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Radueriel Benson

every song that i've ever heard is playing at the same time

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Radueriel Benson

Ever since the first Flying class, Rad had a bad feeling about Maesson’s student helpers. It wasn’t that he intrinsically didn’t trust people taller than him, because that would meant he mistrusted everyone, though he sometimes did feel as though this were the case. The boy always found it easier not to trust someone than to trust them. Before coming to school here he had stuck to himself most of the time, never becoming close with anybody. He had his mother, and his sketchbook, and was friendly with enough of the other professors’ children that he mostly muddled through a contented if isolated childhood. But when an opportunity arose to be vulnerable, to let somebody in, he had found himself capable of rising to the challenge. This was mainly true of Jack, but there were a few others here to which this, to a lesser extent, also applied.

 

Maybe his mistrust of Desmond and the lot came about because, unlike Knaggs, Maesson had never proven himself a capable instructor, and therefore it followed that anybody he trusted was probably untrustworthy. It took awhile (perhaps because they rarely flew in the bloody broomstick class), but at last the small Slytherin’s intuition was demonstrated to be spot-on. After the adult did not even bother to show up to their final lesson, the impish minions set about torturing the poor first years with a fiendish gauntlet. Were they even allowed to shoot hexes like that in the halls? At defenseless children? Well, ok… At Kelby Matos and a bunch of defenseless children?

 

Something, of course, was bound to go wrong. And after gracefully smashing into one of the moving staircases, that rotten Potter had snagged him with a rubber-arm jinx. Unable to keep himself on the broom any longer he’d gone crashing to the ground, supplementing bruises with bruises. Mute horror overtook him as he stared at his arm, jiggling gently like somebody had tapped a jello sculpture with a spoon. “What did you do?” he had cried out, and he thought he might have continued to ask that in various tones of distress until the tall Slytherin helper, with the shiny hair, appeared out of nowhere, irritation spread clearly on his face like jam on lightly toasted bread. He’d hauled Rad up, but the boy was too freaked to realize what Juan wanted, and after a couple seconds of bodily tug-a-war, the older boy gave up and cast a hearty Petrificus Totalus.

 

This, like any classic record scratch moment, was how Rad ended up deposited in the Hospital Wing, completely frozen, unable to even speak, with no bones in his left arm. Hogwarts was wild.

 

Quote

 

 OOC Form: 

Patient Name, House & Year: Radueriel Benson, Slytherin, First Year
Gender: Man
Blood Type:  Halfblood
Allergies, if any: N/A

What VH Year & Term/Week does this RP take place: VH37, Term 1, Week 7
Time of Day:  Afternoon
Link to Incident Thread: [x]

 

 IC Form:

Reason for Visit: THEY TOOK OUT ALL THE BONES IN MY ARM.

Damage Location: MY ARM. THE LEFT ONE OR ELSE I WOULDN'T BE WRITING THIS.

Damage Type: THE ARM CURSE. THE BONE HEX. WHATEVER IT'S CALLED. DESMOND DID THIS.

Other:  PLEASE GIVE ME BONE JUICE.

 

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Juan Garcia

Juan didn’t really enjoy terrorising younger students, honestly. He enjoyed seeing them get stronger and better, enough to be able to avoid anything he threw at them. And when they finally threw something at him back, well, then it was time for him to step up HIS game and prove that they’d never ever get on his level. But he didn’t actually enjoy hurting people. Just beefing them up.

 

So the obstacle course indoors hadn’t worked out too well and no one had gotten through without some cut or some scrape. Except like maybe one or two people. It was weird. Juan hadn’t expected them all to struggle THAT much, but hey, they couldn’t all be as skilled as him, even if he couldn’t show them that because he STILL COULDN’T TOUCH A DAMN BROOM.

 

Under Maesson’s stupidly watchful and beautiful eyes.

 

But of course, when one of the kids ended up being stupider than the rest, Juan had immediately groaned and rolled his eyes when he’d seen who had been the unlucky soul. Rad-something Benson. Juan wasn’t about to give attention to someone whose name was more syllables than his.

 

What had he done? “I’m making you a man, you failure,” he commented with yet another eye roll as he tried to drag the annoying first year to the hospital wing. But the kid had kept floundering and Juan, already miffed that HE had to be the one to deal with this when Kirk had been the oldest and default in charge, pulled out his wand and cast a full body bind on Rad-something Benson.

 

“First of all, sir,” Juan enunciated, dragging the kid’s body by the hair to the hospital wing because eleven year olds were heavy, “You are not the only one that got hit with the spell. You made a huge deal for nooooo reason. This is fixed hella fast. Of course, it’s really painful and takes all night so you won’t be sleeping in your bed, but it’s your fault you suck. Just letting you know, because it really is. It’s not that hard to avoid a spell.”

 

Then he cackled, “Kelby got hit with a rubber arm jinx AND a blinding hex and she wasn’t whinging and moaning about it.” He should unbind the kid right? So he could fill out the form?

 

Juan didn’t actually know the end-all-cure-all for the full body bind but Google said a counter-curse fixed it, so let’s pretend Juan did know the counter-curse.

 

“Here,” he said, shoving a form into Rad’s bone-filled arm, “I hope you’re a rightie. I’m not filling out jack for you.”

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Miss Lunes

Commotion was what usually brought the former Hufflepuff rushing out of the back room, but when she poked her head out, she only heard one boy speaking near the doors. Curious, she stepped out quietly. "Hello, boys," Greta began to greet sweetly until her gaze trained on the one filling out a form. "What can I-"

 

The tell-tale sign of a floppy arm halted her words.  A single tear emerged at the corner of Greta's blue eye at the sight.

 

It was a reaction that was the result of a horrid combination of pregnancy hormones, fatigue at sleeping poorly the night before, and overall general disdain for this particular spell that seemed to bring her more patients than any other ailment. Mentally, she began drafting yet another proposal to the board to outlaw the bloody jinx from the school entirely; surely the formidable woman in the Headmistress position would back her opinion instead of ignoring it like Gawkrodger did.

 

Taking a deep steadying breath, the auburn-haired witch blinked any saline away and smashed a forced smile onto her face. Luckily, she had missed the portion of the show where the student was simultaneously spelled stiff; that may have pushed Greta over the mental edge. 

 

"We can take care of this," she assured the young boy and herself. "Please...sit down. Come sit down over on this bed." She gestured for Radueriel towards a fluffy, fresh bed as she requested, but stopped Juan from moving an inch as she thrust an accusatory finger in his direction. "Did you do this to him?" Greta lowly demanded, her usually sweet-natured face dark. After all, she needed to include names in her ban proposal.

Edited by Miss Lunes

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Radueriel Benson

The most aggravating, agitating part of this whole melodramatic fiasco was that if Mr Maesson had actually bothered to teach anybody how to fly, none of this would have happened. But the majority of their lessons this term had been theoretical, or field trips, or just honest, absolute bogus— and maybe that was because the Quidditch Pitch went kaboom for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or maybe it was because despite his beautiful eyes and elegant hair and silky voice, Maesson simply was used to being on the other end of a Quidditch game.

 

Whatever the reason, the end of the term was here, and Rad knew almost nothing about how to fly a broom. He certainly had not mastered the advanced technique of dodging-while-also-staying-on-the-broom, which would have been necessary to avoid the Bone-Stealer’s bone-stealing spell without careening to his death.

 

When Juan finally undid that stupid body-bind, giving Rad once more control over a tongue as acid-barbed as any twelve-year-old’s could be, he hastily and unhappy filled out the form. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said darkly, with a smoulder. “Where do you lot get off, sending Green tier spells at First Years?” He would have gone further with this tirade of his, but that’s when a lady appeared, all sweet voice and kind eyes.


Rad immediately loved her.

 

She swooped into attack mode, all maternal energy and fierce passion, and Rad felt no resistance bubble up in him as she ushered him to a bed. He fell onto it gracelessly, still unsure as to how to move his limbs now that one of them didn’t work and after so recently having been spelled stiff. “Thank you,” he managed to get out as he looked between Lunes and Juan. Was there gonna be a showdown between the two of them? He just wanted his bones back.

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