(1939-09-09) For the Civilized
Details for For the Civilized
Summary: Myrus instructs a group of Muggle-born how to cook while Emily is learning how to knit. Angelus steps in and there is words to be had.
Date: September 9, 1939
Location: Club Room

Before breakfast, Angelus has left the Gryffindor tower to step in on the club room. It’s a common occurrence, checking the schedule, setting up times when he can meet up to work on potions work with his small gathering. He’s dressed neatly in uniform, tidy and clean, with his shoes polished. As the youth walks along the corridor, he’s just checking his hair again even as he just styled it, flicking his fingers through his blonde curls. Obviously he can’t go out looking like a mess! That would just be so uncivilized. Gel knocks on the club room before he pushes open the door a crack, clearing his throat as he peeks in.

When Angelus would open the door just that little bit, he would see Myrus turned towards the door, and not much else. "Who is it?" Some other murmurs could be heard. Mostly older students. One or two Angelus could see past Myrus might be recognizable as muggleborns. Fourth, fifth, second, sixth, even a seventh year were all in here. Seven in total not including Myrus. Who was wearing an apron, covered in cooking ingredients it was. The others in the club room were as well in varying degrees of messy from what looks like they are cooking.

Emily is in a corner, having set up shop as FAR AWAY from the mudbloods as possible… While the others might be 'cooking', she is being much more civilised by simply practicing her knitting. She eyes the needles as they work, her lips pursing critically. "No no no," she mutters. She reaches out, undoes the knitting and prepares to try again.

As the youth spies Myrus on the other side of the door, Angelus straightens and offers a proper little bow of his head. “Morning, Lowe,” he greets. His silver Eye of Truth glistens around his neck as he shifts, his blue eyes flicking past the older boy curiously before returning his gaze back to the sixth year. “Is there club in process then?” he asks. “I’m looking for the times for club meetings today.”

Myrus steps forward and pulls the door the rest of the way open, and goes to return to where he was helping the others with cooking. He points to the wall nearby the door with the posted schedule for the week. "It's there. You can read, I imagine." And he glances at the pendant of the Magijugend on Angelus. Guess it's true, and Myrus goes back to explaining. "So we just have to wait about twenty minutes or until a toothpick doesn't have any of the muffins stick to it when you poke them in the middle. So we have some time to just relax and start cleaning up." And his own station would start cleaning itself up as he uses the cleaning spell.

"Conferso." Emily puts a bit more effort into it this time, and her needles dance to life. She smiles, watching as they begin to knit a rather pretty jumper, complete with cable stitches and colourwork. Oddly… It's Gryffindor-coloured colourwork. She looks up as she recognises a voice and then… sliiiiiiiiides in front of the knitting. NOPE. Nothing to see here.

“Thanks, Lowe,” says Angelus, a smile flicking at his lips as he lowers his head again. As he steps into the room he glances curiously around as he assesses the situation, a superior little smirk twitching across his lips. His head comes up in self-importance. “Oh, learning how to cook?” Even though he smiles warmly, the tone of his voice is conceited, because obviously that’s what servants are for. But he’s not going to /say/ that. A hum escapes the boy as he turns his gaze towards the schedule, unable to resist the urge to say in a proper, smug tone, “If I weren’t capable of reading I would be taking remedial classes, too.” As his gaze shifts towards the wall, however, he catches sight of the second year. His head tilts lightly as a grin flashes across his face. “You’re a pleasurable sight. You’re like a glittering star in the middle of a swamp.” That totally wasn’t a gibe at any Muggle-borns he might recognise.

Myrus starts laughing at Angelus' comments. He definitely picked up on them. Though his laughter was hinting at forced before it became overbearing, then abruptly and unexpectedly stopped. His look at Angelus held the same contempt one would regard a pup wolf trying to stalk the flock. "Oh, learning how to be manipulated? Good for you. That in itself will keep you out of remedial classes until they are done with you. So I'll see you in a few months right here.. learning how to cook." He grins at Angelus that might be mistaken for a real smile in some ways, and he goes back to cleaning.

Emily simply rewards Angelus with a brilliant if slightly cheeky smile at his compliments. That is.. right up to the point where Myrus begins to speak. Her hand finds her hip, and her eyes narrow. "Watch it, Lowe," she says in a suddenly very tense voice. "It's -easy- to accuse someone of manipulation." Her eyes flick meaningfully to the muggleborns. "I should hate to think that you might be unduly influencing simple minds towards unsuitable behaviour." She may only be a second year, but there is a steel in her eyes that makes her suddenly look a -whole- lot older.

“I’m planning on a potions meet-up later today,” Gel explains, spoken to Emily as he smiles at her. He approaches her, head lifting as if to peek over top of her and behind. “What’re you working on, Miley? Whew,” Angelus lets out as he barely turns. He shifts his gaze lazily towards Myrus, an impatient sigh escaping him, as if he could hardly be bothered to pay any attention over at that section of the room. “Why, Lowe,” escapes the youth as he feigns a look of shock. “Was that gibe even necessary? I was just impressed that you can cook,” he says with a simple shrug, even if his smile is smug. He rolls his eyes as he turns back to Emily, to finish his approach and lean in close to give her cheek a kiss. “I have something for you.”

Myrus looks at Emily when she pipes up. "You should know what unsuitable behaviour feels like on the receiving end, Gibbon. So don't condone condescension now when it's in your favor." Remembering a breakdown he heard about her having when two Muggleborn Gryffindors did a while back to her. Or was that directly from her own mouth he heard it from? He grins, and starts applauding her mockingly, "Oh, yes, it's so easy, you just did it yourself! And you're so much younger than I. You're well on your way! Keep at it, Gibbon!"

To Angelus, he smiles simply, "And I that you can read." Some giggles from the group, and he goes back to quietly cleaning up, checking the time on the food. Which -smells- really good, btw.

Emily laughs brightly at Myrus. "Oh, Lowe," she says with a soft gentle tone. She sounds kindly. Sympathetic even. "You know, it must be hard being a blood traitor; it's a wonder that you can live with yourself. You weren't -born- like this; surely you're just confused by the sewage that certain people have put into your brain… It's not too late, you know. You could join the right side of this and help make the world.. so much better. Help make our school -strong- again. Hey!"

She's distracted by Angelus trying to peek, and she pokes him in the side. "Mind your own business, you old silly!" she teases, eyes bright and twinkly. She reaches out behind her and grabs her work. Grabby hands. The needles still and she's able to stuff them into a bag. "And you got something for me?" A lazy smile blooms across her features. "What did you bring me?"

A chuckle escapes Angelus as Emily reacts to his peeking, an amused glitter in his blue eyes. “Aww,” he playfully sulks at her, “I don’t get to see what you’re working on?” He tilts his head, but then laughing heartily as he reaches out to catch the girl in his arms to lightly tickle her sides. “I’ll see you after first classes, okay?” The blonde haired Gryffindor frowns when he glances towards Myrus again, looking between him and Emily. A sigh escapes him as he shakes his head. “Why are you speaking in such an uncivilised tone? It’s like your mind’s been infected by the lower class.” Another impatient sigh escapes the boy, looking to Emily again sorrowfully. “It’s a shame when a pure-blood can’t act properly. And an older student, too; shouldn’t they be setting a good example? Like Black.”

Myrus turns and smiles at the two younger students, and bends at the waist just a bit to get down to their level. "The day that muggleborns are banned from Hogwarts, that is the day I'll stop helping them. Because anyone that wants to learn something from me, can. Even you two, right now can learn something from me. We're all students here. No one is better or worse than anyone else, except for those who say they are better than another. Because when all the cards are down, we'll see who prevails. And prejudice is the Black mark on the school. Not acceptance and learning and teaching." He smiles to them, and with a nod of the head, turns and heads back over to the stations, "Ok, they should be ready now, check them and pull them out. If they're good, dig in!"

And out of stoves come blueberry, raspberry, and a few other types of muffins, some slightly imbued with happy magic even, and those there begin to eat happily.

Emily listens to Myrus quietly for a moment or two, shaking her head sadly. "Please don't get too close," she says most politely. "You're filthy." She turns to Angelus. "I have to wait until tomorrow?" she says, pouting. "Can't you just take me away from here? It's all too tragic for words."

Angelus might be younger, but he’s an Eibon. His head is lifted as he inhales, chest rising as he shows pride. “I am one hundred and ten percent better in everything that I do,” Gel slips out as a smirk twitches over his lips. “Because I’m Angelus Eibon,” he says as he points his thumb at himself, “a Star and a legend.” A grin flashes across his face, glittering in his blue eyes as he tilts back his head and chuckles. He’s so AMAZING, just look at him take that heroic stance, placing his hands on his side with his chest puffed. He clears his head and shakes his head when he glances back to Emily, still grinning. “I’ll walk you to breakfast,” he offers.

He frowns at the rest of Myrus’ words, and a spark of annoyance flickers in his eyes as Gel looks to the Ravenclaw. “Don’t disrespect Alphard Black,” warns the youth defensively. “He’s got more class than you have.” Gel smirks, rolls his eyes and turns, holding out his hand to Emily before he’ll start for the door.

Emily just reaches out and takes Angelus' arm, quickly summoning her bookbag and settling it on her shoulder… "Don't bother, Angelus," she says forbearingly. "He's beyond our power to help. He's allowed them to infect him…" She gives Myrus a small smile, the kind that says "I'm sorry that you're 'slow'." "He can't help himself. He's sick." She nudges him towards the door. "And -why- can't I have my pressie now?"

Myrus does the fake laughter at Angelus once again, stopping abruptly. "And who said I was speaking about Alphard Black? I never said his name. I'm sure it's purely coincidence his name is a color as well. And what do I care about class? All that is restricting to do what you want. And a facade to make people think better of you." He shrugs, and goes back to what he's doing, but after Emily and Angelus had left, Myrus seems disturbed by something. He doesn't say anything about it, but one of the other sixth years takes over the mantle of it, telling him to take a break. And he takes off his apron, cleans up and leaves without another word off to.. somewhere.

Angelus’ blue eyes narrow icily in warning, suspicious. But then a smug look crosses his face as he smirks, tilting his head as his he regards Myrus. “I figured as much,” he says as he lifts his hand as if he were dismissing a servant. “No class, and such a waste of my time,” he announces, turning his gaze to Emily and nodding to the girl in agreement. “Complete shame,” he murmurs out before disappearing out of the room.

As he walks along the corridor, Gel smiles as he looks to Emily at his side. “I’ll give it to you at breakfast,” he informs. “You can use it today in class.” Because showing off is /great/.

Myrus et al are completely forgotten as Emily is escorted by her boyfriend to breakfast. "Oh? Is it pretty?" she asks teasingly. "I hope it's pretty." And they're out the door.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License