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      How to get sorted   10/05/2017

      To find the Sorting Form, click on the "Sort Me!" tab at the top of the page.    Before you go to fill out the form, make sure that you have a username that follows our rules. If you don't, your form will be rejected. You can change your name once yourself, by going to Account Settings -> Display Name. If you've already used your one change, you can request a name change in this topic. Be sure to read the first post in the topic carefully so we can get you updated without any back and forth.   Don't rush to answer the form! There's no prize for sending it in first. Please take your time and fill out the form thoughtfully, so the hat will have the information it needs to put your character in the right house.     Calendar: Sorting Form appears: Thursday, October 5th Sorting Form closes: Friday, November 3rd (No forms will be accepted after this date) The Sorting Ceremony closes: Sunday, November 5th, about 10am Central Time You find out your new house: Sunday, November 5th, 11 am Central Time First day of the new school year: Monday, November 6th   (For reference: Central Time Zone includes Chicago, Illinois)   How to get sorted:   1. Register with a name that follows our rules. The registration agreement explains the rules about names. You can also find them in the Rules.   2. Remember you may only send in one form total for this school year. If you send forms in from multiple accounts, we will not sort ANY of them. Then we have to feel bad about not sorting you. Don't make us feel bad, please.   3. Click on the Sort Me tab and fill out the sorting form as thoroughly as possible. The better we understand your character, the more likely we can put you in the right house. See "How to use the form" below if you're confused. For some in depth information on each house, please check out this topic on sorting. (Note: After you fill out the form, a copy will be PMed to you. Please save that because we delete them from our system after sorting.)   4. Wait for a PM from the Sorting Hat. Be patient, it could take a few days. If you don't receive a PM from the Sorting Hat within 4 or 5 days, contact one of the moderators.   5. If your form is: Accepted: Congratulations! You should now go post in the Sorting Ceremony topic in the New Member resources forum. This is very important. This post is where you'll go to find out what the Sorting Hat had to say about you. Don't skip this step! Rejected: Don't worry, you can still be sorted. Be sure to read the reasons for the rejection carefully, then edit your form (just click on the Get Sorted! link again) to fix the problem. Once you've done that, you can send the form in again. 6. That's it! Once you've gotten your acceptance letter AND posted in the Sorting Ceremony, you're all set. You'll find out where the Sorting Hat put you on Sorting day when you can check the Great Hall for the edited Sorting Ceremony.   How to use the form: The form is pretty straightforward and user friendly. Here are a couple tips: You don't need to fill the whole thing in at one sitting. You can finish one page at a time and save it. Then finish the rest later. Don't use your browser's Back or Forward buttons. Use the buttons in the form to Navigate.  If you don't fill out all the questions on a page, you can't save or move on. If you don't meet the word number requirements in the In Depth section, you can't submit the form. Use the "Check Word Count" buttons to see how many words you've used. If you fill in the wrong answers on the quiz page, you won't be able to submit the form. After you've submitted the form, you can't access it anymore. But if your form is rejected, you'll be able to see it again with your old answers still filled in. Still have questions? Ask here.    Note: Section I: Short Answer Please include a brief explanation with each answer. I'd like to remind you all to include an explanation with all the short answer questions. The answers to those questions aren't very useful for sorting unless you explain them.   Otherwise, we don't have enough information to sort you with. (Translation: we'll have to reject it.)     Many thanks as always to Arianna Wright for her hard work revising and updating the form and to Faraz Memon for initially coding it many years ago. <3
Titania Baddour

My amulets, my charms, set all my false alarms

9 posts in this topic

Titania had caught the thread in the common room. It was fragile and so she was gentle with it, scooping it up and rolling it around her finger as she followed it, fine and silken, out the entrance and down the stairs, pockets stone-filled and aura pulsing in response to the string, which hurt. Not her – she was fine but the string itself and whoever it was connected to: the thing was made of pain.

 

In a place so full of magic, it was not far-fetched to feel things normal people didn’t, or at least Titania believed. Things like this – strings like this – came along sometimes, but rarely: it was probably that stars had to align and moods had to be strong enough for them to manifest this way, as guides, as lines on treasure maps. In this case, though, with the string feeling melancholy, a pulsing dimness fast-fading, Titania did not feel she was about to find treasure.

 

She followed anyway. She was glad she was wearing a coat, a scarf, when the string led outside and across the grounds, her boots making welts in the powdering of snow, revealing half-green grass beneath. The string was cold, too, and tight around her fingers now, like Cat’s Cradle gone wrong. She followed it to the Quidditch pitch, up into the stands (precarious: the steps were icy and unsalted), and was not at all surprised to find out who was on the end of it.

 

“Silas.” The string didn’t tug, but it didn’t shudder her away, either. He was lying on a bench, stretched out. Snowflakes were falling into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

 

Not something’s wrong, not I can help: no portent of any kind, just human concern. Titania Baddour was working on her humanity.

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It was hard to focus on end-of-term things and Christmas being practically around the corner when the girl you loved was probably making out with the only person in the world that you maybe actually hated. He had struggled in vain for hours, trying to focus on what he had thought were more important things, but the idea of Irene lying daintily against Gary's chest had caused too many inkblots and paper-dashing strokes of sudden rage for Silas to get any actual work done.

 

So he sought total isolation, the polar opposite of what most young men in his position might do. The easiest, most callous answer would be to double down on Columbia, to goad her back into snogging, for he was certain that Gary still liked her and this was the easiest way to strike back at him for Irene. Columbia had probably had the same thought, although he wouldn't have been surprised if her answer to the situation was herself snogging Irene which.. Would present an entirely different collection of puzzle pieces.

 

But no, he knew in both his heart and his mind that petty retaliation was not the answer and since there was no longer any Quidditch to take him far above the tribulations of everyday life, he settled for the closest approximation. He'd trudged up to the Ravenclaw stands, brushing aside a small "Team Ninja Dragon" pennant that a student had left behind on the bench, and lay down with his hands folded over his chest like a man resigned to his fate.

 

He watched the bright gray sky. It was twenty minutes, thirty, maybe an hour of staring at the sky before the snow started to come down, and Silas just closed his eyes against it. Even the dreamy voice that appeared didn't startle him, and he couldn't be bothered to chase it away, though he normally did whatever it took to avoid all the implications. Reiki, karma, tiger's eye, he didn't care. Let it all come down.

 

"Broken heart," he said dryly, then he did spare a glance in her direction. "How did you find me, anyway?"

 

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Titania sat down at Silas’s feet; the bench was blue-cold. The sky was the undrafted grey of midwinter, the kind she saw so often in Nottingham in the summer, which led her to appreciate it more now: the purity of it, the care. Silas didn’t seem to see it. His eyes were closed against the falling flakes, but even when they opened to glance at her they seemed unfilled, bored, dire.

 

Titania was no expert on love or broken hearts. All her trysts had been amicable, starting when they started and ending where they ended, the heart involved only in how it beat faster when someone was close, slower when things were through. It all evened out. She had never had her heart broken, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a real thing. Hearts were anatomical in the same way auras were mythical.

 

“I just had a feeling,” she said, actively trying not to sound mysterious and off-putting – a measure she’d started taking once she and Ian were friends and Ian unshy to call her out on her bull – ahem: rubbish. (She’d looked up better synonyms and was trying to urge Ian towards moonshine, or flim-flam.)

 

“And I saw you from the Tower.” Not a total lie, because she had seen someone from Ravenclaw Tower, and she had been curious. It was just a bonus that that someone turned out to be Silas. She paused for a few moments, letting the snow fall and gauging the way the string felt now, the way Silas felt now. Most of the time he’d prefer her leaving to her offering a tarot reading or a classing by crystals. Now…

 

“Is there anything I can do? To help?” With chaste quickness she added, “No fortune telling, or any of that. Promise.”

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Silas closed his eyes and gave a sardonic half smile and a little scoff when she said she had a feeling. If it were anyone else he might have told them where to shove it, but with Titania it seemed.. Distinctly plausible that she had just ... Felt it. A rift in the universe, a disturbance in the atmosphere, something that he couldn't have known he was putting out there but she picked up with her extra sensory weirdness.

 

"I'm trying to figure out if there's anything logical I can do," Silas said with a dull wave of one hand before placing it back on his chest, "but so far rationality has failed me." 

 

A beat passed. More snow fell on them, ice crystals in dark hair.

 

"Don't suppose any of your tarot voodoo is good for heartbreak," he said, joking. Or was he?

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Titania had abandoned the S.S. Rationality long ago. She had her own tiny rowboat; it fit her and her dream-notions; it had no oars; it drifted. So while lately she had been searching like a marooned sailor for a ship back to civilization, she had still been the constant and singular crew member of Her Majesty’s Weirdness. She felt lucky, this moment, suddenly, that Silas wasn’t attempting to force her to dock it.

 

“Sometimes mild madness can help you think outside of a box,” she said, specifically not mentioning logic, tarot, or voodoo. In a way, the three acted together when she read a spread, but judging by Silas’s half-scoff he wouldn’t believe that waffle even if she tried to present it to him on a silver platter. “And sometimes tarot is good for exactly that. Every card has two or three prescribed meanings, but all of those meanings are open to interpretation. Good. Bad.” She shrugged, changing the wheeling descent of several snowflakes with her shoulders.

 

“They’re good for giving reaction-feelings.” She paused. The rocks in her pockets had gotten cold, and clicked together. “Rose quartz also helps.”

 


Edited by Titania Baddour

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“Sometimes mild madness can help you think outside of a box."

 

Maybe it was the heartbreak talking, but for some reason that was kind of making sense to Silas right now. If he had failed to find any answers in logic, what did he have to lose by seeking elsewhere for some kind of reason? Maybe seeing things from a completely alien perspective would allow him access to previously unseen answers.
 
“They’re good for giving reaction-feelings.”

 

Well, he didn't know what that meant but it had the word 'feelings' in it which meant they were veering away from any sort of island he was comfortable with. Madness, he could get on board with. Some of the greatest minds in history were mad. Feelings, that was another kind of chaos that he wasn't ready to delve in to.

 

"Well, whatever you've got," he said, like a patient to a pharmacist. "I'll try anything at this point."

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Silas’s willingness – nay, submission to her offer of weirdness – was what told Titania something was very different, or very bad, or very wrong with Silas. The younger boy had always avoided her voodoo like the plague, having the sort of mind that relied on statistics and facts measurable by numbers, on charts, or studies. For him to say he’d try anything, the heartbreak must have reached a pretty desperate point.

 

Titania happened to be carrying with her two stones she thought might help Silas – in fact had thought of them the moment he mentioned heartbreak – and she drew them out now.

 

“You can let your arms down,” she instructed, feeling the warmth of the stones in her palms. “Normally I’d put them on your wrists, balance them there, but I think in this case it’s okay if you just hold them.”

 

She waited for Silas’s arms to fall one on either side of the bench before tucking the crystals into his hands, against his heartlines, warm in spite of the cold day.

 

“Apache tear,” she explained, “for grounding and finding the right path. And chrsyoprase for insightfulness and to dim the ego. Both are also useful for…heartbreak.”

 

She would give it a few minutes before asking how he felt. Some people had to be drifted slowly and smoothly into oddness, without oars.

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“You can let your arms down,”

 

Obediently, robotically, Silas complied, his arms hanging limply on either side of the seat. She hadn't said to close his eyes, but he did anyway, shutting them against the whitish grey sky, against the strangeness that was this conversation, against his own submission to this practice, against the very angst that was causing it. He already felt some relief with his eyes closed. Sleep, he thought, could become his greatest love, if he'd allow it.

 

When Titania filled each of his palms with the stones, detailing their qualities, he was surprised to find that they were warm to the touch, but still smooth, not like she'd been sweating all over them and leaving them both slick and sticky with perspiration. Just warm, comforting, like they'd been kept in a cozy pocket.
 
One side of his mouth dipped in a wry smile when she said one of the stones was good for bruised ego, but he didn't say anything.

 

Both of them were silent for a few moments.

 

"How do I know when it's working," he asked finally.
 

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Titania was watching Silas intently – or: as intently as she could without spiraling back into her ethereal self, the self that was so aloof and cosmical that no one could reach her.

 

He seemed more resigned to this than ever before.

 

Silas Harding-Clarke had never shown even a speck of enthusiasm for anything Titania Baddour had ever had to offer – including her company, but she put that bit down to the fact that her Company (it’s own entity, really) either led to or seemed to mandate palm reading, tarot spreads, incense burning, and/or (because they were often tandem tools) crystal cleansing.

 

Titania was trying hard to take his submission simply, sensitively, to not show how thrilled she was to have finally broken through, but she couldn’t help but feel the brightness of success after a long slog burgeoning in her chest, spreading. She detected the smallest of smiles – just there – and matched it was one of her own.

 

“You just have to let it,” she said. No: too misty, too vague. She tried again.

 

“If it’s not working it’s because you’re doubting it.” Still no.

 

“Sometimes it doesn’t.” There.

 

“It’s psychosomatic,” she explained. “Pavlovian. A comfort zone. A placebo. If you expect a pill to take away your headache or chamomile tea to make you sleepy, it will.” She paused, feeling like she’d given away many, many secrets, and also that she’d made a dire admittance to herself. She went on. “You seemed unwell, but also more receptive than usual, so I thought for once it would…” She trailed off, looking at Silas sprawled across the bleacher, the snow falling in wifts around him.

 

Then: a soft shrug. The universe had no other explanation.

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