hh_mirror | Susan Sto Helit and the Hangover of Doom

((RP open to members of Ravenclaw House))

Getting magnificently drunk had seemed like a good plan at the time. But even the granddaughter of an anthropormorphic personification can only drink so much before simply dozing right off, and somewhere after glass number six, Susan had fallen soundly asleep, curled up in the armchair in front of the fireplace.

She woke in the grey dawn, stiff and sore and with a head that felt indescribably awful. "'lo, Bilious," she muttered, trying to crack a joke, but the attempt only made the throbbing worse.

Adding insult to injury was the realisation that her memories of Tuesday's events were thoroughly undimmed. Clearly, to achieve an appropriate state of anaesthesia, a state of constant intoxication would be required ... and that truly wasn't Susan's style, so she was going to have to learn to live with it.

Enough of that; thinking about it drove the headache to blinding levels -- in the meantime, she was still wearing yesterday's grass-stained skirt and torn stockings, and she need to wash, and maybe see if they had any interesting hangover cures. She tidied up the bottles, picked up the Nimbus (at least she had that to be grateful for) and headed off to the dorms.

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Susan watched with some concern as Maturin made his way to bed; she did hope he'd be all right.

She still needed to find exactly where she would be living, get a change of clothes, and take a bath, but in the meantime, the first order of business was to take the willowbark.

"Good day."

The pre-Victorian lady makes her way to the curious woman. Emma found her a bit strange and frightening at her sorting, and therefore avoided it. But now that she was in her house, and was one of the few adult women, it was imperative that they became friends. Especially since they may well be roommates.

"I am Miss Emma Woodhouse, of Highbury. I do hope that you have not lost your way."

Oh thank gods, an adult woman who appears to be of some sense. "Actually, I don't know that I've found my way," Susan replied. "I'm Susan Sto Helit; it's nice to meet you, Miss Woodhouse. I keep getting lost in this place. I need to find where my things have been put, and also a bath. I was beginning to think there were no other women in this House."

"It is a pleasure. There is our prefect, of course. And I believe there's a little blonde girl running around. Oh yes, and some Egyptian woman ~~passed out in the common room~~. But other than that, it appears that they do not wish to condescend to our company."

She frowns at the rudeness, but then smiles again.

"There are several spare beds in my own room; perhaps we shall get you settled there? I have never shared a room before. It is sure to be an adventure, is it not?"

Emma turns to lead Susan to her room.

"An adventure, yes," Susan replied drily. She follows Emma nonetheless, acutely aware of the grass stain, the ripped stockings, the untidy hair. She really does need a bath.

Emma reminds Susan of some of the girls from the Quirm College for Young Ladies: extraordinarily polished, beautifully-spoken, very concerned with appearances. Emma, though, seems like a much sharper utensil than some of the spoons and butter-knives who were Susan's schoolmates, and someone Susan could get along with. And possibly even befriend.

"So. Er, how's your experience been here? I'm still figuring things out, you see, and the fact that the, er, mischief started the day after my arrival hasn't helped."

"Quite well, quite well. I have met some dear gentlemen in Ravenclaw, Mr. Winchester and Mr. Pierce. And of course Lord Wimsey. And those are just our housemates. I was concerned when I was sorted here instead of Slytherin that I would not meet many gentlemen of quality; I am happy to note that I was in error."

She opens the door to a well-kept room, with the bed near the window already taken. It has been decorated as elegantly as Emma can manage with her limited supplies, the bronze and blue Ravenclaw colors carefully matching the new tablecloth.

"I have also met several young ladies who, of course, require some guidance. It is so strange some of the ideas they have regarding marriage. I try my best. Otherwise I have had a marvelous time at Hogwarts, for my first week."

She fails to mention the Slug Club and Roland, but that's something she won't even tell her closest friends unless she is forced to.

"Mr Winchester? He's the doctor, isn't he? Er, not the nervous younger one, I mean. I met Mr Winchester last night; he seems like a very pleasant person." Susan decides not to go into the details of her meeting with Winchester, guessing, perhaps correctly, that Emma would find it somewhat appalling.

Susan looks around the room and nods, pleased. "This is lovely. You've got good taste, Miss Woodhouse. I suppose you get the, whatsits, the gnome-looking things, house elves? to bring up one's luggage? Once that's done, I think I'd like to have a bath."

((Ok, thank you! I am always happy if someone helps me roleplay more accurately. BTW, do you remember if Hogwarts has baths connected to the rooms?))

"Indeed, he was one of the most pleasant individuals I had the honor to meet during my sorting. Does he not say just the most amusing things?"

She gracefully pulls back a chair at a small table, allowing Susan the option to sit. "And I am glad that you find happiness in our room. Please, feel free to do what you must to ease your homesickness. The baths in this castle are remarkable, you do not even need to wait for the water to warm. Isn't that the thing?"

((The diagram of Gryffindor Tower (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/atlas/hogwarts/atlas-h-dorm.html) in the HP lexicon doesn't show the bathrooms. I got the impression that you had to cart your stuff in a basket down the hall somewhere, though.))

"He does seem very funny," Susan agreed. "So far the residents of Ravenclaw seem to be uniformly pleasant."

Magic baths. Susan's skin crawls slightly at the idea; her yearning for normalcy gives her a bit of a fondness for the business of drawing the hot water and so on. But one has to adapt after all, and after the night she's had, not having to heat the water is probably just as well. "Thanks awfully for your help," she says. "I was starting to feel rather at sea here. I can promise you that I'll be a tidy and trouble-free room-mate, in any case. Years of governessing gets that habit under your skin."

As they're talking, Stephen Maturin's owl arrives. (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/182139.html) Out of politeness, Susan puts it aside to read later, perhaps in the bath.

"Yes, well... I believe fine manners are among the characteristics of intelligence." She thinks of Johnny, but is too polite to mention him. Besides, other than interrupting her conversations with applicants to insult the candidate, he had done little to vex her.

"Oh, yes. The fowl reminds me that I have letters of my own to write. Perhaps I shall do so once we get you properly settled, hmm? Oh, you were a governess? How lovely. My dearest friend in Highbury is my former governess, Mrs. Weston. She is an excellent woman, falling little short of a mother in affection."

"Did she wallop bogeymen with a poker?" The joke -- which is only partially a joke, really -- slips out before it occurs to Susan that this probably won't make the slightest bit of sense to Emma.

Susan's luggage -- of which there is only a single trunk containing toiletries, a few sensible black dresses, charcoal grey skirts, white blouses, and some nightclothes and other intimates -- has been brought up. "I think I'll take that bath now and leave you to your letters. Thank you again, Miss Woodhouse."

As promised, the Ravenclaw bath is quite pleasant, and Susan settles into the hot water with considerable relief. She's starting to feel human again -- perhaps almost normal, even. Maybe things will be all right here after all.

Emma looks at her for a long moment, and blinks several times in confusion. She then remembers to do the polite thing, and forces a laugh. "Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha."

She curtsies again. "Good bye, dear Susan." After the lady is off to her bath, she sits at the desk. She places the quill in the ink, and begins to write several letters.

Susan Sto Helit and the Hangover of Doom

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