welcome to chimera!

[Ruth Harper]

Ruth was not usually inattentive in her classes, and nor was she usually inclined to great levels of introspection, or to falling quiet among friends. But today had seen all three, despite the usual perils of not paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures, and had seen her suffering for it; at some point, the nasty little pixies they'd been quietly examining in an effort to understand smaller societies had decided her wrist looked like a good meal. Distracted as she was, she hadn't noticed until it had tasted blood - but she wasn't really of the kind to raise a fuss, even if it did sting, and so she'd plucked it off and shrugged off an offer to go to the hospital wing. It was only a very small injury, after all, and certainly not the worst thing to happen to her this week.

Maybe that was uncharitable, but the new engagement was still weighing on a girl who had not really had a great deal of exposure to pureblood customs. Certainly, she had grown up in a home that didn't lack creature comforts, and certainly, she'd enjoyed the benefits of coming from a good family, but until now she hadn't really suffered any of the cons. Wrapped up in a quiet anxiousness and keen to end the lesson, she had soldiered on, wrapping her wrist in a handkerchief as a makeshift bandage and giving a short sigh of relief as the class was finally called to a halt and the pupils within released.

Craving a moment of quiet, she moved slower than her Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff brethren, telling her friends that she'd catch up momentarily as she packed her things and gave the bite mark another quick once-over. Sighing slightly, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice whether she was alone or not and taking the opportunity to tuck a stray hair back into her bun, she swung her bag over her shoulder and adjusted the strap, finally moving for the door of the room - time for the library, to study away some of the anxiety.

[Jonathon Dawlish]

He usually left snotty girls like Harper alone. The pinched, sucking-on-lemons look they got when he got anywhere near them was enough to frustrate him into giving them a wide space when he was in a passive mood, which during class time was more often than one might think. Today though, he'd been bitten to hell by those fucking pixies and had then been assigned detention when Kettleburn had caught him trying to choke one. For cruelty to creatures! He was the one with tiny little bite marks all about his person. Fuck Kettleburn.

In a sour mood now, his eyes alighted on Harper with a certain devilish glee. She was Ravenclaw and Pureblooded - it was difficult to wedge a stick further up one's ass than that. He hurried after her as she left the class and slung his arm around her shoulders in an entirely too familiar way - his fingers dangling a little too close to her chest.

"Heyyy, tits,' he grinned at her and winked in a ridiculously slow and contrived manner. "How'd you like class? Those little Pixie fuckers got you too, ehh? I'm bleeding all over. Fucking Kettleburn wouldn't let me put one out of its misery."

[Ruth Harper]

The arm around her shoulder was singularly foreign, but it wasn't necessarily unwelcome until it dipped inappropriately low, and the chosen greeting of Jonathon Dawlish hardly endeared her further. Ducking in a way that was probably not ladylike, but was better than staying in the position she'd been in, she wheeled on the spot with a brief look of alarm. The sight of Dawlish raised her pulse slightly; though she was rarely targeted by anyone, being usually too contained and inoffensive to draw a great deal of attention outside of her own circles, she knew of his reputation and was suddenly slightly more offended at his putting his arm around her.

"Ruth," she corrected, automatically and slightly absently as the look of alarm faded and was replaced with one of quiet scrutiny. She was not really afraid, as such, because she had still not lost the idea that boys were supposed to take care of girls and treat them appropriately - she was just a little uncomfortable from the over-familiarity and a little annoyed at the foolish name she'd apparently been given.

Glancing down at her wrist, noticing that blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage somewhat, she offered a nod and a shrug in response to his latter remark - though couldn't help but look a little alarmed again as he spoke of killing one of the pixies. "Yes, one bit me," she answered, her head clearing somewhat and her tone not unfriendly, but not familiar, either. "If you killed one, the others would probably attack you worse." It was not a lecture - just a simple remark as she glanced over him again, somewhat guarded but not as edgy as she perhaps should have been. Dawlish was a boy, after all.

[Jonathon Dawlish]

"Awww, tits, don't be like that,' he lamented as she ducked away, making grabbing motions as if attempted to reach at her again, although he purposefully didn't make contact. No need to draw molestation charges down on his head (well, more molestation charges). Loping forward to keep up with her, he grinned and did take hold of her wrist under the guise of making sure she was alright. "Oh, it got you one nasty,' he exclaimed in mock concern.

"Woulda set them all on fire, watched 'em squeal,' Jon wasn't necessarily a horrible spell-caster. He just didn't have much finesse. Setting fire to a horde of angry pixies was, for example, something he thought he could easily accomplish. He wasn't being serious though. He didn't have such little regard for life or Kettleburn that he'd do something quite that sociopathic. He just said shit to get a rise out of people. "Gonna go to the hospital wing? Should let me accompany you." Never mind his own condition was several degrees worse and if anyone should be visiting Spleen or the one-armed wonder, it was likely him.

[Ruth Harper]

Feeling a flair of annoyance at the nickname, she was similarly annoyed by the grabbing motion, but not quite alarmed enough to run off or squeal. Boys, it seemed, would be boys, no matter how uncouth they might be. For a moment, she found herself comparing the boy in front of her with her new fiancé and finding Dawlish wanting. Honestly, what sort of wife did he expect to procure with his gross little mannerisms and unkind nicknames? There was a brief - brief - moment of relief for her engagement to Sinclair. What if her parents knew what they were doing after all, and were, in fact, shielding her from people like Dawlish?

But she was spared having to ruminate further on this idea by the Hufflepuff seizing her wrist and having a look at her injury. Feeling a little awkward for the contact, she only nodded a little and carefully pried it free, wrapping the handkerchief around it again as though it were some intricate bracelet and giving her an excuse to not look at him for a moment.

His comment about setting the pixies all on fire did catch her attention, however, and she gave him a hard look as she tried to work out whether she was dealing with someone insane or someone who liked to say horrible things for fun. She was not as naive as she might have been thought - she was more than aware that some people had odd senses of humour. It was only a relief that she had a decent excuse to get away from him after he suggested accompanying her to the hospital wing.

"I'm not sure that would be appropriate," she answered, apologetically rather than primly, and offered a shrug of a rounded shoulder. "I am engaged. I don't think he would appreciate another boy accompanying me anywhere."

[Jonathon Dawlish]

Dawlish laughed out loud, "Oi, who'd they convince to marry you? Poor sap. I don't wanna fuck you Harper, you look like the backend of a goat. Sides, Purebloods are much to filthy for me to even touch; when your sister is also your mother, I stay the fuck away."

He held up his hands as if proving his point, as if she had suddenly become catching. "I was just offerin' the gentlemanly thing. You girls are quite weak at the knees, I thought I'd make sure you got there without losing what you got left in that little head of yours."

More than a little offended at the immediate rejection and the assumption she was so hot he'd be unable to keep his hands off her from here to the hospital wing, he felt it was imperative to insult her.

[Ruth Harper]

"It's not really any of your concern," she answered, belatedly sharp and surprisingly managing not to dissolve in the face of such gross insults. Happy, at least, that he had taken his hands off her and backed away, even under such nasty circumstances, she brushed a lock of hair back into her bun and readjusted the bandage on her wrist. "My engagement or my health," she clarified, raising her eyebrows slightly and seeming unaffected by the insults.

Glancing over the horrid little boy again and finding herself shocked at his language and manner but on the defensive rather than the breaking down, she adjusted her bag strap and made to move off, barely giving him a second glance. Though she felt much like crying or snapping something nastier, she felt it would be both unwise and a waste of her time. As it was, she only wanted to put some considerable distance between the two of them.