Sanguine and the Order of the Phoenix

The Sorting and the Feast

The Sorting and the Feast

The Sorting Ceremony was as painfully dull as usual, in Sanguine's opinion, at least. The only things that made it remotely tolerable were the glares between Molag and Boethiah (nothing new, but still fun to spectate) and Sheogorath pulling faces at him from the Ravenclaw table, where he was getting occasional nudges from Hermaeus, who looked rather exasperated.

'Looks like Peryite's up now, eh?' Clavicus muttered, as Wells, Perry, was called to be sorted. His fabricated appearance suited his personality to the tee, in Sanguine's humble and modest opinion: pale and sickly, slicked back black hair and a thin, twiggy build.

'He wasn't very imaginative with his name,' Sanguine grumbled - somewhat hypocritically - as the Daedra was sorted into Ravenclaw, where Hermaeus was now glowering at having to deal with yet another "foolish youth". The headmaster cleared his voice and said something that Sanguine was almost certain had something to do with Harry Potter (it always was, as far as this school was concerned) and the food appeared before them. Meridia was now sending Namira very disapproving looks as she dug into the beef with a little too much zeal.

Once their meals had disappeared, without much warning, Clavicus rose reluctantly as he realised that it was now his job to lead the Slytherin first years to the common room as a sixth year Prefect, alongside Malfoy, his little "brother". Sanguine still felt slightly uneasy about that. Boethiah had managed to give Molag a black eye already, Sanguine noted. He owed Sheogorath a galleon now, which he slipped into the smug Daedra's palm as they passed each other.

'It's sexual tension. You should see that,' Sheo explained with a grin. Sanguine just shook his head and followed Clavicus and the pretty girl that he'd slept with at some point down to the dungeons, where they resided. He could've ended up with worse people, he knew that, but he would've preferred to share with someone as irritating as Hermaeus, just to have a fellow Daedra in his room. Unfortunately, he was the only fifth year Daedric Slytherin. While Malfoy was harping on to Crabbe about Hermaeus knows what, Sanguine sprawled out onto the bed, fully-clothed, and slipped into something that resembled sleep.