether hers or someone else’s, he might as well play along. If not, there wasn’t any harm. The strawberry was warm and sweetened by the sun as he bit into it.

#cmi #[para:Regulus]#omg #here we go

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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A smile to match his own, tentative but no less bright for it, bloomed on her lips when he pressed his hand opposite hers. Even with the glass between them it was closer than they had dared to come to touching in the many weeks that they had skirted each other’s presence in their small haven. The closest they had come to connecting as her heart, even as burned and bruised as it felt when her eyes couldn’t stop looking for the stars that usually cast light on him, yearned to do.

She knew his pain was as sharp...and deeper still than her own. She knew it by more than logic although logic was enough to point out the differences in their similar loss. She had lost a lover... he had lost his life-mate. Him and Andromeda had balanced each other like the Earth and the Stars above and had formed a universe of love between them. Anyone who knew of their arrangement but did not know Aisling to her core would certainly be quick to dismiss her hurt as something...trivial when compared to the wound her friend was suffering. But in that word lay the greater truth for Aisling. She had lost a friend...two if one considered the painful distance that hung heavy between Ted and her despite their close quarters.

It was not the lack of Andromeda’s body in the port that left Aisling feeling somehow both burned and frozen - like ashes blown too far from a fire to catch the lingering warmth- when she caught sight of Ted. It was her laugh and the sharp sparkle that lit in her eyes when she figured out the problem in a spell in progress that was frustrating Aisling. It was the joy of sharing books and herb cuttings back and forth and talking over their impressions of them for hours. It was even the shared silence that would fall over them as reports of casualties began to stream in muggle and pure alike and they thought of family that could not or would not send an owl confirming their safety.

It was also Ted’s laughter that she missed. Once it had fell as frequent and refreshing as rain gracing the room alongside a wisp of smoke whenever the discussion or mood grew too heavy between the women. Hearing Andromeda laugh with her love was a harmony that Aisling missed keenly but even just a single note of joy from Ted would have been welcome. It was missing in his eyes and his every move as absent as his beloved and it tore at Aisling’s heart to see him so diminished.

It was the joy she missed like an Irish breeze on her skin but his slight smile still warmed the air not unlike the charm nestled in her gift. Silence still reigned over them but it was far less awkward and their motions rekindled a silent language that was far sweeter than stifled words. His backwards glance set a flash of mirth crossing her face. Her room was littered with half-finished projects and piles of pieces of potential for new inventions... there was an order to it she insisted every time someone asked - often in a way that bordered more of a suggestion - if she needed help sorting things out or tidying up but it was apparent only to her. Her own bed was little more than a nest of blankets and soft sweaters - not unlike the unfolded laundry Ted fretted - overtop a few carefully chosen and charmed boards.

Aisling’s eyes lit up at his invitation and she returned his nod closing her hand around the joint and backing away from the window to circle to the door. A flicker of anxious uncertainty ran across her when she did not follow her usual path in the cottage towards Tamsin’s loft but rather turned towards a room she had only glimpsed from the window. Ted’s room smelled faintly of smoke and something else that was entirely his own scent - so familiar that her stomach fluttered with the memory of it on her own skin - she stilled at the doorway for half a second before her longing and his invitation pulled her through. Silence reigned still but words were beginning to bubble and brew in her chest fueled by feelings that still burned like sparks as she reached out and opened her hand offering him her gift.

Missing the Stars || Aisling & Ted

There were some things that didn’t get easier no matter how long he was in the port, some things that there was no precedence for, no previous experience to call upon to make things any better. And being confronted with someone he had loved still loved? with Andromeda was one of those things. It was his own fault that it was so hard. Had those first moments of reunion been different, had he not been so utterly lost, beaten down, hopeless, he might’ve found comfort in seeing Aisling alive and well in the port. But instead it had just felt like another blow to his heart. The pain of seeing her without Andromeda at his side was whole, and the pain was reflected in her eyes, yet he couldn’t bring himself to offer her comfort when he was heartbroken himself.

And things had stayed much the same. The nearly awkward encounters, as if they were almost strangers, not past familiars. Ted wasn’t sure how he was meant to act without Dromeda there with them, had never imagined he would have to figure it out. There was a sort of longing ache in his chest whenever he saw Aisling around the village, the desire to reach out for her, but the confusion of not knowing exactly how without feeling his own pain a thousand times over again. And he could tell by the sadness in her eyes when she looked at him that she must have felt some of it.

Still, the small reminders she left him on his window sill made it clear that she still cared and that was enough, at least for a time. Shells and flowers made into constellations just as much for her as they were for Dromeda, if he was being honest. Joints that sparked and smoked bright colors and patterns only Aisling would know how to charm. It reminded him of what had been, in a sad and nostalgic way that knowing it would never be like that again could. He only wished he could do the same for her.

But he was more distracted than before. The new arrivals had made the bitter anger even more real. It was even harder to see how he could ever offer anyone the kind of comfort that they deserved when he felt he was near falling apart himself. And so he tried to busy himself, this time, in his small room in cottage one, attempting a complicated cleaning charm Andromeda had always been a pro at. Concentrating so hard that he had barely paid any mind to the movement out of the corner of his eye, right outside his window, as was busy trying to suss out what, exactly, had gone wrong with his folding charm this time. But for some reason he was drawn to the movement, and looking up from the mess he was causing he realized why. Even without his glasses on–where had he left them this time?–he could make out the figure, he knew who it was. After knowing someone so well and so intimately, it was difficult to forget every curve of their figure, no matter how blurry.

There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, maybe fear, maybe bitterness, that tried to drive him away from the window, but something stronger won out. Perhaps it was knowing that his last bit of hope, the hope that they might mean holding the stars he loved so much in his arms again, was faded, perhaps it was that after his talk with Sirius, his heart didn’t have any more room that week for the bitterness and anger he had been feeling. But whatever it was, he went to the window, and as his eyes locked with hers through the glass, she put her hand out. And the slightest of smiles twitched at the corner of his mouth before he reached out a tattooed hand and pressed it opposite hers against the glass.

Something compelled him to stand there for a moment, silently, the smile falling from his lips, before he finally let his arm fall back to his side. He glanced back at the mess of clothes, and then looked at Aisling again, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders, it wasn’t anything that she hadn’t deal with a dozen times over before things had changed. And despite the past weeks of awkwardness, of confusion, or maybe because of it, Ted gave Aisling a little nod, eyes tracking down to the bright yellow joint, as if to say join me?

#[Para:Ted]#Missing the stars #This one won't be so lengthy I promised myself #I am full of feels and lies

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Aisling McCrae | 23 | Cross-Medium Inventor

I LOVE LIFE. BUT IT IS HARD, AND I HAVE SO MUCH - SO VERY MUCH TO LEARN. — Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

#ahah fixed it #[ The Girl in the Looking Glass ]#[ About Aisling ]#Kathryn is literally amazing #Caption credit Plath via Kathryn #Also Quote via Stella via Fitzgerald <3

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Fernanda Ly & Grace Hartzel by Patrick Demarchelier for Vogue China July 2016

#Aisling and Greta #[ snapshot ]#omg I can't remember any of my tags right now because my brain is dead

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Send me ♡ + a word, and I’ll write a headcanon.

#[ ask meme ]#[ headcanons ]

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Scars That Bleed || Aisling & Edgar

@ernestedgar

War was a chaotic thing constantly shifting and changing like a hurricane too fast for anyone to catch all of the little tragedies that befell their allies. Lives were lost and shattered in an instant without so much as a shudder touching most of the Order. The Port was another matter entirely. Like gathering an ocean’s worth of fighters and survivors and pouring them into a small pond they brushed against each other with every movement and when so much as a pebble broke the surface the ripples shook them all in one way or another. So it had been with the revelation and arrival of the Nox division.

Aisling watched the faces of her fellow Port dwellers as they reacted to the newest change with an interest that bordered on concern in many cases. As per usual Moody’s snarls and dark looks made the hair raise on the back of her neck but his borderline hostile reaction to their new arrivals was not the highest of her concerns - Alice will deal with him - instead her eyes drifted to a much gentler face. As soon as she recognized Amelia among the group of agents her gaze had flown to his face quick enough to watch a cascade of emotions fall over it. Wonder and relief waved brightly but the following doubt and pain did not surprise her in the least. His sister rushed to him and joy shuttered over the harsher emotions she had glimpsed but Aisling made note of them. So when she scanned the many faces rushing about and discovered his absence, despite him usually being among the first to go around soothing any disquiet caused by ripples in their small pond, she understood why he had gone.

It was tempting to follow him immediately but she made a quick detour to her room first digging through her basket of treasured baubles for a time until the found the perfect piece of seaglass. It was bright blue and smooth enough to be tucked under a pillow without fear of tearing already patched pillowcases. She tapped it with her wand and muttered codladh sámh before wrapping it in a bit of bright fabric and tucking it in her pocket. It was no carefully constructed spyglass but this time she had words to offer along with her gift.

Aisling made her way away from the cottages and the milling excitement that had sprung up around the friends and strangers gathered there. She had her own questions for their surprising guests - new residents? they had said they were coming but not why or for how long - but first she felt the pull of a pain whose twin had cut into her own chest not long ago. It was a strange thing to lose someone and have them reappear… like blood rushing from a wound you thought had long since closed into a scar. After some time she found him on the hill. Unlike the first time she had spied him there he was not gazing into the distance but rather slumped against the rock that marked this hill apart from the others and unlike the first time she did back away but instead made a soft noise to warn of her presence before she sat beside him. For a moment she let the only sound be the wind and ocean before she revealed her reason for breaking his self-imposed solitude. “Alice was dead too. I read it in the paper when I was just outside of Cambridge in this little wizarding village… I had written her you know? After the battle and I hoped there might be some word… it wasn’t exactly the message I was expecting.”

#ernestedgar #Scars that Bleed #[para:Edgar]

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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Missing the Stars || Aisling & Ted

@amariusqueadastra

Waking in Port Montrose had felt like opening her eyes to a vision that shifted constantly between dream and nightmare. Even after Aisling moved past the fleeting terror that she was dead and on to the small bursts of pained joy that came along with discovering Alice and Frank alive and well despite their burned home something about the small Port town still felt ethereal. The Order had survived the battle that toppled the Ministry to its knees but its members drifted like ghosts...and in the case of a few hissed like angry wraiths at the equally drained survivors who were clearly Marked as separate from them.

It took her days to find balance on her own feet and weeks to edge into a semblance of stability among a group that had once seemed as connected and bright as constellations. The mist that rolled off the waves, the tides at least remained as consistent as ever and Aisling found herself watching them more nights than not measuring out her thoughts and breaths with the swelling of the water, teemed with surprises not the least of which was a familiar face that she had never expected to find among the Order that he had never called his own.

For a moment it seemed as though her excitement at discovering the Longbottoms safe and sound was to be twofold in another set of hearts that and limbs that had twined with her own... until she saw Ted’s face. He had always been a dreamer, their shared tendency to float through conversations on smoke-fueled whimsy was one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place, but she had never seen him so fully adrift before and her heart stuttered at the sight. Ice cold understanding dripped through her veins even as her eyes searched for another form she had come to expect by his side. Oh gods...where is Andromeda?

The question stuck uncharacteristically in her throat held there by the bitter knowledge that if he knew the answer his gaze would have held hers with excitement instead of darting away from an unexpected shock of pain that she felt rebound in her own chest. Part of her wanted to run and throw her arms around him...to cry out and offer comfort in turn but an unfamiliar awkwardness stilted her movements until the moment had passed.

Thus began an uncomfortable dance...time and time again she was drawn by her heart’s urgent desire to comfort only to back away from the sparks of pain that caught on her flammable memories. Never one to settle into any pattern, particularly one as frustrating as the one that pushed and pulled at her whenever she caught sight of sad eyes and bright tattoos, she fought back in unusually quiet ways. A line of shells and flowers decorated his window sill soon followed by tightly rolled joints each one housing a charm different than the last.

The one in her hand was bright yellow and charmed to glow softly and emit an atmosphere of warmth that she felt could be useful given that it was hard to remember how chilly the nights could be when the sun had began to beat down on them during the days. She’d just began to set it in her usual spot, it had been a relief when she’d come back after leaving the first few to find them missing and the bright stones and shells moved into constellations that spoke of her gifts finding their way into the right hands, when her eyes met his through the glass panes. She froze but her heart held hard to the desire that had driven her there in the first place to reach out and her hand ended up pressed to the glass all thoughts of running away driven away by a greater draw to the man on the other side.

#[Para:Ted]#Missing the stars #holy fuck #feels all over the place

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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For a minute she wondered if he would speak to her at all or if her arrival had been too off-putting for his taste but he soon gathered himself enough to speak and stand all at once. His answer was refreshingly honest, more than she had come to expect from the refugees who she had found evaded the simplest questions as though they expected them to turn to accusations at less than a moment’s notice, and she was glad for it.

“I didn’t mean to,”she replied just as honestly.

It was true that a number of the other Port residents who had not known her particularly well before the war, particularly newcomers, had a tendency to jump and skitter their gazes away from her when she shed layers of clothing but her intention was never to elicit these reactions. She did try to have at least a shawl nearby in case anyone grew truly upset but she still weighed her own comfort over smaller measures of shock and occasional awe. Despite his initial reaction she didn’t gauge enough discomfort in her current conversation partner to warrant searching for one of her shawls a fact that brightened the sparkle in her eyes as she met his.

“No I suppose they don’t.”

Her eyes drifted away from his as he stretched and his shirt rode up offering a view of pale toned stomach. Pale as though it had not seen the sun in more weeks than it had been since winter began to fade which nearly confused her until his next sudden movement was to cover something she only needed a glimpse of to recognize. She wondered if the quickness of his motion was out of shame or self-defense - how many others among the Order knew that mark as one that had hung heavy over lost family and friends? How many of those same mourners would be shift to lash out against him for bearing it? She could understand the fear that it drew… it was as Dark as it’s name and it’s meaning even darker but it was hardly his fault that he could not wash it away now that he had left the monster who created it behind.

“Do you…” always hide it? There were some questions even she knew were better bitten back,”Like to paint? I saw your painting in Alice’s room, I hope you don’t mind she shared it was yours I could tell it wasn’t her style and I was curious, it’s very good.”

Color Me Intrigued || Regulus and Aisling

Soft laughter and undeniable amusement in her voice followed Regulus’ reaction, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look back up. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen a woman naked before, or that he thought there was anything inherently shameful about it, but his mind was one of compartments and context. This was a context he was entirely inexperienced in.

“Only just.” As he spoke, he stood, brushing away a soft dusting of dirt, pollen, and plant stems.

They were eye-level now, making it easy for Regulus to gain his composure and meet her gaze. Once he remembered her remark that he looked bored, Regulus nodded as though nothing else had happened.

“Carrots don’t make the most fascinating conversation.”

His back ached, his neck in particular, and he rubbed it lightly with his palm, already able to feel the seer of sunburn. As he did so, he caught a vague flash of black against white in the corner of his eye. Quickly, his arm fell back to his side before tugging down his sleeve which was rolled up just past the wrist.

“Did you want something?”

Most of the Order, other than Mary, tended to avoid him, so Regulus had no reason to believe Aisling might simply want to talk.

#[para:Regulus]#cmi

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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For Every Bloom a Reason // Aisling & Frank

@frankmathew

Long before she found herself struggling with a mandrake or watching a potion turn just the right shade of purple after the final addition of a few carefully chopped herbs Aisling had been aware of the magic of plants. Growing up darting through the flowers and herbs of her grandmother’s garden and sitting on the counter next to brewing tinctures and bowls of milk left for household spirits it had not taken an owl delivered letter or wand for Aisling to know that her world was magical. Caoilinn McCrae had carried on the generations old tradition of treating their village’s scrapes and heartaches with herbs and kind words of wisdom and Aisling had trailed after her with stars in her eyes from the time she could crawl. Even when she grew old enough that her own inventions began to steal away some of her time and attention she would often wander outside to watch her grandmother when she went gathering in her garden and beyond in the woods along the river listening eagerly to the names and uses of everything she placed in her basket. It was her grandmother who taught her that some of many plants that boasted ugly finger-shredding thorns had the greatest potential for healing inside of them and that nothing should be taken at face value. “Everything blooms for a reason, a stór,” her grandmother would chide as she carefully plucked yellow flowers from an aiteann bush.

Aisling thought back to her grandmother’s words and her tenderness with the cuts and scrapes that often appeared on Aisling’s impatience hands following such excursions as she looked down at her similarly abused hands. Everything blooms for a reason. She had memorized dozens of herbs by name and sight and learned the reasons under the tutelage of Caoilinn in Ireland and her potions and herbology teachers when she was whisked away to a different land of magic. Now she knew the reason but whatever plant bloomed to fill the need stubbornly evaded her. She had been sketching the plants that grew around their new home since her first hike into the rocky hills but her urgency had spiked since the arrival of their hostile patient and the deadly threat she carried in her blood. Dirty blood…I wonder if she sees the irony… But with inventions gathering dust in her room back in the Port and requests piling up she soon realized that spending her days walking the miles back and forth into the hills were not practical. She had tried dragging back a number of cuttings to study and while they dried nicely and she labeled them known and unknown in small pouches alongside her other herbs a living plant seemed more likely to give out secrets than a dead one. After a disastrous attempt at potting a few of them she decided it would be best to appeal to Frank and see if he might be willing to adopt a few more leafy children into his garden.

The sun was just beginning to climb to its high point in the sky as she reached the gate to the garden behind her cottage legs aching from running down the hills with the handle of a bucket caught firmly in each of her hands… she still had not quite perfected her floating spell to carry them both and after her last wasted trip she determined perhaps she would be better off holding them herself. She set her burden down to open the gate and twisted her gaze this way and that somewhat surprised not to see Frank hard at work among those digging in his garden. Perhaps the sun had driven him away? She took a few steps towards the open door to the kitchen and called out,”Frank? Are you around?”

#oh god this is too much #No need to match length especially since I gave you like 4 words of dialogue what even am I doing #[para:Frank]#frankmathew #For Every Bloom a Reason

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notyetashes-blog · 8 years

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We are ｍｏｓａｉｃｓ pieces of light, love, history, stars.

Glued ⓣⓞⓖⓔⓣⓗⓔⓡ with magic and music and words.

Meet the Wonderer

Name: Aisling Caoilinn McCrae Sexuality: Grey-Aromantic Poly-Pansexual Birthplace: Inistioge, Ireland Languages: English, Irish Celtic Wand: Walnut, Unicorn Hair, 10 ½ inches, reasonably supple

Style: Ripped jeans and flowy skirts with tattered hems, hair loose or caught up in a ribbon or around a pencil… a twig…her wand, loose layered gauzey shirts or no shirt at all, robes and jackets with pockets drooping and clinking with seashore treasures, tangled flower chains and crowns.

Aesthetic: Damp sand dusted skin, baths with shimmering water and homemade flower bombs, forgotten shirts on the shore and kitchen floor, a row of well-loved notebooks, piles of scrap metal and driftwood, chipped tea cups, thin trails of smoke.

Skills: Potion and spell-crafting, inventing, oral, filling awkward silences, understanding, finding threads of hope in desperate situations.

Joys: Soft careless caresses, passionate kisses, dancing to Marlene’s record player, sugary tea, carefully charmed joints, solving problems.

Troubles: Close-minded people, cruelty, fits of homesickness, caffeine shortages, lonely nights.

Relationships

Strangers: The phrase “Never met a stranger” fits Aisling pretty well. Naturally friendly and curious Aisling has a tendency to treat strangers as friends unless they prove otherwise. At Hogwarts this left her with a wide array of friends and friendly acquaintances from her own house and others and an occasional description as “That weird girl who won’t stop talking to me, who the hell is she anyway?” Friendly but not stupid Aisling has learned to be slightly more wary since the war began but she is still among the first to cozy up to newcomers to the Port with smiles, questions, and a lit joint or offer of an invention or potion for anyone who needs someone to talk to or something to help them think a little more positively.

Friends: For many finding Port Montrose meant survival above all else but to Aisling it signaled something much more important: an end to her loneliness. Aisling had been surviving on her own with reasonable success, perhaps even better success than she had after her postcard found her and she began the mad dash of her trek to the Port, but even her glowing optimism was dimming in the absence of the friendly voices and touch that she had always hungered for. Now that she is once more among friends she has flourished, although admittedly even she is troubled by the state of morale in their last stronghold…once the Order was a beacon of hope and now so many of the faces she sees show a draining hopelessness, and she spends her days working on requests for repairs, inventions, and potions determined to play a part in putting smiles on the faces she missed so much during her months alone. Although she works hard to keep up with demand Aisling is a firm believer in finding time to play and anyone who is looking for a dose of optimism can find her ready and willing to go for a hike and a smoke or go run through the waves on the beach she has come to love so much.

Lovers: Aisling has always delighted in physical connection and intimacy. Although she has never felt the romantic drive that her oldest magical first pillow-friend Alice Longbottom has in spades Aisling finds great comfort and excitement in the thrill of taking a lover, new or old, to her nest (or the kitchen table or the beach to the sometime dismay of her non-participating housemates and fellow Port dwellers) for a few hours spent lost in pleasure. Aisling is a generous and willing playmate to anyone who catches her attention and returns her interest. The most frequent ‘downside’ to her near unconditionally warm attention is her lack of romantic interest. It can be hard for people to understand that Aisling, who loves almost everyone at least a bit and many people whole-heartedly, has never fallen in love in her life and has little desire to do so, what little desire she does have is often driven by a feeling not unlike shame that makes her think maybe she’s somehow wrong to not fall in love with her playmates and a not infrequent longing for something more that often hits when she observes the bonds between the Weasleys and Longbottoms, and this lack of understanding has often led to hurt feelings in the past when lovers press her to move on to the ‘next step’ or grow jealous when she pays similar attention to others. In Aisling’s mind there is no ‘next step’ her lovers are her friends, some of them among her dearest of course but no more important due to the sexual parts of their relationship than any other close friendship, and jealousy confuses her as she’s never understood how caring for more than one person means caring less for anyone else she takes into her confidence or bed. (Side note: Aisling has no preference of gender in her sexual partners but she does tend to gravitate towards couples perhaps mostly because they have already found that ‘something more’ that many of her lovers end up wanting and with them she feels less at risk of coming up lacking.)

Challenges: Unsurprisingly not everyone at Port Montrose appreciates Aisling’s insistence on pacifism in the face of a cruel and bloody war. That one of their chief spell-crafters and their resident trap-smith refuses to make spells and traps that do anything more than detain their targets has been the cause of much frustration and many arguments. There are those who are determined to teach her the error of her ways by any means necessary and others who have deemed her inept and doomed to either change her ways or die who have taken to ignoring her outright. Aisling tries to take this in stride but their faces, particularly the ones who keep at her with reminders that any invader who escapes unharmed from one of her traps is a deadly threat to the people she cares about within the Port, often float disapprovingly through her occasional nightmares.

Threats: Aisling has never been prone to hatred. She’s usually much too concerned with trying to understand why people act the way they do to spend time condemning them for it. The exceptions are the Dark Lord himself and those others at the forefront of the push for a blood-cleansing war who she sees as poisons spreading in the world she has come to love and call her own. Oh she knows well enough to fear even the lowest death eater, with the clear exception of those who have repented and ran from that poisoned cause, but she can not bring herself to hate them the way many of her allies do. It terrifies, saddens, and often angers her that they are ripping her world apart, keeping her away from her home, and tearing the smiles from her loved ones but mostly she feels pity that they are so misguided as to follow evil down a path that, as far as she sees it, will only end up damaging their souls beyond repair and knocking their world forever out of balance.

Looking for:

The Cure Club: When it comes to Vivienne Travers Aisling is of the mind that they should be working as hard and fast as possible to cure her. Since her arrival she has spent many hours picking herbs and writing notes in a notebook that has been entirely devoted to possible cures and treatments for the vanishing sickness. Aisling is happy to help anyone else by providing her notes and her mind to bounce ideas off of and has approached anyone with healing or herbal knowledge, she’s determined that the cure is a potion rather than a spell, so if your character fits that mold she has probably talked to them about her ideas for a cure. As per usual she will not entertain any suggestion that they kill their captive, no matter how virulent she may be, but what may be surprising to some is her complete willingness to experiment on the woman to hasten the search for a cure. It may be a violation of the death eater’s will but it’s for the greater good after all and her friends are at risk. (Frank, Edgar, Lily, etc)

The Gentle Touch: Optimism may come naturally to Aisling she is not impervious to homesickness and the strain of threats to her new home. Lately Aisling has been finding herself prone to uncharacteristic fits of melancholy. Some days the only thing that draws her from these moods is a friend noticing her shift in spirits and reaching out with an interesting conversation, a cup of tea, or bit of play. Without these small comforts Aisling’s moods can take sharp turns leaving her at best listless and unable to focus or worse snappish and irritable. (Ted, Frank, Alice, Charity, Remus, Mary, etc)

The Blast from the Past: As aforementioned Aisling’s relationships have not always run smoothly and many of the ones that did have been shaken by the war in some fashion. This could be a lover who once hoped for a deeper relationship with Aisling only to feel jilted when she could offer no such thing or someone for whom things have changed drastically since the start of the war who is having trouble figuring out how to act around her now that things are different. One such example is Ted who was once her lover along with Andromeda, both Aisling and him have to relearn how to be around each other balancing a desire to and for comfort with the painful memories they evoke in each other. But I’d love to talk about the potential of Aisling being stuck in the little Port town with someone with whom she had an awkwardly ended relationship. (Ted and open)

The Challenger: Thus far Aisling has managed to keep her hands clear of blood even in the midst of the battle of London, from which she fled when the choice was her life or another’s, and she continues to insist that she will not kill for the cause. Her traps and spells are pointedly humane and her opinions on the refugees and even the captive bioweapon are lenient to the point of welcoming. I can imagine this attitude, while natural to her, is irksome to many of her allies. I would love to see someone push at Aisling’s weak spots looking for a way to get her to change her mind and become a more offensive force in the war effort. Even just convincing her to make more dangerous traps or learning some stronger dueling spells would be an incredible step. (Moody, Marlene, etc)

The Curious Cat: Aisling is hardly what anyone would call ‘normal’ from wandering the Port nearly nude to traipsing into a number of different bedrooms other than her own at night and making no attempts to hide her activities therein she tends to call a certain kind of attention to herself. Maybe your character wants to join in on the fun or maybe they are scandalized by her actions, either way Aisling has proven herself willing to talk to almost anyone about just about anyone topic. Perhaps your character finds the nerve to come up and ask her their questions or maybe their curiosity is obvious enough that Aisling calls them out on it either way I’d love to talk potential plots regarding this. (Any and all)

More to come!

*names listed after plots are just suggestions all plots are open unless specified otherwise!

If you are interested in any of these plots or any others please message me here or on skype! <3 Also my past shipper has some other interesting facts about Aisling and a few plot ideas as well.

Quote credit

#FINALLY #omg #I still don't have internet but hit me up on skype and I'll check it on my phone #shipper #pm: plots

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