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༊*·˚.ೃ࿐ 𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖗𝖆. - ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ fₒᵤᵣ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚☁️ [ [ another disgusting hat ₊˚ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 ✧.*
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∘♡༉∘ UPON EXITING THE TRAIN, Aurora was faced with a gloomy, Gothic Era castle that resided across a lake. Her face once again dropped into the oh, so familiar sneer— great. This place was the complete and fucking opposite of Beauxbatons, and the girl felt that if she looked at the grand building any longer that she would be dragged into the deepest pit of depression. How the hell were these students fine? It looked so sad. While she may have hated Beauxbatons with her entire being, Aurora had to admit it was a gorgeous school. This one held not a light in comparison, and she found herself wondering how the students from France didn't off themselves when having to stay here for the Triwizard Tournament.
Oh, that's right. Someone did get offed, they just weren't from Beauxbatons, and it wasn't on their own accord. Whoops.
Standing on the platform, the chilly night air felt that a punch to the nose, and her glower deepened. Stupid England. Stupid cold air. Stupid vampire castle. Stupid Voldymoldy. Stupid Brits. Stupid diary. Stupid giant headmaster who can't take a fucking joke. Stupid drab uniforms, stupid foreign accents, stupid—
"Woah, Frenchie," a burst of roaring laughter came from beside her, interrupting the spiral of annoyance, "Chill out, you look like you wanna kill someone." Wendy's boisterous chuckles drew into a snicker as she turned to walk backwards down the platform, "What? You don't like our castle? Is it the lake? Are you scared of water— don't tell me you are!" She rolled her eyes, spiky eyelashes tittering and brushing against her moon paled skin, "Not to worry, Frenchie, because if you are— afraid of water, that is— I have good news!"
"Leave her alone, why don't you," Robins' light English spilled from her lips, interrupting the American, "And quiet down, Wendy, not everyone wants to hear you."
Wendy stuck out her tongue and brushed her wild curls behind her ear, "That's where you're wrong, Monroe— everyone wants to hear me! It's me for god's sake," she watched Robin resentfully concede (returning her to her conversation with George— or was it Fred?) before shifting her attention back to Aurora, who was now fiddling with the wool of her plain, all-black cloak in disgust, "Too drab for your fancy taste, Ah-roar-uhhh?"
