A Starving Heart [Idele]

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May 3rd, 2029

Tilly Poole fucking loved french toast. And not the glamorous social media kind loaded with whipped cream, candies, and various sugared fruits. No, she liked the normal, mundane kind that she grew up with, limp, semi-warm, and drenched in syrup. By that, she meant absolutely soaked in the sticky, gooey, goodness. She needed to be able to drink the sugary breakfast topping off of the bread. Otherwise it was pointless to eat. Luckily for her, Hogwarts had always supplied enough of both on the tables of the Great Hall. Even after all of the changed, the house elves still pushed up plates of french toast and pitchers of maple syrup. Tilly had taken one of each for herself. A glutton, she knew she drew plenty of eyes from the other students. The Hufflepuffs were unfortunately used to it. She was the weird one after all. Most of them had apparently convinced themselves that the obsession with death and love for stuffing her face was the price they had to pay for her Quidditch skills. It was better when they didn't ask too many questions.

Every once in a while, she cut a chunk off of a lone banana and held it out in front of her robe's inner pocket. Tiny rat hands burst out, grabbing at the slices, before disappearing once they found their mark. Squeaks enjoyed breakfast just as much as Tilly did. Once she finished with her own meal, she'd get some dry pieces of french toast and rip them up for her furry rodent friend as well. If there was anyone that loved french toast more than her, it was Squeaks.

A chirp of happiness hummed out of her pocket and she patted it gently. She knew that meant her rat was full for now. He was going to have to go back to his "cage" in the dorms once she finished here. Unfortunately, rats weren't the safest when she was on a broom. Folding up her own slice of french toast, Tilly watched the syrup goop off it before shoving it in her mouth whole. Thankfully she had a napkin on her lap, because half of the syrup dribbled down her chin.

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FINDING OUT THAT THE GREAT Hall was serving French Toast brought nothing but smiles to Idele's face. She loved all kinds of sweet things, but even asking for the delight in the comfort of her own home felt more like a no-no than a simple request that could be fulfilled. Waving goodbye to the people she had walked into the Hall with, knowing that they probably wouldn't even be sitting too far from her, Idele slowly began to wonder why she sought comfort in sitting alone...

It wasn't until the Vector grew closer to the tables and she saw Tilly Poole, scoffing and hogging away at the continuous plates that had been set out for the students. Curiously, she watched as Tilly put some of her banana into her robe, and slightly cringed when it was returned with smaller nibbled bites. Did she really have her pet...mouse? rat? out with her?

Sitting close by to observe, but not close enough where she would feel dirty from simply watching the Poole barely take a breather from her food, Idele served herself. "Merlin, do you even breathe?" She asked, lips turning upwards in slight disgust as syrup dripped down her chin. Despite being the youngest triplet and having somewhat of an...easy life, Idele still tried to live her life as if she hadn't had most of it served on a silver platter. "Slow down and chew. You'll actually enjoy it more."

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[mathilde manon poole]

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"Mmmf?" Tilly said (grunted?) through her syrup laden mouth. Was she absolutely disgusting when it came to eating french toast? Yes. She didn't deny that at all. Others at the table had already given her a wide berth, whether it was because they'd noticed her furry friend's whiskers poking out of her pocket or because her elbows intruded on the spots directly adjacent to her, was unclear. Maybe it was because she was weird. It was most likely because she was weird. The voice that Tilly responded to in her primal, caveman like noise, belonged to Idele. She stared at her classmate blankly, syrup dribble slowly falling down onto her plate from her chin. Why would she ever slow down while eating? That defeated the purpose of stuffing herself full of food.

The momentary stopping of her chew made the restart difficult, the mix of mashed bread and maple syrup turning into a thick sludge in her mouth. Steadily picking up speed again, Tilly forced herself to swallow, probably looking like she was about to choke on it. Exactly what Idele was warning her about. "I can breathe through my nose," she said, poking it with a sticky finger. "And I've only choked twice in my life. I'm careful about it." The dreaded cheesetick incident did pop to mind occasionally when she was eating. In her defense, the cheese was super cheesy, and she hadn't been expecting the top chunk to go down that fast. The horrifying exhilaration of struggling for air was not something she forgot.

"You should try some," Tilly added as she soaked the next slice of french toast with more syrup. Her personal bottle was about half-full still. "The house elves outdid themselves again this morning. I think they appreciate it when I eat a lot." At least that was her theory on it. More plates full of french toast always reappeared whenever she cleared one. That had to mean something, right?

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MERLIN, IDELE FELT AN EYE roll coming along. With syrup covering the Poole's mouth, the Vector had to hold back vomit from coming out of no where. Looking around at the tables also, Idele noticed how others were just as disgusted with Tilly as Idele was. Even with the small mouse? rat? peeking through the girls robes, Idele lifted her hand across her mouth in disgust. "For Merlin's sake Poole, take it easy."

Blank eyes blinking at the Vector strangely only made her more angry. She couldn't understand why Tilly couldn't see the problem. Eating and acting like a pig was only bound for negative results and opinions. Sure, people didn't need to care for public opinion or how they were perceived but...sometimes shame was necessary.

From the Poole's short chewing break, Idele saw hope at the end of the tunnel. Before her eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and her mouth turned upwards in disgust, watching as Tilly forced herself to swallow whatever was in her mouth. "Breathing through your nose or mouth, you don't need to be a pig." As she mentioned that she had only choked twice in her life, Idele shook her head in disappointment.

"I will..but with ease and the undying need to..oh I don't know - not choke on my food." With that, Idele began to cut at her stack, making sure she had enough loaded on her fork before starting to eat. Unfortunately, Tilly was right about one thing, the house elves had outdone themselves with their food.

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[mathilde manon poole]

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Having her concentration broken made Tilly more aware of her surroundings. Idele was the only one that dared approach her in this state, but she could now tell that others were staring at her with looks of disgust on their faces. Some were probably just now realizing that the story of her eating a live flobberworm just a few weeks ago was more truth than fiction. The squishy earthiness of the worm hadn't been the most pleasant thing in the world. She'd do it again on a date though, especially for money. The sick part of her brain sort of hoped that some of the onlookers were now imagining her voracious eating of the french toast as a pile of raw flobberworms. Her iron stomach prevented her from gagging at the mere thought of eating more than one at a time, but she could see her classmates starting to turn away as she shoveled more syrup-coated bread into her mouth.

"You never know when-" Her sentence was interrupted by a small and polite burp, which she covered with the back of her sticky hand. That was the one downside of inhaling food. Sometimes she did forget to breathe enough. "You never know when it might be your last meal," Tilly finished. Setting her fork and knife down on her plate, which was effectively a bowl now considering the pool of syrup that coated it, she arched her back in a satisfying stretch. She had to make room for more, after all.

"Suppose that's not really an issue for you though." Nor was it for her, but she was always raiding the fridge at home in the middle of the night because how else was she going to experience the wonders of food? Her parents were mystified by the amount she could put away (and it was now clear that her classmates thought the same). She simply called it magic. "I have to keep my calories up for Quidditch practice. Can't be passing out mid-flight again. I've broken too many bones in the pst year and I think the nurses are starting to get tired of me." Though that had more to do with her incessant questions about the gnarliest injuries they had ever seen, or how much blood someone had to lose before they were effectively a shriveled corpse. Mid-thought, Tilly aggressively stabbed another slab of french toast and slapped it onto her plate.

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