Just after Hogsmeade [Tag: Any Slytherin 6th Year Girls]
Elphaba clomped back into the dorm, black cloak tucked up and draped over one arm so that she wouldn't trip. She was muttering over the notes she'd made in Dervish and Banges, barely paying attention to anything or anyone as she made her way over to the bed and sat down crosslegged, still frowning over the notes.
"Hey Elf," she said in greeting, tossing the bag of confectionary into the corner of her locker, and collapsing on her bed, legs stretched out and head propped up on her pillows.
"Did you get what you were looking for in the village?" she asked, knowing the other girl had gone on the trip on a 'mission' but not sure what it had been.
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"Too soon to tell."
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"Fourth years are only fit for potions ingredients, most of them." She held out a wary hand for one of the sweets.
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"Speaking of potions, have you finished that essay Holmes told us to do on the differences in the types of willowbark?"
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"About half-way through." Elphie frowns. "I dislike potions, so I rather thought I'd delay the inevitable suffering of research, writing, and ruddy aweful willowbark."
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"Yes, the OWLS are about as 'levelling' as I think they could damned well make them! Still, sorts the sheep out from the lambs." She paused for a moment as she bit into the sweet, her mouth filling with the taste of blackberry that rushed through it when the outer shell shattered. She swallowed, savouring the delicious fruit flavour.
"I only do it because my mother kept telling me it would be handy later on. I think it's only because she wants me to have some clue of what she talks about when I'm at home, and to try and get me to at least know how to cook something, even if it isn't edible!"
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Elphaba popped the candy into her mouth, sucking on it, rolling it into her cheek and waiting for the shell to dissolve.
"Cooking is highly overrated, unless you're good at it. Those whose culinary delights are strictly mediocre should regulate themselves to magi-meals and stop inflicting their bland dishes on the rest of us, expecting high praise, merely for having accomplished congealed pudding."
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"Exactly! I didn't inherit my mother's abilities to cook that's for sure," she replied and pulled one hand out from behind her head, holding it up as if swearing an oath.
"And I solemnly promise you right now that I will never ever try and inflict my mediocre attempts at culinary creations, congealed or otherwise, on you!"
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She really did wonder if the girl was a few twigs short of a full broom.
"And I solemnly swear that if you ever break said oath, not only will I make you eat your own cooking with a nice serving of metaphoric crow, but I'll tie you up and leave you for the firsties."
Truly, a fate worse than death.
"I rather doubt that cooking is something one can inherit. And inheritance is a shakey and unreliable method of aquiring skills to begin with. Natural talent, inherited or otherwise, is what someone calls someone else who's better than them to reassure themselves that even if they worked hard they couldn't obtain the same levels of skill."
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She rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand and took another Blackberry Bog Stopper from the bag, and looked over at Elphaba as she put it in her mouth.
"Might be, but I know I take after my father in certain areas, and my mother in others. So having those genes running around in your own makeup has to lend some weight to you having an interest in something, and hence are more likely to develop some skill in that area. Otherwise everyone would be good at whatever they wanted to do, regardless of their inherent abilities and natural tendencies."
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Them being normal peach-toned shades.
She was getting a bit bristly, and knew it, but, honestly, if genetics had anything to do with anything, would her family be anything at all like it was, herself included?
Of course, her mother's indiscretions probably had something to do with that.
Elphaba harumphed again, looking down at her notes.
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"You're right, sometimes it is just wanting something hard enough that makes it possible to be good at it."
She wondered if she was being slightly 'suicidal' with her next question, but asked it anyway.
"So how were things at home this time?"
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Her eyes narrow, mouth pinching in further than normal. "Vile, villanous, vocal, a picnic in the park with lots of pigeons and rainbows, why do you care? They were what they were and it's no one's business but my own." Elphaba's voice is crackling-sharp, and she reaches to the bedstand for a book, any will do, snapping it open to the middle and burying her nose in it, flipping the pages angrily.
Ugh, A History of Hogwarts: Annotated. Why is this book even here?
A part of her, a rather undersized, shrivled part, adknowledges that Niki might just be being kind and after years in the same dorm, that Niki isn't quite as hiddeously horrendous as she could be, but Elphaba's mouth doesn't quite get the message.
OOC: Errr, *apologises to Niki profusely.* Elphie's a little over-touchy and, um, overdue a spanking.
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"Contrary to the popular opinion of every bratling fourth year or firstie or other, my home is not in a swamp and my family is not comprised of vegetable, frog, or little green elves."
Because, really, she couldn't just keep her mouth shut. She didn't really recall Niki ever using any of those epithets to her face, but any references to her family hurt, both because of the situation, and because they were usually a lead-in for those kind of jokes.
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