efachittock

[efachittock]

marywithoutthelamb​:

“Bullshit,” Mary said easily, waving off Efa’s jab with the slightest of shrugs; it was probably true, but who the hell cared about truth. "Blood and anger look great on me.“ There was another joke somewhere in there about that being the reason she was so pissed off all the time, but she wasn’t here to entertain Chittock and so she didn’t mention it. "Kitchen’s down this way, come on.”

She’d been hoping the answer would be Diagon, though. She already knew enough about the attack on the estate. “Good. Tell me about it. Where you were, if you saw any of ours, how many shitheads you took out, all that crap.” After a beat, she added, “Yeah, Potter’s was shit, but we managed. Most of us, anyway.” She’d heard Vance had gotten a little fucked up, but she was still waiting to hear more on that. Right now, it seemed no one had been seriously injured.

Blood and anger did look great on Mary MacDonald. Efa had no way to argue against that, so she didn't. She twisted her nose in distaste but followed along to the kitchens.

"Most of us?" She inquired, an eyebrow raising skeptically. Efa hadn't heard yet of any casualties from the Potter Estate, but, then again, she hadn't exactly been looking for it. She spent most of the day by Dorcas' side, or away from Dorcas but stressing too hard about her to even make sense of anything else happening. She felt foolish now, but she couldn't help it. 

She didn't wait for clarification from Mary before she started talking again, though. "I was at the Owl Emporium when it started. Met up with Edgar. Helped him work the sidelines," she worked to keep emotion out of her voice, talking like it was nothing different than chatting about the weather. "Dorcas got it pretty bad. She fought... him." She cleared her throat, annoyed at herself, and how she couldn't say his name without hesitating anymore. Not without tasting blood on her tongue. "Voldemort. I helped take down a bunch of Death Eaters. I wasn't exactly counting, but. Mostly made sure none of our own were getting killed, per Edgar's instructions."

[efachittock]

benjyfenwiick​:

Benjy looked up from the chart. It didn’t seem like she understood - or maybe she was just trying to process what he was saying. Or maybe she just didn’t trust him. There were too many possibilities. He actually did not know Efa very well, despite her friendship with Dorcas. 

Dorcas was different than him - Dorcas had always been able to find the outsiders and pull them in. Benjy had never been and outsider… until he was. Before the accident, he’d been in the middle of things, always the center of attention, people high-fiving him in the corridors and asking him about his plans for the Ravenclaw team. They’d been projected to win the cup for the first time in years during his final year at Hogwarts while he was Captain. But, that to, had been ruined by his fall.

Did she still see him that way? A jock who didn’t care for others? Like Maddy had… for awhile. He looked and saw Maddy still in the corner of the room, though. She didn’t think that about him anymore and his heart leapt.

“No,” he replied evenly. Looking at Maddy had given him strength to keep doing his job right. They would be selfless now - just for a little bit longer. “That’s not what I mean.” He set down the chart. “If we don’t have the right supplies here, your burn might get worse, especially if it was done by a curse. I can’t just let you go home like that. We might have to find someone to brew a potion, if that’s needed - maybe Severus Snape. Otherwise… we might have to steal something.”

He laid his eyes on her. “I’ve done it before, from Mungo’s.” He lifted her hand to him again and tapped it with his wand, watching the blisters disappear before their eyes. The easy part of today.

Efa couldn't consciously explain it, but she felt a surge of misplaced anger as Benjy explained himself and insisted she couldn't go home like this. Perhaps it was just that anytime she felt like she wasn't understanding something, she liked to resort to anger.

At least the way he so easily vanished the blisters on her hand made her feel less like lashing out. Her eyes peered at the newly smooth skin -- smoother than it ever was, even --, with interest, fingers flexing open and closed to test out the feeling. Painless. 

The mention of stealing from St. Mungo's didn't offend her in any particular moral level, she wasn't naive or righteous enough to be against it, but it still made her brows furrow. They would be taking potions from people who probably needed it more. Efa wasn't one to be blindly selfless so often, but when it came to this war, when it came to seeing one of her best friends barely make it out, she'd been putting things into perspective. And she'd be damn fucking pissed if some random girl stole potions for a shoulder booboo, when people like Dorcas needed it so much more. And she could imagine a lot of civilians were crowding Mungo's by now. Likely a lot of innocent people who had it way worse than her.

"It's fine," she insisted through gritted teeth, shifting uncomfortably where she sat. "How long? To brew something like this?" She could ask Snape, probably. If it was something easy, he could work it out. And most potions were easy for Snape, right? She could ask nicely. "And how long before I get worse? Are we talking hours or days?"

[efachittock]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT 009  |  WAND

It's a good thing Efa is not clumsy enough to let her wand slip into anyone's eyeballs -- even though she might be willing to do that on purpose. A hazard to society, her wand is as sharp at the end as it is at the tip, making it pretty confusing to any strangers to know where/how to hold it.

It is not in perfectly shiny condition, as Efa is prone to throwing and leaving it around instead of carrying it on her body. Because, you know. She can't just easily tuck that thing into her waistband or boot without getting some really brutal pokes into her skin, so she's often carrying it in her purse or has it thrown around the shop while she works, etc. At best, she can carry it in her pocket, and in case of an emergency, she'll just bear through the painful poking and tuck it somewhere close to her, if she must. It's a nuisance, but she likes it.

It's dark wood (maybe Ebony? I wouldn't know, I didn't take the time to research specifics! I'm a terrible student! Sue me!), and not too pliable. Efa likes the threatening look her wand has, most of the time, unless a pretty girl says they don't like it. She was advised to try to sand down the sharp tips over time, so it could be less of a danger to society, but she's adamantly against it. These days, her wand feels like an extension of her own body, so she's conscious of how to keep it away from poking holes into people on accident. It was no different than getting used to having long, sharp nails.

[efachittock]

spellnbone​:

There was no answer to his question. Edgar blinked. To be fair, as it was his way, it hadn’t been a very clear question, not even one sounding like one … and yet. Efa didn’t answer and he nodded towards the kitchen before turning, a little too taken aback to say anything about it. 

“We don’t have much in the house, I fear,” he said, hands curling into the back belt of his waistcoat as he walked. “Toast and jam. Eggs perhaps.” A tentative smile, “Tea.” The kitchen in the back-parts of the house wasn’t particularly big and rather simple, especially compared to the extravagant front rooms. It had been made for and used by servants, and it showed. “You did have a good meal since yesterday, though, I hope?” 

Efa smiled politely at that, shaking her head. "Toast and jam sounds great," she said, genuine. Her stomach was already groaning and soon enough it might be getting loud, so some carbs sounded delicious right about now. Merlin, she'd take the toast without any jam if she had to.

She didn't like many parts of this cursed house, but the kitchen looked cute, even if dramatically out of place. Perhaps that was why it looked good to her, anyway. A simple little place, funny in the way it stood against the rest of the fancily decorated rooms. Edgar's question had her huffing, and she wasted no time before starting to rummage through the cupboards to find plates and cups and the food for them. Despite coming from a pretty wealthy, pureblood family, they hadn't had a house elf since she was a toddler. She'd learned to be pretty hands-on when it came to making herself meals. "Nah. Not a good one," she responded, at last. "Just a bunch of snacks here and there. Hence why I'm starved."

[efachittock]

spellnbone​:

Edgar’s raised his eyebrows. “What, yes,” he countered, gently and with a smile of his own. “But I’m glad to hear you don’t completely resent me for taking you off the battlefield. I know you were eager to … throw yourself right in.” There was some undertone of regret to his words, but they didn’t take the overhand, seeing how he knew that he’d made the right decision (or at least hoped he had). “It’s just that-… Well. I’ve made my points to you before, you don’t need me repeating them. But please, do accept my thanks. You were of a great help that day.” That day. Yesterday. Merlin, it already felt like weeks ago already. “How else am I going to goad you into participating in my future plans.”

He took his Tag and thanked her, safely stashing it in the inside-pocket of his vest. “So? Breakfast?”

Efa listened, nodding along politely, hoping it was the right move to make him stop talking about this in particular. Yes, he had been right to pull her away, yes, she was grateful for it, yadda yadda, they didn't need to dwell on it much more. And she didn't want to deal with all of his gratefulness, either. "Ah. Yes. No worries," she responded stiffly, at last.

His offer of breakfast, however. That was more interesting than anything else he'd said so far. "I'd love some, actually," she put a hand to her stomach, as if daring it to growl then and prove her point. She hadn't had the time to eat much before she snuck out of her house. "I'm starved."

[efachittock]

THE WILDS (2020- ) S01E01, Day One

[efachittock]

sectumsmpra​:

@efachittock​

He strides quickly through the halls of the House of Bones, mind abuzz with the events of the day still. Mentally sorting through what he knows and what he doesn’t and who he needs to talk to and probe for this or that information. And through all of this, his mind is still occupied, eyes darting side to side to every nook and corner until he finds who he’s looking for. Only then does he realize he’s been looking.

‘ Efa, ’ he calls, equal parts urgency and relief. His pace quickens, he stops in front of her, hand reaching up to clasp her upper arm before he gives it permission to do so. But even as he realizes what he’s done, he doesn’t pull away. Instead his other hand reaches up to clasp her other arm. Heart thuds loudly in his ears. Eyes take in the state she’s in anxiously. ‘ You — you fought in Diagon Alley. ’ He starts. Stops. Starts again. ‘ Are you alright? What happened? ’

☈ 

Efa always assumes Snape will be okay in these attacks. She has to, otherwise she'll drive herself mad, anyway; but most of all, she has a deeply blind faith on his duelling skills, as well as the fact that he teeters the line between both teams. That's not something she's happy about, but it's something she's come to learn he can do well. So she doesn't worry. She doesn't.

Still, the gasp that falls from her lips when she hears his voice is one that matches the relief in his tone. The feeling is fleeting, because as soon as he's close to her, she notices all the blood on his shirt, and her eyes widen. She doesn't even have it in her to flinch at the hold on her shoulders. If stakes were lower she might make a comment on how gross and clammy he looks, and slap his hands away, get mad at all of his misplaced concern. Instead, today, she fists her hands onto his robes, uncharacteristically needing something to hold onto, to make sure he was okay. "Wh-- what the fuck?" She splutters out. "Holy shit, are you okay? Snape. What the fuck. Tell me all this blood isn't yours."

[efachittock]

marywithoutthelamb​:

There was still leftover adrenaline pumping through Mary’s veins. Death Eaters had been a good outlet, but it wasn’t enough. They’d attacked their former headquarters and Diagon Alley. They’d had a plan, they’d executed it damn well, and Mary was pissed. And with all this anger and energy still left buzzing inside her, what was there to do but assess the damage?

She’d spent the rest of the morning and the better part of lunch still at the Potter estate, but eventually, she had to acknowledge there wasn’t much more she could do, just walking through the wreckage and debris. So she’d moved to Bones’ house. Not much to do there, either, unsurprisingly.

Coming across Chittock was almost a relief, in that sense. “Yeah, I can take you. You look like shit, by the way. You coming from Diagon or Potter’s?” If she’d only been crying for the sake of it, Mary was just going to drop her off at the kitchens and leave it at that. If she’d been present for the attacks, though, then she had some questions.

☈ 

Efa sighed in relief at first, but her shoulders were quick to straighten up at the mention on how she looked. Usually, a comment on her looks by a non-friend would only be well-received if it was derogatory in nature, but in this case, she knew it meant something different. She didn't look bad because she was her usual angry, Too Much self, she looked bad because she looked meek, pitiful, sad. She looked like she had been crying for the past three hours, which was true, but hey, no one was supposed to know that.

"Don't look so good yourself," she bit back, but that was hardly the painful jab she wished she could make. She didn't even have the braincells to start a fight, it seemed. How tragic. "Diagon," she responded, anyway, when asked. She wouldn't let her own defensiveness and pettiness get in the way of talking to another Order member about today's attack, at least. "Were you at Potter's? I've heard it was shit, too."

[efachittock]

horseheartedmarlene​:

Marlene felt a little unsettled, walking down Diagon Alley next to Efa Chittock, for reasons that had nothing to do with what had happened the last time she had been on this street. It was because of who – well, what – Efa was, and the fact that Marlene hadn’t even thought about that when she’d asked the younger witch for help. She’d only been focusing on finding an alternative source for some of the farm’s more crucial supplies while the regular one was rebuilding their shop and supply lines after the damage done by the Death Eaters. Efa had seemed the obvious choice (everybody knew about her father and his weird ideas so who better to find suppliers off the beaten path?) but now Marlene was realizing how much more obvious a choice she should have been, if only Marlene had been thinking more clearly…and that belated revelation had her brooding.

Had she overlooked the fact that Efa Chittock was inhumanly charming because she’d been distracted worrying about the horses and fretting over the attack? Or because Efa didn’t want people remembering how “charming” she really was?

Well, either way it wasn’t going to stop Marlene doing what she needed to do – or taking advantage of Efa’s help. And if the girl could put her charms to use on behalf of the horses, well, so much the better, right? No matter how uncomfortable it made Marlene…

Her distraction perhaps inspired her off-the-cuff raw honesty in response to Efa’s observation: “Are they?” Marlene said bleakly, looking around at the detritus and destruction that marred the once-cheerful storefronts and shoppes of Diagon Alley. “I suppose that’s good,” she added, despite being unable to see any evidence supporting Efa’s statement. “Rebuilding, I mean. We certainly need to.”

She sighed and tried to shake-off her gloomy mood. “Right – yes. Good idea. Well, the most crucial thing right now is securing more puffskein jelly. We brush it onto their wings,” Marlene explained, meaning the horses of course. “Helps with pruning and glossiness, but the most important part is that it repels rose-wing mites and kills their eggs. Spring is when we go through the bulk of that.” She wrinkled her nose. “The cool, wet weather is a perfect breeding environment for the bloody little pests, and the damage they do to feathers when left untreated…ugh. Let’s just say it’s something we want to avoid.”

Puffskeins were common creatures, of course, but they were most often treated as pets and to most wix, only their hair – which could be harvested easily without harming the creatures, of course – had any useful or commercial value. This made it difficult to find suppliers who could provide jellied puffskein – especially in the amounts that the McKinnons needed to care for their steeds. There just wasn’t much demand – which conversely meant rather limited supply. But Marlene had witnessed the results of an unchecked rose-wing mite infestation before, and it wasn’t something she was eager to repeat. Especially not among her horses!

Marlene clearly sounded off, by the way she responded to Efa's comment with so much distraction, but the half-veela wouldn't hold it against her. It'd been rough lately, for everyone. Hours blending into days, days blending into weeks, war had a horrifying way of warping one's perception of time and their surroundings. Even her father, who wasn't directly involved in this mess -- she could tell he was starting to lose himself to the fear, too. She wasn't feeling quite herself either, the usual skip to her step gone, the fire within her chest taking a bit of time to start up, extinguished down to a pathetic, meek little flame.

Her companion was soon picking the conversation back up, though, so she couldn't complain much. She nodded along, as if any of this horse-stuff made any sense to her. She hadn't been one to visit the McKinnon stables much, and she never even imagined their care took all this work; puffskein jelly was not easy to come by, let alone to buy in bulk, it'd certainly not be cheap.

"Right, I think the guy I mentioned will have it," she reassured, leading the way down to the hidden store in a forgotten nook of the alley. And then, for lack of anything better to say, "That does sound like a terrible time for the poor horses."

When they reached the shop, a cramped little store that looked like the definition of visual pollution, Efa pushed in first and was greeted by the man behind the counter. He had pitch black hair despite the age clearly shown by the wrinkles on his features, and his mouth was twisted in a permanent frown even if he seemed pleasantly surprised by the familiar visit.

"Hey, Fran," Efa signed, speaking along for Marlene's sake. Her sign language was rough, learned solely for the purpose of making transactions easier in this shop, so she didn't have much practice, but it was something. "This is my friend, Marlene. Marlene, this is Francesco." And then, turning to Marlene, "he reads lips, if you don't know sign."

Francesco scowled, but nodded in greeting. "Pleasure," he signed back. "What do you want?"

"He's asking what we want," Efa spoke, then signed along again. "Do you have... puffskein jelly?"

[efachittock]

benjyfenwiick​:

Benjy held Efa’s hand in his gently, palm up, but didn’t dare touch the blisters. While he believed her story about just holding the wand in the wrong way, he also knew that battles could be hard to truly understand what happened. He’d seen it enough times in the Order by now - someone thinking they got an injury one way when really it was from something else during the battle. 

He waved his wand over the hand, scanning for any signs of spellwork. He tapped a piece of parchment after, which transferred the information he’d gathered, but it was nothing. Efa was right - just bad wandwork. “This will be easy to fix, yeah,” he said before standing up to move around the other side of the bench, looking at her back. “This… I’m not sure about.”

He did the same scan as before with his wand and tapped the parchment. The letters that had appeared from her hand were replaced with the new information. As he studied it, head tilted, he said to her, “We lost a lot of potions in the battle at the estate. I can’t promise you that we have what you need. If we don’t, do you have a plan?” For the first time in a long time, Benjy’s head was clear, his mouth working at the same pace as his brain. He was acting like Emmeline more than himself - which, in this situation, was probably a good thing.

☈ 

Efa watched as Benjy scanned her hand, feeling apprehensive. She hardly ever let the healers in the Order help her, a combination of being careful enough that she never needed them for major injuries, and the fact that she took all minor injuries to her dad back home. This time, however, she had no choice. She didn't know how much she trusted Benjy, but today, all bets were on him.

His father would lose his mind if she showed up back home looking all sorts of hurt. If he already knew about the attack by now, he certainly would be worrying about her, knowing she worked there, but he would be hoping he taught his daughter to hide well enough that she'd be safe. She couldn't let him even imagine that she was in the middle of the fight. Her torn up sweater and exhausted features would certainly raise enough suspicion already, and she wasn't looking forward to going home.

"A plan?" She echoed dumbly, glad that Benjy was behind her for this, and unable to see the brief twist of despair on her face. No, she didn't have a plan, being healed here were plans A through Z, but... she'd deal. So she found herself nodding, a determined furrow on her brows. "Yeah. Sure. It doesn't hurt that bad, and I'm sure I'll... work something out at home. If that's what you mean. It's fine."

[efachittock]

spellnbone​:

“Oh dear,” Edgar hummed – almost chuckled, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” When their eyes locked, he gave Efa a nod. “Perfect timing. I was about to prepare breakfast, if you care to join me?” As he made his way down the staircase, he walked in that nondescript way of his, neither fast nor slow, neither too casual nor too uptight, just so perfectly ordinarily that any mind could easily forget this moment ever happened. When he reached her downstairs, he was smiling.

Edgar was not a fiend of touch. On the contrary, he knew that there was nothing as vital to a functioning psyche as a good hug; the warmth and sound of another person’s heartbeat a saving grace for many. But that was also why he was careful with his own touches. Each handshake needed to be executed properly, to not miss its intent, each caress was of such grand value that he rarely dared to reach out, fearing that he’d either not be able to express that meaning properly, or that it would not be received appropriately. Today, however, his hand landed on Efa’s shoulder easily.

It mirrored the way he had pushed her into a back alley on Diagon that day, keeping her away from the fight almost angrily. But instead of any negative emotion, there was a sense of pride to the gesture. “Miss Efa Chittock,” he said, “how does it feel to have played such a crucial role in our lack of loss?” It wasn’t exactly a success, after all. But most everyone on Diagon Alley had come out rather unharmed, and certainly alive, and in Edgar’s books that was no failure either. “To have saved so many lives?”

Efa, on the other hand, was not so deliberate with her touches -- so when Edgar's hand fell upon her shoulder, she couldn't help the way her eyebrows raised skeptically into her hairline. He seemed amicable, of course, Efa had no real desire to upset him by reacting so stiffly. She simply wasn't used to the strange presence of a warm shoulder-grab. Did they have to stand this close to each other? She couldn't help the instinct in her that said get out, get out, get out, but she did her best to muffle it and stood her ground.

His words didn't help, but they were a welcome distraction from her otherwise hyper-focus on the point where they connected. "What?! No," she laughed, the sound more hysteria than actual humour, a burst of sentiment that escaped her lips. "I mean. I hardly think I saved lives. But helping was fun. Feels great!" She hoped the enthusiastic tone would be enough to keep him from insisting on that ridiculous idea. 

Buying some people time on the battlefield wasn't the same as saving their lives -- talk about being dramatic, Edgar. She thrusted her hand out then, the Phoenix Tag dangling from it. "Here you go."

[efachittock]

💫 - fight, tickle, insult. (regulus, sirius, sev)

💫 - fight, tickle, insult

Fight: Regulus. Listen, she thinks it'd probably be fun.

Tickle: Sev. Can you imagine. She's probably not above being that childish with him. If she gets her ass hexed in response, she deserves it.

Insult: Sirius. He's on thin ice anyway, I can imagine him making one risky comment that lands him on Efa's shit list.

[efachittock]

🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost. remus, sev, sirius

🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost

Hang out: Sev. He doesn't like partying so hanging out it is! They do that on the regular anyway. But also, the idea of them partying? Immaculate. Please. She'd kill for the opportunity.

Party with: warily, she'll say Sirius. He's respectful enough that he doesn't get weird and he probably could get her into some cool parties, to be honest.

Ghost: Remus LKDLFJSDL I mean realistically, being the activist for half-breeds that (she thinks) she is, she likely won't ghost him, but they're probably awkward around each other anyway. Remus is Too Tired to deal with her energy.

[efachittock]

💫 regulus, lucinda, artem & 🗳️ emmeline, gideon, benjy

💫 - fight, tickle, insult

Fight: Lucinda. She's willing to throw hands, Lucinda was a mean girl in school and Efa does not vibe.

Tickle: I... ? Artem? I guess? That'd be so uncomfortable and I'm cackling

Insult: Regulus, I guess! But nothing personal, buddy!

🗳️ - vote for, vote against, run against.

Vote for: Emmeline. She seems like she'd do great things.

Vote against: Gideon, but again, it's not personal!! I'm sorry Gideon!!

Run against: Benjy, if only because it's the only one she'd feel like she has a chance against. I mean, they're the same age, so it's an even playing ground.

[efachittock]

☕ - get coffee with, go out to dinner with, steal their food ( dorcas, sev, edgar)

☕ - get coffee with, go out to dinner with, steal their food

Get coffee with: Edgar. Probably awkward coffee.

Get dinner with: Dorcas. Again, the crush, etc etc

Steal their food: Severus. While she screams "snooze, you lose, ya PUNK"

[efachittock]

💫 - fight, tickle, insult Emmeline, Hestia, and Mary

💫 - fight, tickle, insult

Fight: Emmeline, I'm so sorry ma'am. Efa could fight anyone, in theory. She wouldn't want to fight Hestia because they're friends, and she wouldn't want to fight Mary because she'd probably lose, so Emmeline is unfortunately the only choice left

Tickle: Hestia, in a fun friendly way

Insult: Mary. It'd probably lead to a pretty brutal insult duel. Could be fun.

[efachittock]

💬 Only one bed, Fake dating, Enemies to lovers: Emma, Benjy, Maddy

💬 Only one bed, Fake dating, Enemies to lovers

Only one bed: Benjy. He'd probably be cool about it, even if both would likely be very awkward. But zero sexual tension on her end, so she'd be fine. Just a gal and a bro sharing a bed

Fake dating: Maddy. It'd probably be funny? Efa feels like she'd have a good time

Enemies to lovers: Emma. The potential there is great, they're not really enemies but Efa definitely doesn't like Emma right now and hasn't given her a chance, so an enemies to lovers would be chef's kiss