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Posted: Apr 15 2017, 12:33 AM
"You go ahead, let your hair down (SEE MINI ABSENCES)"
The spring morning welcomed a rather cool weather for the young Ravenclaw to wander around the school grounds and felt her direction take her towards outside of the castle. Every step took her from the inner parts of the school to its outermost layers, as her legs took her further away from the castle. Eventually, the sound of whinny, blowing of noses and other various equine sounds surrounded her. Stables. She smiled upon seeing the variety of horses calmly sleeping and resting in their following stalls, nestling comfortably. Horses, despite them not having magical properties and usually being used for transportation only by the wizarding school, still had to be treated and well-taken care of, like magical creatures.
From where Nalia was, she walked towards the second stall nearest to her and met a brown coated horse. It had a black mane and with a dark circular patch on its forehead, about as big as when she'd put the end of her index finger and thumb. This the young eagle found amusing and let out a soft giggle before gently petting the horse as it brayed lowly at her, blowing her hair out of place a little bit. She smiled once more to the horse and the others that were housed in the stable before she got out and walked while combing her hair with her hands towards a nearby clearing where she sat down before breathing in the gentle spring air.
Spring was rather unpredictable when it came to temperature. It was as if the first few weeks were a transition stage from the harsh grueling winter, (which meant that sometimes there were days that were awfully cold) along with segueing to a warmer, gentler atmosphere where tiny shoots of vegetation would appear like the earth was being revitalized each and every day. Nalia thought the cycling of the season to be quite fascinating as to how it represented life itself. You enter your life as a young sapling, born from the warm and gentle spring, as you go through the hot and blazing summer, changing to a windy fall and hitting you with harsh, freezing temperatures in winter; these were the challenges and vicissitudes that life offered to anyone, regardless if they wanted it or not. By the time one's next spring was to arrive they would have been seasoned well and now better equipped to tackle the next arriving season. Nalia had a knack for being quite thoughtful; rather mature for someone in her age group. The eagle couldn't help it. As far as she could remember, she had always been an observant one, taking note of people's behaviors and other things that made her curious. The former was rather odd, usually mistaking her to be a stalker so she would only intensely observe when she felt like it wouldn't be too bad. This didn't mean that the Ravenclaw always stuck true to the promise she made to herself. She couldn't help it--the curiosity sometimes hassled her mind and when she followed it, the odd encounters began. Nalia let out another chuckle as all of this was relayed through her mind. The young eagle would forget that at times, even her own company could entertain her.
The Ravenclaw exhaled, her breath revealing itself when suddenly she heard a rustling sound to which she turned to the noise, jumping up to her feet, and had her wand at the ready. She had a sense of alert calmness, unsure of what it was that was lurking behind where the sound had come from but had her guess of a magical creature. 'What would be the chances of that?' She chuckled inside her head. No rustle of the shrubbery nearby, the keen eagle observed, staring into the general direction from whence it came, anticipating whatever was to come out. She had a more firm grip on her wand, courtesy from a certain Gryffindor she had met not too long ago. Her lips trembled, but her legs and feet planted her on the ground, as the young eagle let out a breath once again as it appeared like a thin, wispy mist and disappeared, settling into the air around her.
Posted: Apr 15 2017, 11:39 PM
"I AM NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT"
Belvedere Chau was a busybody; this much he could admit. He was raised by four women who never stopped moving, like steam engines with skin and coal-burning fires in their eyes and hearts. Women who were admittedly much stronger than him, whose hands didn't shake for years of practicing steadiness in earthquakes. But he had adopted qualities from each of them; the main being work ethic. From childhood it was made clear that he was to do his fill and since then, he watched it become a steady coping mechanism that he welcomed wholeheartedly. Some drank, or smoked, or screamed: Belvedere worked.
This lead more than not to long periods of no social interaction, where he would find the loneliest corners to inhabit whilst he read, or practiced spells. He made pillows fly through dusty air in empty classrooms, alone, sharpening his skills. Every class, he took his books and he paid attention and picked it apart- all free time was back to the lab again, lonely corners, furrowed brows and a coalfire in his chest. But with Newt gone, he no longer could say he had a friend. He didn't think about it; perhaps not by choice, but most likely because he was too busy being busy.
Earlier that day, he'd cracked a window with a spare hex that had left his wand before he had a moment to control it. That deeply disturbed him. It was an easy enough fix to repair the window and end his session for the day, but whatever had lead him to do such a thing in the first place was what nagged at him like a parasite eating through the back of his brain. An itch.
This is why he was walking. It was morningtime, but he'd been up before dawn. He'd watched as the sky had plunged from blacks to blues like the rings under his eyes, and now it was bright baby blue after the oranges and pinks had receeded. The grass was still damp, and his feet were cold, as he had already walked a lap around the lake. There were only so many places to go- and so he found himself straying toward the stables. He noticed people and tended to stay clear because he wasn't in the mood to talk and he knew he wouldn't be as composed as need be.
But that was when he noticed a girl a couple dozen feet away stand up and point her wand into the undergrowth behind her. He paused, craned his head to see where exactly she was aiming. It wouldn't do to aim at someone who might just be pulling a prank, or perhaps a creature... He sighed under his breath; it wouldn't do to be irresponsible and leave either. So Belvedere sank his hand into his robes and retrieved his wand as he crossed the space between them and cleared his throat quietly as he finally halted abreast to her. Raising his wand neatly, he said in a clear tone: "Homemun Revelio," A wisp seemed to travel from his wand and float until it faded; a similar wisp appeared at his chest and the girl's (Nadia? Perhaps?) which glowed faintly, however no glow could be seen anywhere else. He tutted.
"No one's there- it could be a bowtruckle but regardless, it should be on it's way shortly." He turned to her and formed a pleasant smile; bags under his dark eyes, goosebumps covering his exposed collarbones where the chill air had crept in. His black robes were pristine, but he wore a loose-necked white longsleeve underneath, and jeans that perhaps betrayed his heritage. He was too aware of it. He pursed his lips for a moment, and then spoke again, his baritone voice humming through the air: "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Nalia, is it? We're in the same house. Regardless, I'll leave you be if you wish," His voice was rich and bassy, with a polite tone that he developed from a young age. He was practiced in precision: and especially in language.