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[florcarrow]

astorxa‌:

“Oh please,” though Astoria knew that Flora wasn’t wrong – the whole slightly ominous cloak and daggers act was lost on her. She knew she ought to be getting to her portkey, that she ought to be getting home soon but more time out of the house and with Flora? Both wins. Astoria took steps back towards Flora, close enough so that the soft tone in which she was about to speak in could only be heard by the other. “Are you Professor Trelawney now or did you ACTUALLY see something?”

Of course Astoria wouldn't simply hear the warning and act accordingly, nor did the girl expect it. Turning her back to the rack of cloaks she'd been looking at, there was little space visible between the two slytherins, a clear indication that, as was often the case, the words to come would be soft with secrecy. "Are you trying to curse me with words, Astoria?" The ghostly smile faded for the reply, though. "I heard some loud voices and saw people coming together. It could be a sale, or a petty fight, or any side. Stay here." Requiring barely any movement at all, Flora took a light blue cloak from the rack, embroidered in many spots. "This one would look good on you." Her eyes rose from the piece to Astoria's, meeting them. "I'm preparing the trunk for Hogwarts, you know. Should there be one. Or should I go to it." Facing an uncertain future meant she'd only prepare, even more, coping with readiness and strategy.

[florcarrow]

ofremuslupins‌:

It was, by all accounts, not at all sensible to be walking around at Diagon Alley right now. While officially the Death Eaters were still in hiding, they hadn’t exactly been subtle about their existence the past year or so. The attacks on muggles and shops on Diagon Alley alike were telling. Today it seemed like Remus was in luck. There was, surprisingly, no queue at Flourish and Blotts, one of the few shops at the wizarding shopping street that he frequented. As he was on his way out, however, he spotted a familiar face and paused to smile and greet them. “It is surprisingly calm in the store for this time of year, isn’t it?” he queried. “Are you browsing, or are you looking for any book in particular, like me?”

summers usually mean confinement, with flora being drowned with new tutors or her parent's brand new curriculum, but something was different now. their control felt more like fear, as did their threats of what she might be doing in just a few months - yet diagon alley remained one of the places they let her roam freely while they went on their own errands. after all, no death eater would hurt a carrow and there was little she could do wrong within the place. flourish and blotts was her usual choice of store so as soon as the two older carrows were out of sight, she walked slowly towards it, little visible weight on her shoulders now. jus after closing the door behind her, though, a face she hadn't seen in years appeared. "professor lupin." arguably her favourite dada professor so far, much to the dismay of her slytherin pride and last year's. "it's rather nice this way." not even to herself did she acknowledge that the slow business might be caused by the recurring attacks that scare off people, much less to remus lupin. "well, my main intention is to find a book i highly doubt will be available in this store. then i'll splurge on less interesting ones out of frustration." seeing lupin was quite the reminder of her simpler third year, evident by the smile stuck on her lips. much like a dark cloud rolling through the sky though, she knew the acknowledgment of why he was no longer her professor must come, and with it how she could not be seen by her family with the infamous lupin. "what were you looking for, professor?"

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[florcarrow]

rogerdavics‌:

“while summering in the muggle world, i took a few sessions on classical latin,” the former ravenclaw muses aloud. “our spells are based on that language, pretty much, so i thought i could maybe make new spells easily with that knowledge… but watch.” he flicks his wand at a damaged clock in the vicinity. “tempus.” it means “time,” and one might expect the clock to perhaps work again or something of the sort. instead, the previously inanimate object begins dancing. “i wonder how inventing spells works. the system doesn’t seem to like precise latin.” 

"i see job searching has been productive." flora simply had to throw that bit of bite in, but the smile that followed was much more genuine than her words. she watched him attentively, nodding along to his exposition - she'd herself had considered learning some latin before but time seemed to run low for the girl, especially in the summers when her parents planned life nearly hourly. knowing someone else had done it for pure curiosity was quite satisfying, especially if that someone was a friend of hers. especially if that someone was a person her family would have deemed unworthy, muggle, stupid. "that's because every overly enthusiastic person can try to create a spell and either get lucky or explode all over the walls." taking her own wand out of her bag, flora stopped the object mid-movement. "magic is mostly LUCK, don't you reckon?" it still felt rather odd to use her wand outside of hogwarts whenever she felt like. to be able to simply apparate somewhere was a freedom she'd never known, and to be able to control the world around her with the only tool she knew, her wand, made her feel much more protected than any other summer. "but seriously, while i value your erudite persuits, how's job searching? you can't live off of fun facts and it's july already."

[florcarrow]

MAY, 1997.

the greenhouse was quiet, much different than during classes when dozens of students could do nothing but talk, occupying territory that belonged to nature, where they should feel small, intimidated, unwelcomed. sitting there in a corner, vines gripping onto the windows and every now and then to her feet, leaves moving of their own volition, plants reaching the tallest point of the ceiling - that was the natural order of things, and that was how flora found peace. of course, there was the usual odd man out, just a few rows of pots and tables from her. neville damn longbottom, an intruder in her space and the plants surrounding them. how dare he? had her absolute silence not told him he was persona non grata there? yet the boy remained, with his 'good morning' and 'do you need help with that?' and his politeness. people claimed to hell and back that neville was not like most gryffindors, but that entitlement and bravado told a completely different story - at least in the one she imagined and wrote, where he could be just as meddlesome and inconsiderate as she'd like to make him be.

"longbottom." the last time he'd heard her speak, it had been to quietly greet him as she'd walked in, nearly two hours previously - yet, the sound was sharp and decided, as if she'd been preparing herself to call on him for quite some time (which she had). around her, books both from the library and personal were opened in various pages, bookmarks in many others, scribbled notes on her side. right in front of her was a large pot with white tiny petals covering the dirt, and rotting stems barely standing upright; she'd been trying to figure out for nearly a month why all the valerian she grew would immediately die and it was slowly driving her mad with the lack of good theories and solutions. "i doubt you can be of help but you're here so please make yourself useful. what's wrong with them?" @nevlngbtvm

[florcarrow]

thelilyonthemoon‌:

lily paused, her hand still lingering on the door as she turned her head to stare questioningly at flora. she’d never been one to heed warnings - but times had changed ; caution had become a necessity. ( and oh, how she hated that, hated the restraint ) and she was a little more inclined to heed flora, in any case ; despite how things might have ended, there had been love there, once. there was still a certain level of respect, and a bit of lingering trust ; timid trust, but trust all the same. 

“ what sort of trouble ? “ lily drifted from the door and towards floor ; her eyes darted between the windows as she tried to catch a glimpse of this danger herself. it took a great deal of effort to resist the impulse to burst through the door and involve herself in anything that might be happening ; but if she up and died because she was being her usual abrasive self, where would that leave her family? her friends? she hated to restrain herself, but even she could recognize that she needed to. 

flora's eyebrows raised immediately after her words, unsure what the other would choose. "uncertain, but i'd wait a bit." the girl was coming closer, but flora could feel the way the outside world was calling her - someone stuck between the promise of idle safety and potential excitement, or righteousness, or bravado. she'd never been able to pinpoint which one was lily's mortal flaw, not even after getting as close to the other's very essence as she'd been in their short time of love. what exactly drove lily moon to rush into the arms of conflict with careless abandonment was beyond flora, and she didn't think asking would lead to any answers either. "you're staying." it was, above all, a curious observation, her voice heavy with surprise. "didn't know you'd started listening to others." to me. her eyes, however, followed the line of the other's to the window, but there was little to see besides a growing group of people.

[florcarrow]

bellsandwhistlcs‌:

          diagon alley was no longer the bright place it once was — how it used to be only existed in memories now, faded and yearned for, missed desperately so. before leaving her family home earlier, katie’s mother had grabbed her arm, urging her to be careful. she hadn’t wanted to let her go alone, but katie insisted she would be fine. it was a hard thing to promise, actually impossible to do so, but being in her house had become stifling. it was still near the beginning of summer, but the idea of being cooped up, unable to visit diagon alley or anywhere else, was stifling. katie didn’t need anything but the chance to stretch her legs, to get a change of scenery.

         she hadn’t noticed any commotion outside of madam malkin’s, and her hand froze where it hovered over the door’s handle. she looked at flora, swallowing her distaste for the girl as she asked, “ what was happening ? ” a part of her thought she’d risk whatever commotion was happening to get away from the other, but rationality got the better of katie. her hand dropped to her side and she took a step back into the shop. she let out a sigh before looking towards flora. she forced a smile to her face before saying, “ are you having a good summer so far, flora ? ” she could play polite if she had to.

her attention returned immediately to the cloaks, uninterested. "arguing. the owner was yelling and spectators were gathering. petty thief? wrong supplier delivery? deadly attack?" the monotone made all possibilities blend into one, all carrying the same emotional weight and danger, which was close to none. "you can never be too careful i guess. thought you'd agree, given your... experience with how quickly things go wrong, even in the most public of places."

as if her words had no hurtful meanings, flora turned, a few light coloured cloaks in hand. "i prefer autumn, but it's been fine." the thin smile on her lips mirrored the other's, engaging in the quiet showoff the two seemed to often find themselves in. after all, flora could never quite pinpoint what event had brought around their distaste for each other, but she'd gladly list all the things she hated about the girl - her willingness to play any game thrown in her direction, however, was not on it. "don't mind me asking, but what happens to you now? you returned to school quite late, if i recall correctly. what about your exams?" flora had heard some rumors, and had her own suspicion of what the other might be doing the following september, but didn't wish to assume just yet. especially if she were to be trapped with katie bell for some time inside a small shop.

[florcarrow]

“ don’t leave. “ her stubbornness made her wait until the very last moment, just as the other had their hand on the door to exit madam marlkin’s. her consciousness, however, got the best of her, and so the words were rushed out in a sharp tone. “ there’s trouble next door, “ she revealed, her eyes moving at last from the rack of cloaks to the other. flora had seen a potential conflict, or attack just as she was walking in, and in current times, especially in public laces like diagon alley, one could never be too careful.

[florcarrow]

❤: what my muse looks for in a person they like / ☂: my muse’s favorite season or time of year / ∞: if my muse believe in ghosts, aliens, etc.

❤ what my muse looks for in a person they like.

flora herself doesn’t quite know that answer, as it’s varied so much. it almost looks like she doesn’t specifically search for something but is a creature of whims and random feelings - her far too long a list of people she’s loved, befriended or pined over has very little threads trying it all together. i believe she hasn’t matured enough yet to know what kind of people she wants around her, but she can sense the time to start deciding is nearing. i’d say that, above all, she needs people around her who’ll go along with those very whims, should they lean more towards fiery passion or emotionally distant silence. once others start pulling her in a different direction, she loses interest.

☂ my muse’s favorite season or time of year 

very early autumn wins, always. it means a return to hogwarts, which is always welcomed, and darker days with rain and wind, which makes her writing motivation soar. yet it is still near summer, so most plants are luscious green and the cold isn’t that bad.

∞ if my muse believe in ghosts, aliens, etc.

ghosts are a given, since they literally move around hogwarts on a daily basis (and flora can often be seen having a chat with them, the concept of an endless death is very alluring to her) but as for the rest, she’ll publicly say no. after all, it beats most logic if it has yet to be proved. honestly, though, flora relishes in tales of fantasy and dreams so she hopes every little thing she’s ever read or written about does exist.

[florcarrow]

[florcarrow]

muse headcanons!

send me a symbol and i’ll tell you:

☠: my muse’s biggest fear ☮: when my muse feels the most at ease ☺: something that makes my muse happy ☹: something that makes my muse upset ♫: my muse’s favorite song, band, and/or music genre ✇: my muse’s favorite movie, director, and/or film genre ♔: my muse’s celebrity crush(es) ❤: what my muse looks for in a person they like ☂: my muse’s favorite season or time of year ∞: if my muse believe in ghosts, aliens, etc. ✧: what my muse’s netflix queue looks like ✎: what my muse’s best subject in school is/was ♧: something my muse is really good at ✺: something my muse loves and never gets tired of ✗: something my muse hates or gets angry about ☆: what my muse would be famous for if they were famous ✿: what my muse would like to do when they’re older ✈: where my muse would go if they could move anywhere ✆: the last person my muse called and what it was about ✉: the last person my muse texted and what the text said

[florcarrow]

☛ GET INSIDE YOUR CHARACTER'S HEAD! aka The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme

Ask a question, any question! Because I have nothing better to do than to answer your questions. ... No, really. I don't. D:

1: What does their bedroom look like?

2: Do they have any daily rituals?

3: Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

4: What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

5: Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

6: Eating habits and sample daily menu

7: Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

8: Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

9: Makeup?

10: Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

11: Intellectual pursuits?

12: Favorite book genre?

13: Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

14: Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

15: Biggest and smallest short term goal?

16: Biggest and smallest long term goal?

17: Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

18: Favorite beverage?

19: What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

20: Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

21: Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

22: Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

23: How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

24: Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

25: How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

26: Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

27: What is their biggest regret?

28: Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

29: Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

30: Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

31: Most prized possession?

32: Thoughts on material possessions in general?

33: Concept of home and family?

34: Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

36: What makes them feel guilty?

37: Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

38: What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

39: Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

40: How misanthropic are they?

41: Hobbies?

42: How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

43: Religion?

44: Superstitions or views on the occult?

45: Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

46: If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

47: How do they express love?

48: If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

49: Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

[florcarrow]

crucial muse development questions.   send a number in my inbox to find out more about my character as a person  ( because often, the most important things about character development have nothing to do with their shoe size or netflix queue ).

what would completely break your character?

what was the best thing in your character’s life?

what was the worst thing in your character’s life?

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

what is your character reluctant to tell people?

how does your character feel about sex?

how many friends does your character have?

how many friends does your character want?

what would your character make a scene in public about?

for what would your character give their life?

what are your character’s major flaws?

what does your character pretend or try to care about?

how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?

what is your character afraid of?

[florcarrow]

Merlin’s beard, what is ( FLORA CARROW ) doing out at this hour? For a ( PUREBLOOD ) who is ( 17 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE NEUTRALS ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that they’re ( A CIS-WOMAN ) and a ( SLYTHERIN ) student though. They’re very ( QUAINT ) and ( INTROSPECTIVE ) but also quite ( STOIC ) and ( HAUGHTY ), which could be why they remind of ( STAINED PAGES, FROM CRUSHED LILLIES IN THE PLACE OF BOOKMARKS; GHOSTLY WHISPERS FROM THE INSIDE OF A CLOSED ROOM, ALLUDING TO ANGER, TO FEAR, TO LOVE; THE SOUND OF BUBBLING AND FOAMING, BUT THE ABSENCE OF WARMTH ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( SOPHIE TURNER ), but I’ve never heard of them. ( &&. CAMI. 19. GMT. SHE/HER. )

hey yall, cami here. i’m really tired but take this please ily k bye

THE CARROWS

" we are the children of magic itself. " her mother used to put it all in quite a poetic manner. the small house, gloomy and damp, had a floating candle under each painting and photograph of long-forgotten carrows, once the ministers and headmasters of entire generations. blunders happened along the way, as it happened to every other pureblood family, and the paintings were thrown in the fireplace or into the creek running behind the property - the carrows had a deeply ingrained culture of glorifying their legacy, but ruthlessly turning it to ash should it not benefit them.

the great fortune of old was wasted by lavish living, and by the time achos carrow married to an insignificant selwyn, the debt ran deep - certainly aided by the heavy involvement of the family in the first wizarding war. in the stories flora was told, they were martyrs, sacrificing their kin and gold for a greater purpose, mourning the injustice of her uncle amycus and aunt alecto, behind bars. of course, it was easy to let stories fester in the minds of children, miles away from the truth - achos and ellaine had moved to a plot of land hidden between the welsh mounds shortly before their children arrived, and for far too many years, they lived mostly in their own forgotten country, where north was down, south was up, history was a puzzle they would rearrange.

their marriage is a happy one, the product of two lifelong friends with their minds set on one cause only, with the same trains of thought. after giving birth to twin girls, the couple saw in them the tabua rasa they so yearned for at work, in the department of magical education. try as they might, children had entire lives before going to hogwarts, and their efforts, even if the rest of the department wasn't in the way most times, was purely too little too late. hestia and flora would change that, becoming their personal experiments.

CHILDHOOD

given how well little flora took to stories, the carrows would spend endless hours sitting down with her, spewing all thoughts they saw fit, and she'd stare, deep in concentration, quiet end still, what an exemplary student. the image they so carefully curated of a small, charming and polite family was spreading.

soon, however, the well-screened tutors and especially the words of her parents were not enough. flora took to reading as soon as she learned how, and in books she could find new subjects, different people they'd never mentioned, fantasy that sounded much more real than the hollow concept of the dark lord. magic was all around her, but in those pages and in the dusty illustrations she felt every spell. once a little girl who did not ask questions, flora became a fountain of confusions, mostly met with 'who told you that?'.

the frustration towards the younger twin only grew over time. flora's favourite game became a sort of hide and seek, where she'd hide somewhere in the house or the rest of the property, telling no soul or perhaps hestia, at times, and waiting until the screams with her name began. it was fascinating to count how long it took for her little world to notice her absence, how they'd react, how sometimes her mother would begin crying after some hours, how a relative or family friend might be called in to help scour the fields for the little girl. there was something powerful in observing annoyance, anger, and above all fear, yet control when it all starts, when it all ends. in a place strictly manipulated by the two gods of the house, this was when she turned the tables, even if just for a bit. eventually, however, concern faded away. by twelve, she could disappear for the longest stretches, as long as she returned without a speck of dirt and in time for lessons or dinner - and of course, if she didn't meet with anyone but the household.

as a sidenote, someone bring hestia, lets plot more then, cmON

HOGWARTS

before going to hogwarts, flora and hestia had gone to the usual parties and celebrations the purebloods so fancied, and some ministry events where they could be shown off like school projects. they hadn't, however, seen much more than that. the prospect of getting wands, robes, boarding on a train - all little things that identified them as beings, individuals who were more than just a name and affiliation - it meant the world for flora. she relished in the way the shop owner told her father he couldn't keep giving flora the wands the man suggested until the exact one he envisioned worked. she held her ticket with the care one touches thin glass. she walked around the train with a smile thrown at every other first year kid, even began conversations with some. some people in her year still tease her about how much she's changed since that day.

the hat placed on her head took a minute or so to decide, being pulled in the directions of slytherin and ravenclaw, but flora knew which answer would make her parents, two slytherin alumni, the most satisfied. now she wonders if the opposite choice would have positioned her in any way farther away from the heart of the conflict.

flora grew quite happy at hogwarts. the library was the stuff of dreams, the classes a fresh new world, and she'd been lucky enough (or so she'd thought) to have gone to school the same year as the boy who lived, a story that she could never quite believe, even with the boy sitting in class right in front of her. in many ways, flora saw herself as the observer of the perfect spectacle throughout the years, her journals serving as the proof that she'd been the face in the crowd of the myths. flora read other points of view at the library, and heard them in her common room, creating in her mind her own narrative of harry potter, of the war, of the carrows.

her personal library grew even more during school. the easy access to other kids and to hogsmeade resulted in trunks getting heavier and heavier every summer, even sometimes with muggle names she couldn't dare let her family see. to her, none of that ever mattered. words were words, no matter who wrote them, and all she cared about was what incredible tales they told and how they made her feel.

her studious nature thrived at hogwarts, and her grades, while not beyond impressive, were rather good. flora always loved potions above all. she did quite well at all subjects, but she got into the slughorn club not only because of her name, but because of her talent. it was the one thing that felt precise and rational when everything else wasn’t.

while she was a quiet figure, either lurking in some forgotten couch in the common room, on her bed, or beneath a tree, flora showed to the people at hogwarts something her parents only got inklings of. her words often carried venom, and her words an edge as sharp as a cut - a few people even got frontstage to what happened when flora carrow held too much of that poison in herself and it spilled out, the burning flame of anger, the way her voice would at last raise above a whisper.

her parents feared that spark they sometimes saw. she was becoming a volatile little thing, a disgrace upon their projects and a threat to the legacy they'd been so carefully building. a few months ago a discussion began over what to do, a very public one, as a way to instill fear in the girl: perhaps flora needed a proper marriage plan, just like her grandparents and just like far too many of her peers - someone who'd control her, who'd bring some much-needed coin to the family, someone to DISTRACT her. they did, after all, always know of her affection for hopelessly romantic tales, even if they'd never heard of any boy she'd daydream of (and they never would). perhaps flora needed a goal, a purpose like the oath other people from her school had taken upon, like her uncle and aunt before her. a good potioneer like her could become a valuable investment for the dark lord.

HEADCANONS

as much as flora hates to admit it, there’s this hunger for power in the back of her mind that she can’t shut down. she enjoys feeling important, like the name she carries or the blood in her veins places her higher in a contest for worthiness.

umbridge was a personal friend of her parents, and flora saw her as the intrusion of the manipulating hand she knew all summer in the few months she had of freedom. resenting it, she did the most to fail the class, being called to her office often to discuss how her parents would be embarrassed and how dolores believed she could do much better. she just barely finished it.

how does flora feel about the whole muggleborn ‘debate’? she never really cared about it. it was too removed from her. it never personally affected her. she didn’t go out of her way to bully and attack muggleborns or ‘blood traitors’, but she wouldn’t exactly tell others to stop. perhaps insist that she was bored and they should just leave. she never stopped to analyze why she did that sometimes. she just doesn’t care. in fact, all of the events of late seem to barely make an impression upon her, except when they come with the threat of her having to actively participate in it. flora sees the entire conflict as the mighty pureblooded families losing relevancy and trying their hardest to gain it back; a petty little thing - she doesn't, however, grasp the reality that people have died for it, and innocents have been murdered. the details require emotional introspect she does not possess.

she is !! practically mute but if u get her to talk u see bitch is actually very angry?? all the time?? hulk whomst.  angry and annoyed and detached

flora has a hard time grasping the emotional weight of events unless she's writing about them. ever since she can remember, flora has kept journals, parts of it accounts of her days, most of it short stories and poems that serve as practice writing and as a fictionalization of the harsh reality around her. reading dumbledore's murder or the murder of ministry officials little stories about the fragility of mankind and the shortcomings of magic simply makes it easier to understand and cope with.

she loves potions and books. her dream is to just be an old witch living in a forest cottage in wales with ten cats and an equally as quiet girlfriend, brewing the potions that take weeks to complete, writing poems she forgets to put away, the scent of lavender in the air almost sickening.

flora has a little garden at home which she loves with all her heart. she truly cares for her plants, despite how much on the nose that is with her name. at hogwarts she keeps a couple of small pots hidden in the greenhouse.

doesn't own a single pair of jeans or pants. will live her entire life in dresses and skirts and is just fine like that.

she thinks the people fighting against the death eaters are also stupid and cruel. literally takes the term neutral and turns it into apathy and will openly speak about it with that specific dosage of venom should she trust you enough.

your back hurts? your hair needs to grow faster? want to poison someone? flora will gladly brew little batches of potions in her spare time and sell them within school grounds.

lowkey needs a hug and someone who'll take the time to really listen to hER

she also likes to walk around at night, trying her best not to get caught at home by her parents and by prefects at school. it freaks people out when at 3am they hear footsteps and the light from a wand, even if just around the room or the common area. she likes the creepy factor, completely embraces it, people sometimes find her reading with her back to their front doors or doing homework behind some plants in the greenhouse. dark forgotten places are her places.

she has a cat, he’s old and ugly and his name is moros like the greek god of doom. he hates everyone, most times including flora. he's not a nice cat and she'd tear a man limb by limb for him.

flor is constantly writing. unfinished projects are her thing. poetry, prose, plays, journaling. poetry is what she usually dedicates herself most. she has an eye for rhythm in words, and feelings. everything she writes is always either too hopeful and naive, or pessimistic and sad. she doesn’t know an in-between. that goes to say for her life as well. flora dreams of all the pretty perfect pure things she knows aren’t real. all the well-intentioned kisses and soft pink flowery dresses flowing in the wind, and small cottages in the middle of a field and delicate generations old tea sets. this pristine romanticized aesthetic

on the other hand, when her writing is sad, it’s not just sad. it’s miserable. it’s worrying. she talks about that even less. all the scary intrusive thoughts that come to her mind. all the holes she can’t explain why she could never fill. all the numbness that attacks her some days and she can’t fight it back. this loneliness that makes no sense.

okay in a nutshell, she loves her sister more than anything and anyone in the world, she is more naive than she lets on, she doesn’t let on much because she’s so quiet, she loves books and has pretty hair. this wasn’t mentioned anywhere but she does.

[florcarrow]

tag drop !!

❛   i   .   |   this  is  a  torch  song .  hear  me  and  you  will  burn  ;   threads . ❛   ii   .   |   the  perversions  of  quiet  girls  ;   musings . ❛   iii   .   |   now  you  look  at  me  like  i  am  a  crime  scene  ;   mirror . ❛   iv   .   |   i  will  choose  her  happiness  over  mine  every  time  ;   the carrows . ❛   v   .   |   i  said  i  wanted  to  be  a  poet  ;   headcanons . ❛   vi   .   |   can  we  speak  in  flowers  ?   it  would  be  easier  for  me  to  understand  .  ;   ask memes . ❛   vii   .   |   a  character  study  ;   tasks .