From: jake_frost	Date: January 27th, 2011 08:17 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jake was working on the details of Icarus’ sandal, trying to forget Emilie and her pitbull-like behavior; he had just moved to dab at the paint on his palette when he heard her cry out the spell…

”Expulso!”

Before he could react, Jake was blown backwards by a concussive blast of energy; his painting had exploded into, what seemed like, millions of pieces and was raining down on his head like confetti, where he sat, stunned, on the floor.

Jake sat for a moment, holding his paintbrush and palette, covered in the remains of his painting. Then, finally coming to his senses, he turned and looked at Emilie, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”, he growled, throwing down his palette and brush and brushing himself off, “You could be expelled for doing that shit!”

	From: babalon	Date: January 27th, 2011 09:12 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Let's get one thing clear, asshole," Emilie hissed, her eyes narrow. "You are never to fucking speak to me, address me, or even fucking look at me. Got it?"

She gathered her things in a rush and threw her bag over her shoulder. She already started walking toward the exit, giving him a wide berth.

"Or next time, it will be your fucking head."

	From: jake_frost	Date: January 27th, 2011 09:38 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jake hated fighting and it seemed this girl made a life out of it; he would have no problem following her directions. He wasn’t even mad at her, at this point; he was just tired of her. “Fine, whatever...not like I’m that desperate”, he sighed, waving her off.

When Emilie stomped towards the door, Jake was relieved to see her go. He wondered what had happened in her life to make her such a hateful person.

When Emilie threw back the threat at him, as she left, he just let it go. If she wanted to believe he’d let her blow up his head, more power to her. Blowing air out of his mouth in a frustrated sigh, Jake pulled out his wand and looked around the room, “What a mess!”, he grumbled. Flourishing his wand slightly, he intoned, “Tergeo art room.” He moved against the wall and watched as all of the minute pieces of canvas whirled off of the floor and any other surface they had blown onto and emptied themselves into a waste basket, the easel righted itself and the spots of paint he’d gotten on the floor wiped clean. “Excellent!”, he beamed.