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[Owen Beauregard]

Don’t walk on the flowers. Don’t scuff your shoes. Don’t take your shirt off and use it as a lasso. Don’t poke that frog. Don’t distract Lottie from her book. Don’t climb that tree when it’s this windy. Don’t poke that frog again. Don’t be so loud. Don’t pull at the grass. Don’t stick your toe in the water. Don’t hide your nice jacket in that bush. Don’t try and eat that. Don’t scare those ducks. Don’t poke the frog, for the last time! Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t! Owen simply felt that was the only word his mother ever said, and a lot of time it was only ever directed at him, which seemed quite unfair indeed. He wasn’t making that much of a ruckus, or bothering anyone else enjoying the brief morning rays of Padmore Park. In fact, he only agreed to join Mrs Beauregard and Lottie on a picnic because of the opportunity for a little paddle in the pond connecting to the Black Lake. Of course, his mother had been unsure of such a request after hearing stories of theft from mermaids, but soon realised there’s little to steal from a bathing suit with no pockets.

Owen eventually, after tediously listening to a long list of rules and regulations his mother had concocted in regards to swimming, climbed into his striped bathing suit – an outfit he approved of quite highly. He was never a lad for stuffy, tight clothes, and the fashionable black and white striped clothing seemed perfectly airy and un-constricting. There was no stiff collar, pulled in trouser leg or silly frill in the sleeves, which left him feeling rather pleased and free upon slowly stepping into the cold waters. Oh, it was cold though, there was no pleasurable enough attire that could deny such a chill as a Scottish summer. Nevertheless, Owen was a brave trooper, and eventually pulled his white legs together, soldiering into the sea until it met his armpits. Mrs Beauregard called to ask whether he wanted to come out yet, which was a rather ridiculous suggestion since he’d only been properly submerged for thirty seconds or so. He yelled a reply of “No thank you Ma’” and began to truly swim.

The young lad couldn’t exactly remember how or when he learnt to swim, only relying on the well-told family anecdote concerning Bentley tossing him into shallow water on a holiday( to the seaside town of Swanage )for a laugh. However, shallow waters prove quite deep for four year olds, which Ben was harshly reminded of by a very distressed Mrs Beauregard as she desperately tried to fish little Owen from the shore. However, much to their amusement he was simply flapping wildly, yet propelling himself across the waves in quite the crying panic. Hmm. Though he trusted nearly everything his family told him, the idea of him learning to swim at the age of three was slightly less plausible to swallow.

Upon his brief reminiscing, Owen felt another limb brush against his in the ice cold depth. Yelping, he tossed around, creating an almighty splash, to see who or what it was…

Tag: anybody! | Words: 546 | Outfit: nude!

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[Mercy Hatchitt]

Gabe had just gotten married, and she was told that he and Maddie were away on their honeymoon. Everyone else was busy. She hadn't been able to get in contact with Aurora to see if maybe she wanted to play sometime. In one word, Mercy Jennifer Hatchitt was bored. She was really bored. Despite her mother's pleas against it, Mercy had dressed herself in a bathing suit and had gone out, just like that, to find her way to Padmore Park. She would've gone to swim in the Black Lake by the castle, but there were icky things in that lake. Merpeople, who supposedly weren't the nicest of creatures, and the giant squid and other things. Mercy had an adventurous side of her, sure, but she wasn't in to dying alone. So, instead she chose Padmore Park, which was almost guaranteed to have at least a dozen more people around the lake there. If something happened to her, someone would see it.

Mercy wandered through Padmore Park, avoiding the seedier areas, and made her way to the lake. The water was cool against her skin and raised goosebumps up and down her arms. She shivered but smiled. Swimming had always been one of her most favourite activities during the summer, and something her mother wasn't nervous about letting her do. She let go of everything and plunged her entire body into the cool water, letting rivulets of water pour down her back when she reemerged. "Such a lovely day," she said to no one in particular, before ducking below the surface of the water once again and swimming with her eyes closed. Mercy wasn't brave enough to open her eyes in the lake water, afraid of (a) what she might see and (b) what might happen to her eyes from whatever might be in the water. Unfortunately, she got her arm tangled around someone's some sort of limb and she immediately clawed her way to the surface of the water, issuing a slight yelp when she finally got there.

With the backs of her hands, Mercy rubbed the water from her eyes and looked around to see a little boy standing there, flailing around. Her heart calmed down and she laughed, watching as he flailed around epically. "Hey, hey! It's okay," Mercy said, smiling at the boy. "Sorry if I scared you. I think your leg got unnecessarily wrapped around my arm!" It was just like Mercy to try to use humor to diffuse a situation. She walked closer to where the boy was standing and held out her hand for him. "I'm Mercy, by the way. Mercy Jennifer Hatchitt. I'm a second year..." Mercy paused. She had been a second year last year. What did she refer to herself as now? "Well, I was a second year," she corrected. "I'll be entering my third year come this September," she finished proudly.

[Owen Beauregard]

He heard a yelp not dissimilar to his as he tried to control his flailing limbs, the splashes of water getting tediously in the way of his vision. Once the water had eventually settled about him, and he could safely bob atop the water without grand swings of movement via his arms and legs, there was a girl. A very amused girl, laughing quite carefree with a rather jolly smile on her face, friendlily re-assured him. People with such merry countenance always triggered Owen to crack into an equally merry grin, and he couldn’t help but chuckle with her. What a curiously funny situation they had literally been entangled in! He wouldn’t admit he was frightened, but…well…it is said that merpeople occasionally inhabit the pond.

“Owen! Owen Beauregard. I’m going to Hogwarts this September.” He replied breathlessly, still smiling from ear to ear. It felt like they were friends already. What a curious effect some people have on others. He reached to shake her hand beneath the water, which was an awkward affair, but he eventually succeeded in grabbing hold of her warm palm, shaking it thoroughly. Mercy had a very fresh, youthful, almost baby-like face – which spelled surprise for Owen upon hearing she was in her third year. Having said that, nearly all the boys in Bartonburg his age had had their growth spurts, and Owen had disappointingly experienced squat. In the regards to growth they were quite kindred indeed.

He chortled to himself before even saying it, but eventually confessed “I thought you were one of the merpeople!” , hoping he didn’t offend. Most young witches would be quite taken aback at being assumed a slimy, ugly sea creature, but it would seem Mercy was the kind of girl to take such comments quite light heartedly, which Owen would certainly appreciate. If he told Lottie she was a yucky fish she would get very huffy indeed – or just shrug it off as Owen banter, as is more common these days. Speaking of his twin sister, he glanced back to the grassy knolls of Padmore Park, where a segment of his family were sitting. He observed his mother as a lot more relaxed now he’d found upon a play-mate, and that he didn’t seem too cold. He turned back to Mercy, quite content that the chill of the pond was beginning to wear.

The tuffs of his hair on the nape of his neck were beginning to wet as he relaxed his kicking feet, a tingle running up his scalp, making him shrug slightly. Nevertheless, the freedom of water always seemed akin to flying. Of course, the contents of a dark pond are more viscous than the air above, but you couldn’t swim up and down with two feet on the ground. Having said that, he wasn’t sure he was as brave as the girl to swim deep enough for her arm to touch his calf, for there was a point in which the pond weed becomes thicker than the old parlour curtains, and more tangled than the string that holds them. Though, if it came down to a dare, he’d certainly comply in touching the bottom.

Tag: Mercy | Words: 533 | Outfit: click!

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[Charlotte Beauregard]

“Pllleeeaaassseee, Mummy!,” Lottie begged to her mother, displaying her best bout of the puppy dog eyes where those big, blue eyes were watery with moisture, and Mrs. Beauregard would’ve most likely succumbed to her young daughter’s adorableness if she had not still been in a proper frame of mine. “Charlotte Jane, when I say ‘no’, I very well mean what I say. Besides, you’ve no bathing costume to swim in.” Well aware that the latter of her mother’s reasons were very correct (she had not thought that Owen socializing without her would erect a sort of undeniable jealousy within her being, and had thought the very prospect of wading in cold water undesirable), Lottie gave a little resigned sigh and attempted to become enamored with her book once more.

As astonishing as the plot of the book would sound to Owen, Lottie was reading a tale of stories usually read to children to instill a particular lesson into them or just the sheer enjoyment of the story’s contents. Currently she was intently reading upon the story of Cinderella and her wicked step-mother and sisters. Lottie was resolved upon learning as much about the history of folklore and fairytales as she could, mostly because she was thoroughly interested in how the stories came about, but mostly because her father had encouraged her to commit herself to a project over the summer to further strengthen her mind capabilities and broaden her range of knowledge. However, at present, she was just content to be reading the fairytales and deciphering the lesson or message hidden within its contents; then, after she had read all the stories in the fairytale/folklore book her father bestowed her for her eleventh birthday, she would delve into the history of the stories and learn about their creators. Yes, it was a lengthy project for a young girl of only eleven, but her father had been positive that if any dedicated young lady could accomplish it, it would be his youngest daughter for she was quite clever and observant.

However, her attempts at resuming her book reading was short-lived as her gaze kept wandering towards her brother and his foreign acquaintance. How she would love to socialize! Besides, it seemed that Owen indeed seem to delight in the young girl’s company; then again, Owen seemed to delight in most of everyone’s company (excluding his twin sister’s, of course), but Lottie wondered what it would be like to truly possess a friend. Of course, there were always the little girls she met at Padmore Park or the district of Bartonburg, but she never truly paid them any mind due to focusing upon matters that her female acquaintances would find tedious or too advanced for their understanding, and usually kept to herself unless she was with her parents or her siblings. Most of everyone in town knew of the energetic and talkative Owen Beauregard, but do they know of his twin sister; the quiet, reserved, and intelligent one? Lottie speculated not.

With another sigh of resignation, Lottie gently closed her book and began staring longingly at Owen’s back, her blue eyes boring into his being as if willing him to turn around and notice her yearning to join him.

tag: Owen & Mercy | outfit: dress | notes: er...I hope you don't mind Lottie intruding?
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[Mercy Hatchitt]

Mercy had always had the ability to make people smile. It was one of the things that radiated from her, happiness. She had a lot of things to be happy about, and in turn grateful for. When Mercy was born, her parents had been told she wouldn’t make it to the age of ten. When she had made it not only to ten, but to eleven, twelve and now thirteen, Mercy grew happier and happier. She knew about her dreadful life expectancy, and that she was some sort of sick and that doctors kept warning her parents that she could die any day, but she was still alive. That was enough to be happy for.

And, with that in mind, Mercy tended to take things lightly and was always smiling and laughing. Laughter was the greatest cure of all, and if that were true than Mercy was certain she could cure herself and a hundred other people, to boot. When the boy, Owen as he had called himself, broke into a deep grin, and laughed with her, Mercy was all the happier and all the more satisfied. Mercy nearly doubled over in laughter, which was rather difficult when one was swimming and bobbing up and down in the water, when Owen had said that he had thought she was a merperson. Of course, she had thought that he might be a merperson, or a squid, or something more gruesome than either a merperson or a squid, but she didn’t relinquish that information. Instead, she just smiled at him and said, “Come now! Do I look like a merperson to you?” It was all fun and games, and her tone was light and full of her never ending laughter.

Owen looked over his shoulder, at what Mercy couldn’t begin to fathom, but when he turned back to her, she asked him, “So you’ll be off to school come September. Do you know what house you want to be in?” She hadn’t had a clue at what house she had wanted to be in when she went to school. Gabe and Connie were Gryffindors. Jess and Vix had been placed into Ravenclaw. Josiah was a Hufflepuff. Mercy knew quite well she wasn’t a Slytherin; no one in her family was Slytherin material. Of the other three houses, she couldn’t have even started to guess where she would be placed, but she knew she would have at least one sibling anywhere she went. That had made her feel better about her sorting.

“Do you have siblings,” she asked, giving Owen barely a minute to answer her question. “If you have siblings, that makes it easier. Especially if they’re older. If they’re older, they’ll be able to help you figure out the castle. If they’re in your house, it’s even better. It’s like having built in friends!” Mercy did her best to puff out her chest while bobbing in the water. “Though, if you don’t have a sibling in Hufflepuff and you end up sorted there, I’d be more than happy to be your surrogate!” Mercy felt proud to be able to offer the boy as much. She was friendly and outgoing, and could help him in almost any way he needed help. Except with school work. She needed help with that one.

[Owen Beauregard]

Sometimes one feels a strange feeling in which it feels like someone else is experiencing the same feeling while gazing somewhere in your direction, or in fact, straight forward towards the back of ones bonce. Owen was experiencing this sensation in a moment in which he would think it quite unlikely; while he was merrily laughing, seemingly distracted from any other human influences behind him and instead concentrating on a single one. Mercy was such a jolly fun character, he felt he could just swim with her until dusk, japing and hollering about the smallest of things until he drowned from exhaustion. However, he felt that feeling. Owen could feel someone looking at him, and as he awkwardly glanced round mid-conversation it was revealed he was correct in his assumption that the eyes instigating the seeing were that of Lottie’s. Now, this may very well be a strange twin-connection, but he was rather quite sure it was his sister upon the first tingle against the nape of his neck – so therefore one could question why he would turn around to meet the stare of a girl he knew had no interest in the spiffing frolics of him and his new friend. He supposed he yearned for it to be like days of old, in which she’d join them without a fuss, bother or pin out of place.

Quicker than he acknowledged her existence once again, he had forgotten it, but not fully. Lottie Beauregard would always linger somewhere in the back of his mind, but hidden well enough for play to be successfully ensued without depressing thoughts beginning to press. The reason Owen had turned so quickly was that Mercy was laughing further, and asking questions at a pace more rapid than his commentary of the carnival – his attention slightly tossed about, he almost forgot to kick his legs beneath the surface, sinking a little lower than usual. ”Gryf-gryf-“ he spluttered, before another inquiry was fired from her cannon of conversation. Owen eventually maintained his ratio of torso to below waist beneath water before he had fully grasped the nature of what she was asking. He was surprised how strangely the situation connected with previous events, but it seemed pleasantly fitted when something such as that occurred. A puzzle piece in the landscape that is everyday life. Owen flung his arm back, splashing Mercy in the process, but nevertheless clearly gesturing to the well turned out young lady sitting upon a grassy knoll with an equally well turned out mother. A book in her hand, but un-turned for a minute or so.

”That’s my twin sister, Lottie, so she will be there with me. I have a brother and sister at Hogwarts… Elsie is in Gryffindor – and I want to be in Gryffindor, so I believe it will be quite well” he flashed a little grin at the end – her relentless positivity seemed to make him believe it truly was going to be quite well. Indeed, Mercy truly did have the most charming of effects; he could only cross his fingers that they bump into one another often when he begins his studies.

Tag: Lottie + Mercy | Words: 510 | Outfit: Clicky!

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