alien blues | yvonne

[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind .

SOMEONE HAD MOVED HIS BOOKS FROM THE communal dining table. Richie had come out of his room only because his sister had nipped his ear when she had visited, stating that he wasn't allowed to 'stew' any longer. Plus, the house had been empty, or had seemed so. It had mid-morning, mid-week, when he had started. Richie had been given a stack of books on archiving magical artefacts for a 20inch parchment piece on the care and comfort of self-destructing texts.

He'd gone to his room to eat, having barely moved from his spot at the table all day, he hadn't even used the bathroom. Afraid he might run into one of his esteemed roommates, Richie had eaten his instant noodles sitting on top of his bed and listened to the latest wizarding rock album his sister had downloaded for him. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but one second he had been slurping noodle water from the bottom of his container, the next he was peeling his drool crusted cheek from his pillow case. He'd only meant to rest his stinging eyes for a moment.

Having leapt from the bed, Richie had used the bathroom and washed his face before he'd ventured into the living room again. Acutely aware he had left his constructed work bench unmanned for at least 4 hours, the sun had since set and he was no longer alone in the flat. The noise of human clattering coming from the kitchen. More importantly, his entire mass of parchment, ink and archivist tomes had been set on the coffee table in a heap. The dining table was clear, and Richie was fuming. He took one look at the sheer audacity of the crime against him, before he propelled himself from the living room and toward the sounds of pots clanging.

"Did you move my stuff?!" Richie asked accusingly, voice deep and hoarse from sleep. He caught sight of the back of his roommate, gripping the doorframe and trying valiantly to remember what her name was again. Vonnie, Ronnie? Something. But Richie recalled that she had touched his things before, and Richie had a lot of gripes, but strangers touching his things was his biggest pet peeve. "Y-you- you can't just t-touch my stuff, they're..." He stole an angry breath, his throat closing with his ire. "They're protected... texts," He spat, blinking rapidly as his nails dug into the soft wood of the door frame. 

yvonne rae de snaijer

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[yvonne rae de snaijer]

━ callin' it quits now, baby, i'm a wreck━

SINCE MOVING INTO A LITTLE share-house in order to avoid her siblings and Grandma, Yvonne De Snaijer faced nothing but...little inconveniences. The first was her awkward introduction to one of her flatmates Isabel, which had set an awkward tone between the two of them until they started to talk more often. The second issue was the...one sided beef she had with one of her other flatmates. The De Snaijer knew each of them, their little quirks and how they left things around the house that was easily able to help the Slytherin identify who was home for the day.

Yvonne had spent that particular morning with Gideon before coming back in the early afternoon to drop off some things, eat something and head back out. She had noticed a few things on the communal dining table that indicated her flatmate Richard Knox was around, but even after heading out and returning back later in the day - the same books remained in the same place. Yvonne wasn't one to touch or move people's things, but if she needed a particular area for her own personal usage, it was something the other party would have to get used to.

When the De Snaijer returned this time, Isabel was just heading out of the kitchen and back to her room, mentioning to Yvonne that she had just finished cleaning. Thanking her, the Slytherin popped her head into the living room and let out a huff. Taking it upon herself to move the Ravenclaw's things from the dining table and onto their coffee table, while unloading her own things that she needed for the evening. She planned on eating and studying in the dining room - finding the desk in her room too cluttered with open books and post-it notes everywhere. Yvonne had tried to be neat about it, leaving the things the way she found them on the coffee table and she hoped she didn't spill any ink.

Returning to the kitchen at this point, the De Snaijer casted her usual charm, letting the magic help her speed up the cooking process by pulling out what she wanted, chopping and slicing whatever needed doing also. With her back to the door as she boiled some salt water, Yvonne almost jumped at the sound of an accusing voice, turning to face Richard with a flushed face. "Yes?.." She responded, as if she had been caught. Sure, it wasn't nice for her to touch another person's belongings, but leaving your things there for almost a quarter of the day was long enough.

"I'm sorry but I really needed the space..plus you've been gone all day. I came back earlier and your things were there, Isabel mentioned that they were still there and she only left the kitchen about ten minutes ago.." Yvonne crossed her arms at this point, raising her brow. "I tried not to spill or close whatever was open, but this isn't...your first time doing this. Isn't the point of a share house is to..actually share?"

| Richard Myron Woods-Knox |

[Richard Myron Woods-Knox]

blowin' in the wind .

TO RICHIE'S COMPLETE HORROR, HIS ROOMMATE appeared completely unapologetic about the great crime she had committed. Standing with her arms crossed defiantly, it made Richie even angrier as he faced off in front of her. His words muddled in his mouth and he had to take three slow, even breaths and run through his mantras just to figure out how to get his answer. The rearing of his wretched speech impairment was typically worsened by people Richie deemed as 'strangers' and by his increased blood pressure. 

"Th-they're not.... things." Richie spat, averting his gaze to make it easier for him to say what it was he was trying to say. Her sorry meant very little when he could tell she didn't really mean it. "I didn't- I n-ever. It was a mistake." He huffed, his cheeks becoming steadily redder and redder as he felt his blood boil. She didn't understand, he decided, the gravity of what she had done. "Ancient texts!" He exclaimed, blinking rapidly and feeling awfully stupid. He didn't usually stutter quite so much, but he was awfully worked up. "They're... delicate... you can-can't just move them, you m-might damage them." He stuttered breathlessly, conveying with great difficulty the gravity of what she had done.

Richie didn't mean to leave his things lying around. She might have had a point that he had done it before, but she had moved them before, too. It was a familiar argument that he despised having. "I fell asleep." He mumbled with an embarrassed pinking of his ears. Gripping the doorframe, Richie tried to gather his composure, clinging to his indignation as he did so. "Y-you should ask me." He said in a gravelly serious tone. "B-before you move them yourself." He declared with such severe entitlement that it would have bothered himself, if he hadn't been the one saying it. "I- I don't trust you to t-touch them." 

yvonne rae de snaijer

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[yvonne rae de snaijer]

━ callin' it quits now, baby, i'm a wreck━

FEELING HER BROWS RAISE AT her flatmate's initial response to him only made Yvonne let out a little huff. It wasn't the speech impairment - something that the De Snaijer could honestly care less about, but more so his delivery. The small mean-girl feeling within her felt like it was re-surging all from a simple conversation about who's stuff should go where. Regardless, his things were out...in a shared area. And with his presence being...non-existent at the time, Yvonne had the right to carefully move his things. Whether he liked it or not.

"Things, books, scrolls, whatever they are then." She retorted, correcting her initial response. Of course her apology was a little on the..shallow side, but considering how long he had been gone and his things remained the same - should she really be more apologetic about it all? As he exclaimed, informing her that they were ancient texts, the bitter expression she held softened. Ancient texts were well..ancient and rare. She understood why he was frantic and panicking about them.

"In that case then.." She began, trying to calm a little as she took a quick breath in and out. "Maybe..leave a note out about them next time?.." Trying to come to a compromise, Yvonne continued. "I mean I did use magic to move them over so I didn't exactly..touch them. If that makes you feel any better.." Pausing as she let him continue, Yvonne nodded along - showing that she was listening.

It happened, falling asleep while your things were out elsewhere, but it didn't give him nor anyone the right to keep his things out for ridiculous hours at a time. Especially when it wasn't his first time doing such a thing anyway. At his change in tone and overall attitude, Yvonne's brow rose once more. She was seeing it from his point of view, but with his additional comments, she was already pissed off.

"Trust..to move your stupid little texts?" She asked, her voice raising in response. "I apologised, and had the decency to not even use my bare hands to touch them, what more do you want from me?" Yvonne stopped for a moment, red flushing on her cheeks the more mad she got. "Get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness or something? Because I didn't want to bother you if you were doing something else? My sorry for actually being a decent flatmate and actually cleaning up after myself!"

| Richard Myron Woods-Knox |