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Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Don't really know how I got here
I got some pictures on my phone

Michael listened to her, blinking when she described him as her best friend's twin. Weird. He'd never thought of having the same face as someone else, He'd always thought he'd have his own. Then again, if he could be this guy's double, then there was the possibility that he could still have a biological family out there, somewhere. He quashed that thought though. He'd stated to his parents that they were the only family he had, so why did the idea of someone being his double make him feel like he was standing on the doorstep of something that could change his life? He bit his lip, thinking. "His twin... That... ought to be interesting, right? I always thought I looked like myself, not someone else, to be honest."

The final nail in the coffin was when she stated that he was adopted... just like he was. Something clenched painfully inside of him, and suddenly he didn't think this was a mere coincidence. He'd wondered, well, anyone that had ever been told they were adopted probably all wondered, what their family was like. But two kids adopted? Were his birth parents not ready for kids, and gave them both up for adoption? But that didn't make sense. He was one when he'd been adopted, he knew that much. Had they tried to raise him and determined that they couldn't? He shook his head. No, he wasn't going to think about that. Maybe later, but he doubted that was the reason. "He was adopted... So there's a chance he has family somewhere, right? Ugh, I'm sorry. I probably sound like a right prat for asking all of this. Just ignore me." Part of him wanted to know, and he didn't even realize he wanted to. His parents had been shocked that he never asked about them, to be honest. Maybe he was realizing that they had every right to be shocked. After all, it had to be strange, right?


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Location: British Museum
Thinking: I might have family. Why does this bother me now?
OOC: ...
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New names and numbers that I don't know
Address to places like Abbey Road
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want

Huffing in slight annoyance, the British Museum found one Sy Romellier, a usual visitor of its hallowed halls, frustrated, overheated and currently museless.

Museless.

He'd had art blocks before, of course, they weren't new to him but it was always frustrating all the same. Taking a moment, jade eyes glanced around, basking in the calm and perpetual state of thereness that always seemed to come over him when he was in this place. It was, after all, where he first decided he wanted to pursue art for a living. Walking down the halls, his steps echoed on the marble tiles, taking no notice of the other people around him. It was relatively quiet-- it was good enough for him right now. He hadn't known what to paint for about two days now and even if it was such a short period of time, the brunette was used to having something to constantly work on, touching up on little details or generally keeping himself busy by scribbling down ideas and sketching. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

Pausing in front of one of the illuminated paintings, Sy proceeded to study it, eyes flickering over the minutiae of the embellishment on the man's clothes, the stitching on the peasant's garb, trying to figure out how he could possibly replicate that kind of detail onto his own work. It wasn't long before he got lost in it, mind working in hues and tones and colour.

w h e r e d o y o u g o w h e n t h e r e i s n o d e s t i n a t i o n s e t f o r y o u ?- - -
d i a g o n a l l e y s t r e e t s ✖
a l o n e ✖
o u t a n d a b o u t ✖
n e u t r a l ✖
s i n g l e ✖

When a voice sounded out beside him, the thoughts that began to whirl around in Sy's head took a sharp, abrupt nosedive into something of the non-aesthetically acceptable norm. Attempting to calm and stop his twitchy fingers--- <******** twitchy fingers ********>--- the brunette brought up both hands to his face, covering the sharp features and exhaled deeply out his nose.

Out with it. Out with it. That's not good.

Uncovering his face, Sy breathed out one last time before turning to look at the person who had halted his train of thought. Looking over the ginger girl once, he turned his attention back to said piece, trying to remake what he had in his head before the interruption. "You're not supposed to talk to strangers," he muttered softly, attention fully on the painting. He was on a roll, maybe at another time he would have put in more effort, but at the moment, he was too preoccupied. He did, at least, try not to be so rude. His brother had taught him better. "It's what it's trying to say," the teen continued absently. "And the detail."

All the unimportant details were clear, strikingly cut and sharp. The twist of gnarled bark in withered, winter-struck trees, the moonlight on the snowbanks and the silver glitter of it on frozen sand and water, the intricate stitching and the gold leaf on his adornments and every fold on the clothing. Everything except the person's features. They were almost blurred, hastily brushed on strokes of paint and colour. What was the story behind it?

w h e r e d o y o u g o w h e n t h e r e i s n o d e s t i n a t i o n s e t f o r y o u ?- - -
d i a g o n a l l e y s t r e e t s ✖
a l o n e ✖
o u t a n d a b o u t ✖
n e u t r a l ✖
s i n g l e ✖

Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Don't really know how I got here
I got some pictures on my phone

Well, maybe prat wasn't exactly the right word he was looking for, but at least he wasn't being one. Instead, the blond was just glad that it was possible, and well... He'd have to wait and see, he guessed. He was glad for the topic change, though. It was odd, really, talking about someone that looked just like him, and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling. Instead,he looked down at his drawing and sighed. "It's supposed to be a sketch of a bridge right there. We were supposed to do a sketch of a painting we liked for Art class, and well, this is my attempt." He squinted at the picture, deciding that no, it didn't look like a bridge at all, since it more resembled some sort of medieval torture device, and he winced.

"Yeah, let's just say drawing isn't my strong point. I have no talent for it, and well, this was supposed to be the London Bridge back in the eighteen hundreds. Umm, that's supposed to be the main span across, and one of the supports, and... I think I'm going to have to retry drawing this. I'm just glad I'm not going into anything that requires me to use a pencil to draw anything." He smiled a bit crookedly, before just deciding to tear the page out of the sketchbook. He was going to be so glad when he didn't have to take the class the semester after this one. The last one was bad enough, and he held no illusions that his drawings were just ruddy awful. He eyed the painting again, then looked back, realizing something. "Hey, have your eyes always been green? I could have sworn they were blue a moment ago."


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Location: British Museum
Thinking: I might have family. Why does this bother me now?
OOC: ...
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New names and numbers that I don't know
Address to places like Abbey Road
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want

Glancing at the girl next to him-- he couldn't very well ask her to leave now, could he? It was everyone's property and he really couldn't, not without feeling absurdly shitty. Sometimes Sy damned Vinnie's manners to all hell-- it was so difficult in life when you had to take people into consideration. "You should work on that rather than whatever it is you're doing," Sy replied blithely, going back to the painting as soon as he could, now studying how the light fell over it and onto the subjects.

The movement was getting sort of irritating, as much as he tried to reign it in. Just continuing to look at the painting was a past time of his. Sometimes it was nice to just stand back and look, studying everything and nothing. Rolling his eyes at the question, Sy turned back to the girl, shoving his hands in his pockets with one sharp movement. "I don't know."

Art was different. That was all.

w h e r e d o y o u g o w h e n t h e r e i s n o d e s t i n a t i o n s e t f o r y o u ?- - -
d i a g o n a l l e y s t r e e t s ✖
a l o n e ✖
o u t a n d a b o u t ✖
n e u t r a l ✖
s i n g l e ✖

There was several good things about having a new younger sister and then there was several cons. It gave David a perfectly legitamite excuse to keep leaving Tinworth to stay in London to visit his parents and new sister, because after all babies didn't stay babies forever, but it also gave either of his grandparents a perfectly excuse to stop by and visit as well-as his new sister Leah was their grandchild. David wasn't entirely sure if Cathy was dodging the house when he was there because she really didn't like how loud babies could be-or at least Leah was at times- or if it was partially she was avoiding their grandparents or him. In the end he figured it wasn't like she was getting into trouble, she had end up picking up some German classes for the summer or something. Probably a private tutor knowing his family, but he figured it kept Cathy out of trouble. Though, David was fairly sure she had been more interested in picking up an ancient language-so their grandparents probably had something to do with what language she had end up with that summer.

Regardless, Cathy was off in her language lessons and David had the day free to spend with his little sister and since it was the middle of the week, his grandmother had decided it was a wonderful opportunity to spend time "with some of my favorite grandchildren and without that horrid squib hanging around". David wasn't sure if his grandmother merely forgot that her youngest daughter had married a squib and had those favorite grandchildren of hers or she refused to acknowledge it. David was pretty sure it was the later. In the end, David won by picking a very muggle place, the British museum, which he managed to campaign for because it was so close to where the League home was and it was one of his sister's favorite places so of course Jane Avery could see if it was an appropriate place for a girl to hang out in her free time.

David held Leah as they walked, fairly confident he didn't want to hear his grandmother go on if Leah happened to spit up or something on the woman's designer clothes, or worse the woman just decided to pull out her wand and clean up the mess herself, which she would. Maybe that was why his mother was so good at the oblivate spell, David thought wryly as they walked through one of the portrait galleries and Jane Avery scoffed, "You have horrible tastes in places to bring a child."

"It is a place of culture and history, and I don't care how irrelevant some of you think it is," David answered to his grandmother, "besides Leah is happy enough."

Jane Avery narrowed her gaze at her grandson and made a small sound of disporval before turning her attention to the voice of a child calling out a name Sapphire and said something about her wanting to look like an old lady. David glanced to where his grandmother's blue eyes were narrowed and frowned as he was fairly sure it was exactly the one Sapphire he knew. Turning his head, he said to his sister tapping her on the nose, figuring if it was indeed Sapphire Snow it was just best to ignore her, "Should we go see the Rosetta Stone, it's big sister Catie's favorite thing in all of London after all?" The young Leah chuckled and reached out for her brother's hand and David was fairly sure the girl hadn't a clue on what he said and just was enjoying the attention, which was fine with him. He wasn't like Cathy and got annoyed by the fact babies didn't automatically start speaking in full sentences for things they wanted.

David looked up from his sister who was currently tugging on his finger as she heard the comment about Leah being beautiful and then his name. He raised a brow when Sapphire with some kid around the year of incoming first years, maybe a year or two younger, was with her. David half smiled as he pulled his hand away from Leah and adjusted her in his arms for the moment and said, "She has a name. It's Leah. And, I didn't realize you actually liked children. Or is it you just like to admire them from afar but not close up?"

Jane raised a brow and glanced between her grandson and the girl who came over and said, "Of course she's adorable. She is an Avery and at least her father had the decency to carry good genes over to his children."

"You can't chose inherited traits all that easily," David said, suppressing the roll of his eyes, knowing good and well his grandmother would most likely ignore his comment-which when she spoke next she obviously did.

"Anyways," Jane said with a large smile as she studied Sapphire, "Is this the Gryffindor girlfriend Wendy mentioned you having? What was... is... that girl's name something ridiculously garish and probably guaranteed her sorting..."

"Leonette Mitchell?" David said, before he could correct his grandmother she nodded and went on with a large smile.

"Ah, yes, that. Anyways, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mitchell was it? I am David's maternal grandmother, Jane Avery," Jane said holding out a hand to Sapphire for the girl to shake. The girl was said to be pureblood, so at least her grandson had enough sense there, and Jane liked to think the sorting was just some mis-sort of the hats part, like obviously the Ryans kid had to be, and if it wasn't, maybe it was just some whim her grandson was going through. It wasn't that horrific since her grandson wasn't hooking up with half-blood or even worse muggleborns.