El Taco Taco — Roleplayer Guild

Samaire hadn’t expected Jules. In the pitch of night, blurred by rain and bulked by heavy wool coats, she could have almost mistaken him for her Uncle Jonas. The sight made her throat close up, knuckles whitening around the hilt of her blade. The intensity of the grief startled her, and she turned her gaze aside sharply. Her green eyes were acid and storms, watering as they studied the man thing. Jonas would never have sounded so gentle. He would have slapped Samaire for her weakness. His voice would have been a low hiss, ordering her to behave like a proper Cathan. Except there were no more Cathan. Just her and a mother more shadows than woman. She straightened her spine, jutting out her chin. Jules was not Jonas. He was soft eyes and even temper. He was a simpler man than her late Uncle. Simple had been nice; she had not been happy here, but she had been able to breathe, and that had been a kindness. “It’s better this way,” she focused intently on keeping her voice even. Samaire took a steadying breath, easing up her grip on her blade. She turned her gaze to the soft, simple man. “Two wishes, one act. I need the man-thing’s claws. Your men need to feel safe.” She paused for a beat, a frown creasing her pale features. “They aren’t safe. But it will comfort them.” She tucked the keys into her cloak, nodding back to the hall with her head. “Go back to the hearth, Jules. You should rest. I’ll see myself out. I—“ she fumbled for her words, uncertain. She was no Fool. Talk had never been a weapon on her tongue. “Thank you. You've shown me a kindness I don't deserve. If the shadows come-- if glass eyed men come walking-- I hope that you survive.”

“Thanks!” Sadie chirped as she accepted the paper. Huh. Little gifs printed on the paper. Well, they were a little more involved, but it was nice to see something she could (sort of) understand. She hummed through it, nibbling on a sausage. She couldn’t make sense of a lot of what was being discussed, but she folded the newspaper. She’d unlock its secrets later. For now, food and conversation. “Looks like we’ve got Herbology with Hufflepuff first,” Seine piped up, buttering his toast. Sadie had already memorized their schedule and prepped her composition books—because parchment was ridiculous—and pens and read most of her textbooks. Her hunger to know was insatiable. “With Professor Longbottom. Dad says he’s a war hero.” “War hero?” Sadie blinked, looking to Seine. “Like, Afghanistan or something?” “What?” Seine returned her blank expression, shaking his head so his dreadlocks bounced. “The Second War? You Know Who? Battle of Hogwarts?” “…Seine. You keep saying words but none of them make sense.” Battle of Hogwarts? Sadie didn’t like the sound of that. She looked between Seine and George. Wizards had wars? Well, that wasn’t so weird, she supposed. War was everywhere in the muggle world. Why would it be any different just because of magic? Seine looked wary, as if he wished he hadn’t said anything. Sadie's frown deepened. She wasn't going to like this, but she had to know. "Okay, so this is obviously important, so I'm going to find out eventually. Tell me."

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