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Julienne Haysward

Heksen Hoog
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Julienne Haysward last won the day on June 10

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About Julienne Haysward

OOC Profiel Informatie

  • Naam
    Gianna

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  1. July's schuldenboekje

    12 februari 1837: 1 galjoen verdient. Totale schuld: 24 galjoenen. 11.880 knoeten. Loon: 193 knoeten per maand. Vier maanden is zes galjoenen, dus 124 knoeten opzij zetten per maand. Juni 1837: 124 knoeten. Juli 1837: 248 knoeten Augustus 1837: 372 knoeten September 1837: 496 knoeten. Vrijdag 29 september 1837: 1 galjoen betaald. Totale schuld: 23 galjoenen. 11.385 knoeten. Verwachte einddatum van terugbetaling: 1 juni 1845. Juni 1837 Inkomen: 193 min 124 knoeten is 69 knoeten. Uitgaven: 59 knoeten Over: 10 knoeten Juli 1837: Over van vorige maand: 10 knoeten Inkomen: 69 knoeten. Uitgaven: 63 knoeten Over: 16 knoeten Augustus 1837: Over van vorige maand: 16 knoeten Inkomen: 69 knoeten Uitgaven: 67 knoeten Over: 18 knoeten September 1837: Over van vorige maand: 18 knoeten Inkomen: 69 knoeten + 1 knoet over van terugbetalen. Uitgaven: 66 knoeten Over: 22 knoeten
  2. July's schuldenboekje

    In dit boekje houdt ze precies bij wat ze Liam nog schuldig is, wanneer ze hem terugbetaalt en hoeveel ze nog moet betalen. Totale schuld: 25 galjoenen. Voorwaarden schuld: - Alle schuld moet terugbetaald worden aan Liam Haysward. - Hij mag me inschakelen voor extra klusjes om mijn schuld te verminderen => kan beter helemaal geen nee zeggen tegen Liam. - Of tegen een andere Haysward.
  3. [1836/1837] Quicksand

    Op zich had Julienne inderdaad geen ontwikkelde smaakpapillen, dus ook al vond ze het een stom argument, ze hield haar mond maar dicht en knabbelde een beetje verder aan het toastje, want Liam vond het vast niet leuk als ze het uitspuugde, of zoiets dergelijks. Iets over altijd je bord leeg moeten eten, want je wist maar nooit wanneer je weer genoeg eten had, een concept waar arme mensen bekend mee waren. Die hadden niets te maken met ontwikkelde smaakpapillen. "Het is wel hard werken," legde Julienne uit, "vooral als je geen hulp hebt in het huishouden, maar... je krijgt er niet voor betaald." En ze wilde zelf geen huisvrouw zijn, dacht ze, ze zou gek worden van verveeldheid. Maar misschien had ze helemaal geen kans? Ze wist maar nooit waar ze een baantje zou kunnen vinden en als ze niets kon vinden, moest ze vast huishoudster gaan spelen voor Liam. Ja, keek ze nu al naar uit. "Ehm..." Hoezo waren vrouwen te fragiel om te werken? Of hadden ze minder hersenen? "Ik haal net zulke goede cijfers als de jongens in mijn klas..." zei ze maar een beetje aarzelend, als tegenargument. Ze mocht Liam niet boos maken. "Nee, met die criteria op zich niet echt, nee... Nou ja, misschien acteur?" Julienne haalde haar schouders op, terwijl ze wat heen en weer schuifelde met haar voeten. "Ik denk dat er heel veel vrouwen naar je stukken zouden willen komen." Kijk, ze kon best vleiend zijn. Dacht ze. "Al het andere is wel erg veel werk en dan heb je weinig tijd over om te genieten..."
  4. [1837/1838][EN] Better Life

    Later that night, after work, Julienne moved her stuff in. She had found a key in one of those fake rocks at the back of the store and swiped it without feeling guilty. She would copy it and put the copy back, in case someone had put protective spells on the shop. It would be empty at night, she knew that, and the attic looked like it hadn't been used in months, so as long as she carefully hid away her stuff every morning, it would be fine, right? Better than staying at home, ruining her mother's... whatever. And better than staying at Liam. At least she wasn't homeless. Right? Finished!
  5. [1837/1838][EN] Better Life

    It wasn't a long walk from their tiny flat to the coffeeshop. At first, she went through a crowded street, houses shoved so close together you could hardly pass. Then, passing through a hexed passage so that no one in the pretty streets had to witness the opening to the alleys, July entered a beautiful shopping street, with expensive stores, one prettier than the other. Normally, she paid no attention to these stores, not even to the one bearing her last name, but suddenly she came to a stop, looking up. Then, she knocked on the door. Her mother loved the Haysward Antique's store and was on a first-name basis with most of the employees and she dragged July with her enough that she could smile at the man opening the door. "Hey, Geoffrey. Quick question, do you have apartments above the store?" Geoffrey stared at the ceiling, as if he had the kind of vision that could see through everything, x-ray was not an invented thing in 1837. "No, there's an attic above, storage space." He shrugged, then glanced down at July. "Why?" "I think I saw someone inside," she lied. "A face in the window?" Geoffrey cursed, grabbed his wand and stormed to the back of the store. July followed him, hoping he wouldn't kick her out, as he stormed up the staircase. The attic upstairs was stuffy, filled with old furniture covered in white cloths that no one had changed in a long time. It was hot as hell, even early in the morning, and it didn't smell very nice, but it was a rather large place. "I don't see anyone," Geoffrey said, a few minutes later, when he had searched through the entire attic. July too had searched, but for an entire different reason. "Sorry, must've been a shadow or something," July said apologetically. "Really sorry." "Ah, don't sweat about it, kiddo." He grinned at her, then showed her downstairs.
  6. [1837/1838][EN] Better Life

    "There's a man," her mother said, finally, and she got a bit of a dreamy look on her face. "He's a wonderful man, a lawyer." "Is he married?" July asked, despite herself. The look on her mom's face said it all, but Leah quickly waved it away, took a sip from her coffee and smiled. "The thing is..." July felt something unsettle in her stomach, but she kept as silent as possible. "He doesn't know I have a daughter and I think it's best if I keep it that way. And we can't go to his place, because of... You know. And a hotel is so impersonal." July translated it to herself: July's mom wanted the guy to see her place, in the hopes that he would buy her something better. Something bigger, with more space and less... her. "So what am I supposed to do?" "Well, maybe you could find a place for yourself?" her mom asked, sweetly, hoping, pleading. "I'm sure you'd love that..." But July didn't have the money for that and angrily she drew back her hand before her mom could reach for it again, because Leah knew that. "Mom." "Or maybe you can stay with Liam! I'm certain he'll have a place for you!" But July didn't want that. She already had to give him most of her paycheck and he would probably even charge her rent, or just complain about her all the time, or kick her out whenever he had a girl over, or just plain tell her no. "It's best for the both of us, sweetie." Leah tried to reach towards July, to push a lock of hair behind her ear, but July ducked away. "I have to work," she mumbled.
  7. [1837/1838][EN] Better Life

    A few minutes of silence and then a elongated "Sooo," from her mother. Julienne didn't want to glance up, she didn't want to do anything other than keep drinking her cup of tea, letting her mother force out whatever she had to force out without Julienne having to play a part in this, take responsibility up herself, but she put down her cup and glanced up. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Oh honey, nothing's wrong," her mother laughed, but she bit her lip and started that "Sooo..." again.
  8. [1837/1838][EN] Better Life

    Friday 1 september 1837 - in the morning - July's house It was a quiet morning. The sun shone through the curtains, playing on the hardwood floor with the many creaks you could never get entirely clean, Julienne had just burned a piece of toast for herself and another one, less burned, for her mother, and the smell of bad coffee was drifting through the small flat. She had gotten up too early and was in no hurry to get to work. Not today, at least. "Ah, sweetheart, there you are," her mother greeted her, bustling into the room, as if Julienne wasn't at the exact same seat at their small (and slightly askew) dining table. "Oh dear, the toast..." "Sorry," July muttered, hiding behind her cup of coffee. She wasn't a good cook, but it wasn't as if her mother could do any better... "Oh, never mind," her mother said, waving the problem away. She poured herself a cup, put too many sugar and milk into it and sat down across from July. "So, no Hogwarts today, huh?" "No, mom." No, indeed, no Hogwarts today. And she could've done without her mother calling attention to that again. "Poor little July..." Her mother pouted at her for a moment, briefly touched July's wrist and then smiled. "But you'll love working, I'm sure of it!" Yes... because she hadn't spend the last three months working. "Sure, mom." Sunday fun day personal topic!
  9. [1836/1837][EN] Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

    Friday the 12th of May 1837 - in the morning - Ancient Runes She didn't study for her last exam. She felt a little bit bad about it, but it was Ancient Runes, a subject she would never need nor pick up, and... July wanted something else. She wanted to be nice to herself, just for once, spend an evening relaxing with the other students that didn't even have Ancient Runes, going to a party, getting a little bit drunk, feeling like a normal teenager for once. It was nice. Grade: Poor / Slecht Topic finished <3
  10. [1836/1837][EN] Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

    Thursday the 11th of May 1837 - in the afternoon - Potions Enough of feeling sorry for yourself, Julienne tried to tell herself. Enough of feeling insecure, of questioning yourself, of wishing things were different. Enough, enough, enough. Wasn't she clever? Wasn't she ambitious? Was she really the type to just give up, let the world beat her to it? No, no, she was not. Yes, it was going to be difficult and yes, she would have to throw away all her plans so far, but... But. It was only five years of her life. She would have to work, yes, but maybe she could study at home, maybe she could do the exams after a few years, maybe she could still go to university, sometime, somehow. Her life was going to be better. Her life was going to be good. Grade: Outstanding / Uitmuntend
  11. [1836/1837] Quicksand

    Julienne staarde Liam aan. Hij had het over dingen waar ze nooit aan had gedacht, over welke wijnstreek ze haar wijn dronk, welk jaar het uit kwam, en of het wel de goede kwaliteit was, want... nee, natuurlijk was het geen goede kwaliteit. De wijn die Julienne kende kwam ergens vandaan, daar moest je maar niet teveel vragen over stellen, en was... gloednieuw, dacht ze? Of misschien was het juist hele oude wijn en dat het daarom zo goedkoop was. "Uit... Frankrijk, denk ik?" gokte ze, want daar kwam wijn vandaan, toch? "En ik zou echt niet weten hoe oud het is..." Ze haalde haar schouders op. "Vast oud, het is heel goedkoop." Sorry Liam, maar ze had gewoon geen geld om moeilijk te doen over welke wijn ze dronk. "Ik weet niets van wijn," zei ze maar, in de hoop dat hij daar de shculd maar aan zou geven. Terwijl Liam neerplofte, bleef Julienne ongemakkelijk staan, want eh... hij had niet gezegd dat ze mocht zitten en Liam zou er vast een probleem van maken als ze op de verkeerde plek ging zitten. Iets over dat ze niet schoon genoeg was, of dat soort dingen. Nerveus plukte ze aan haar jurk. Haar gezicht vertrok toen hij haar eerst dom noemde (hallo, ze was gesorteerd in Ravenklauw!) en vervolgens uitlegde dat het... eitjes was. Visseneitjes. Ze wierp een verdachte blik op de toast. "En mensen vinden dat... lekker?" Ja, blijkbaar de rijke mensen, in ieder geval. "Ik weet het nog niet." Ze liet haar blik op de vloer vallen, want maakte haar antwoord überhaupt uit? Ze kon nooit naar de universiteit zo, ze mocht geluk hebben als ze nog net de slijmballen zou kunnen halen, en daarna... was het klaar met Zweinstein. Haar moeder zou blij zijn, die vond het toch onzinnig dat Julienne naar de universiteit zou gaan, al had ze zelf ooit eens gestudeerd. Kunstgeschiedenis, of zoiets. "Moeder is niet echt een beroep, vind je?" Ze wist ook niet of ze kinderen wilde, haar moeder bemoederen was al moeilijk zat. "Heb jij altijd al zwerkballer willen worden?" vroeg ze maar, in een poging het gesprek op Liam's favoriete onderwerp te gooien: zichzelf.
  12. [1836/1837][EN] Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

    Tuesday the 11th of May 1837 - in the morning - History of Magic The longer the exams took, the less Julienne studied. It wasn't that it was going bad, it was going rather well all things considered, but was it really worth it? To have to spend her last weeks at Hogwarts locked in the library, only reading her school books and staying up night after night until she had crammed her head filled with information that she would never use again? She had almost always done the right thing, but now that the deadline of leaving Hogwarts came closer and closer, Julienne almost accidentally started to let go. She studied a little less. Read a book she really wanted to read instead. Spent an evening dozing in front of the fire instead of studying. Went to a party once, to full surprise of all her classmates. Ate a little more, slept a little longer, enjoyed herself. And suddenly she wished she could've changed that too. Grade: Acceptable / Acceptabel
  13. [1836/1837] Quicksand

    Oh wow, dit was... een huis, ja. Julienne keek met grote ogen rond, want vergeleken bij het kleine appartementje die zij moest delen met haar moeder leek dit huis meer op Zweinstein dan op... nou ja, een huis. Wat een ruimte! Mooie ramen met een geweldig uitzicht, grote plafonds, een kamer vol met gloednieuwe meubelen die eruit zagen alsof nooit iemand erop gezeten had en alles keurig ingericht. Nog geen vuiltje ergens te vinden. Was dit hoe haar familie woonde? Geen wonder dat ze haar minderwaardig vonden, eerlijk gezegd, want wauw. Wat een verschil. "Ik heb wel eens wijn gehad," zei ze, terwijl ze met moeite haar blik weer naar Liam dwong. "En bier." Je moest toch wat, water was niet altijd drinkbaar en dan was bier een veilig alternatief. Maar ze had nog nooit champagne gehad, in die fragiele glazen die eruit zagen alsof ze uit elkaar zouden barsten als je ze tegen elkaar aan klonk, en die toastjes met dat rare donkere spul erop. Julienne wierp er een twijfelende blik op, terwijl ze de opmerking dat ze straks maar moest afwassen en op moest ruimen langs zich heen liet gaan. Was hier überhaupt wat om op te ruimen? Oh nee, ze ging schoenen poetsen. "Proost," knikte ze Liam toe, want eh... ja, op hem dan maar, en toen nam ze een klein slokje. "Oh," zei ze verbaasd. "Het bubbelt echt!" Maar het was wel lekker. En daarna knabbelde ze wat aan het toastje, maar... oh, eh, dat smaakte... zout. "Wat is dit?" vroeg ze, "Kaviaar?" Wat was kaviaar? "Is het... een soort groenten?"
  14. [1836/1837][EN] Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

    Wednesday the 10th of May 1837 - in the morning - Transfiguration What would she change if she had the chance? Everything. She would change that her mother had told her father earlier, before she had gotten pregnant. Or she would change that her father would accept her mother. Or she would change that even though her father rejected her mother, her family didn't reject her. Or maybe that her mother didn't reject herself, but instead worked hard, planned a good life for her and Julienne, made certain her child wouldn't possibly make the same choices. Or maybe go back a little less far away, and change the way she behaved to Liam. That she didn't have that temper tantrum, didn't throw those cloaks on the floor, didn't get such a massive depth that she would never be able to repay. It was difficult to let go of the What Ifs. Of the sorrow, the pity, the anger. Grade: Exceeds Expectations / Boven verwachting
  15. [1836/1837][EN] Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

    Tuesday the 9th of May 1837 - in the afternoon - Herbology She often felt strangled, overwhelmed, stuck, and she had yet to find a way to deal with it. She tried: she tried reading, she tried cleaning, she tried clearing her mind, taking a few deep breaths, count sheep, walk out of the room, remind yourself that life is going to be okay. She tried to divide whatever she had to do in smaller tasks. She tried asking people for help (but the words never seemed to form on her lips, so she just smiled instead and hoped that someone would see through). She tried punching something, clenching her fist, go for a run, feel her muscles burn. She tried pinching herself, jabbing herself, scrubbing at her skin until it was raw. Yet the feeling that she was drowning never seemed to stop. Grade: Dreadful / Dieptreurig
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