~Dorrie~

What, oh what did that teacher call me? Casting-magic is over early, so I go into the library. The books are a comforting presence, and I am very nearly caught up in one of them before I tell myself I am here to research. I slip through the stacks, trying to find books that will be helpful. However, I can't full well find any, so instead I try something else. I set my wand on the table and shove my lips together. Then I search for it in my head. Wand, stand up and lead your owner to a book about ordering magical things around, I order it. The wand doesn't stand, but instead rolls off the table and across the floor. Well, I wasn't really meaning that request, but I didn't hear the talking, so I suppose that maybe it works differently when calm? I pick up the wand and glance once more around. There's nothing in the library on the required subject, really, so I decide what to do: eighteen minutes before the next class. I am going to see the Headmistress.

When I arrive, someone else is already in there, and they've left the door half-open. I recognize the person's knife nose at once, so I make a quick assessment and then move so that I will hide behind the door when it opens. I take my water bottle, which I've forgotten to fill, out of my bag and drink the last dregs of yesterday's water; then I unscrew the lid and place the open end against the wall. A little trick I learned from a book.
"Wisteria, as I must tell you again, she ordered that wand at me. Ordered it. Like you would do. Like you do do. She didn't say that she was a Thing-Whisperer, and you didn't either! Tell her to stop it, it's a threat!" says Knife-Nosed Teacher's voice.
"Enoch, calm down, will you? Calm down right this second! There is nothing wrong, it's just like the equivalent of a what, I mean a temper fit, and hopefully she won't do these often. Now. Go. Please. And by the way, are you aware that her name is Doran Delaney, not the other way around, and that she has been standing in front of my peephole for the last minute listening to everything you've said?" Headmistress Finnegan quips. I'm starting to like her.
"She's an eavesdropper! You see?" says Enoch, madly.
"Enoch Blank, you leave the room right this second and say sorry to the girl standing outside the door or I'll fire you!" Blank obeys, or at least the room-leaving part.
"Sorry," says Blank quietly to thin air, possibly deliberately slamming the door open onto my face. I duck it and push the door back away, and then I walk through it.

--------------------------

Okay. Sorry for what happened last time I posted, but if you can sort of skip it, that would be great. Thanks. 

~Dorrie~

"Ah. Doran Delaney," says Headmistress Finnegan.
"Um, yes," I say back.
"Well, do you have questions?"
"Not really." The bell clangs in the distance and I stand up to leave for history.

As is typical, history is boring. Also as typical, we get a lot of homework. I'm sitting in the library, reading a book that has given me no answers about what magic was doing in the time of Robert the Bruce, whose role in normal history I've already forgotten. I look up at the ceiling and am about to look at the floor when I see a door, painted green with a small brass knob. It's so small that I'll have to crawl through it. I walk over to the door and trail my hand across it. In the path of my hand are letters traced in reddish-purple. I rub my hand across the door again, harder, and the letters stay for longer. Petrichor Academy Archives. Interesting. 

I open the door and crawl through it. I'm sitting in a room that's taller than the door is, with bookshelves in it. I stand up and walk in the aisle formed by two bookshelves. There are crates on the shelves, each with labels. A to Aviemore is what the first label says. I walk down the rows, pulling out the first crate I come to, until I get to Tegan to Trip Insurance. I pull the crate down, sit down on the floor, and look at the contents--which, like I thought, are hanging folders. And there is one marked Train. 

Inside is a permit for the sale of a ten-car diesel train, from CrossCountry Rail Services and made out to W. Finnegan for "scientific modification." And it would be modification, I realize, if the train runs on magic...Paperclipped to the permit is a note. In messy handwriting it says For the Crusades, so we don't have to use cars? Okay, the reason why there's a train is now clear--because of the end-of-year Crusades--but why is the train up and running now?

~Dorrie~
The next day, I have a really good day until casting-magic, which I don't want to do, particularly after last night's dramatic events. In alchemy I've hit the milestone of turning a measured amount of metal cubes into gold, and being the first in the class to do so. I'm just actually contemplating going to rune-magic instead when I realize just how regular the pattern has gotten--in weeks starting with even numbers I go to rune-magic two days and casting-magic three days, in weeks starting with odd numbers it's the other way around. So I do have to attend casting-magic.
There's no major catastrophe, thank goodness--we're only taking notes--but because I can write very, very quickly, I'm done with the notes before the rest of the class. My eyes travel over the bookshelves of the classroom and the books' titles: Casting-Magic for Beginners, volumes 1-3. What to Do With No Wand. 33 Simple Spells. Cross-Country Drivers' Manual. The Definite Dictionary of Casting-Magic. Hold on. The driver's manual is from the same rail line that sold the train. Which means that maybe there's a connection between Enoch Blank and the train, I just have to find it. Which means there's a little sneaking to do.
After the House Kelpie meeting and dinner, I usually catch up on the missed spells from the rune- and casting- magic classes that I've not been to. But now I have a job to do. It's 7 PM, so Professor Blank is not likely to be in his classroom. I tiptoe down the corridors to the casting-magic classroom and walk inside, then I find the book. I climb up the bookshelf, which is easier than it looks, and then take the book and climb down. At my usual desk, I sit down and open the book, which shows instructions for driving trains. It's full of yellow pen marks and there are loose pages put in with the others, which have diagrams of what looks like a box with things sticking out of it scrawled in yellow pen. But the scrawl is not Enoch Blank's handwriting, which is sickeningly proper cursive. Whose is it? I begin a rune-magic spell that makes an exact copy of an object and then stuff my exact copy into my bag. I'll need to hide it because no one will be able to tell that I didn't steal it. I climb back up the shelves and then come down. There's no one in the hallway, no one greeting me on the way back to my dorm: Now I just have to study this. And if I could get my hands on a writing sample from every teacher at Petrichor, that would be great.  

~Dorrie~

I begin my graphology-of-all-the-teachers work during the second period open spot. By virtue of the windows in the doors, I look at the two classrooms that are being worked in--they do not have that handwriting on the board. That evening, when everyone is at dinner, I go to the corridor where the staff all live. They've handwritten signs that have their names on the doors. I pass the potions teacher, Pr. Dresden, then Professor Roan, Professor Ni Hennig, and all the other teachers. Blank is at the end of the hall, bar one door that looks like a storage closet. I don't know where the headmistress lives, but I do know that her handwriting is a shadow of mine--just older, more refined, and tilting. I pass Blank's door and then open the door to the storage closet, for a reason that I don't quite know.
It isn't full of buckets and mops--someone's living there.
There's a small magical fire made of coals in a bucket--I know that much without doing anything. I spy the bucket, which has a cloth over it, and take off the cloth so that I can see. The room is big enough, maybe the size of my dorm. There's a bed that is messy and a table made out of desks, with school chairs drawn up to it. There are muddy footprints leading from the window to a mat where there are very, very tiny shoes. Tiny and heeled. I swear I can't even put my feet into them. And on the table, there is a note.
Scrawled messily in yellow highlighter.
E--got the t out today for a spin just to get a hang of it, hope you don't mind. We can start the Ferrying tomorrow. --L
Oh my goodness. If t is train, then what is the ferrying? That exact-copy spell is coming in very handy. I do it, tuck the note into my bag, and hurry to the dorm.

~Dorrie~

No teacher at Petrichor has the initial L. I know that much. I go back into the archival library during second period the next day and find a directory for this year. Only three students have Ls at the fronts of parts of their names. The first one is called Swallow de lune, but I don't know if she'd sign S, L, or D. The second is liliesofthevalley, with a note that says "or Lily", and once again I don't know her, but once again it's a bit murky. And the last one is Drius Leith.
I finally encounter said Drius Leith in the cafeteria one day. The mismatched chairs are still there, of course, but now there are enough to make moving through the room impossible, though I swear that there are maybe two more doors than there were before. Drius is sitting in an office chair, sort of comfortably, eating soup. I keep staring at the back of their neck (unavoidable, I'm right behind them) for long enough that they turn around.
"Looking for something?" they ask, swiveling in their chair.
"Um, no." The swivel lets me see that their feet are a bit bigger than mine, and wouldn't fit into the shoes.
"Good," they say, and turn around.

I recognize Swallow from healing and casting-magic, but I finally recognize her when we are doing casting-magic. As you can imagine, it's not going well as usual--my sprouting spell has caused a small sequoia tree to grow in my pot--and Enoch Blank tells us all to look at Swallow's, see how well she's done. Which at least prevents him from noticing mine. And Swallow, who's wearing a long dress, has medium feet and is wearing practical shoes. I've met Lily at house meetings once or twice, and she won't exactly wear The Shoes either, so therefore there has to be someone else here. Someone who I haven't heard of.

Someone secret.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not trying to sound accusatory, but where are you? Because it's gotten more than a little lonely watching all of these pile up. I'm really sorry for the mess that happened a third of a year ago, truly. I will finish this story, but I also want to see yours. Half the fun of RPs is communal--rising from the foundations that one CBer laid, using everyone's stories as building blocks to create a beautiful and towering castle.

~Dorrie~

I visit L's room again the day after next. There's a new note: Ness done, got two. They're so stubborn, E. Dealing with Linnhe, Arkaig this week. Same start, same sign-off--E and L. Enoch and I-don't-know-your-name. I'm heading to dinner from L's room, out of the range of places that will get me in trouble, when I hear someone walking down the corridor.  I turn the corner and see them: a student, probably, a little taller than me with long brown hair that covers most of their face. I keep walking. They're not looking where they're going, because of the hairdo, and the corridor isn't quite wide enough--we slam into each other. She falls over.
"Sorry," I mutter. She flops her hair back to reveal a small face and very red lips and comes to a kneeling position. She looks miffed, so I add, "I'm not usually this clumsy."
"That's fine," says the person, although the miffed expression does not lift. "What year are you in? What's your name?"
"I'm in first year," I say. "And my name is Dorrie Delaney--what's yours?"
"Um." She looks surprised. "Lottie. Lottie Castle. I'm in...um...sixth year."
Then she stands up. And I see the reason for why she fell over.
On her small feet are very high-heeled shoes. Almost twin to the ones I saw in the closet. And her name is Lottie. L. L and small feet.
"Nice to see you," I mutter, "I have to go." She looks almost happy to take leave of the situation as we turn sideways and walk on. 

After bolting down dinner, I go to the archival library. I'm looking up a Castle, of course. There's no file for a Lottie, but there is one for a Zach Castle, that's rather old and musty.  There''s the standard form, which tells me he was born in 1974, his power was persuading people, he was in House Roc, he was an American exchange student from somewhere called Topeka, Kansas, and he had a sister, four years younger than him, named Lottie, who had no magic.
I exact-copy the paper and then start writing in my notebook. Lottie, who is now 44, isn't magic--what is she doing here?? Maybe I need to see something--the House Roc meeting room, for instance. I go there (it's just down from the Kelpie room) and enter when something catches my attention. Magic in the doorframe. I tap it and a chunk falls loose. Oh no, I hope I don't get in trouble for this. But there's a small black book in the frame. I put the chunk back, use a sticking spell on it, and then take the book. On the first page is Lottie, you're not missing anything.--Z. 

I take it to my dorm and read. Zach must have been writing things to Lottie. It's OK, Lottie, the teachers are so bad and corrupt, and the headmistress is this ridiculously young person who favors the Kelpies, is dated from September 1988.
And in a much neater hand: What are the Kelpies? This is dated a few weeks later, with something that says Topeka, KS.
Zach: The Kelpies are either a House, the house of all the mysterious people, or beasts from the lakes here, which they call lochs in their ridiculous local dialect, and then say that I'm the one who talks in a ridiculous local dialect. Kelpies are quite powerful.
Again from Topeka, probably Lottie: I'd love to command a powerful creature. Maybe against the stupid school that's stolen you from me.

Lottie'd love to use powerful creatures to destroy Petrichor.

So she did. Ness, as anyone would know, is a lake, a loch, where there are probably kelpies. And the ferrying is using the train to take them here. But they don't want to.

So maybe I can take them back to where they belong.

Can anyone explain what's going on right now?? I was on this RP but I got busy and haven't posted in like forever. Oops. I'd like to join in again tho! I think I was just RPing as myself. 

is it too late for me to join?

Well, I'll just jump in again, I guess.

-Flamarestii (RPing as myself)-

I'm wandering through the corridors because I have nothing better to do. I'm done with all the schoolwork for the day. I have no idea where my roommates have gone, and now I'm getting the feeling that I might be ...

Lost. Oh no. Oh no. Why did I go down this hallway?  I should've stayed in my dorm and waited, and then I wouldn't be lost somewhere in the academy's basement. It seems like a really big basement too. Every stone wall looks the same as I descend farther into darkness. What are the chances someone will find me down here? 

~Dorrie~

I've connected the dots enough that perhaps it's time for me to stop Lottie Castle before things go too far. So on Saturday I go to the archival library and go in.
It's not empty: Headmistress Finnegan, of all teachers to get in trouble with, is the one there, standing with her back to me. I don't want to disappoint her, so I immediately open the door. She turns--the magic has caught her attention, likely--and I panic. I don't know enough disappearing spells to disappear, annoyingly, so I roll out of the door and lie down on the ground.
"What are you doing here??"  she asks.
"Um," I say, "I was just, um, doing yoga?" This is a ridiculous lie, but I hate getting in trouble.
"Why aren't you in your dorm room?" I hope she doesn't recognize me. "Doran, you keep getting in...scrapes." Dashed hopes.
"Because the lock isn't working. I can't get in," I say.
"Very well. I will send a janitor." And she hustles away.
All I need to do is go in and see exactly where the rail network meets the castle. I look in the Trains file, and find a rail map that shows one set of tracks at a tangent to the fence that loops generously around the castle, meaning I will have to climb the fence. I'm up to the challenge. 

Twenty minutes later, I am walking across the gardens to a very unpopular spot on the lawn with a coil of rope sourced from a supply closet. I try to lasso one of the decorative finials on the fence, which is wrought-iron and strong-looking. I get there after a few too many tries for my liking, climb up, then have to jump off the other side. I sit between two finials for a bit before winding up all the rope so I don't hit the ground and break my neck, then do a risky backwards dive off the fence. I am now alone in the woods. There is the one set of tracks curving between trees and a small platform that is nothing more than a concrete bump. There is also a train parked in front of the bump, metallic and curving away into the woods. It's such nice solitude that I sit down on the bump for a second before I hear something.
Footsteps.

~Dorrie~
I stand up and turn around. It's two people with their backs to me. One looks like Lottie, because of the hair, and the other I'd guess to be Enoch Blank. Then they turn around.
"Delaney Doran!" says Blank. "What are you doing here? Go back to the castle! You didn't see us, you hear?"
"I don't think so," I tell him. "You're trying to destroy Petrichor. And besides, my name is the other way around."
"Lottie, can you deal with her?" he asks tiredly. "I have paperwork."
"Yes, sure," says Lottie. He walks off and I am left alone with Lottie. She comes to stand on the platform and peers down at me.
"So," says Lottie. "Why did you do this?"
"The question is, why are you doing this?"
"Destroying Petrichor?" Lottie asks. "It's because they stole my brother and now he still lives in Paris."
"This isn't Paris."
"He wanted something a little less"-- she looks at the sky, its usual gray-- "gloomy. Now listen. You are less powerful than I am."
"Which is a complete lie." She steps off the platform, grabs the sides of my head, and twists me so I'm lying on the ground. I stand back up.
"No backtalk, Doran. Now I am going to get the headmistress to get you in trouble." Oh no--this is the trouble of a lifetime: ticking off two teachers and climbing the fence. She, though, is in more trouble, which I could hopefully get Headmistress Finnegan to believe. Hopefully. Lottie walks off and I am left alone. I then sense two things, one of which is a phone in her pocket. A plan begins to form, and then I execute it. This is so hard--I haven't talked Computer for a long time--but I do it: Send 3,797 emails with the subject line of "NO", and set off an alarm. I am knocked flat by the effort, and stand up for the second time in three minutes when I hear the alarm and see her turn around.
"That was you, wasn't it?" she asks. "Troublemaker."
"You are making so much more trouble," I say. "I haven't even started on the Kelpies."
"Speaking of which." She pulls an object out of her pocket, which I realize is the second sensing. It's a remote. She presses it and the train doors open to reveal what appear to be a lot of horses, except they're not horses. They have bluish scales instead of fur and sea plants for manes, plus they're about twice the size of normal horses.
"Kelpies!" Lottie yells shrilly. "Attack this girl!"
Somehow they're reluctant to do it. I keep thinking don't, don't, don't--maybe it's that, or maybe I can see that I am more beneficial to them than Lottie is.
"You'll be made into scraps," Lottie says to me.
"I don't think so," I answer, edging back and left so that I am closer to the train. I sense it, vibrating slowly and sleepily, but parked and not ready to move. I think to it. Trying to get it to obey me while the Kelpies are still inside. I move even closer so that my hands are on its metal body, and shove, both physically and with every single brain cell I have. It works.
Immediately, the train comes to life. Its radar in my head is now much, much higher. Then I think to the doors, and each of them slides closed immediately. Now then. I discovered, once, by laying out various things such as flashlights, that I can't control anything farther away than 90 feet. But the forest is so dense that surely 90 feet will be enough. The train starts moving with a bit more effort, driving itself into the forest. The last car disappears, and I feel it start to lose touch with me, its sensing growing fainter. But at least I've done what I have to do. 
Two figures appear, both facing me. One is Enoch Blank, wearing a smug expression and waving a sheet of paper. The other is Headmistress Finnegan.
"Well, Ms. Delaney," she says, "we do have a lot to discuss."

~Dorrie~
All of us--Lottie, Headmistress Finnegan, Enoch Blank, and me--are sitting on the platform. Or rather the three adults are on the platform and I am sitting on the ground. 
"Professor Blank," Headmistress Finnegan says, "filed this Trouble Log with me a few minutes ago. He says that you got out of the castle, meddled in Petrichor's business, accessed the archival library, broke into Ms. Castle's room, and caused general havoc. What do you say to this?"
"How," I start off saying. "How does he know?"
"Because I put the Tracker on all students who cause trouble in my class," says Blank.
Headmistress Finnegan rounds on him.
"How dare you? That's illegal," she says.
He doesn't say anything. Lottie does, though.
"Well, Headmistress, she's definitely out of bounds," she says. "I propose that Ms. Delaney is expelled from school and--"
"Well, Headmistress," I copy, "she's definitely gotten into the school without permission, so I propose that she is asked to leave."
"Girls--" Headmistress Finnegan makes the "stop" signal. "Ms. Castle, do you have a visitor's pass?" Blank starts writing on a notepad and tears off the top sheet, then hands it to Lottie. She holds it up.
"Doesn't count, the ink is still wet," the Headmistress decides. "Blank, are you allying with her?"
"Yes," he says.
"Why?" she asks.
"Because I only had the talent of being able to talk to giant pandas," he says. This is such an absurd statement.
"No you didn't," says Headmistress Finnegan. "You had the talent of being able to make people believe you. But it didn't work on Thing-Whisperers, which is why you detest this school. Now what exactly were you doing?"
"Using Kelpies to bring down Petrichor," says Lottie.
"All right, now we have to report you to the head of magical governing, which is going to be lots of paperwork. Ms. Delaney--" Headmistress Finnegan indicates me. "You have six hours of detention tomorrow and that is it. You will be assisting me with a difficult task, not licking stamps."
I guess that this will be all right.